Carrion Crow : Signed Edition

by Heather Parry

Marguerite has been locked in the attic of her family home, a disintegrating Chelsea house overlooking the stench of the Thames. For company she a sewing machine, a copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management and trays of congealing food carried up to her with little regularity. Marguerite has been confined by her mother, Cécile, who is concerned about her engagement to an older, near-penniless solicitor, Mr Lewis, and wishes to educate her daughter on ‘proper’ married conduct – lest she drag the family’s good name into disrepute. But why is Marguerite pursuing the aged Mr Lewis in the first place? Why are her mother’s visits seemingly becoming less frequent? And just how much time has passed since the lock closed on the attic’s hatch?

Carrion Crow is a transportive and gloriously gothic commentary on the constraints of polite society – and the even greater danger of conformity – that unfurls one family’s festering secrets.

Genres: Horror, Gothic, Historical Fiction, Fiction, Historical, LGBT, Queer

Paperback

About the author

Heather 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. 

Reviews

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

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

[Adrienne L · Rating 2 out of 5]

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.

[Johanna Van]

If you want ultimate gothic, do yourself a favour and read this book; it doesn't get much more gothic than this!

[em · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[The Grim Reader UK · Rating 5 out of 5]

“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.

[BookishlySonia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Update: I re read this book this past week with more realistic expectations and historical background information and absolutely loved it the second time around. I still wish it was longer and Cecile’s hatred for Marguerite as a child was better explained which is why it’s not 5 stars for me but if I wasn’t being nitpicky it would be a 5 star book. Alas, I am who I am.


The prose in this book is incredibly evocative, unfortunately the images it evokes are often incredibly disgusting and nauseating. A claustrophobic and harrowing tale that should have been heartbreaking but never quite landed for me emotionally.

Objectively, this is bleak and truly horrific; a fantastic representation of the destruction of the self until all that’s left is the bases recollection of personhood. However, I found myself not actively caring. The lack of sufficient build up made this feel more clinical and less emotional. I wish this had been more of a slow burn, show me how we got here in depth rather than throwing me into the deep end from the get go.

I am also not entirely sure what the point of Cecile’s story was in relation to what she does to Marguerite. I would have loved to have seen why she hates her but not her other two children, as it seems that started when Marguerite was a child herself.

Overall, the writing is superb but the story’s execution left me dissatisfied and wanting.

[Hannah Sherrington · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[Summer · Rating 2 out of 5]

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.

[kel ✦⏾ · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[Well of Lost Books · Rating 3 out of 5]

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. 🖤

[Elizabeth · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[Rachel Louise Atkin · Rating 3 out of 5]

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!

[⭐︎• Perla •⭐︎ · Rating 4 out of 5]

“There are some facts about the world that only your mother can teach you.”

I really enjoyed this gothic, queer tragedy; Throughout the book, we switch between two narratives: Marguerite, a woman who has been imprisoned in the attic of her family home for over 20+ years, and her mother, Cecile, who has been keeping her daughter secluded under the guise of her being “unnatural.” Over the course of her confinement, we see Marguerite slowly losing her sanity, constantly fixated on her bright future once she can be married to her fiancé, Mr. Lewis, and also start a life with her secret female lover, Alouette.

Parry weaves in glimpses of Cecile’s life: having been born into a self-made affluent family, married off to a sex-obsessed deadbeat drunk, becoming a mother 3 times, and then being abandoned by her husband, her in-laws, and her own family. We see glimpses of what may have led Cecile to the idea of this cruel punishment she forces on her daughter, stating “it’s for her own good.” This may be a product of the time period; The novel takes place during the Victorian Era, a time in which women had little to no freedoms unless given to them through blood or marriage. Cecile explains to her daughter she cannot leave the attic until she meets all the requirements of being “a perfect wife,” which unfortunately includes No Lesbian Lover.

The writing is dark, descriptive, and grotesque. Marguerite becomes a shell of herself and almost inhumane. It’s incredibly sad to see her hopes of loving life always reaching an impossible goal set for her by her own mother.

Thank you to NetGalley and Pushkin Press for providing an ARC

[imogen · Rating 3 out of 5]

thank you to the publisher for the e-arc in exchange for review.

2.5 rounded up. this felt like two seperate novellas that we tried to link together, without success. it’s basically four ideas meshed together in a weird horror psychological thriller thing set in victorian london but so clearly written today. it tried to be so much in such a short book, without saying enough. there were ‘reveals’ and ‘twists’ that just don’t mean anything to me as the reader because it hadn’t been built up at all.

[Suki J · Rating 5 out of 5]

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!

[Nouf · Rating 3 out of 5]

Review of advance copy received from Netgalley



This book is so weird in a good way but also disgusting. I loved the Victorian Gothic atmosphere!
Her mother is the worst. I really feel sorry for the daughter!
I found the long chapters at the start quite annoying this was the only aspect I disliked.

