AN OBSERVER BEST DEBUT OF 2025 An itchy feeling. A wrinkle in the forest. A cracking twig. A coming sound.
Myma, do you hear it? Myma, do you hear? Myma?
Maya and Daughter live in complete isolation in a secluded woodland, their days aligned with the light and changing seasons, a complex pattern of routine and ritual. Daughter has never questioned the life her mother has chosen for them; the life that has meant she’s never met another soul, or known anywhere except their forest home.
But one day, when Daughter is almost sixteen, a red-haired stranger steps into the confines of their territory. Where there was always two, suddenly there are three – and the carefully constructed world that Maya has built to keep her daughter safe may not survive it.
Urgent, haunting and thrillingly alive, Life Cycle of a Moth explores both the tenderness and ferocity of maternal love, asking what we might find ourselves capable of – and willing to sacrifice – in order to shelter those we hold dear.
In this OBSERVER BEST DEBUT OF 2025, Rowe Irvin mirrors the ephemeral yet transformative stages – from egg to larva, to pupa, and finally to imago (adult) – offering a visceral and atmospheric portrayal of the decay festering within us. In Life Cycle of a Moth, the reader is lured into a murky forest where a solitary house stands like a bone from a rotting finger pointing upwards tethered amid a clearing, where two sinister figures do this-and-that, and where an unexpected almost-stranger comes.
The novel opens with a brutal yet lyrical description of a gang rape scene. Shortly thereafter, the narrative shifts focus to Myma – also known as Maya – and Daughter, exposing their daily routines, interpersonal dynamics, and unique ways of speaking. Myma is a controlling figure in Daughter’s life, the only person she truly knows. Her love is distorted, rotten even, conditioning Daughter to a life she thought the only possible. They exist in complete isolation deep in the forest, living on what nature provides within their self-contained boundaries, unexpectedly evoking comparisons to classic fairytales such as Little Red Riding Hood. The premise is straightforward: a woman, brutally gang raped and left for dead in the woods, wanders aimlessly until she finds shelter, with the brutal aftermath leaving a growing lump in both her mind and body, from which Daughter is born. Over time, Myma and Daughter create their own fey-like language – which might feel tiring and annoying to some readers not fond of whimsical prose – customs, and rituals, until a man perturbs their sanctuary, bringing with him an innate rottenness from the outer world, beyond the protective fence created by Myma.
The beauty and brutality of Irvin’s work lie not merely in its heart wrenching plot, but in the masterful use of language, the depth of her characters, and the haunting atmosphere she crafts. Each word is heavy and carries meaning. This can be clearly seen by contrasting the two different timelines in the novel. Maya’s upbringing is narrated in the third person, where the reader is introduced to her parents, soon learning her father is an alcoholic womaniser, and her mother a depressive woman at the edge of her marriage. Maya is an introspective teenager, grappling with toxic masculinity. Here, the language is snappy and modern. Maya’s chapter alternate seamlessly to Daughter’s first person fey-like narrative from her fifteens to sixteens. It took me some time to get into her voice, but once I started noticing the minutiae of Irvin’s writing, Daughter’s voice became much more compelling to me. Her use of idiosyncrasies is dense and ever-present, but never overly complicated. In an interview for The Guardian, the author says she drew influence from Eimear McBride’s A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing to fully dive into Daughter’s idiosyncrasies, such as dark-come, light-come, this-and-that.
In their world, protective trinkets are scattered along a short fence that delimits the boundary between their safe haven and the rotten world beyond. This rotten world is an unmistakable allegory of the toxic patriarchal society overflowing with rotters, better known as men. Daughter is doing her chores in the forest when she encounters Wyn, a rotter from over the fence – the first person she’s seen aside from Myma. At their hut, Myma is ready to kill the rotter, but is halted by the Grey Woman, an apparition that both protects and speaks with Myma. This moment marks the beginning of the unmaking of their isolation, and the richness of these interactions is brilliantly crafted by this remarkable new author. With time, their relationship evolves, resulting in Daughter’s increased curiosity about the strange rotten-words Wyn exchange in secrecy with Myma. Wyn’s presence affects Myma in unexpected ways, and through him the outside world bleeds into their lives, bringing inevitable change. I adored every nuance of Irvin’s characterisation and development, along with the beautiful “nature writing” reminiscent of authors like Daniel Mason.
