Afterbirth: A Novel

by Emma Cleary

A “mommy horror” masterpiece as hypnotic as it is terrifying, bold new talent Emma Cleary’s haunting and audacious literary debut reverberates with menace and the echoes of classic horror cinema.

A fractured sisterhood. A disturbing transformation. A desperate obsession.

Abandoning the ruins of her stalled life after an ill-omened romance, Brooke flies to Vancouver to care for her estranged sister, Izzy, who is recovering from reproductive surgery. But Izzy’s rapidly decaying apartment building, its hallways stalked by an ominous crone known only as Medusa, offers little of the refuge Brooke craves.

Seeking solace in the horror movies her ex-girlfriend loved, Brooke soon finds traces of horror bleeding from the screen into their lives. As old wounds reopen, strange forces begin to exert their power over the sisters, culminating in an unexpected and inexplicably accelerating pregnancy that will lock Brooke and Izzy in a nightmarish rivalry, and send one of them spiraling into dangerous obsession.

Eerie, macabre, and startlingly original, Emma Cleary’s stunning first novel grapples with themes of maternity, sisterhood, and bodily autonomy in the vein of bestsellers like Nightbitch, Motherthing, and Baby Teeth, and will linger in the mind long after the final page is turned.

Genres: Horror, Queer, Thriller, LGBT, Adult, Fiction, Horror Thriller

416 pages, Paperback

First published March 12, 2026

Reviews

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

(US/Can title Afterbirth) Emma Cleary’s engrossing debut is a cleverly-constructed, literary horror. A provocative, sometimes vexing take on “gynaehorror” incorporating an inventive homage to horror and the monstrous-feminine. For a horror fan like myself, Cleary’s concept was irresistible, despite still brooding over storylines which seem poised between radical and curiously conservative. Cleary splices her horror with a convincing exploration of sibling conflict, grief and generational trauma. Most of the action centres on a dingy, apartment building in Vancouver in the weeks before Christmas. It’s a sinister space, Overlook Hotel meets Hill House, all weird angles and logic-defying corridors, finished off with psychedelic carpets that sound like faded props from Argento’s Three Mothers trilogy. Cleary’s central character Brooke’s briefly relocated here to look after sister Izzy’s rescue dog while Izzy has minor surgery. Brooke’s not long back from teaching in Japan, still reeling from her breakup with girlfriend Cecelia. It’s not something she can discuss with Izzy who’s openly disapproving of her younger sister’s choices. Izzy’s having surgery to remove a uterine growth. But it turns out to be more extensive than Izzy anticipated requiring an emergency hysterectomy and lengthy hospital stay.

Alone in Izzy’s claustrophobic apartment, Brooke obsesses over Cecelia, the abrupt switch from a sense of all-enveloping love to contempt. During a series of flashbacks to Japan, Brooke reflects on their final meeting. Her portrayal of Cecelia’s actions suggest sexual assault, a possibility Brooke seems unable, or unwilling, to confront. Instead, Brooke immerses herself in the supernatural and J-horror films Cecelia loved. A ritual that allows Brooke to experience longing and anxiety without actually confronting her feelings about Cecilia. Hospital visits and daily walks with Izzy’s dog Sunshine take up the rest of Brooke’s time. But they’re marred by a seemingly-omnipresent, neighbour nicknamed Medusa (think Freud); grey-haired, dishevelled, raging, she reads like a version of the stock, monstrous-because-aging woman familiar from “hagsploitation” fiction and film: Carrie’s mother sans Carrie.

Questions of the maternal begin to seep into Cleary’s narrative, reaching their height after Izzy’s return. Her arrival’s heralded by an atmosphere of unease. Brooke finds yellow, baby clothes stashed away in Izzy’s wardrobe – ominous echoes of the yellow of Hereditary. Through paper-thin bedroom walls, Brooke hears the next-door mother and daughter, shaken by the child repeatedly singing a macabre, Japanese nursery rhyme Brooke recognises from her past. Medusa begins to resemble Ringu’s Sadako, looking as if she’s just crawled out of her well, intent on murderous revenge. Objects disappear from Izzy’s apartment, a Cindy Sherman print Brooke was strangely drawn to, an amethyst crystal given to Izzy as a gesture of sympathetic magic. A power cut plunges everything into darkness, food starts to rot, mould creeps across the ceiling, matter is out of place, things gradually fall apart.

