What do you think?
Rate this book
Carrion Crow
There are some facts about the world that only your mother can teach you.
Marguerite had been confined for the sake of her wellbeing.
That's what her mother had said.
Marguerite Périgord is locked in the attic of her family home, a towering Chelsea house overlooking the stinking Thames.
For company she has a sewing machine, Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management and a carrion crow who has come to nest in the rafters. Restless, she spends her waning energies on the fascinations of her own body, memorising Mrs Beeton's advice and longing for her life outside.
Cécile Périgord has confined her daughter Marguerite for her own good.
Cécile is concerned that Marguerite's engagement to a much older, near-penniless solicitor, will drag the family name - her husband's name, that is - into disrepute. And for Cécile, who has worked hard at her own betterment, this simply won't do.
Cécile's life has taught her that no matter how high a woman climbs she can just as readily fall.
Of course, both have their secrets, intentions and histories to hide. As Marguerite's patience turns into rage, the boundaries of her mind and body start to fray.
And neither woman can recognise what the other is becoming.
Marguerite had been confined for the sake of her wellbeing.
That's what her mother had said.
Marguerite Périgord is locked in the attic of her family home, a towering Chelsea house overlooking the stinking Thames.
For company she has a sewing machine, Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management and a carrion crow who has come to nest in the rafters. Restless, she spends her waning energies on the fascinations of her own body, memorising Mrs Beeton's advice and longing for her life outside.
Cécile Périgord has confined her daughter Marguerite for her own good.
Cécile is concerned that Marguerite's engagement to a much older, near-penniless solicitor, will drag the family name - her husband's name, that is - into disrepute. And for Cécile, who has worked hard at her own betterment, this simply won't do.
Cécile's life has taught her that no matter how high a woman climbs she can just as readily fall.
Of course, both have their secrets, intentions and histories to hide. As Marguerite's patience turns into rage, the boundaries of her mind and body start to fray.
And neither woman can recognise what the other is becoming.
256 pages, Paperback
Published January 1, 2025
83 people are currently reading
4584 people want to read
About the author
Heather Parry
19 books238 followersHeather Parry is a writer of fiction and nonfiction. Her debut novel, Orpheus Builds a Girl, was shortlisted for the Saltire Fiction Book of the Year award and longlisted for the Polari First Book Prize.
She is also the author of a short story collection, This Is My Body, Given For You, and a short nonfiction book, Electric Dreams: On Sex Robots and the Failed Promises of Capitalism, and writes the Substack general observations on eggs. Her latest novel, Carrion Crow, was released in Feb 2025.
She was raised in Rotherham and lives in Glasgow with her partner and their cats, Fidel and Ernesto.
She is also the author of a short story collection, This Is My Body, Given For You, and a short nonfiction book, Electric Dreams: On Sex Robots and the Failed Promises of Capitalism, and writes the Substack general observations on eggs. Her latest novel, Carrion Crow, was released in Feb 2025.
She was raised in Rotherham and lives in Glasgow with her partner and their cats, Fidel and Ernesto.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 144 reviews
March 12, 2025
Heather Parry’s devastating queer, gothic novel was partly inspired by Blanche Monnier, a French woman whose family locked her in an attic for close to 25 years. Set in late Victorian London, Parry’s narrative charts the gradual disintegration of Marguerite Périgord, offspring of a once-illustrious family, who has been similarly hidden away by her mother. Cécile, her mother, was born in Lancashire as Cecilia Hargreaves, the daughter of a self-made man – based on Lord Lever - who later made his fortune from soap manufacturing. A success that effectively enabled him to auction off his daughter to an aristocratic family in need of cash. Cécile’s experiences of living with a dissolute husband, who later abandoned her, has somehow culminated in her devising a particularly cruel and unusual punishment for her ‘wilful’ older daughter. As Marguerite slowly starves in a dilapidated, vermin-infested attic, Parry’s narrative deftly intertwines hers and Cécile’s stories chronicling the events that might have led to Marguerite’s imprisonment.
Parry’s exceptionally intense, visceral novel draws on histories of Empire and colonial exploitation, highlighting the contradictions and hypocrisy underlying Victorian society. It’s an era in which upper-class women are especially, ruthlessly, constrained. All aspects of their demeanour and behaviour heavily policed, partly symbolised here by the copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management left in the attic for Marguerite to study. Mrs Beeton’s book was a bestseller in Victorian times, a thousand pages of "prescribed femininity, the dictionary of what men wanted from women…” Marguerite’s confinement is ostensibly meant to school her in these requirements, readying her for the marriage she apparently desires. But Cécile’s actions are clearly bound up with perceptions of Marguerite as ‘unnatural’ likely stemming from Marguerite’s passion for a woman known only as Alouette.