Ultimately, Life Cycle of a Moth emerges as an evocative folktale of transformation in fragile isolation where the rotted patriarchal decay reaches and spreads, persistently putrefying women’s individuality. Irvin brilliantly blends brutal realism with folkloric lyricism, challenging the reader to confront the rot in our backs. As isolation crumbles beneath inside the cocoon, the larvae reveal that even amid darkness, the break of our protective silk gives light to the emerging moth, name, human. With every vivid, unsettling image, Irvin prompts us to reconsider our own metamorphoses, reminding us that rebirth is often born from the anguish of inevitable death.
Rating: 4.0/5
Disclaimer: I received an Advance Reader Copy (ARC) of this book from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
Quotes might differ slightly from the final printed version:
I'm sorry, this is a personal thing, but I really dislike this kind of fey language that makes up this book: 'Myma calls me Daughter but that is not always my name. What are you now, Daughter? she asks, and I tell her I am Stone or Vole or Twig or Finger or Worm. She laughs at my names and calls me Little Stone, Little Sniffler-Daughter, Crawly-Kin, Wriggle -on-the-Belly Daughter, Branching, Finger-Daughter'.
This is a book full of 'raggedness', of 'red howls', of cutesy 'This-and-Thats' and 'Keep-Safes'.
Underneath it all is a story I've read times before of a mother who traps her daughter in the name of safety, until the daughter grows up, meets a man/outsider and realizes her whole world is a make-believe created by a matriarchal figure. It's all quite straightforward and it's only the fey language that makes it seem strange and potentially interesting.
If the writing works for you then this could be a powerful folksy fable - for my personal taste, I found the prose indigestible.
" The larvae was clever too, she thought, to make their cocoons under the cottony swathes that protected them from predatory birds."
Life Cycle of a Moth is a challenging read.
It is moving; it is harrowing; it is beautiful; it is full of love; it is unique.
Rowe Irvin's debut novel explores the outcome of violence and the desire to escape and protect.
Maya and her daughter live in a woodland. They hunt for food and they grow vegetables- they forage for existence. They have the shelter of a small hut. But they are protected from "Rotters." Until this life of isolation is broken by the arrival of a stranger -Wim.
The book is told in alternating voices moving between the past and present; the past told through Maya building up to a denouement explaining her decision to protect herself and her daughter and live in the woodland; the present is told through the voice of the daughter- recounted in her own individual voice- of a life that has interacted only with her mother. A world that has existed only of items found within the woodland. The girl's name changes over the years and is linked discovered items- Flint daughter; Root daughter; Bone daughter.
The two are cocooned away from the world ; pupae wrapped in their hidden world...
The prose is haunting and often minimal. There is violence and a deep rawness of emotions- feelings and life stripped back to a primal feel.
This is a book that will divide readers. The start was a challenge - interpreting the voices- the move between chapters and finding a sense of understanding of the world of Maya and her daughter.. But the perseverance was worthwhile. It was the rawness of the text that hit hard.
This is a book about love and motherhood and survival - a rewarding read
Written from the points of view of the two main characters - Myma and Daughter - Life Cycle of the Moth is an emotive and stark story about two women who live in a forest.
It describes their lives and struggles to find food and to stay safe as Myma teaches her daughter, in her own way, about the dangers beyond the fence she has erected around their home. The most dangerous of all are called Rotters. Myma warns Daughter constantly that the Rotters are everywhere and she must keep herself inside the fence to stay alive.
However, one day Daughter is confronted by a Rotter on her side of the fence. What will the two women do to defend themselves against this person who will disrupt their lives in ways neither of them could imagine.
This is an extraordinary book. There are few pointers to when or where it is set. The place where Myma and Daughter live seems to exist almost outside of any place. The writing gives this idea that they are almost marooned on an island of their own making.
Some of the novel makes for uncomfortable reading but it is a book I found hard to put down and I wanted to discover Myma's "secrets".
I loved it. Highly recommended for anyone who likes a truly original novel.
Thankyou to Netgalley and Canongate Books for the advance review copy.
Rowe Irvin's debut novel Life Cycle of a Moth is a haunting, beautiful, fragile work about motherhood, isolation and a haunting sense of a world changed through loss.
Myma and her Daughter live in an isolated woodland - Myma has been here for some considerable time - and they have no connection with the outside world, simply living and surviving off what they find in their wood. Irvin's spare, gripping prose immerses you instantly in their world, and brings it to life with vivid colour. Then one day a red-haired stranger, Wyn, appears, and the world Myma and Daughter knows is challenged, and here the novel truly blossoms.
I was thoroughly impressed by Life Cycle of a Moth, and truly surprised it was a debut. There is such rich confidence to the writing. I really look forward to seeing what Rowe Irvin does next.
