A horrifying, captivating and unexpected tale of two Victorian gentlemen living in a botanical garden who embark on a Frankenstein-style experiment. It's Mexican Gothic meets The Lie Tree by way of Oscar Wilde and Mary Shelley. It is an unusual thing, to live in a botanical garden. But Simon and Gregor are an unusual pair of gentlemen. Hidden away in their glass sanctuary from the disapproving tattle of Victorian London, they are free to follow their own interests without interference. For Simon, this means long hours in the dark basement workshop, working his taxidermical art. Gregor's business is exotic plants – lucrative, but harmless enough. Until his latest acquisition, a strange fungus which shows signs of intellect beyond any plant he's seen, inspires him to attempt a true intelligent life from plant matter. Driven by the glory he'll earn from the Royal Horticultural Society for such an achievement, Gregor ignores the flaws in his that intelligence cannot be controlled; that plants cannot be reasoned with; and that the only way his plant-beast will flourish is if he uses a recently deceased corpse for the substrate. The experiment – or Chloe, as she is named – outstrips even Gregor's expectations, entangling their strange household. But as Gregor's experiment flourishes, he wilts under the cost of keeping it hidden from jealous eyes. The mycelium grows apace in this sultry greenhouse. But who is cultivating whom?
Sometimes a family is a botanist gay dad, a taxidermist gay dad, their housekeeper, and their monstrous plant daughter.
I'm very specific in my horror reading tastes, and this hit the spot for all of them. I would describe this as a cosy horror. Even though it's unsettling, it's also filled with so much warmth. The writing was gorgeous and often really funny, and I just adored this queer found family.
I’m sorry, friends, but this book was just… Not good. Which is such a shame, because the premise is amazing.
Let me start with that, then: the idea of two Victorian gentlemen (who are also in love with each other) taking on the role of Drs. Frankenstein to bring a plant-based being to life is, plainly speaking, delicious. Noah Medlock, I’m sorry, but I just hope that someday, someone rewrites this novel the way it deserves.
All the elements were there: the setting, the concept, the research (my second, and last, compliment to the author – the botanical knowledge seems to be on point), finally the, uh, elements of character development (which I’ll touch upon later). Like, this could have been a truly great book. So why wasn’t it?
I'll start gently, with some general nitpicking: living inside a giant greenhouse full of lush greenery sounds nice until you realize that there must be so. Many. Bugs in there. Not to mention partitioning the place – you really want me to believe that they had ‘rooms’? Or the humidity – these men probably smell like mold whenever they go outside. Then there are (thankfully relatively few) Gregor’s journal entries, which were clearly written by someone who doesn’t have any background in writing academic texts. (That’s not a crime, of course, it’s just always funny to me when authors try to pass their characters off as Super Smart types without having the skill – or the editor – to pull it off.) And, finally, the myriad of inconsistencies, bigger or smaller failures in logic. Constance’s death is the worst faked suicide in history: the cover-up is that she hanged herself, yet at one point we read about… ’the blood-soaked scene of her apparent self-murder’ (she got stabbed). I mean. Come on.
But! I’ve been known to forgive a lot of things because the characters were solid and the chemistry between them made up for plot holes or weak worldbuilding. Well, not in this case! Neither Simon nor Gregor make sense, not even in some exaggerated YA way. What’s (probably?) meant to be a captivating descent into madness comes off as if the author was simply trying to check boxes off a list, only he does it without any rhyme or reason or even wondering if the progressions seem natural. (They don’t.) Both men are deeply unlikeable people (admittedly, Gregor more so than Simon), which may as well be the point – I sure love a toxic couple in fiction – but I couldn’t (and still can’t) figure out what kept them together all those years. A lot of the time, they exist next to each other; when they don’t, they’re indeed toxic for each other, but… why does it work? There’s zero depth to either of them, nor to their relationship as a whole. And that ‘descent into madness’? I called it that because I think that that was what it was supposed to be, but I can’t really tell, because I just couldn’t get the sense of them as people. They go from one emotion and mindset to another because they’re supposed to, or at least that was my impression, because we never, ever learn why. What pushed Gregor from scientific curiosity to deep horror at his creation to being fully in favor of having a botanical ‘daughter’? When exactly did Simon stop thinking of the plant girl as an offense to his (supposedly) Catholic senses and start believing that she was his daughter too? What kind of thinking led them to this? Fuck if I know after reading this book. Jenny felt more fleshed out but only in comparison to the previous two. Other characters seemed to only exist as background decorations – honestly, I’ve seen cardboard cutouts with more depth.