Marguerite’s growing awareness of her mother’s failings and true intentions is partly spurred by observing a carrion crow nesting in the rafters. The crow’s apparent spontaneity and dedication towards her chicks is in stark contrast to Cécile’s increasingly-toxic brand of parenting. Parry’s portrayal of Cécile deliberately counters a recent slew of books about harried but essentially loving mothers. Instead, she’s intent on examining, and exposing, the destructive projections and forms of violence that mothers may inflict on their daughters. But Parry skilfully repels possible readings of Cécile as somehow inherently evil, instead she emphasises the social and cultural pressures that may have made her like this. The result is haunting and powerful but it could also be an incredibly challenging read. The descriptions of Marguerite’s decaying mental and bodily state are often unflinching, nauseatingly graphic. As her body deteriorates, bleeding, seeping, oozing and flaking, she digs into it, fascinated by its excretions, testing its limits and vulnerabilities, the only territory left under her control. Parry has a pretty distinctive voice but, if I had to compare, her approach and preoccupations, her startling imagery, are strongly reminiscent of writers like Mónica Ojeda and Camilla Grudova.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Doubleday for an ARC
Parry’s exceptionally intense, visceral novel draws on histories of Empire and colonial exploitation, highlighting the contradictions and hypocrisy underlying Victorian society. It’s an era in which upper-class women are especially, ruthlessly, constrained. All aspects of their demeanour and behaviour heavily policed, partly symbolised here by the copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management left in the attic for Marguerite to study. Mrs Beeton’s book was a bestseller in Victorian times, a thousand pages of "prescribed femininity, the dictionary of what men wanted from women…” Marguerite’s confinement is ostensibly meant to school her in these requirements, readying her for the marriage she apparently desires. But Cécile’s actions are clearly bound up with perceptions of Marguerite as ‘unnatural’ likely stemming from Marguerite’s passion for a woman known only as Alouette.
Marguerite’s growing awareness of her mother’s failings and true intentions is partly spurred by observing a carrion crow nesting in the rafters. The crow’s apparent spontaneity and dedication towards her chicks is in stark contrast to Cécile’s increasingly-toxic brand of parenting. Parry’s portrayal of Cécile deliberately counters a recent slew of books about harried but essentially loving mothers. Instead, she’s intent on examining, and exposing, the destructive projections and forms of violence that mothers may inflict on their daughters. But Parry skilfully repels possible readings of Cécile as somehow inherently evil, instead she emphasises the social and cultural pressures that may have made her like this. The result is haunting and powerful but it could also be an incredibly challenging read. The descriptions of Marguerite’s decaying mental and bodily state are often unflinching, nauseatingly graphic. As her body deteriorates, bleeding, seeping, oozing and flaking, she digs into it, fascinated by its excretions, testing its limits and vulnerabilities, the only territory left under her control. Parry has a pretty distinctive voice but, if I had to compare, her approach and preoccupations, her startling imagery, are strongly reminiscent of writers like Mónica Ojeda and Camilla Grudova.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Doubleday for an ARC
December 4, 2025
This was well written, but I guess I was expecting more than a terribly sad (seems too light of a word for this really) story of imprisonment and injustice. Definitely one of the most depressing things I've read, at any rate, especially since it was based on the true and tragic imprisonment of Blanche Monnier. Honestly, I'm just left feeling angry and sad, and I didn't find the chapters from Cecile's POV at all enlightening or the end satisfying.
Read
February 3, 2025If you want ultimate gothic, do yourself a favour and read this book; it doesn't get much more gothic than this!
September 24, 2024
Oh my what a glorious and wretched novel. This was unlike anything I’ve read before. While the main plot itself was uneventful and repetitive, the writing made this novel stand out. Parry describes the human body with so much detail and grotesque levels of complexity that reading this made me feel like I was stuck in the attic with Marguerite and her crows.
Marguerite becomes something inhuman as the story grows, her confinement gives way to something unnatural living inside her. Through her unreliable narration, we learn about her life before her entrapment, her lovers and her hopes for her future. I also enjoyed the exploration of her mother and her life and the chaotic nature that surrounded the house.
This novel descends into pure madness and feels like a giant, festering wound unraveling. There’s no other way to describe it, it was sickening and heartbreaking and I couldn’t put it down.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publishers for kindly providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review. #CarrionCrow #NetGalley. All opinions are my own.
Marguerite becomes something inhuman as the story grows, her confinement gives way to something unnatural living inside her. Through her unreliable narration, we learn about her life before her entrapment, her lovers and her hopes for her future. I also enjoyed the exploration of her mother and her life and the chaotic nature that surrounded the house.
This novel descends into pure madness and feels like a giant, festering wound unraveling. There’s no other way to describe it, it was sickening and heartbreaking and I couldn’t put it down.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publishers for kindly providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review. #CarrionCrow #NetGalley. All opinions are my own.
March 18, 2025
“There are some facts about the world that only your mother can teach you.”
I mainly read and review horror fiction. This puzzle box of a novel took me entirely by surprise. In its early pages, I was fascinated by its idiosyncrasies and portrait of late Victorian British eccentricity, but left wondering “at which point will the horror show its ugly head?”. I even began to wonder if I’d made a mis-step in requesting this book for review.
I needn’t have been so concerned. By the time this book was finished with me, I was left with no doubts. This is one of the most affecting books I’ve read in a long time. Parry’s rich prose is a barbed delight: I was amused, upset, disgusted, appalled and horrified - frequently all within the space of a few pages. The writing employs all five senses to thoroughly revolt you and there are some grotesque descriptions in this book that will stay with me for a long time.
Marguerite Périgord is engaged to marry Mr Lewis. Her disapproving mother Cécile confines her to the tiny attic of their dilapidated London home by way of preparation for her married life. Isolated from her family and with only the novels of Victor Hugo and Mrs Beaton’s Book of Household Management (“the thousand pages of prescribed femininity, the dictionary of what men wanted from women”) for company, Marguerite earnestly begins her education.
“It is the great shame of my life, Marguerite, that you have turned out the way you have, despite my best efforts. You will be the death of me, I think…”
As the novel discloses its secrets, we learn about Cécile’s life and the lengths her daughter must now go to for survival as her ostentatious meals are provided less and less frequently. This is a witty, scathing novel about scandal and unfulfilled promises, about what it means to be a mother, a daughter, and a wife at the mercy of a cruel patriarchy; but perhaps most of all it is about generational trauma.