Thank you to Netgalley and the publishers for the ARC.
Rowe Irvin's debut novel Life Cycle of a Moth was featured in the Guardian/Observer's influential annual Best New Novelists list for 2025.
She explains in the interview included in the article who she has drawn on childhood memories from her upbringing in rural Norfolk and Suffolk :
“The cyclicality of the natural world was very present ... We’d find dead things and bring them back.” She was about six when she “came home with a squirrel tail around my neck. I was like: ‘what an amazing scarf I’ve found!’” On another occasion she kept a pheasant’s egg in her room for a week – until it burst under her bed. “We were very curious. We wanted to poke things and turn them over.”
She also acknowledges the influence of two authors who gave her permission for the artistic approach in the text: "Eimear McBride’s A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing gave me permission to completely commit to the idiosyncrasies of a voice without regard for any rules. And Lucas Rijneveld gave me permission to play with taboos around the body."
All of this is present is what is a fascinating, if for me not entirely satisfactory novel.
It opens strikingly with a fox witnessing a scene which the reader soon realises was a gang rape, with the victim left for dead. This was Maya, who survives, and hidden deep in the forest comes across a remote hut, where two people appeared to have lived, the mummified corpse of one of them still there, a grey woman who appears real to her as a kind of spiritual mentor. She stays in the hut where she brings up the daughter born as a result of the assault, although she deliberately disconnects the two events, isolated from society:
She never thought of the child as having anything to do with what had happened to her. The girl was of Maya's body. She was of the place where Maya had birthed her. No other place, no other body.
Maya pointed to the child, then to herself.
'You are my daughter,' she said, 'and I am Maya.' She made a closed fence of her arms. 'And this,' she said, 'this is where we live.'
The story Maya told was simple, like a nursery rhyme. In it, good and bad were clear and separate in a way they had not been before she'd drawn her line of branches between them. 'In the dark beyond the fence, creeps the rotted thing. Sleep you sound now, little daughter, safe from everything'
She saw how her daughter's head tilted, the small ear filling like a cup with her voice. She felt that she was making something
She did not think of it as lying, and to her it wasn't. There had to be something wrong and rotten in the world, some foulness that could get inside a person and empty them of good. Men, Maya knew, could spoil like vegetables sickened with blight. And that particular sickness, that rottenness, it could be passed on, father to son. It was easier to think of those who had hurt her as hollowed, their humanity gone. If she tried to understand them in any other way, things became muddy and unclear. So she separated dark from light, and in this way she made her own sense of things.
The narration then alternates between two timescales:
One tells the past story of Maya's own upbringing, told in the third person, one dominated by banal male violence, from a once loving father who turns into an alcoholic, to the pressure for casual sex from the local boys (Maya herself more attracted to a childhood female friend, and later a brief affair with an itinerant female worker from overseas), culminating in the opening scene.
The second. set 16 years after the opening event, is narrated by her daughter, brought up in complete isolation from the rest of the world, led to believe that outside the simple fence that surrounds their hut and a part of the forest are Rotters, a different breed, not humans like them, the daughter and Maya, who she calls Myma, developing their own special dialect and rituals, including Maya harming herself when she feels her daughter has transgressed into danger.
I pick up a flattish stone, turn it over in my fingers as I go. With the other hand I feel for the place in the hem of my shorts where Myma has sewn a Keep-Safe. A scrap of skin from the roof of her mouth, folded up and tucked away in the scratchy cloth.
Protect you against Rot, Daughter.
Shudder with the thought of it, that worst thing. Rot like the gone-bad-on-the-inside of fruit, like biting into an apple without checking for holes and my mouth filling with a rancid brown mush. Worse than a foul mouthful the Rot that comes from outside the fence. If that kind of Rot got into me or Myma then we would be the gone-bad apples. Us Rotters.
Everything inside us eaten away. I wouldn't be Mud any more. I wouldn't be any name at all. I wouldn't even be Daughter.
Those Rotters out there, they look like you and me, Daughter, but they're all empty on the inside. You can see it when they turn their backs, see right the way in. They're hollow, like dead trees.
Maya never named her daughter who instead takes her own temporary names from the treasures she finds in their area of the forest:
Everything sounds, even the air when there is no wind in it. I am always hearing. All murmur, all patter.