Relations between Izzy and Brooke are strained. Half-sisters separated by over a decade, Izzy considers Brooke their mother’s longed-for child, born after a succession of devastating miscarriages. Cleary’s particularly adept at conveying the awkward mix of intimacy and distance that can characterise interactions between sisters, Brooke’s tread-carefully remarks, her tentative attempts at bonding which Izzy seems primed to reject. Bound up in grappling with what’s now lost, consumed by lingering baby hunger, Izzy’s ambivalence about Brooke’s intensified. She’s hyperaware Brooke can still have a child. For Izzy motherhood was both socially desirable and inevitable, fundamental to her womanhood. However, for childfree Brooke the mere idea of childbearing is repellent, a loss of autonomy she’s no wish to entertain. Then, inexplicably, Brooke shows signs of pregnancy and Izzy begins to spiral. For Brooke her rapidly-mutating body is nightmarish, there's a hideous something clawing at her insides.

In an inventive twist, the horror films that were Brooke’s means of escape start to bleed into her reality, trapping her in a bizarre cycle of trauma and reenactment. Leaky bodies and boundaries, grotesque imagery abounds, as Brooke feels herself invaded by an alien parasite. An entity she needs to eject. Her situation evokes Cronenberg interwoven with The Babadook, Don’t Look Now, Rosemary’s Baby, even The Exorcist. Too weak to go outside, Brooke's increasingly dependent on Izzy. But when she tries to leave, Izzy crosses over into Misery territory. And, in a sudden reversal, Medusa becomes Brooke’s only hope of survival, recommending an act of expiation that may free her from whatever’s taking over her body.

Cleary’s depiction of the visceral horror, the bodily violence of forced pregnancy is highly persuasive. Childfree women are frequently stigmatised; their choices framed as undermining women who want to be mothers. But little attention’s given to the childfree who find pregnancy itself abhorrent. Something studiously overlooked in parts of America where “forced birthers” hold sway. I’m very much with Brooke here. But I wasn’t entirely comfortable with Cleary’s juxtaposition of childfree Brooke with an unhinged, infertile Izzy. I don’t think Cleary’s narrative is sufficiently sensitive to Izzy’s situation, her loss, her grief. I was equally uncertain about the queer rep, especially the suggestion Brooke’s colonised body tracked back to Cecelia’s earlier actions. A related, lingering issue is the addition of Jamie as male love interest for Brooke, albeit thwarted. It made no sense to me that an emotionally-battered lesbian would compensate by falling into the arms of the nearest man – it threatened to undermine everything already established about her character’s identity and state of mind. It felt frustratingly close to queer-baiting. Although, to be fair, nothing’s explicit, Brooke’s attraction to Jamie could stem from supernatural forces linked to the building and/or to Izzy. But I liked Cleary’s measured prose, her impressive frame of reference from film to art to fiction. I also enjoyed the slow-burn opening and the feverish tension of the concluding sections. But, like so many first novels, this is overpacked and overlong. It could easily lose a hundred pages without anything vital disappearing.

Thanks to Netgalley and publisher The Borough Press for an ARC

Rating: 3.5

[Kobe · Rating 3 out of 5]

meh. not for me

[Ellen Ross · Rating 5 out of 5]

A true feminine horror tale with messy family drama mixed in. The writing was so well done in this book and the plot is hauntingly captivating. It really is like reading how horror movies come to life. This book was very edgy and had me anticipating what would happen next. This book is spooky, relevant, and a vivid exploration of desire. I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.

[jocelyn • coolgalreading · Rating 2 out of 5]

this could've been an email

[Christi Jensen · Rating 4 out of 5]

That was a WILD ride.