I devoured the second half of this novel in a day, on a train back up north from (appropriately enough) London. My friend was surprised when I told her how horrible Carrion Crow was since she’d seen me chuckling to myself a lot whilst reading it. I hadn’t realised how much I’d laughed during this book until someone else pointed it out. This is a very witty novel: horrible things happen, but you would have to have a heart of stone not to laugh at the way in which some of them are described.
In terms of comparisons, the book that Carrion Crow reminds me of most is Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Süskind, in terms of the sense(s) of the disturbing and macabre, the abundance of bodily fluids, and the sheer revulsion invoked by the prose. Fans of Camilla Grudova will also find a lot to enjoy here.
I would not recommend this book to everyone - please check trigger warnings before proceeding because there’s a lot here that could be damaging. But for readers who can stomach it, this book will be a carton of mixed eggs, where the first one you choose will be a sweet chocolate fondant; the next, a sharp vinegared hard-boiled egg - and the third one you bite into just might contain a fragile baby bird beneath its crisp shell.
I’m off to devour the rest of Parry’s back catalogue like a boiled calf’s head that I must strip of every last scrap of meat from for sustenance.
Thank you to RandomHouse UK and Netgalley for providing a digital ARC of this book.
January 19, 2025
Hands down the creepiest most vile book I’ve read… I’m going to curl up in a ball and rethink my life for a while.
March 29, 2025
This was a great gothic, literary horror about a woman who is kept trapped in the attic by her mother due to her recent engagement to an older man. I loved how the main character slowly descended into insanity and the use of the crow metaphor was really Poe-like and the atmosphere of the book was brilliant for those who enjoy Victorian gothic novels like Jane Eyre but with more of a modern, feral twist to them. I felt like the pacing let it down a bit for me and I found it a little slow, meaning I still much enjoyed Parry's earlier novel than this one, but I still definitely recommend this!
December 9, 2024
I loved this dark Victorian Gothic horror that explored themes of class, queerness and the bonds between mother and daughter. The story follows Maugeritte who has been locked away in the attic in her childhood home by her mother to educate her so that she might be suitable to marry an older (and poorer) man, that her mother does not approve of, with only Victor Hugo, Mrs. Beaton's Cookbook and a carrion crow nesting in the roof for company. The premise evokes both Jane Eyre's 'madwoman' in the attic and a (much) darker version of the fairytale 'Rapunzel'. The tight pacing and switch between the mother and daughter's backstory kept me gripped and guessing about the motivations behind each of their actions. Beautifully told, even if at times I was reading between my fingers.
September 19, 2025
This book has sewn itself into the very fabric of my brain. Carrion Crow is everything I’ve ever wanted. This viscerally vile gothic horror packs a huge punch in just over 200 pages. Its pages are steeped in rage and depravity, with notes of classism, misogyny, forbidden queer love, and generational trauma, resulting in the most horrific and gut wrenching cocktail. Reminiscent of Jackson and Poe, this is a true gothic book full of dread, tension, and disquiet. 🐦⬛🏚️🕸️
Margeurite has been locked in the attic, with nothing more than a sewing machine, a homemakers handbook, a lumpy cot, and a carrion crow. Confined by her mother, Cecilia, she is to learn the ways of a housewife before embarking on a new life with her solicitor husband-to-be. Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, then time loses all meaning. Margeurite, deprived of regular meals, human contact, or distraction, begins to lose herself; slowly falling into madness, forgetting the lines drawn between herself and her crow. Woven through this isolation are the histories of both Cecilia and Margeurite, painting a slow portrait of both women and their traumatic lives.
Not a single word was wasted in this one. Needle sharp prose that, on their own don’t amount to much, create a festering pin pricked wound by the end. If you loved We Have Always Lived in the Castle and want something with similar but infinitely more horrific vibes, this is for you. I cannot recommend this to the masses, but if you enjoy body horror, slow burn, unreliable narrations, and character driven stories, this might be for you. More than once I physically gaged which has never happened to me while reading before….. so do with that what you will. I will think of Margeurite often, reading her story made me forget the lines drawn between her and my own self.
Margeurite has been locked in the attic, with nothing more than a sewing machine, a homemakers handbook, a lumpy cot, and a carrion crow. Confined by her mother, Cecilia, she is to learn the ways of a housewife before embarking on a new life with her solicitor husband-to-be. Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, then time loses all meaning. Margeurite, deprived of regular meals, human contact, or distraction, begins to lose herself; slowly falling into madness, forgetting the lines drawn between herself and her crow. Woven through this isolation are the histories of both Cecilia and Margeurite, painting a slow portrait of both women and their traumatic lives.
Not a single word was wasted in this one. Needle sharp prose that, on their own don’t amount to much, create a festering pin pricked wound by the end. If you loved We Have Always Lived in the Castle and want something with similar but infinitely more horrific vibes, this is for you. I cannot recommend this to the masses, but if you enjoy body horror, slow burn, unreliable narrations, and character driven stories, this might be for you. More than once I physically gaged which has never happened to me while reading before….. so do with that what you will. I will think of Margeurite often, reading her story made me forget the lines drawn between her and my own self.
October 9, 2025
You ever finish a book and immediately need a bleach bath for your soul? Yeah. That.
Carrion Crow is one of the darkest, most viscerally revolting things I’ve read in a long time... and I mean that as both a compliment and a cry for help. Heather Parry doesn’t just write about decay; she makes you smell it. This gothic fever dream draws from the real-life case of a woman imprisoned in an attic for twenty-five years, and somehow makes that horror even more suffocating.
The dual timelines between mother and daughter are masterful - showing how cruelty, repression, and inherited trauma rot through generations like damp through old wallpaper. Watching Marguerite’s mind fray, her sense of time slip, her body turn against her… it’s grotesque and fascinating in equal measure. Parry’s writing is lyrical, intense, and utterly relentless. You feel the claustrophobia, the stench, the moral decay.