The objects in the Museum sound different to other things in the forest. The Museum is an apple pip, dried-grass plait, acorn cup, alder catkin, big grey stone, bottled puddle, squirrel tail, birch leaf, thistlehead, finger-shaped root, finch nest, smooth black pebble, owl feather, moss, pine cone, dried worm, black beetle, shiny conker, large dead spider, coughed-up owl pellet, crow foot, millipede, dried sap blob, blue egg, dandelion stem, shrew nose, mouse tail, bracken frond, badger claw, rusty metal ring, seed pod, rat spine, crispy dead wasp, rabbit paw, hazel twig, rook beak, white garlic flower, bramble thorn, bent nail from the doorway, scab of lichen, vole skull, oak leaf, hawthorn bark, snail shell, walnut shell, splinter from Myma's heel, apple bark, muntjac hoof, dried redcurrant, hedgehog spike, rabbit rib, dead woodlouse, pigeon wing, weasel foot, sycamore seed, holed fox tooth.
These things have names hidden inside them.
When I finger-thumb-plucked the pip from the apple pit the sound it made was full and round, like a humming in the throat or a whomph of wings. I felt the thrum of it behind the bone of my breast and knew that it was my name, my first. I said to Myma, Now I am Pip, and she looked at me a moment then said, Pip-Daughter, okay, yes, and she wrote it in the dirt with a stick and showed me it was an unusual word because it reads the same both ways. But when I held the apple pip to her ear so she could listen to its hum, she shook her head and frowned.
As the daughter approaches her 16th year, and for the first time, a 'Rotter' approaches their compound, a man from the outside world, who Maya captures and initially plans to kill, but the grey woman stays her hand, and then allows to stay with them on pain of not interfering with their unusual arrangement. This isn't a story of the daughter discovering the world outside, as the man, Wyn, is himself an outsider and turns out to have his own connection to the hut (which he himself was not aware of), although as he and Maya become friendly he does try to persuade her to tell her daughter the truth behind the myth she has constructed for her.
The novel is atmospheric, and the natural scenes vividly and viscerally drawn, and the world which Maya has constructed plausibly done (although one has to imagine this set in an earlier time), particularly the language and the rituals. Against that, the set up feels something done before (e.g. in Room), the somewhat fey language can be a little grating over more than 250 pages, particularly as there is relatively little action, and overall I'd have preferred this at a shorter length.
3 stars. Thanks to the publisher via Netgalley for the ARC.
Sometimes I found the language irritating and ‘fey’ as other reviewers have described it. It felt a little laboured and jarring. But I loved the idea. Others have written that this is a familiar story but I don’t think that matters. The themes are all so important - motherhood and what we pass on to our children; survival; the natural world. The novel was very well crafted but in that sense it did feel like a debut novel - perhaps it was a little too well crafted. Who am to judge - as I try to finish my ‘debut novel’ with loads of crafting going on and prob way too much.
By the end I was incredibly moved. I think it could have been shorter but it was a powerful novel and I am looking forward to her next novel.
Odd, sad, and lovely in equal parts. I love books with flawed and unusual characters, and this has that in abundance.
It’s a difficult book to review because you just have to experience it. It reminded me of the film “Mama”, with less of a horror aspect (although TW for SA, abuse, death, self harm etc)
Thank you to NetGalley and Canongate Books for the ARC!
*thank you to the publisher for a free copy in exchange for an honest review!
I enjoyed this! But it didn't blow me away. A bookseller colleague told me it had an echo of 'Room' by Emma Donoghue and I can see that - although this was far less irritating lol. The ultimate reason for Maya's seclusion to the forest and the way she chose to raise Daughter was unusual and while I think ultimately an unrealistic response, I can understand Maya's frustration and trauma from the wider world, which started with her very young. Ultimately, her choice with Daughter stemmed from a deep urge to protect her which is understandable.
I liked reading Daughter's language and POV, it was telling of the way which Maya raised her and the world of the forest she knew. I thought the idea of Rotters/hollow backs was tied up nicely and I like Wyn's place within the story and his impact on both Maya and Daughter.
I think unfortunately this could have been a shorter novel. The writing is dense and the pages packed - all 300 of them. And considering very little actually happens in terms of plot, it was too long for what it was, particularly the ending section after (SPOILER) Maya's stroke and the winding down of life in the forest. BUT - I thought it was well done in many ways and a very unusual and interesting debut.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Thank you to Canongate Books and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Sometimes a book comes along and it feels like it reaches inside and pulls me along, as though I'm anchored to the story and I can't let go. This book was that for me. We follow Myma and Daughter as they go about their lives simply in the woods, isolated from everything else. One day a man appears and their reality is irrevocably altered. At first this book put me in mind of The Water Cure, and there are similarities, but it is very much its own beast. The writing has this earthy yet otherworldly quality that immediately captivated me. There are no speech marks which I might normally find irksome, however for this story it worked perfectly. I don't know what else to say other than I feel as though this book has changed me in some ineffable way.