In a similar vein, there are multiple scenes slash ideas that could have actually made this a decent horror book: from the very decision to dig up the body of your new housekeeper’s best friend (slash crush), to animating it with an unholy union of some mysterious mycelium and various plants, to Simon’s initial disgust and Gregor’s growing paranoia, to the various murders that happen, to CHLOE’s inherent lack of humanity and all the questions that could spur… to the two men finally believing that this creation is their real family… Fr, it’s actually amazing how someone could shove so many true and tried horror tropes into one book and fail to properly convey the sense of, well, horror associated with any of them. Up until about two-thirds of the book I wasn’t actually sure if the author was even aiming for a horror novel. I almost started googling if ‘cozy horror’ was a thing. One of my notes reads ’The greatest horror in this book is the baby fever’ because a) it was at the time and b) I had to entertain myself with something so clearly being snarky was the only choice.
Which brings me to my last point, which is: how the hell did this book get past an editor?! I know there was one, because the author thanks them in the afterword, but I refuse to believe that they actually read A Botanical Daughter in its entirety. This was actually the first book I’ve read that made me understand what people mean when they say that the narration is suffering from an overabundance of adjectives – not that I don’t love a good adjective myself, but holy shit, too much of a good thing is still too much. Overall, the language is very clunky, and while a part of it is style, another part is phrasing, which should have been easier to correct. To whoever’s still reading this, if you’re thinking about writing a book of your own one day: I promise that saying ‘blood’ instead of ‘crimson juices’ won’t make your text any less poetic. Characters, even the most socially awkward ones, can simply ‘smile’ instead of ’displaying their teeth’. At one point, Gregor (I think) says: ’The whys and wherefores are to be left for later’ – THOSE ARE THE SAME WORDS. You’re saying ‘The whys and whys’, Gregor. And yes, the whole book’s written like that.
Oh, and here’s my absolutely favorite fragment:
Simon swung his cheekbones around to glare at Gregor (...)
He. He swung his cheekbones. Come on. Who the fuck signed off on that.
And then, just when I thought I was ready for everything Mr. Medlock could throw at me, the reader, I had to see a ’DARK ORB’ in a published book. Like, I read it with my own two eyes– sorry, with my own two orbs.
And I’m not even going to touch the topic of plant tentacles or why the hell a being made of fungus and plants needs a ’moss clitoris’.
I enjoy queer horror and plant horror so was quite excited for this premise. This one is quite slow and character focused. I don't mind these things if done right, but I did struggle at times with this one. I love the representation of queer characters, but as people I found this one flatter than I wanted. If a story is going to be slow, I need to be engrossed in the lives of the characters. I did enjoy the plant aspects but wish they had been punched up a little more.
Disclaimer I received a copy of this book from the publisher.
It took me ages to read this because I’m in a bit of a slump so I never really remembered what was going on. I’m definitely going to re-read this again! All I know is I liked the ending
I was hyped to read this book for ages. The cover is gorgeous, and the blurb has everything I like: gothic horror, the Victorian era, gay people, and spooky plants. Unfortunately, this ended up a classic case of fantastic premise/terrible execution. The book's first major issue was its narrative voice. It felt like the author was trying to sound 'Victorian', but because the prose itself wasn't particularly flowery, this led to an apathetic, distant narrative punctuated by random attempts at formal/fancy descriptions. Some big offenders were "the prime meridian of the bare botanist" being used to describe the main character being naked, and "Simon swung his cheekbones round to glare at Gregor" (what does this even mean?). It was clunky, nonsensical at parts, and ultimately left you feeling distant from the characters. When your protagonist is a botanist on the brink of possessive insanity, you want to be in his head. I wish the author had submerged us fully in Gregor's mind, letting us experience all his delusions and darkest thoughts. This leads to my second biggest issue: some of the worst, most inconsistent characterisation I have ever read. This book read like the author forgot his own plot and characters every time he sat down to write. The main couple switched personalities every few pages. One moment, Gregor loved CHLOE, and the next she was only an experiment to him. You could argue this is the author showing character complexity, but there was absolutely no build up to any of these emotional changes. By the end of the book, I could barely tell Gregor and Simon apart because they kept having the same argument, but switched sides every time. The romance in this book also fell flat to me. I think the author could have done Simon and Gregor well through one of two ways: either make them comically wholesome and in love despite the deranged horrors they're participating in like Gomez and Morticia, or make them toxic in a spicy, intriguing, Interview With A Vampire kind of way. Instead, they read like a couple who have been on the brink of divorce for a decade but decided to stay together for the kids. Also, why do they live in a greenhouse? That's so impractical. They be constantly sweaty and covered in insect bites. Ultimately, this book could have been great. There are some hints of excellent themes and characters in here, but nothing was developed properly or written well. I wish this book had gone through several more drafts. Maybe that way, it would have delivered the angsty, spooky gothic horror romance I was hoping for.
as soon as my brain isn’t mush I desperately want to use Big words to describe how Good this book is!!