That said, the internal monologues sometimes meander into full existential loops (you can see what Parry’s doing - showing madness in real time), but it occasionally tips into “please, just open a window” territory. Still, the slow descent into madness and the mirroring between the crumbling house and the family’s downfall are thematically brilliant.
By the end, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to applaud or set the book on fire. It’s horrifying, artful, and unforgettable — the kind of novel you don’t enjoy so much as endure. And then immediately text a friend to say, “READ THIS. I think I’ve lost my mind.”
Final thought: If you can smell the Thames through the page… congratulations, you’ve been hexed. 🖤
Carrion Crow is one of the darkest, most viscerally revolting things I’ve read in a long time... and I mean that as both a compliment and a cry for help. Heather Parry doesn’t just write about decay; she makes you smell it. This gothic fever dream draws from the real-life case of a woman imprisoned in an attic for twenty-five years, and somehow makes that horror even more suffocating.
The dual timelines between mother and daughter are masterful - showing how cruelty, repression, and inherited trauma rot through generations like damp through old wallpaper. Watching Marguerite’s mind fray, her sense of time slip, her body turn against her… it’s grotesque and fascinating in equal measure. Parry’s writing is lyrical, intense, and utterly relentless. You feel the claustrophobia, the stench, the moral decay.
That said, the internal monologues sometimes meander into full existential loops (you can see what Parry’s doing - showing madness in real time), but it occasionally tips into “please, just open a window” territory. Still, the slow descent into madness and the mirroring between the crumbling house and the family’s downfall are thematically brilliant.
By the end, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to applaud or set the book on fire. It’s horrifying, artful, and unforgettable — the kind of novel you don’t enjoy so much as endure. And then immediately text a friend to say, “READ THIS. I think I’ve lost my mind.”
Final thought: If you can smell the Thames through the page… congratulations, you’ve been hexed. 🖤
January 11, 2026
Thank you to Pushkin Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
We follow Marguerite Périgord in the Victorian period, locked in an attic in their family home by her mother for the sake of equipping her to be marriageable.
The living situation of this house is much diminished, with Cecile the mother having been married well, but then left alone with her children, abandoned by the rest of her family.
This was gothic, queer, and incredibly claustrophobic. The confinement that Marguerite experiences in the attic, with only a crow in the ceiling and a copy of Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management for company, is devastating. We watch as her mental health suffers, and she finds horribly visceral ways, mostly to do with her bodily functions, to pass the time.
The book is not for the squeamish. I had to put it down several times as it was so intense. It is based on the true story of a french woman confined in an attic room by her aristocratic mother for a long period of time, which makes it even sadder.
Beautifully written, and with shocking and heartbreaking passages that are indelibly marked in my brain, this book will stick with me for a long time.
Now I need to go and recover!
We follow Marguerite Périgord in the Victorian period, locked in an attic in their family home by her mother for the sake of equipping her to be marriageable.
The living situation of this house is much diminished, with Cecile the mother having been married well, but then left alone with her children, abandoned by the rest of her family.
This was gothic, queer, and incredibly claustrophobic. The confinement that Marguerite experiences in the attic, with only a crow in the ceiling and a copy of Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management for company, is devastating. We watch as her mental health suffers, and she finds horribly visceral ways, mostly to do with her bodily functions, to pass the time.
The book is not for the squeamish. I had to put it down several times as it was so intense. It is based on the true story of a french woman confined in an attic room by her aristocratic mother for a long period of time, which makes it even sadder.
Beautifully written, and with shocking and heartbreaking passages that are indelibly marked in my brain, this book will stick with me for a long time.
Now I need to go and recover!
March 10, 2025
Marguerite has known solitude, having been locked in the attic of her family home, a house far past its prime, a shell that is constantly disintegrating which is unsurprising when you learn that’s its very existence is next to the mighty Thames, which in this stage of its life is nothing more than a cesspit of effluence and decay disguised as a river…
For company Marguerite makes do with: a sewing machine that, much like the rest of the house has seen better days, a battered copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management and tray upon tray of what surely was once upon a time food that is ferried up to her with little regularity.
Her jailer is her mother, Cécile, who only is concerned about Marguerites engagement to an older, near-penniless solicitor, Mr Lewis, and longs to educate her daughter on proper married conduct - lest she dare drag the family’s good name through the mud and into disrepute. Just the very notion!
But why is Marguerite set on Mr Lewis to begin with? Her mothers visits which to begin with were very frequent but as of late seem to be rarer than that of the fabled Blue Moon, and the biggest question that should be asked is just how much time has passed since the attic became her entire world?
Perhaps she can make at least one ally in this strange place: the crow that seems to have chosen the space above Marguerite. Yes, she will do. She can be her friend…. Can’t she?
A depraved, emotional, uncomfortable observation on class, relationships, and the undulating bonds of motherhood, Carrion Crow is as shocking as it is a delight!
For company Marguerite makes do with: a sewing machine that, much like the rest of the house has seen better days, a battered copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management and tray upon tray of what surely was once upon a time food that is ferried up to her with little regularity.
Her jailer is her mother, Cécile, who only is concerned about Marguerites engagement to an older, near-penniless solicitor, Mr Lewis, and longs to educate her daughter on proper married conduct - lest she dare drag the family’s good name through the mud and into disrepute. Just the very notion!
But why is Marguerite set on Mr Lewis to begin with? Her mothers visits which to begin with were very frequent but as of late seem to be rarer than that of the fabled Blue Moon, and the biggest question that should be asked is just how much time has passed since the attic became her entire world?