Thank you so much to Canongate for sending me a finished copy!
4.5 stars! Rounded up!
The opening chapter to this really did kick me in the chest. What a way to open an atmospheric story.
The writing is superb and really works well for just how this book is. Almost like a fable. I adored the atmosphere within it and read it within a day. it sucked me in!!
The way that Daughter is written, almost like an animal, feral, part of the forest because that's all she has known and to see her be hit with an outsider aka a Rotter, and how she takes in this strange man and new information and words suddenly appearing through the depths of their hidden away hut, you can't help but feel for Myma, what she has gone through, how much she's trying to protect Daughter from the rot of others and the outside world.
This gave me the same feeling as The Lamb with the similar dynamics of the relationship between mother and daughter but on two different ends of the scale.
The way grief is written in so many different ways of loss are also fantastic and hit hard. Truly an amazing read!
This is the most complete book I’ve read since North Woods by Daniel Mason, which was my favourite of 2024. By ‘complete’, I mean that it satisfied so much of what I want from a novel: heart wrenching emotional attachment; saying something unexpected and unique; a use of words that makes me want to read both more slowly and more quickly- and a sense that I won’t forget this book soon or easily. I find it completely astonishing that this is Rowe Irvin’s debut.
This book was so beautiful. Going in I thought it was going to be very dark and there are certainly darker elements but this very much reads as a fable about love, family and fear. I really liked the writing style and the use of language was perfect.
Many thanks to Canongate Books and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review!
Quotable, at times lyrical, and with a deeply poignant exploration of mother-daughter relationships, 'Life Cycle of a Moth' hits many marks, but ended up falling short overall for me.
Daughter has lived in the forest with Myma for as long as she can remember. She knows its smells, sounds, feels, the days for Washing, the nights for stew, Sorrys, and Thank Yous. But one day everything changes - a Rotter comes past the fence, with red hair and new words.
The arrival of the Rotter calls into question all Daughter knows of her existence so far, how truthful Myma has been with her, and what the world outside of the forest might promise. Rowe Irvin interrogates what it means to love after trauma, claustrophobic parenting, sexual awakenings, and the root of human nature.
There is no doubt that Rowe Irvin is a talented writer, and the way they handle their intertwining timelines is deftly done - I'm just not sure whether their style was really for me. Filled with "worry-Itches", "dark-comes", and "safe-keeps", Irvin relies upon a childish and literal lexicon that, in my view, becomes slightly cringe and feels like an attempt to reframe the world that ends up reading quite heavy-handed. The plot arc, girl-has-a-sexual-awakening-and-discovers- her-Mum-has-been-lying-all-along, is too much of a Rapunzel/The Tempest rehashing without enough self-distinction in my opinion.
This definitely hangs together cohesively and got better the more I read, I just didn't click with Irvin's writing - maybe one worth researching more to figure out if it's for you.
What an incredible debut novel. As someone who usually isn't a fan when authors don't use speech marks, I absolutely loved the contrast between the poetic, stream of consciousness language of Daughter compared to the straight forward prose in Maya's flashbacks. I both never wanted it to end and also couldn't wait to find out how the book concluded. I've never read anything like it- I feel like this book will stick with me for a while.
There’s seems to be a surfeit of this sort of book at the moment, in the vein of Emma Donoghue’s Room. In this case, the narrative follows a similarly nameless child, referred to as Daughter, and her mother who live isolated in a cabin in the woods. Outside of the woods, as far as Daughter is aware, there is only ‘rot’. At sixteen, the Daughter has never before questioned her life, and knows not to go beyond the fence and its adornments; snippets of their hair, animal bones, and lost teeth, which ward off the rot.
Earlier this year there was Lucy Rose’s The Lamb which I didn’t enjoy; light on horror, and an unconvincing voice for the protagonist, the young girl.
This is marginally better, but too long, and at 16 years old, the ‘child’ is again, an unconvincing protagonist.
Thank you so much Canongate for sending me this proof. Oh my goodness. I loved this so much.
'Life Cycle of a Moth' is a story of a woman who has cut herself off from society after a traumatic event. She resides in a hut in a forest where she brings up her daughter. When a outsider comes into their small world everything will change.