for now, i’ll just leave a compilation of my silly little thoughts:
an older gay couple made up of a taxidermist and botanist raising a lesbian plant frankenstein daughter is The Concept of all time!!
this book 🤝 good omens season 2 episode 3
sapphics only know grow plant, kill men, and yearn
any time i’ve ever compared a book to In a Week by Hozier… I take it back
CW: death, dead body, grief, murder, blood & gore, violence, injury detail, eye horror, insects, fire, death of parents (past), sexual content, homophobia, sexual harassment, sexual assault, animal death (offpage), suicide (mention)
A Botanical Daughter is a queer, Victorian, gothic horror novel that fully understands, adores, and embraces the gothic in all of its themes and aesthetics. Gregor and Simon are a botanist and a taxidermist who live, unconventionally, alone together in a botanical garden. They are lovers, but they are also arrogant, curmudgeonly, judgemental men. Their entire world shifts when Gregor obtains a mycelium from Indonesia which seems to be abnormally intelligent.
This book did a lot of things right, particularly the pacing and the story itself, which hooked me from chapter one. I never once felt bored, and I was amazed at the amount of research that must have gone into this novel, at how seamlessly it was incorporated into the story. I know nothing about botany, but I loved reading about it here, and the scientific explanations never confused me or dragged the story down.
On a craft level, however, A Botanical Daughter is, first and foremost, a plot-driven novel, and even though that's not necessarily a bad thing, it is, in this case, where it falls short. I never felt like I had a good grasp of who anyone really was, or what they would do next; I kept being gobsmacked by some of the characters' choices and reactions, and it felt like they kept changing according to the demands of the plot. I wouldn't have minded as much if the plot progression hadn't been inextricably tied to the characters' motivations, but it was.
Oh, well. I value characters above all else in a book, but this was still a fun, uncomfortable, disgusting read, and I'm curious to see what else this author has to offer. I'm glad I read it.
“A family! Simon, of course! That’s what binds people together. if we can be a family then contextual issues solves itself. Mutualism, homemaking, protection… and if ill providence robs one of a birth family, one simply as to find another. Or make it from scratch.”
3.5/5 stars
I originally intended to save this one until closer to its release-date, but once I got my hands on the ARC there was no controlling myself. Let me tell you the story of how a humble debut novel became my most anticipated release of (the first half of) 2024, and most importantly, whether it managed to live up to that insane hype I set for it…
The Story: A Botanical Daughter somehow managed to include not one, but two of my recent literary hyper-fixations in its set-up: it’s a Frankenstein-retelling ánd centers around botany/herbology/plant-magic. We follow a duo of two queer (in more ways than one) Victorian gentlemen, living a secluded life in caring for a large botanical garden at the edge of town. Here, away from the judgmental eyes of their peers, they’re free to express their love for each other and practice their respective scientific projects; for Simon, the art of preservation and taxidermy, and for Gregor, the care and cultivation of exotic plants and fungi. For their next project however, their joined talents will work together to a creation that will surpass anything either of them have done on their own. In a Frankenstein-esque experiment, the two set off to build a living human from body-parts, plants and fungi.
What I loved: Upon first glance, it was clearly the concept, themes and “vibes” that attracted me to this book most, and I’m happy to say that Noah Medlock made excellent use of all of them. Thematically it strikes all the notes you might expect from the synopsis and it being a Frankenstein-retelling: there’s the ethics and complications around science and creation, the exploration and redefinition of the queer and the “monstrous” and a generous helping of found-family and paternity. All of it is wrapped in lush descriptions and botanical imagery, which brings the story to life before your eyes in vibrant and verdant colour. Medlock gives his writing a distinct Victorian edge, which was hit-or-miss for me personally, but was a nice nod to its source of inspiration. If you want to get a feeling for the vibes this book will offer, look no further than the stunning cover-art. It perfectly combines the beauty and tranquility of nature, and the almost cottage-core-cozy vibe the book has, whilst contrasting it a few creepy and unsettling events sprinkled in. Cozy-cottage-core and horror sound like they shouldn’t work together, but somehow this is a genre I want explored further. Might I propose we coin the term “cottage-gore” for it…?
Room for improvement: Although I overall loved this debut, there were two aspects that kept my enjoyment from being at a full-5-star-worthy-level. Firstly, there were the characters and their narrative voices. As much as the plants and setting came to life for me, the characters did not. Simon, Gregor, Jenny and Chloe all felt a little too flat and lacking in distinct personality for me. The personalities they did have were fairly one-dimensional and a few “change-of-mind-moments” and character interactions fell flat for me as a result. . Secondly, some of the themes I mentioned I loved were also explored too shallowly for my liking. With the set-up created, there was so much more emotional and ethical depth to be explored here. Had this been done, in combination with more rounded and complex character-development, I would’ve had a new favourite on my hand.