Brooke has just left Japan after a teaching job and relationship ended- and she goes to Vancouver to help her sister with her dog while she has surgery to remove a mass in her abdomen. As Brooke gets to Izzy’s apartment she realizes how run down it is, with mold on the ceilings, trash, and a crazy old woman named Marisa that seems to appear out of nowhere and scare everyone- but Izzy seems content. While Brooke cares for her sister and her beloved dog, she starts to notice strange noises, figures, and feelings in the apartment- but no one else seems to notice anything. Izzy continues to get better, but Brooke starts to get worse- and as the girls switch roles, jealousy, want, and violence creep in and fester until one of them does something they can never take back.

This book is the definition of mommy horror and it grips you from the start then chips you away page by page creeping into your subconscious and festering inside your brain. It’s like a scab you pick only for it to bleed and return over and over.

You can feel the ick dripping off the pages and the undercurrent of unease never lets up.

If you like mommy horror- pick this one up. You won’t regret it.

Thank you to Harper Collins Publishing and NetGalley for the privilege of reading this ARC in exchange for an honest review

[♡Heather✩Brown♡ · Rating 1 out of 5]

Erm. Blah blah blah ., the end. 404 pages and 400 pages too long.

[Samantha · Rating 2 out of 5]

DNF at 40%. So much said, so little happening. I tried.

[Kayla · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a great first novel by Emma Cleary. I am not super well versed in mommy horror as a genre of fiction, but it resonates deeply with the complexities and fears of modern day motherhood.
We follow our protagonist Brooke, who temporarily moves in with her sister Izzy to be her at home caretaker while Izzy recovers from a cyst removal. Her surgery goes "wrong" for Izzy, when they end up learning that the growht has spread and Izzy needs a hysterectomy. That is when we/Brooke learns how badly her sister wanted a child. Through that, we learn of the struggles the whole family has gone through for children, and how brooke herself is basically a miracle baby. the desperate yearn for children that many women innately feel is palpable, and yet the infertility and/or lack of machinery that many women suffer from is portrayed through Izzy's struggles.
Alongside all of this, we have brooke's main story line, which is to become suddenly pregnant with some unknown demon "knot". Her sister becomes obsessed, thinking the baby growing inside Brooke must be hers, while brooke absolutely abhors and refusing to acknowledge it as her own baby.
I really liked how brooke's view is portrayed. I think it's a really strong way of explaining the feelings that some women have when they say they do not want children. There is no maternal desire. And for others, its everything they could possibly want and more- they're desperate for children, as seen through Izzy.
Brooke's experience metamorphasizes the gruesome realities of pregnancy and childbirth. How disgusting your body becomes, how painful, the horrible urges that arise, and how bloody and gorey birth can be. And at no point does Brooke ever actually want this child/thing, so we are just rawly seeing the horror.
I liked that a lot.
There are definitely elements to this book that detract from it. The cecelia/japan story line is pretty integrated, but doesn't seem to really do much for the plot aside from giving our protagonist some back ground. I feel we're introduced to many characters with "clues" dropped (eg Lucie and the tarot cards, wendy/kioko and the song) but little feels done to actually bring these together in the end gracefully. These unnecessary bits can make the beginning drag a long a bit, but I find once the story got going, it really went.
And I don't feel that these elements detracted too much from the actual story. I was immersed very early on and stayed hooked through it. Overall, really enjoyed this book. Thank you goodreads & emma cleary for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

[The Blog Without a Face · Rating 3 out of 5]

Sisterhood of the travelling cyst

BWAF Score: 7/10

TL;DR: Emma Cleary’s debut grafts body horror onto a story about sisters so emotionally precise it would work without a single supernatural element. The prose is lush, the dread is earned, and the final act is a full-contact nightmare that grows from real tenderness. Slow to ignite, but once it catches, Our Monstrous Bodies / Afterbirth burns a shape you won’t forget.