I am still in utter shock that this is a debut. Rowe's writing is seamless and haunting. I was hooked from page one and couldn't put this book down. Her folklore and nature influences shine through her prose as Daughter and Myma roam their forest home. You are welcomed into Myma and Daughter's safe haven which despite it's danger and wildness feels like home. There is a passage in the book about the hut waiting for Myma to come to it for protection and the way Rowe writes you feel like you are also that chosen person who has been welcomed in and will be protected within it's walls, you are now part of this small family unit. We explore their day to day through their routines and rituals. Wyn's arrival into their home sparks a change in Daughter and Myma's lives when Daughter sees a Rotter (outsider) for the first time the whole structure of how she has brought up her daughter comes into question. I am obsessed with Daughter's naming process, using her Museum of objects to use and name herself often adopting characteristics from the items when she needs them. Rowe's descriptions of feelings and smells were so immerse that you almost felt the dust or sweat on your own skin. The format of this novel is beautiful with the main current plot with flashbacks that inform the narrative until the past events eventually catch up to the current ones. Along side the main plot there is one that happens just to the side which is equally as heartbreakingly beautiful but can't really explain anything without spoiling something. A story of a woman at it's heart who ultimately just wants to protect her daughter from the cruelties of the world. At just over 300 pages I could have easily read 1000s of more pages of this novel, it absorbed me completely consumed my soul and wrapped it's vines around my heart.
"In the dark beyond the fence, creeps the rotted thing. Sleep you sound now, little daughter, safe from everything."
This debut novel follows the story of Myma and her journey through trauma and motherhood. Myma believes she has set her daughter up well, to be fearful of the world on the other side of their fence. It's fairly simple really...stay within the boundaries and the rotters can't get you. But what if one day a rotter appears and it isn't what you had been warned to fear?
Wow. I don't have the words to do this book justice. This was one of the most strange, beautiful and mesmerising books I have ever read.
I must admit, the writing style took me a little bit of time to get used to, as there are no speech marks and the storytelling is short and snappy. However, once I'd gotten into the flow of it, I was absolutely hypnotised by how this author wrote this novel. It was almost like poetry - it just rolled off the page so effortlessly.
Myma's storyline was devastating to read. I spent a lot of the book feeling really frustrated by what I first perceived as her negligence and manipulation towards Daughter. Daughter's lack of understanding of the real world was so distorted. You can see so clearly how children are so easily influenced by the people they trust.
When you get to understand Myma's backstory, it's so obvious why she has become the way that she is. I felt so sad for her character. She clearly lacked any control in her previous life, so tried her upmost to ensure she had control in the way she brought up Daughter.
Wyn quickly became my favourite character. He was such a necessary role model for Daughter. Reflecting on the story, it's so clear that both Myma and Wyn wanted to protect Daughter. They just had different ideas on how this should be done.
‘Twoness is the house we live in. The light wakes us and the dark sleeps us. The forest feeds us and the fence holds us. Us the only two, us the only we.’
Hauntingly beautiful, and hopeful in its moments of bleakness, Life Cycle of a Moth is an astounding novel that will live within you long after you’ve read the last page. Irwin plays with language in a masterful way. She shapes the language of the novel in a playful, freeing way, creating a new way of speaking and thinking for Daughter. In the book, this is described as the character growing around language, and it’s wonderfully done throughout as we follow Daughter in her strange coming of age. The dual timeline/narratives are wielded effectively, each propelling the other, to create a slow unfolding of truth and reality. A perfect read for the folkhorror fans – the story of Myma and Daughter in the woods is a creeping fairytale, woven alongside the story of Maya’s life in a rundown, rural place.
Summary: They live in solitude deep in woodland. Maya and Daughter's day consists of the rituals and routine Maya has created for them. It's all Daughter knows. When Daughter turns 16 their life changes when a stranger walks into their world. You might want to look up content/trigger warnings for this one.
My thoughts (short and sweet): This was beautiful and devastating. A slow world I feel so grateful to have read into. It was so tender. It felt a bit too slow for me at times but brought me back in. I found myself coming back to the comfort of the book after a day away from it. The writing felt so immersive. It captured nature, their mother daughter relationship and perspective of others in such a way I couldn't not feel drawn in to the way of life they built! What a cool debut. Rating: 4.25/5
Thank you so much Canongate Books for gifting me this gorgeous novel!
Life cycle of a moth, a debut novel by Rowe Irvin, (Took 4 days to read)
Visceral, beautiful, sickly, bold and unshying with words that you could feel wrap all the way around you as you read.