Regardless of the room for improvement, I had a wonderful time with this novel and am looking forward to what Medlock writes next. Many thanks to Titan Books for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
Readalikes: - The House in the Cerulean Sea if you’re looking for more cozy-gay-cottage-core with a helping of found family. - Mexican Gothic or What Moves the Dead for more botanical/fungal horror. - Our Hideous Progeny if you’re looking for the best feminist/queer Frankenstein adaptation penned to dated, in my personal humble opinion.
I ended up enjoying this so much more than I thought. The writing was great and really leaned into the victorian era of the story. I found the characters to be so dynamic and dimensional with some quirks and faults that made them feel more real. The imagery was so well described. I smiled and laughed a lot while reading. Overall, it is a very whimsical, atmospheric, period piece with a touch of gore and alot of plants and fungus.
There were just a couple of aspects that didn't make sense to me, and a couple moments that felt a little inconsistent with the characters that hold me back from a 5 star.
The first three quarters of The Botanical Daughter is beautifully written with a rich gothic feel. We meet our closeted gay men and feel the sorrow at how close a secret their relationship must be kept. As we progress into getting to know our other main character, and leading lady, we realize she too has the calling of ‘forbidden love’ (ugh, hate to call it that but it’s the right terminology for the day) and has been hurt. Throughout the first sections of the book we meet the plant entities (in various forms) and create a bond with the botanical character that surprised me. I loved it and felt it was just an innocent in all everything, even in some of its more horrific moments.
There are clever messages of love is love embedded into the narrative, both blatant and subtle; even making myself (a bisexual woman) wonder if there is a limit to love being love. For the record, the answer is no. Love is always beautiful and always correct. When love becomes obsession or greed it is different; but in its rawest form love is never wrong, by any definition. Noah Medlock does a beautiful job of expressing and showing this sentiment that in different ways and creates a truly safe space for sexuality and identity of any/all kinds (even for a plant).
Moving through the story we have some bloody moments, of retribution and revenge, that are all very gothic and satisfying. It’s all wonderful! Then we reach a point, around the last 100 pages, in which things start to unravel a bit. The pacing felt lost, the outcomes were disjointed, and lacked common sense. For a very smart story, with very clever characters, to suddenly feel less intelligent hurt. Additionally the plot choices continued forward in ways I did not expect that just didn’t satisfy my gothic/horror desires. I have come up with three distinctly different ways to close off this novel that would have been more gothic, satisfying for the reader, and still have held to the final message of the story.
Thus the final conclusion was, for me, very unsatisfying. Not necessarily because of the events but more so that the gothic overtones are played down, there is a lack of scientific discussion to talk about what the future might hold based on the ending (where some horror could have been injected), and in general I just had trouble focusing (and started wanting to just be done with the book). I would have ended the story a bit sooner with a more open ended ending that would have fit the gothic romance feel quite well. Or if taken to where it was I would have at least given some scientific questions for the reader to ponder about the implications of the final state of things. Sadly we get neither of these and therefore I just can’t give this a higher rating.
All that said, for a debut author, this is amazingly well written up to that last 100 pages. It does have an odd pacing at times, but that kind of fits with our quirky men and the unpredictable nature of plants growing. Sometimes they grow quick, other times slow. I would still recommend A Botanical Daughter as a good gothic read; but I would warn the potential reader to brace themselves for an ending that may not be as satisfying as one might have hoped for. I will however watch for future stories by Medlock as I think all the right foundation is there, it’s just the final execution (admittedly always the hardest part of any horror novel) that suffered here. In a different story, and with some different feedback I think Medlock could deliver us the kind of LGBTQ+ gothic romance that most readers will be craving by the end of The Botanical Daughter.
Please note: I received an eARC of this book from the publisher via NetGalley. This is an honest and unbiased review.
I loved the amount of research that went into this. I loved the slow fall into obsession and possessiveness. I loved the sentient fungi. I loved the gentle creepiness of [redacted]. I loved how queer it was.
But overall many parts of it just fell super flat and I was left whelmed by several of the characterizations.
Not a favorite for me, but definitely going to be one that thrills other readers!
A Botanical Daughter is a beautifully written and profound novel with themes pertaining to the nature of creation, the purpose of existence and the changing aspects of relationships, family and love.
In the late 1800s, botanist Gregor Sandys and taxidermist Simon Rievaulx reside within Grimfern: a secluded greenhouse that hides their work and romantic relationship away from the eyes of the world.
When Gregor receives a rare package from Indonesia, he is given the opportunity to create an experiment that will impress not only the Royal Horticultural Society: the organization that had spurned his previous effort, but also the Royal Society.