While I hated the mother for her actions towards the daughter I was actually more fascinated by her story. Her sections were more engaging in my opinion. I also sympathised with the mother's difficult situation and what was kept from her before her marriage but I believe she still had no right to do that to her daughter.And how she kept accusing the daughter of things she hadn't done since she was a baby! Like she hated her from the beginning so sad !


Also i didn't see that ending coming!!


Thanks to NetGalley, the publisher and the author for the ARC in exchange for an honest opinion.

[Laura Copestake · Rating 4 out of 5]

A truly dark, victorian gothic novel. I don't think I've read a book so descriptive and disturbing. The way the crow is woven within the narrative between Marguerite and her mother is so well written.

[RavenReads · Rating 4 out of 5]

Please check your trigger warnings before going into this one. Seriously.

While reading, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this story echoed something I’d heard before… Carrion Crow is a fictionalized retelling inspired by the tragic case of Blanche Monnier, a French woman imprisoned for decades by her own family in the late 1800’s. Knowing that history adds an extra layer of weight and horror to an already deeply unsettling narrative.

Because of that real life connection, I found myself fully invested from the start. Parry doesn’t shy away from the brutality of the subject matter, in fact, she leans into it. This is very much in the realm of body horror and even splatterpunk at times, so if that’s not your thing, proceed with caution.

What makes it work so well is the contrast in the writing itself. The prose is lush, almost elegant, which makes the grotesque elements feel even more jarring and impactful. There’s a deliberate beauty in how the story is told, even as the content becomes increasingly disturbing. It’s not an easy read, but it’s a compelling one. Dark, visceral, and rooted in a real tragedy, Carrion Crow is both horrifying and hard to look away from. I really enjoyed it but just be prepared for how far it goes.

Many thanks to NetGalley, Heather Parry, and Steerforth & Pushkin for the ARC. All opinions are my own.

[Dan Bassett · Rating 4 out of 5]

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!

[Ghoulfriend_pls · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 ⭐️ Rounded Up
If you put this books innards next to a black lace cravat this book would make it look cheerful and colorful. This book is the epitome of the gothic genre. This story was so dismal it makes Dismal Nitch in Washington state look like a sunny flowery meadow-good thing this book didn’t exist in Lewis & Clark’s time. This is an incredibly sad story that burns slowly but is so very worth the read. This can definitely be hard to read at times as there is some Marianas Trench deep abuse and injustice but it’s also beautiful in the most tragic of ways. This braids together moments that that may illicit a variety of emotions and reactions including: sorrow, disgust, squeamishness, anger, injustice, wonder, dread, liberation, and oh did I mention sorrow? Despite this I thought this was a beautiful tragedy that made a lot of great points. I would say you’d probably enjoy this if you also liked The Lamb by Lucy Rose or The Woman in Black by Susan Hill. It is a wonderful gothic read that I’d definitely recommend!

🐦‍⬛”Any meat left had sunk out of the static skin and begun its strange process of putrefaction, a three-times death; killed, cooked, and abandoned.”

[Nailya · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[Hulttio · Rating 5 out of 5]

‘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 much 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 patriarchal 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.’

[Gill Bennett · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[Alex · Rating 3 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

This had all the markers for a book that I should love, but ultimately, I felt let down. I loved the body horror and how disgusting it all was, but there were few things that just didn’t hit. The pacing was way too slow for the narrative. I liked the descent into madness, but it became too repetitive storytelling wise. I also think that Marguerite’s story felt better fleshed out compared to Cecile’s, whose story didn’t feel like it added as much as I had hoped.

[Kat · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another impulse library book acquisition. In Carrion Crow, Marguerite has been locked in the attic by her mother, who disapproves of Marguerite's engagement and will only let her out when she has the manners of a proper lady. Moldering alone with only a copy of Mrs Beeton's Household Management and an antique sewing machine, Marguerite slowly dissolves into madness...

Carrion Crow is a compact work of litfic horror which is not for people with a weak stomach. The setting is deeply claustrophobic, with almost all of the story confined to Marguerite's attic room. Flashbacks to Marguerite's mother Cecile's ruined marriage hint at her motives for insisting that Marguerite ape the facade of an upper-class woman, even as Marguerite's living conditions slowly deteriorate into something more reminiscent of a prisoner of war. Parry has a masterful but sickening touch for describing filth, decaying food, and Marguerite's weakening body, which she leans into as the narrative progresses. The only lightness is Marguerite's memories of her lover Alouette, which leave the reader uncertain if the scenes are real, or if they're hallucinations Marguerite has summoned in her despair.

A gloriously dark and brutal story about the violence of a mother forcing her daughter into the shape of a lady. Pair it with the striking The Unsuitable by Molly Pohlig. I think this story might limit its audience due to the sheer level of unpleasantness, but I thought the execution was excellent.

[Katrina Clarke · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[endrju]

Spooktober #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.

[Geertje]

This 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?

[Irma]

so true Heather Parry, you really “are always a child in the shadow of your mother” …

[Chanel Chapters]

I am still traumatised by flowers in the attic, I can’t do another version bro