I am so glad I ended up picking this book up. From the very first page (that I read while still standing in the bookshop) I knew this was going to be a book that hooked me, and I was absolutely right; The way Rowe balances their words so perfectly between beauty and sharpness is undeniable.
This was a story about maternal love and fear but I felt it leant into so much more.
Just to start, the relationship between Daughter and her names was a stunning representation of personal growth and development, not linear like we are told to expect but up and down, side to side, truthful and relatable.
This was a story about death, in so many different ways. The act of dying expressed through both delicate respect and blunt, unwarming descriptions, leaning itself into a beautiful balance. The death of self, the death of perception, the death of both safety and fear. Death makes way for life, and life makes way for death.
This was a story about love, the familial love that squeezes too tight and not tight enough, at exactly the same time. Passionate love that stays behind closed doors, tender but distant. The type of love that seeps, thick and suffocating, hard to wash away. The shards of broken love, broken passion, full of threat. Love between friends, love between human and nature, love between nothing.
This was a story about pain, heavy and festering. A pain that brings with it tender fragility, wrapped in misplaced strength and avoidant minds. The way pain becomes a catalyst, a force for change.
Irvin managed to bring to life a pain so raw that I didn't want to read parts, but I knew I had to. The realism that surrounded these traumatic peaks, not overwritten and barely explained at times but so understood, so effective. I felt myself embracing parts of young desire and curiosity that I cringe to remember, but remember all the same.
I thought this was a truly gripping story, without a single beat missed or slow chapter and so emotionally complex and honest, with the unbroken style of the writing and language helping me lean all the way into Daughter's world-I felt myself understanding her with such ease. Along with this unique language choice, the continuous perspective shift from one life to another acted as a perfectly synchronised metronome, giving just enough time on each side to draw you in deep.
The thoughts I am left with bring a reflection on who I am, and where my different names, my own ant-line of shadows have taken me. I think of my own keepsakes and lessons, the things I do to keep myself safe and if they serve me well, the way I have learnt to grow around my own traumas. I think of Myma and her sorrow. Mostly, I think of Daughter. I think of her relationship with herself and the way she steps into change, and in her, I see the life cycle of the moth.
First and foremost I want to say I don't know if I will adequately be able to describe how I feel about this book. I loved it so, so much, and found the narrative voice to be so compelling and loveable. That being said, let me try to describe to you what Life Cycle of a Moth is about.
Life Cycle of a Moth is Rowe Irvin's debut novel, and I am so excited to have read this early and will absolutely be reading future novels from this author. It follows the life of Daughter, a child born in an isolated cabin deep in the woods, and raised solely by her mother who she calls 'Myma.' Daughter and Myma's lives are simple, filled with little rituals and fairytales of the outside world. At its core, this novel is about the lengths a mother will go to to protect her child, and the ways in which trauma can manifest.
I don't want to say too much about the actual plot of the book because, to me, that's not the point of this novel. It's definitely an experience, a character study, and one of the most unique books I've ever read. I loved Daughter so much, the way she saw the world and the words she used to describe herself and her environment. I loved the rituals that her and Myma would do together (especially this-and-that). I loved Irvin's writing style and the voice she gave to Daughter, it made these characters feel so realised and alive and had me so deeply and emotionally invested in them. This is a book I'm going to be thinking about for a long time after reading, and one that I will definitely return to again in the future.
Thank you so much to Rowe Irvin, Canongate Books, and NetGalley for an early copy of the book!
This is an incredible debut novel, the opening chapter of which is so brutal that it shocks. Then we sink into the forest life it Myma(Maya) and her daughter - a girl with the name Daughter often prefaced by a name that she has given herself after items she has found in the forest such as Bone Daughter, Flint Daughter etc. This is a story of isolation, and fierce maternal love and - a love that will protect at all costs. Myma has built a fence around their ‘home’ to keep Daughter safe and has protected it with Keep-Safes - little parcels of nail clippings and hair. She has warned Daughter of the Rotters who lurk outside the fence. Their life is stark and full of odd little rituals and the need to find food to survive. There are two perspectives-3rd person Myma where we see the girl before she came into the forest and the 1st person narrative of Daughter. Daughter’s language is strange and otherworldly and takes some getting used to in the beginning but then it just flows. This had been their life for nearly 16 years and the Wyn stumbled into their enclave and their fragile existence is disturbed. Into this matriarchal domain patriarchy takes a step and the cocoon that Myma has built starts to open. This is the first male that Daughter has ever encountered. There is beauty in the language that shows nature at its most glorious but there is also the harshness of nature. Daughter will grow on you, I thoroughly enjoyed reading her perspective on the only life that she knew, her way of seeing her world. Not an easy read at times with its brutality and trauma but there is love-a mother’s strong love. A book that will stay with you.