About a third of the way through Our Monstrous Bodies Brooke, our narrator, presses her fingers into her sister Izzy’s swollen abdomen and feels the fibroid cyst shift beneath her skin. She describes it as “a spare knee or something.” Izzy snorts. The exchange is funny and tender and a little bit nauseating, and it is doing about six things at once, which is more or less the operating frequency of this entire novel.

Brooke, twenty-seven, queer, recently back at her parents’ house after a teaching stint in Japan and a gutting breakup, flies to Vancouver to help her older half-sister Izzy recover from surgery to remove a uterine growth. Walk the dog, make noodles, be a warm body in the apartment. Instead, Izzy’s routine myomectomy goes catastrophically wrong and becomes an emergency hysterectomy, the dog vanishes, a terrifying elderly neighbor named Medusa keeps materializing inside their locked apartment, and Brooke’s own body begins to betray her in ways that feel increasingly impossible. Cleary takes this slow domestic burn and ratchets it into something feral and mythic without ever fully abandoning the realist register. It doesn’t always work, but when it does, it really fucking works.

Cleary writes with a textural density that borders on obsessive: the mint-green bathtub, the pink grit ringing the tub, the parma violets smell of old ladies’ handbags. It creates a world you can almost taste, which matters enormously once that world starts to curdle. At its best, the writing has a quality like touching something in the dark and slowly realizing it’s alive. At its worst, it trips over its own richness. There are passages in the back half where the momentum is screaming forward but the prose wants to stop and layer one more image, and the tension sags just enough for the spell to wobble. Cleary is plainly in love with language, and most of the time that love is contagious, but she hasn’t quite learned when to kill her darlings and let a scene just rip.

Emma Cleary is a Liverpool-born, Vancouver-based writer who serves as editor-in-chief of Geist, one of Canada’s more interesting literary magazines. She holds both a PhD in literature and an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of British Columbia, and her short fiction has appeared in Best British Short Stories and the James Baldwin Review. The novel was developed under the working title All Those Strangers and acquired in a three-publisher deal by HarperCollins Canada, Borough Press in the UK, and Harper in the US, where it’s published as Afterbirth. You can feel the literary-academic DNA in the book’s architecture, the way it braids horror cinema and visual art and fairy tale into the sisters’ story, but it never reads like a dissertation. This is a debut that reads like someone who’s been thinking about these ideas for a very long time, and the fact that she built it during an MFA makes its ambition feel earned rather than reckless.

The horror operates on a principle of contamination. Brooke watches The Babadook, Ringu, Don’t Look Now, and the imagery starts bleeding into her waking life. Cleary is explicit about the mechanism, and it could feel heavy-handed but mostly doesn’t because Brooke’s relationship with these films is so specific, filtered through her ex-girlfriend Cecelia’s obsession with “mommy horror.” The scariest moments aren’t the supernatural ones. They’re the ones where bodies do what bodies do: bleed, swell, expel, betray. The image of Izzy’s hospital gown with its single tiny brown bloodstain next to her ashen face. The scene where Brooke and James have sex and something goes horribly wrong at the mirror, her reflection warping into something ancient while he recoils. Izzy late in the novel holding up tiny yellow knitted booties and saying “Aren’t they cute?” and the bottom dropping clean out of everything, warmth curdled to menace. These scenes will stick to the inside of your skull.

The sister dynamic is the engine. Brooke and Izzy are eleven years apart, their relationship built on love and resentment and mutual incomprehension that Cleary renders with painful accuracy. You believe every step because Cleary has laid the emotional groundwork with such patience. Where it loses me is in pacing. Part One is long. There’s a stretch of maybe sixty pages that feels like it’s accumulating atmosphere at the expense of forward motion, and I spent a chunk of the early book thinking okay, I trust you, can we go now? The novel could lose thirty pages up front and be tighter for it. James, Brooke’s love interest, also feels underserved. He’s compelling on the page, but his arc trails off rather than resolves.