The results of Gregor’s experiment is Chloe; the body of a deceased young woman infused with various types of flora, implements and the remarkably unique fungi Gregor received that seems to possess self-preservation motor functions.
Her body moves and blooms, but is she truly alive? The more time that Simon and Gregor spend with Chloe the more their relationship becomes strained as they try to come to grips with their conflicting and shifting viewpoints regarding her existence and autonomy.
Is Chloe merely an experiment? A daughter? A blasphemy?
Or in the eyes of Jennifer, Simon and Gregor’s housekeeper turned Chloe’s governess: something altogether wondrous?
Gregor, Simon and Jennifer are fascinating characters and the delicate balance between their relationships shifts as Chloe continues to flourish. Each one of them is flawed in their own ways and the consequences of their decisions-at times bloody, or intensely controlling-are felt throughout the entire novel.
The prose is enthralling; from the descriptions of the wonderous greenhouse, to the amalgam of Chloe’s plant and humanoid aspects, beauty and horror are often entertwined.
I would certainly recommend A Botancial Daughter to readers who are fans of body horror-particularly involving fungi-complex romantic relationships and intriguing questions pertaining to the morality and ethics of creation.
Thank you to Edelweiss Community, Titan Books and Noah Medlock for this advanced ebook copy. All opinions presented are solely my own.
Major disappointment. The story could have been every bit as beautiful as Bloom by Delilah S. Dawson but the writing was nowhere near up to snuff. The story could have been as impactful as Frankenstein but lacked the elegant grace of storytelling. The book could have brought me warmth and wholesome joy like House on the Cerulean Sea, but these characters were absolutely horrific.
The pacing was terrible and the story was completely flat from start to finish. The book contains the most inconsistent characters I have ever witnessed in a novel. The book has zero payoff and it wasn't even entertaining. I originally thought it a two star book but looking back at this completely forgettable story, I think I am going to have to give it a solitary star.
I would not recommend this to others, even if the cover is absolutely stunning.
I had no idea what to truly expect going into this book but whatever I had in mind, it was very different from but not disappoiniting in any way. Do not go into A Botanical Daughter expecting it to be jumpscare or slasher horror, what it is though, is deeply unsettling. You will feel a sense of wrongness very early on that never goes away, without really being able to put your finger on the why of it. If I had to describe it I would call it a... cozy horror? Is that a thing?
Themes wise, I LOVED the book, the exploration of queerness and its relationship to monstrosity was specifically good, as well as themes of love, family, what constitutes a family, found family and personhood and agency. I also enjoyed how it has a bit of an exploration of obsession and falling into madness, which was present in all of the characters but explored a bit differently. The reading experience is also extremely atmospheric, I found myself being lost in the imagery of it all. A Botanical Daughter being a Frankenstein'esque story, leads it to a great exploration of ethics and morals, how far is too far in creation and science. What makes a creation or discovery unholy and cursed. It was truly fascinating to see how the characters came to terms with it all. Or not.
Now to the characters, I am sorry to say that they were my least favorite part of the book. Not to say that I hated them, but they did fall a bit flat. I just wanted more from them. More complex emoting, more taking action, more personality. Just more. They felt on the edge of being complex and well flushed out without ever getting there, their voices were also extremely similar, which led to a bit of a confusing reading experience at times.
But overall, I had a really good time reading this book, and it has made me want to pick up more horror. Which is a genre I have been meaning to get into for years.
DNF @ 66% because I just can't take it anymore and not only is this putting me in a bad mood, but in a slump. I would consider reading this in another format someday, but probably not anytime soon.
Rather than a book review this is going to be an audiobook roast.
Like most male narrators, this one falls into the trap of making whiny, terrible, girlish voices for any of the women characters. Is it bad? Yes. Is it easily avoidable? Also yes. Is it why I'm here to roast this audiobook? Surprisingly no.
What genuinely sucks is the narrator's choice for Gregor.
Not only is this man fully living in a different book than everyone else, but he's obnoxious as fuck. It's like if you took the stuffiest, British-est voice and put it through a sieve to truly distill everything pompous. It's like if you crossed Disney's dad from Peter Pan with their caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. It's the kind of voice that wouldn't be out of place unironically saying 'harumph' out loud (beneath an overly waxed walrus mustache, of course).
I keep getting distracted by literally anything else (including my own thoughts, when I meticulously cut out every single other distractions) or finding myself falling asleep-- even though I've only just started my day and am incredibly well-rested.
The worst part is that Gregor is not only a windbag who loves to hear himself talk, he's also the chief exposition character AND responsible for writing journal entries. So I have to hear this unrealistic voice more than anyone else's.