Perhaps she can make at least one ally in this strange place: the crow that seems to have chosen the space above Marguerite. Yes, she will do. She can be her friend…. Can’t she?
A depraved, emotional, uncomfortable observation on class, relationships, and the undulating bonds of motherhood, Carrion Crow is as shocking as it is a delight!
August 2, 2025
A question I ask myself reading a lot of contemporary novels: Is this good or disgusting? Is being disgusting and visceral equivalent to being a good writer? If so, this wins: it's full of extremely grotesque descriptions.
I found this disgusting but I was also quite bored. I appreciated that the writer knew what she wanted to do with it and the book has a clear structure but it felt lacking in insight, life, narrative drive. If it was too slow, it's because the heart was not there; there were clear ideas being thought about but there were none of the revelations or metamorphosis naturally brought out through story.
I'm inclined to agree with critic Stuart Kelly who questioned whether this is much more than an 'imaginative re-fleshing of a thesis.'
Also, I love gothic novels, but I often feel contemporary gothic novels set in that era feel a bit like fan fiction/cosplay. I don't really see what setting it in that era/the formal language did for this novel.
I found this disgusting but I was also quite bored. I appreciated that the writer knew what she wanted to do with it and the book has a clear structure but it felt lacking in insight, life, narrative drive. If it was too slow, it's because the heart was not there; there were clear ideas being thought about but there were none of the revelations or metamorphosis naturally brought out through story.
I'm inclined to agree with critic Stuart Kelly who questioned whether this is much more than an 'imaginative re-fleshing of a thesis.'
Also, I love gothic novels, but I often feel contemporary gothic novels set in that era feel a bit like fan fiction/cosplay. I don't really see what setting it in that era/the formal language did for this novel.
February 4, 2025
Carrion Crow is a near-perfect execution of contemporary Gothic tropes, a story of a literal mad woman in the attic, sprinkled with discussions of race, queerness and embodiment of female emotions. It is beautifully written and wretchingly off-putting, with just the right amount of gory imagery. Marguerite wants to escape her mother's home by marrying an older man, but her mother, Cecile, locks her in the attic till she can learn how to become a proper lady. We follow Marguerite's slow phantasmagorical disintegration, superimposed on the more conventionally told story of how her mother got to be the gaoler that she is.
I loved the precise prose of this novel, both in the various societal observations and naturalistically written body horror. The book is full of striking imagery that, for me at least, never went beyond the Gothic into more disturbing gore (think the new Nosferatu movie rather than a Clive Barker story).
It is not a realistic costume drama by any means but rather a fable of complicity. Cecile obsessively retreats into grotesque propriety as a response to the world's failure to uphold its part of the gendered social contract. She is a Gothic Alicent Hightower on steroids. Her sections, as a contrast to stifling and suffocating Marguerite chapters, open up the world of the attic to put it in its wider context. Cecile's story of white women's complicity in white supremacist patriarchy is very timely in a world of glorified trad wives.
The novel explores the complexities of class and social hierarchies through its simplified fairy tale like narrative. Whiteness and lineage are key to the novel's themes and imagery, and the narrative does touch on contextual imperialism and racism, but I felt that the author could have pushed that further and explored the themes of race deeper. I was also expecting some sort of a narrative twist, something snappy at the end, to bring it all together, but I found the ending somewhat unsatisfying.
I would recommend this stand-out Gothic novel for its beautiful prose, striking imagery, and social commentary.
I loved the precise prose of this novel, both in the various societal observations and naturalistically written body horror. The book is full of striking imagery that, for me at least, never went beyond the Gothic into more disturbing gore (think the new Nosferatu movie rather than a Clive Barker story).
It is not a realistic costume drama by any means but rather a fable of complicity. Cecile obsessively retreats into grotesque propriety as a response to the world's failure to uphold its part of the gendered social contract. She is a Gothic Alicent Hightower on steroids. Her sections, as a contrast to stifling and suffocating Marguerite chapters, open up the world of the attic to put it in its wider context. Cecile's story of white women's complicity in white supremacist patriarchy is very timely in a world of glorified trad wives.
The novel explores the complexities of class and social hierarchies through its simplified fairy tale like narrative. Whiteness and lineage are key to the novel's themes and imagery, and the narrative does touch on contextual imperialism and racism, but I felt that the author could have pushed that further and explored the themes of race deeper. I was also expecting some sort of a narrative twist, something snappy at the end, to bring it all together, but I found the ending somewhat unsatisfying.
I would recommend this stand-out Gothic novel for its beautiful prose, striking imagery, and social commentary.
October 11, 2025
This is a devastatingly savage gothic queer novel set in the Imperial years of the late Victorian era about the ‘higher echelons’ of society with its nouveau riche and impoverished aristocracy; daughters and wives treated as being an inferior species and frequently disposable.
The central premise of the story is Cécile’s imprisonment of her daughter, Marguerite, in an attic ostensibly to learn to be a good wife to an older solicitor, from a despised inferior background, by memorising Mrs Beeton’s Household Management and by dieting herself into a thinner, paler version of herself. Marguerite’s compliance seems incomprehensible at first but as the details of her decades in the attic are very explicitly and horrifically described and the life history is laid bare of her mother, Cécile, daughter of a self made soap manufacturer, and wife of a reckless and wanton libertine, scion of a French aristocratic family, it becomes clear that both mother and daughter are victims of a heartless, hypocritical and savage Victorian society.
This book is very skilfully written but is not for the faint hearted. However I found it compelling in a gruesome way with all its twists and turns. An indictment of Victorian attitudes to women and children at all levels of society.