This isn’t a book for everyone. It’s slow to start, deliberately ambiguous about its own supernatural rules, and viscerally uncomfortable in ways that will test some readers. But it’s one of the most distinctive horror debuts I’ve read in a while, a book that uses the genre as a lens for looking at things too painful to examine directly: grief, bodily autonomy, the violence of reproductive medicine, the way sisters can love each other and still become each other’s monsters. Cleary is a real talent, and I will read whatever the hell she writes next.

[Tela Puente · Rating 4 out of 5]

I received this ARC book as a goodreads giveaway. I want to thank Emma Cleary and Harper Collins Publishers for a chance to read Afterbirth before it is published.

Brooke and Izzy are the two main characters of this book. Izzy is having surgery and it didn't go as expected and she had to have a full hysterectomy. Brooke is the younger sister who came to help take care of Izzy during her hospital stay and after her hospital stay.

I will not spoil the book for any reader. Just know this book is twisted and creepy. Emma Cleary has captured mommy horror really well. I am not one for horror books and movies but I half way enjoyed Afterbirth. So I am giving this book a four star rating due to how well she captured mommy horror, the twists and turns, the unexpected help from Medusa that Brooke received, and Sunshine (Izzy's dog).

I did not like the fact that in some parts of the book it was hard to figure out if Brooke was dreaming or having a flashback, and the ending not knowing if Brooke was able to go back home.

[Melanie Schneider · Rating 2 out of 5]

Ich bin überhaupt nicht sicher, was ich von diesem Buch halten soll.

Stilistisch zeigt es großes Potential, vor allem in Richtung Horror, aber gleichzeitig hat es sich dem Horror nicht wirklich hingegeben, wollte zu literarisch sein?
Auch finde ich das Einbauen der Erlebnisse in Japan und dem Folkhorror immer etwas ... off? Es hat sich für mich nie vollständig eingefügt, teilweise wirkt es im Nachhinein wie ein versuchter Beweis, dass Brooke queer ist. Zu wenig von der Beziehung mit einer anderen Frau hatte einen Einfluss auf die Geschichte, hat zu wenig Sinn für mich ergeben im größeren Kontext.

Schade, ich hätte gern viel mehr Spaß an dem Buch gehabt, aber ich denke, hier wurde versucht, viel Kluges einzubauen, aber es gelang nicht richtig.

[Suki J · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you to Harper Collins/ Borough Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Brooke, a young woman who has recently come out of a relationship and has a history of disordered eating, goes to Vancouver to help her sister Izzy recover from surgery for a large cyst which goes sadly wrong.

While in Izzy's apartment, Brooke starts to see and hear strange things, culminating in a horrifying reflection of herself during a passionate encounter with a local she meets. What follows becomes more and more unhinged as Brooke finds her body rapidly changing, and her sister's behaviour increasingly unsettling.

I liked the themes of female bodies and motherhood that the author explores here, and Brooke and Izzy's relationship felt realistic.

The first part of the book was very slow, and as compelling as the second part was, I thought the whole story could have been shorter. There were also characters that initially seemed important and then there was no conclusion to their threads, which was a shame.

Generally a great literary horror debut, I really liked this book.

[Crystal · Rating 4 out of 5]

There really is something truly uncanny about this book. The story blurs together like watercolors and leaves a sense of unreality. What's real and what's delusion?

[Stacy40pages · Rating 3 out of 5]

Afterbirth by Emma Cleary. Thanks to @harperbooks for the gifted Arc ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Brooke has arrived in Vancouver to take care of her older sister who will be convalescing from reproductive surgery. There’s an odd woman who stalks the halls of the apartment. Brooke soon starts exhibiting strange symptoms and wonders if the building, or the strange woman, are affecting her.

This one was quite the wild ride. I felt a little lost at the end and I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I do know it was creepy as heck. It kept my interest and I liked the main characters, especially how much they loved their dog. There’s some Japanese folklore and classic horror background to the story. I loved the relationship between the sisters and how it was disturbed but not broken.

“I didn’t like the idea of some force that could take over your body, kill your only chance at the thing you most wanted, and give you something else in its place.”

Read this if you like:
-Sister relationships
-Abstract horror
-Japanese horror or folklore
-Medical or pregnancy dramas

Afterbirth comes out 3/24.