What a dazzling debut! I’ve never read anything quite like this. For me the lyrical, visceral prose was the star of the show. I took to it quite naturally and loved the way it sounded rolling around in my mind and sometimes my mouth. I even re read the first chapter straight away because I just thought it was so dark and sumptuous. I saw someone say the language was ‘cutesy’; completely strange to me. It is never cutsey. It’s raw, wild, gross, descriptive yet simple. Poetic, witchy. Maybe a little naive coming from the stunted daughter. I do think it isn’t for everyone though so your enjoyment really hinges on whether or not you get on with the style. Read the first chapter and you will get a feel for whether you’ll like it or not.
It’s a simple, heart breaking tale of a mother and daughter trapped in their own warped world. Surviving and being kept “safe”, but to what cost? I found myself wildly veering between feeling depthless pity for Myma, then so angry I would loved to have strangled her. Daughter is such a beautiful, raw, naive character I felt threads of Shirley Jackson’s ‘We have always lived in the castle’. The book is an exploration of motherhood within the confines of a brutal patriarchal world, it’s about grief, depression, abandonment, sexuality, longing, not belonging.
I would never have found this book had it not been for the wonderful curation and displays of my local library in North Shields. I also found Lucy Rose’s ‘The Lamb.’ and aforementioned Jackson’s book In the same display, so I’m getting my fill of strange folky tales, female survival and witchy rage. Get to your local library folks!
Myma and Daughter live in isolation in a secluded woodland. Daughter has never known any other way of life or met any other person, until one day a stranger steps into their territory and the carefully constructed world Myma has built in order to keep her daughter safe is suddenly at risk.
Written from the points of view of both Myma and Daughter, we follow the story of Daughter as she grows up in an isolated woodland, never knowing any human other than Myma. In the parts told from Myma’s point of view, we discover some background which explains why she has chosen to live this way.
It’s a very interesting book. Well-written and raw, I was hooked from the start. It took a while to get to grips with the style, particularly Daughter’s narrative voice, but her way of speaking and describing things actually makes complete sense when you consider that she has never been to school and all her speech comes from interactions with Myma within the woods. Some parts were uncomfortable to read, but this only added to the ‘otherness’ of the two women and really helped me to resonate with Wyn as he became a part of their life.
I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
This is very different for me, I don’t usually read this type of genre but this was definitely quite mysterious and disturbing. I wasn’t a big fan of the style of writing which I guess knocked down one star however I still pushed through till the end and I was still able to follow the story. The way the book was structured was great as we go through two sides of the story - the present day and of Maya’s past. After discovering what happened in her past, it now becomes obvious as to why she’s so protective of her daughter. From preventing her from going past the marked perimeters around their home to the limited learning of the outside world. With the introduction of Wyn to the story, we learn how both Maya and Daughter cope to live with this stranger in their home and also how Daughter progresses as a teenager being exposed to a male for the first time. I did find the description of them hunting animals and how they prepare it quite gory but this is to be expected when it comes to surviving in the forest. I feel like I still have so many questions after finishing this and I’m still baffled by it all. Overall, this is a great debut written by the author.
This book is very poetic in the way it is written, with a lot of vivid and powerful imagery. It is clever in the way that certain words have different names in the story, due to what the (very isolated) characters do or do not know.
I found that the plot and main themes reminded me of Rapunzel in many ways. There are few characters, but they are fleshed out and interesting.
I did find some of the imagery a bit too graphic and vulgar for my tastes, but this is definitely just a personal preference and not a negative.
I love plot-lines that are particularly character-driven and explore relationships and bonds between family, and this book certainly did that!
Very well-written and interesting.
I received an advance reader copy of this book which in no way affects my review. This review was written voluntarily.
‘Myma calls me Daughter but that is not always my name. What are you now, Daughter? she asks, and I tell her I am Stone or Vole or Twig or Finger or Worm.’
I don’t think I’ll forget this book in a hurry! Life Cycle of a Moth is a hauntingly evocative tale of trauma and a mother’s harrowing endeavour to protects ones child.
I can’t quite decide if it’s just a vibe but I found myself comparing it to ‘I Who Have Never Known Men’ - Jacqueline Harpman, ‘The Garden’ - Nick Newman and the movie ‘The Village’!
This is a fantastic debut and I’m very intrigued to see what Irvin writes next! Thank you to NetGalley and Cannongate for the opportunity to read this title.