The central premise of the story is Cécile’s imprisonment of her daughter, Marguerite, in an attic ostensibly to learn to be a good wife to an older solicitor, from a despised inferior background, by memorising Mrs Beeton’s Household Management and by dieting herself into a thinner, paler version of herself. Marguerite’s compliance seems incomprehensible at first but as the details of her decades in the attic are very explicitly and horrifically described and the life history is laid bare of her mother, Cécile, daughter of a self made soap manufacturer, and wife of a reckless and wanton libertine, scion of a French aristocratic family, it becomes clear that both mother and daughter are victims of a heartless, hypocritical and savage Victorian society.
This book is very skilfully written but is not for the faint hearted. However I found it compelling in a gruesome way with all its twists and turns. An indictment of Victorian attitudes to women and children at all levels of society.
January 13, 2025
Absolutely perfectly unhinged and disgusting. I must read more of Parry's books, her writing is a joy.
Loved the way both M and C's stories combined, with each other and with the metaphorical(?) mother crow. I have never written a sentence that sounds so pretentious. Ugh. Please don't judge.
Loved the way both M and C's stories combined, with each other and with the metaphorical(?) mother crow. I have never written a sentence that sounds so pretentious. Ugh. Please don't judge.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Read
October 9, 2025Spooktober #1
I wasn’t a fan. I’m not really into the gothic as such, so this one did very little for me. What’s more, I was particularly annoyed by the fact that there’s no reason the girl couldn’t just leave. I kept thinking, come on, girl, open that trapdoor already! the entire time.
I wasn’t a fan. I’m not really into the gothic as such, so this one did very little for me. What’s more, I was particularly annoyed by the fact that there’s no reason the girl couldn’t just leave. I kept thinking, come on, girl, open that trapdoor already! the entire time.
Read
February 3, 2025This one was a bit repetitive (I wonder if it would have worked better as a novella), but boy, it doesn't get more gothic than this, now does it?
Read
March 16, 2025so true Heather Parry, you really “are always a child in the shadow of your mother” …
June 23, 2025
I cannot review this book accurately as I found it's content too upsetting and disturbing. I cannot fault it for wanting to be a graphic body horror novel. for what it's worth it was well written, but this was certainly not for me.
Time to read something happy!
Time to read something happy!
March 20, 2025
Carrion Crow is a visceral and utterly vile Victorian gothic unlike any I have ever read. Parry's prose poked at me like a needle, and the sorrowful story strung through me with its thread. I am maimed. I can't look at a crow (and there are crows aplenty where I live) without recalling this horrific tale. Needless to say, I loved it!
The book, which explores themes of societal constraints, misogyny, generational trauma, and forbidden love, begins with Cecile Périgord locking her daughter, Marguerite, in the attic of their crumbling home overlooking the miasmic Thames. With nothing more than Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management and a sewing machine, Marguerite is to stay locked within until she learns the duties of a wife, on the brink of her promised marriage to a solicitor.
Days pass into weeks, weeks into months, months into years, and Marguerite turns to her own body to pass the time, blurring the lines between herself and a carrion crow in the rafters. Woven throughout with backstory, the reader slowly begins to understand the minds of the mother and daughter, with secrets and scandals unraveling with their sanity.
I read this while having a mild cold which made me feel even more unsettled. There were times when I was so disgusted that I gagged, but don't let that deter you, for it goes to show how well Parry's words clawed into me. I highly recommend! It is certainly a powerful book.
The book, which explores themes of societal constraints, misogyny, generational trauma, and forbidden love, begins with Cecile Périgord locking her daughter, Marguerite, in the attic of their crumbling home overlooking the miasmic Thames. With nothing more than Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management and a sewing machine, Marguerite is to stay locked within until she learns the duties of a wife, on the brink of her promised marriage to a solicitor.
Days pass into weeks, weeks into months, months into years, and Marguerite turns to her own body to pass the time, blurring the lines between herself and a carrion crow in the rafters. Woven throughout with backstory, the reader slowly begins to understand the minds of the mother and daughter, with secrets and scandals unraveling with their sanity.
I read this while having a mild cold which made me feel even more unsettled. There were times when I was so disgusted that I gagged, but don't let that deter you, for it goes to show how well Parry's words clawed into me. I highly recommend! It is certainly a powerful book.
March 5, 2025
I had to give up on this. Not because of the harrowing story (the darker the better for me) it was too repetitive. The descriptive writing was very good, however, as was the original storyline, so it would be unfair to score it less than a 3.
May 29, 2025
Gross
October 8, 2025
Got to the part about ‘hardened phlegm discs’ and had to bail.
DNF but can imagine this is a good book for people with stronger stomachs.
DNF but can imagine this is a good book for people with stronger stomachs.
October 29, 2025
‘You have always been unnatural, Marguerite.’
The perfect gothic horror novel for autumn—Heather Parry is new to me, and I started this on a whim, but it turned out to be a solid match. Kudos to the Goodreads horror recommendations banner; I guess they can be good sometimes. This is one I would certainly emphasize for fans of Ottessa Moshfegh, body horror in particular, and brutal examinations of Victorian-era attitudes about women. I had thought Rijneveld’s The Discomfort of Evening grotesque and perhaps excessive in its explicit depictions of human bodily functions, but Heather Parry said, ‘Hold my tonsils.’
Carrion Crow is the tale of Marguerite, a young girl living in England and born to a noble family of French descent. She is taken upstairs to her family’s attic and locked in by her mother, ‘for her own good’, in preparation for Marguerite’s upcoming nuptials. But, of course, as readers, we are far more savvy to the situation than Marguerite herself is. What follows is a grim and inevitable unraveling of Marguerite, physically and emotionally, as she goes through her isolation and gradual realization of the circumstances. This is one you want to go into without too much awareness of what is to come; I went in blind, and that made the experience so much richer. The plot is neither straightforward nor linear, but as a character-heavy novel, this one delivers elaborate characterization and complex psyches.