[Emma · Rating 4 out of 5]

Haunting, bold, eerie, chilling and totally captivating, Our Monstrous Hearts is a mesmerising literary horror that had me hooked. Beautifully written and evocative, debut author Emma Clearly has crafted an unforgettable exploration of a woman’s bodily autonomy, motherhood, female rage, heartbreak and loneliness that is told through the lens of the mommy horror genre. I’ll admit, it's a genre I know little about and I haven’t actually seen Rosemary’s Baby, which is the movie this is compared to in the publisher’s synopsis. But that didn’t stop me from appreciating the art of Emma’s horror storytelling or understanding the themes she explores on these pages. This story will resonate with so many women and perfectly captures the expectations, challenges and fears that surround modern womanhood and motherhood.

The story follows sisters Brooke and Izzy. Still reeling from a recent heartbreak, Brooke travels to Vancouver to help Izzy recover from major reproductive surgery. It’s been some time since they were together and they are very different people, so when Brooke first arrives there are some teething problems. These aren’t helped by where Izzy lives. Her decaying apartment building is haunted by a strange old crown known only as Medusa who stalks the halls, and Brooke is sure she sees and hears things that Izzy doesn’t believe are real. Seeking solace, Brooke turns to the horror films that her ex-girlfriend loved, only to find that some of the horror seeps from the screen into her own life.

Brooke’s curious symptoms only grow, and it is here that the sisters’ different stances on motherhood turn the chasm between them into a gulf as Izzy’s desire turns to obsession. Ms. Clearly perfectly captures both sides: Izzy’s all-consuming yearning for motherhood and the empty void of maternal desire that exists in Brooke. She also evocatively captures the gruelling and gruesome physical realities of pregnancy and childbirth: the awful symptoms, the way your body changes, the gory mess of childbirth, and how it’s all completely out of your control. Because Brooke has a complete lack of maternal desire, we see all of this in stark detail, without the soft warm glow that maternal longing usually paints over the terrible side of pregnancy and birth. Instead, it is pure horror. Gruesome. Raw. Terrifying.

Don’t miss this spectacular debut.

[Robin Kegg · Rating 1 out of 5]

There are only TWO truly horrifying things about “Afterbirth” by Emma Cleary: 1) It was actually published by a legit publisher; 2) I wasted money and time on this absolutely ridiculous, BORING, 400+ page waste of paper!

Once again, I was duped by raving endorsements from other well-respected horror authors and blurbs enthusiastically comparing it to other successful horror novels. Obviously, integrity and one’s professional reputation can be paid for these days. This book was ALMOST as exciting as watching paint dry! And while fiction does require some suspension of disbelief, when you choose to write about common surgical procedures and biological processes, there IS a boundary between believable and completely untenable. Great horror is scary because it nudges the bounds of possibility, but when it abandons all links with reality and takes things to a nonsensical extreme, it becomes pathetic and dumb.

If, however, you want to kill a lot of time reading about pathological sibling rivalry between grown ass adult sisters because you find THAT terrifying, you are in luck. They bury the coat; I wanted to bury the book and my head. I have recently been on a stretch with a string of losers, but “Afterbirth” definitely has claimed the year’s low point so far, but it’s only April. I certainly don’t expect every single book I read to appeal to my personal preferences, but when that book has been so outrageously misrepresented by other authors and the publisher, it becomes offensive. Guess my huge mistakes were expecting horror from a horror book and being gullible. Won’t happen again!

[Chloe · Rating 3 out of 5]

Afterbirth by Emma Cleary | 3 stars out of 5
Two sisters with an uneasy relationship, one trying to leave behind a ruined relationship, the other living in Canada about to undergo intense reproductive surgery, and a ten year age gap between them. Brooke flies to Canada to help take care of her sister post-op, and their relationship quickly becomes obsessive and unhealthy when a sudden pregnancy occurs.