Such a good premise, such a terrible execution. Could've given it two stars, but the fact that I had to read "mossy clitoris" and live with that image in my mind brings it down to one.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
My first read for a horror book club and it may be my last read from this group. Gross and horribly written trash for so many reasons (serious spoilers ahead):
1. The "plant daddies" have a very toxic relationship. Gregor is a demanding ass and Simon just puts up with his outbursts and anger issues. No thank you, those are not relationship goals. 🙄
2. The "science" is dumb. Did the author do any actual research or did they just pull all of that mess out of their ass? That's not how any of that works, botanically or taxidermically. Like it is so unbelievably dumb, I can't even suspend disbelief just for the hell of it. It all just sounded so stupid.
3. Jennifer and Connie were childhood friends and then lovers so HOW IN THE WORLD DOES SHE NOT REALIZE CHLOE IS HER LOVER'S DEAD BODY? UNBELIEVABLE!
4. And finally, NECROPHILIA!!!! ARE YOU F---IN' KIDDING ME?!?!?! Dead plant girl and Jennifer having full on sex with roots and a moss clitoris. I was beyond grossed out. Did the author just expect us to forget that Chloe is literally made out of a rotting corpse just because they used pretty words to describe her? In what sick world would that ever be ok?!?!
5. The ending was just delusional. Just so not worth it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
3.5/4🌟 There were parts of this I really enjoyed but at the end I don't know how I'm supposed root (no pun intended) for Gregor. I suppose if you view the end as sort of happy-go-lucky, no consequences attached to either Simon or Gregor, then it works. Like the fever dream that is Heathers, you just forget about the brutual murders of 3 people lol.
4.5/5 This debut novel isn’t perfect…but damn if it isn’t perfectly in my wheelhouse! As a plant ecologist and fan of gothic tales, I was delighted last year to discover Evil Roots: Killer Tales of the Botanical Gothic, a collection of stories from the original era of gothic fiction that drew on the science of the day, including Darwin’s work on carnivorous plants and orchids. ‘A Botanical Daughter’ feels like a modern successor to those tales, taking that Victorian plant-based creepiness, making it queer, and adding in an updated understanding of plant-fungal symbioses and artificial intelligence. This makes it rather anachronistic, of course – for instance, the term “holobiont” to mean the union of various symbiotic organisms wasn’t coined until 1943 and not used widely until the 21st century – but I found I was willing to waive that point given the creativity with which different plant and fungal properties and abilities were used. Especially recommended if, like me, you find Annihilation to be a comfort read!
Botanist Gregor Sandys and his partner (I mean, fellow “confirmed bachelor” roommate, of course!), taxidermist Simon Rievaulx, live in a greenhouse…because Gregor’s ancestral home burned down (leaving appropriately gothic ruins to mope in) and he never bothered to rebuild it. Now, greenhouses, however picturesque, are not designed to be living spaces for humans. However, the difficulties and the solutions found were dealt with adequately, to my mind. For instance, there is a cool basement where Simon does his taxidermy, and where the residents can retreat if the glasshouse gets too hot. Gregor has been on many expeditions to the tropics where he probably spent months to years in hot, humid conditions…with probably far fewer opportunities to deal with it by going around in his underwear and dressing gown! And, overall, the mix of fecundity and decomposition - the poor books in that reading nook! - was exactly the vibe Medlock was going for.
The story begins when Gregor receives a crate containing a fungus that seems to be unusually active in its nurturing of an orchid plant – an excellent choice, given that orchids in their early seedling stages are entirely dependent on fungi! This gives him the idea of trying to increase its level of sentience by giving it more plants to look after. The project quickly gets increasingly ambitious and potentially illegal, much to the alarm of the straight-laced Simon: "With the toast still in his mouth [Simon] froze - Gregor had that look. That wild look, that joyous look, that dark look. That look which usually said Simon was about to be ravished. Not at breakfast, surely. This morning, the look heralded a sickening logical leap."
Along the way they acquire a housekeeper, a girl from the village. Jennifer recently lost her best friend/secret lover Constance, and her father thinks she needs more work to keep her mind off of it. She quickly becomes a much more involved part of this strange household than anyone expected.
"'You loved the girl?' "I did. And she loved me. I know now it was wrong -' Gregor grabbed her by the arms. 'It wasn't wrong! Curse it all - a pox on everything else, but love is never wrong. The goddamn world is wrong. Jennifer, in my long life I have suffered terribly for my inclinations, and now I see...you have suffered even worse...But...Your love for Constance - hell! - it consecrates this earth.'"