Parry cleverly situates the reader in Marguerite’s imprisonment initially, getting us situated, but then the narrative takes turns revealing moments from Marguerite’s past (in particular, through the perspective of her mother, Cécile) and her current state. Without giving too mcuh away, this narrative structure worked incredibly well for me—it was engaging and unputdownable. As grim and disgusting as the narrative gets, and trust me, Parry is not afraid to get too specific with details, I couldn’t look away from the horror that was unfolding before my eyes. Despite the reader’s intuitions about the story, it doesn’t feel slow or predictable. Like with a good rubberneck, we know that car is totaled, but we can’t help but want to watch it burn.
Cécile and Marguerite are the novel’s primary focus with respect to characters. As such, Parry does a great job illustrating what brought them to the current point—rather than good or evil, we get complex characters that we can both pity and despise, often at the same time. This does mean the secondary characters are fairly flat and somewhat static at times, but the depth of our mother/daughter duo is a worthy consolation. The gradual introduction of Cécile’s past was quite clever, because I was prepared to hate her unequivocally, but Parry does not let you form opinions so readily. Nothing is black or white, and both mother and daughter are, in some ways, each other’s salvation and undoing.
The book’s writing style is succinct, not lingering overmuch on descriptions or context beyond what is necessary; yet, it also has a mythic, fairytale-esque quality to it. This is not a sightseeing novel; indeed, the reader may often wish to turn away from the horror depicted on page. Victorian England is still portrayed well enough to set the scene and immerse, if briefly. If you’ve never read a Victorian novel before, it may seem strange, but if you have, then Parry’s depiction will feel familiar. Moreover, Parry masterfully charges the writing style with a kind of psychic brilliance. I’ve never quite seen a novel that encapsulates so well what it is like to feel that you are entombed in a disgusting, fleshy sack of meat that digests, defecates, and decays.
As the narrative progresses and Marguerite’s mental health declines in her isolation, so too does the writing, hanging on the precipice between reality and madness. Parry invokes deeper themes, primarily focusing on the role of women in Victorian-era England, particularly in how women can sharpen and reinforce each other’s limitations. Then there are also hints of colonialism, class consciousness, and marginalized identity. Unlike many contemporary authors, Parry trusts the reader to carry her metaphors and subtlety through to their intended targets. If you want a novel that holds your hand, this definitely is not it. I greatly appreciated the cleverness of the prose and the precision of Parry’s imagery and symbolism.
Carrion Crow is a book I picked up on a whim, because the title reminded me of Roanhorse’s Between Earth and Sky series. While this novel couldn’t be more different, it did manage to strike as the perfect choice for a spooky, unsettling autumn read. I’ve got to go and check out her repertoire now! Definitely not a novel for the faint of heart, but if you were first in line to sign up for anatomy lab and appreciate precise examinations of patriarchical systems in Victorian England, this may be the right book for you. I was horrified, though unfortunately not too surprised, to learn that the book’s central premise is based on a true story. Fairytales are quick to teach that women are princesses, but few examine the logical consequences of isolation and lack of agency that such stories entail.
Favorite quotes:
※ ‘Freedom always comes at a price, that much she had learned, and a confinement was a small sacrifice for the reward of being able to set the rest of her life exactly as she wanted it.’
※ ‘They learned that if you can handle hardship, if you can make it fun, there will always be a prize at the end of it.’
※ ‘For what was the point of having wellborn blood, if one could not luxuriate in the gratification of debauchery and sensualism? Of a life lived outside usual customs, a queer existence?’
※ ‘The carrion crow would raise her children on a primal level, attending to their needs without the concerns of society, and that was what Marguerite wanted to learn. How to fly above the heads of these people and make a nest where others might not see.’
※ ‘Good blood is the only thing you can’t buy, you know.’
※ ‘There was nothing tender about it. Nothing delicate, just the pathetic glugging of a featherless little sack whose entire existence was to eat.’
※ ‘She felt weakened by the intensity of what she wanted. And terrified she might get it.’
※ ‘But the magic of parenthood does not come alone; it comes with tedium and difficulty and a relinquishing of who you are and what you do.’
※ ‘Marguerite couldn’t continue to watch, and willed the lark to fly away, for she might torment herself fruitlessly for ever, trying to free a creature that was born to be caged.’
January 14, 2025
Marguerite Périgord is to be married to an older man but before she can be allowed to do that, her mother locks her in the attic to prepare her for the life of a wife.
This book was terribly difficult to read. At times it was so horrifically gruesome that it turned my stomach. But at the same time I could not put it down.
I loved that we get the story of both Marguerite and her mother. That we get to explore this toxic relationship between the two women. Especially with Cecile's side of the story, it's so brilliantly done because it would be so easy to see her only as a monster. But instead we see a woman who took the hatred she feels towards herself and what her life became and turns it towards her daughter who, she believes, is about to make the same mistakes she did when she was younger. It's her twisted way of protecting her daughter and at the same time punishing this version of herself.
Marguerite's pov is certainly the hardest to read, and you want to let yourself get lost in this fantasy she's creating for herself but everything in the story is telling you things are so much worse than we can see. And I love that the ending manages to be beautiful in the most heartbreaking way.
This is certainly not an easy book to read, but it was worth every moment.
This book was terribly difficult to read. At times it was so horrifically gruesome that it turned my stomach. But at the same time I could not put it down.