I’ve seen some reviews complain that the characters are flat. I’m not sure what they mean, because I enjoyed all of them! Granted, I may have been reading some extra life into it, because the way Simon and Gregor’s domestic situation works, at least in the first half of the book, was making me rather nostalgic for the time when my bestie from college and I were roommates (though not that kind, sorry!). Simon is never said to be autistic, but he clearly is - his thoughts on eye contact and small talk resonate with me a lot, as do his preferences for quiet and order. While I don't feel as confident diagnosing Gregor with ADHD, his frequently feverish activity and ability to take grand leaps of logic remind me a lot of my friend. While she fortunately never left coffee cups out long enough to evolve new life - you could definitely tell which side of the room was mine vs. hers! Even the temperature preferences are similar: When we graduated to a suite with side-by-side rooms, she dubbed mine “the frozen hinterland” and hers “the blazing fires of hell”. Neither of us knew we were neurodivergent when we lived together; we just knew we were different but compatible types of weird. And that’s just generally the vibe I get from these lads! As for Jennifer, she brings a much-needed straightforward sensibility to this eccentric household…though she does have some romantic gothic tendencies of her own.
There are some shifts in attitude of each of the gentleman toward their daughter/creation Chloe that might seem a bit random if you are reading through quickly. However, there ARE explanations given. Initially, Gregor is enthused about the project from a purely scientific angle. Then this conversation happens: “ ‘Simon, what do you understand to be the nature of a soul?’ he said suddenly. Simon was staring darkly into the endless distance. He didn’t refocus his gaze to reply. ‘That part of us which cannot be destroyed.’… ‘And what of creating this indestructible element – the soul? Is such a feat accessible to mankind?’ ‘Humans do it all the time – we reproduce. We create more consciousnesses, more minds, more souls.’” But that, of course, is precisely what Gregor and Simon CAN’T do! “Gregor stood up in excitement, clutching his jotter. His thin dressing gown fluttered around him. ‘So, artificially creating a consciousness isn’t immoral?’ ‘No – an artificial soul is simply a child.’” The idea that this creation could be the child that would otherwise be denied to them turns Gregor toward trying to make it as human-like as possible, resulting in the plan to . That doesn’t feel right to the Catholic-raised Simon, especially the way Gregor plans to do it – but he has trouble saying ‘no’ to his rather intense partner. However, once he realizes why Gregor is so passionate about this, After Gregor realizes what happened to Jennifer’s lover Constance, he feels protective of both girls…which is a little hypocritical considering . But he decides he wants to make it right Seeing spooks Gregor, and he . But Simon , and thus their positions in the argument are swapped for the second half of the book.
Your mileage may vary on the ending. First off, there is a very weird sex scene. I’m OK with fantasy/sci-fi sex scenes that get a little weird and gross, if the author can impress me by making something like seem even remotely romantic or hot, and I feel like Medlock pulled that off to my satisfaction – but not everyone will agree. Second, if you were wanting to see Jennifer , that never happens because . Whether the potential disappointment of the first will be balanced by the bittersweet romanticism of the second will depend on you as a reader. Finally, there is Gregor’s last change of heart. This makes sense to me because
My main quibbles are as follows: 1) God damn, is this village terrible at anything resembling criminal investigation! Apparently and just no one checks up on that or reports it to the authorities! However…that’s kind of a feature of a lot of gothic novels, so I can sorta let that slide. It is a little weird, though. 2) I’m not 100% sure of the purpose of Julian Mallory in the story. Really, you could have also cut him out without anything significant changing, as far as I can tell.
Overall, though, this was extremely charming and yet creepy at the same time - think of the Addams Family, but with plants! Or just…nature, which often manages to be horrifying and beautiful simultaneously. I very much enjoyed it.
this is a book i always thought i would love but i put off reading it for so long and was a bit intimidated by but i absolutely adore this one. the characters and their relationships were so fleshed out and they were so dimensional without the author coming across like they were trying to hard. i loved the moral dilemmas in this story. i enjoyed the victorian time period and learning about botany and taxidermiy in general but also specific to this period was so fascinating.
A Botanical Daughter is like if you took Frankenstein and made it queer and added in elements of plant horror.
I was initially drawn to this book by its beautiful botanical cover, but then the synopsis about two gentlemen who attempt to create intelligent life from plant matter really sold me on it. That’s a really interesting concept, especially when you consider that each of the two men are passionate about taxidermy and exotic plants, respectively. They must combine their skills and interests to create this new botanical daughter.
I loved the setting in this book of a Victorian mansion with different wings, including a greenhouse for Gregor’s work and a basement for Simon’s work. The two men are such a great pair, especially if you like the grumpy/grumpy dynamic. Their partnership works well as botanist/taxidermist combo, especially when it comes to creating a botanical daughter, but also their romance is cozy and clean, which I appreciated.
I also appreciated that this book had a historical feel to it that really brought the setting to life. The story takes place in Victorian London in 1889, and you can tell. The author uses language that has a historical cadence and vocabulary, and I found myself looking up quite a few words that I wasn’t familiar with, whether it be words more common to that era or words specifically relating to plants and such that I didn’t previously know.