I loved that we get the story of both Marguerite and her mother. That we get to explore this toxic relationship between the two women. Especially with Cecile's side of the story, it's so brilliantly done because it would be so easy to see her only as a monster. But instead we see a woman who took the hatred she feels towards herself and what her life became and turns it towards her daughter who, she believes, is about to make the same mistakes she did when she was younger. It's her twisted way of protecting her daughter and at the same time punishing this version of herself.
Marguerite's pov is certainly the hardest to read, and you want to let yourself get lost in this fantasy she's creating for herself but everything in the story is telling you things are so much worse than we can see. And I love that the ending manages to be beautiful in the most heartbreaking way.
This is certainly not an easy book to read, but it was worth every moment.
March 3, 2025
Carrion Crow is one of my most anticipated reads of 2025, following Heather Parry’s grisly gothic debut, Orpheus Builds a Girl, which became my favourite book of 2022. Parry’s distinctive style of warped gothic storytelling is truly one-of-a-kind. Her novels have a remarkable quality that makes them feel both of their time and timeless—able to evoke the sensibilities of 150 years ago, while resonating with contemporary themes.
Carrion Crow is a single-location story that explores two lives constrained and degraded by societal expectations of women and the confines of polite society. Set in a small attic, we follow Marguerite, who is both excited and apprehensive about her engagement to a much older—and potentially penniless—man. She is grateful to her mother, Cécile, who has confined her to the attic in order to prepare her for the best possible start to domestic life.
Left with only her own thoughts, a copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management, a carrion crow nesting in the rafters, and her changing body, Marguerite’s days and weeks slowly blur together. As she begins to question when she will be freed, she watches as her body (and mind) warps and frays before her eyes.
At the same time, the reader is given a glimpse into Cécile’s own engagement and marriage through a parallel narrative, revealing the humiliation she endured as a young woman—experiences that have ultimately driven her to take such extreme measures with Marguerite.
Carrion Crow is a captivating story that explores themes of polite society, class, generational trauma, gender roles, the mind-body connection, and the haunting metaphor of ‘the mad woman in the attic.’ For readers drawn to visceral body horror with strong Gothic undertones, this novel delivers in full. Marguerite’s physical degradation is depicted in unsettling detail: horrifying, grotesque, and profoundly pitiful. Like Orpheus, you’ll be left both repulsed and fascinated, yet ultimately, enraged.
Carrion Crow is a single-location story that explores two lives constrained and degraded by societal expectations of women and the confines of polite society. Set in a small attic, we follow Marguerite, who is both excited and apprehensive about her engagement to a much older—and potentially penniless—man. She is grateful to her mother, Cécile, who has confined her to the attic in order to prepare her for the best possible start to domestic life.
Left with only her own thoughts, a copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management, a carrion crow nesting in the rafters, and her changing body, Marguerite’s days and weeks slowly blur together. As she begins to question when she will be freed, she watches as her body (and mind) warps and frays before her eyes.
At the same time, the reader is given a glimpse into Cécile’s own engagement and marriage through a parallel narrative, revealing the humiliation she endured as a young woman—experiences that have ultimately driven her to take such extreme measures with Marguerite.
Carrion Crow is a captivating story that explores themes of polite society, class, generational trauma, gender roles, the mind-body connection, and the haunting metaphor of ‘the mad woman in the attic.’ For readers drawn to visceral body horror with strong Gothic undertones, this novel delivers in full. Marguerite’s physical degradation is depicted in unsettling detail: horrifying, grotesque, and profoundly pitiful. Like Orpheus, you’ll be left both repulsed and fascinated, yet ultimately, enraged.
December 24, 2025
I think my rating might seem a little unfair. This novel is well-written and evocative with a distinctly gothic atmosphere. It could also be described as psychological horror with shades of “The Yellow Wallpaper.” The lower rating has to do with its obvious association with extreme horror, particularly extreme body horror. I was nauseated at times, and I am worried that my face might be permanently frozen in disgust. I am not a fan of this kind of content. Sadly, without it, this novel would have been nothing more than a short story. This is a compelling and tragic story of family dysfunction, confinement and abuse, and homophobia set among the overt restrictions of Victorian polite society - particularly among those who live squarely within the divide between the gentry and the nouveau riche. If chewing on dried up phlegm is for you, go for it. If you’re like me and would rather not be revolted, you should pass. I wish I had.
May 3, 2025
3.5 or something rounded up. Wow! I didn’t expect what I got here. This is as much the story of Cecile as it is Marguerite. It’s a story of trauma and pain from one generation getting passed on and inflicted onto the next generation. Upper class white woman struggles but still struggles - and, in the case of Marguerite, also the struggles of being a queer woman in this time period.
Gothic but also surprisingly gross. Marguerite is trapped in an attic for decades, so that goes the way you would think in terms of cleanliness. And then some added layers of nasty that have some symbolic/thematic context.
Slow and repetitive at times, but I enjoyed the writing and the ick of it all.
Gothic but also surprisingly gross. Marguerite is trapped in an attic for decades, so that goes the way you would think in terms of cleanliness. And then some added layers of nasty that have some symbolic/thematic context.
Slow and repetitive at times, but I enjoyed the writing and the ick of it all.
October 14, 2024
I don't think I really understood this book so I really didn't enjoy it. I didn't DNF as I wanted to see it through. I liked the parts where we looked back on Cécile's life but they came out of nowhere and I don't really understand the relevance to the plot? (Apart from maybe to explain the families situation?).
Thank you Doubleday and Netgalley for the arc.
Thank you Doubleday and Netgalley for the arc.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 144 reviews