I loved all the plant imagery, and this book has solidified for me that plant horror is my favorite sub-genre of horror. There was also a bit of body horror and a bit of fantasy, all wrapped up in a gothic historical setting. It was truly a great combination of genres.
There were a few scenes where the science behind creating a botanical daughter had me a little bit confused about what was going on, but overall this book was really enjoyable. The characters were likable, the story idea was unique, the plot was engaging and had some unexpected moments, and the setting was really delightful.
I really enjoyed A Botanical Daughter. It was a little weird, a little eccentric, a little creepy, and a little cozy; I haven’t read anything like it before. I’m intrigued by what the author will come up with next.
I have been waiting to get to read this book for YEARS, can't believe we're finally getting it next March!!!
*I received this book for free from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.*
I made it all the way to 66% on this one – I tried so hard – but I don’t want to pick it up again. I definitely enjoyed it back near the beginning, but more and more reading it feels like a chore. And then, as so often happens, I remembered that I do not have to read this, so now I’m going to stop.
The writing itself is great, and I loved the sheer weirdness of the set-up: these two life-partnered men, one a stoic taxidermist and the other a doctor/professor of botany, living together in a giant jungle of a greenhouse. Both are grumpy, not likeable in the typical sense, and yet, I liked them both.
Gradually, though, the characters kind of fall apart. And I don’t mean in the fun way, wherein they slowly lose their sanity or grip on reality. (Although arguably that is also kind of happening, at least with one or two of the cast.) What I mean is, pretty much all of them – but especially Simon and Gregor – start doing these emotional 180s, where they suddenly and dramatically announce that they’ve changed their opinion on something important. But these changes come out of nowhere, with no warning and no explanation. And they happen over and over and over. If it had only happened once, I’d have been confused, but I probably would have kept reading. But by the fifth or sixth time one of them had declared themselves of the entire opposite opinion to what they’d been yesterday… Or made some decision, or set out on some very serious action, that seemed completely random… I had whiplash, and had lost all sense of who these characters were supposed to actually be. It was as though big chunks of their personality had become whatever the author needed them to be at the time for the best dramatic effect. And that doesn’t make for good reading – at least not for me.
There was also one pretty big logic fail that really bothered me, which is a little spoilery so I’ll stick it under a tag:
As for the horror aspect…well, I wasn’t scared, and I’m a complete wimp when it comes to scariness, so that should probably tell you something. To be honest, I was kind of rolling my eyes when the horror aspect started to manifest. I don’t really buy into ‘non-human creations start killing Just Because’. It feels lazy. I wanted an explanation for why Chloe was becoming violent, a good one, and in fairness maybe I would have gotten one if I’d finished the book. But I doubt it, and if we did get one, I doubt it’d be one that would satisfy me. I’m not sure exactly when I lost faith in this author’s promise of a satisfying story, but I definitely did.
And ultimately… I was surprised by how hard I had to work to buy into the capabilities of the mycelium that kickstarts, and is the heart of, Botanical Daughter. I read stories with much stranger premises every day, and have no trouble rolling with whatever Not Real thing is going on! I’m wondering if the problem here was how hard the book tried to convince me? We get excerpts from Gregor’s scientific notes on his experiment, and every single other plant and fungus used in Chloe’s creation is detailed for us – this one to replace arm muscles, this other one to make a tongue, for example. But the flip side of that is that there’s no human brain for the mycelium to infect/manipulate; that’s removed from the corpse. I feel like I would have had an easier time suspending my disbelief if the brain had been left in; at least then it could be something like ophiocordyceps unilateralis – aka zombie-ant fungus. It would feel a little more grounded in the possible. Instead, when Gregor’s mycelium manages to figure out how to see using the body’s eyes – it just felt completely absurd. How can a fungus process sensory input from the eyes? But if there had been a brain, a brain that knew how to process input like that, and the mycelium took over/made use of the brain…? I don’t know, it would have made more sense to me. And because it didn’t make sense, but was trying to, I think something got lost. My ability to believe in it even in fiction, for one.
Loved the botanical take of a Frankenstein retelling.
My favorite part was the queer characters and how their actions were all driven by their (queer = in their society forbidden) love and the want for a child of their own.
You know when a book has all the right elements to make an amazing story and then the execution falls flat?? Yeah, that's what happened here.
The writing has so many metaphors and similes that, at some point, didn't even make sense anymore.The scene transitions are choppy,there's a surprising lack of suspense and horror for a book marketed as botanical horror, and the use of the phrase 'mossy clitoris' alone has me ready to close the book.
The first 30% of this was very frankensteinesque and I did enjoy it, so much so that I recommended it to a friend before I even finished the book. However, the rest of the book was poorly written and I spent the entire time wishing it would get better.