This book was by no means bad. It completely delivered on the eerie, uneasy atmosphere with intense relationship dynamics. It was a little slow, but I took my time getting through it so it might be that. Overall, I was satisfied, and if you enjoy a slower-paced psychological/reproductive horror, it definitely matches that.

#Afterbirth #EmmaCleary #Libro

[Nikki · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is definitely a book that will stick with me. I’ve been really invested in mommy horror lately. The themes are always poignant and emotionally relatable for me as a woman and the emotional, mental, physical layers that come with motherhood.

Afterbirth deals largely with sisters who have very opposite wants snd desires as women who are on the brink biologically to either want to reproduce and have children or not. One sister’s fate is chosen for her when she undergoes a life-changing reproductive surgery, while the other is certain she doesn’t want children but inexplicably finds herself expecting. What ensues over the course of the book is a loss of autonomy which is viscerally conveyed in Cleary’s writing. It left me both in shock and horror while also deeply relating and empathizing with our mc, Brooke.

There’s a classic horror feel to this in the realm of Rosemary’s Baby with plenty of on page nods to other timeless horror classics. There’s a necessary and important cultural exploration of female desire and autonomy when it comes to our bodies and our choices. I appreciated how so much about the female experience relating to motherhood was represented between our female characters. The complex sister dynamic was a perfectly executed layer to this. Overall I think this was a standout evocative and atmospheric debut that made for an engaging and fantastic audiobook listen!

✨ Thank you so much Netgalley and Harper Audio for my gifted ALC!

[CaptnSmack · Rating 4 out of 5]

Family drama, toxic relationships, crazy entities and some very strange feminine horror with a touch of gore- you mean I'll feel uncomfortable?
👌🏻 please and thank you!

There are a few scenes in this that will haunt me for a very long time.
I can also imagine this being a really fun movie
🎬 👀 just sayin'!

I'm excited to see what else this author puts out because this was a wild a$$ debute.

While the first part can feel a bit slow 🐌 🐌
It really starts to pick up and by the time you finish it feels like you just stepped off some kind of twisted roller coaster 😅

[Elizabeth · Rating 4 out of 5]

This dragged a bit in the beginning and I wasn’t into it, but once we finally got into the rhythm of the weird it definitely stayed there. The ending was meh 🫤 but only because I expected more of a fight or something. In reality, what happened probably does make the most sense.

[Megan · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was so excited for this book but it was ultimately disappointing for me. The story was very slow with a lot of background, awkward family dynamics, and very minor events happening well over halfway into the book. I was so bored. By the time anything substantial happened, I was already uninvested in the story and just wanted it to be over. I do know the genre of this book is body horror, but the horror part was lacking in my opinion - all of the horror happened at the end, and it felt rushed and anticlimactic. Others may enjoy this one more, but it was not for me unfortunately. Thank you to Emma Cleary and Harper Books for the gifted copy. This is a voluntary and honest review.

[Ashleigh Brown · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5*

[Ari (ariannasreading) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wow! I am new to the horror genre, especially “mommy horror”, and this was an absolute trip. Highly emotional, creepy, and bizarre, it was unlike anything I’ve read before. I enjoyed the story!

[LX · Rating 3 out of 5]

Thank you so much for the proof!!

3 stars

Currently thinking over my thoughts for a review because that was a ride and I enjoyed it but then it just fell flat for me???? confused and conflicted atm

[Twilight Sage Moon · Rating 4 out of 5]

Quick Take
If there were ever a horror novel that touched on almost every horror that comes with the female reproduction system, Afterbirth by Emma Cleary is it. This book consumed me and spat me back out worse for wear – but somehow changed and seen.

Tell Me More
With more horror sub-genres coming into the spotlight as the genre continues in popularity, so called “mommy horror” is having a moment.

What comes to mind when I think of “mommy horror” is the classic, Rosemary’s Baby. But newer novels in this niche are bringing fresh perspectives to the table, such as Trad Wife by Saratoga Schaefer.

Afterbirth by Emma Cleary is like no other horror novel I have read. It is one of those rare novels that is a fever dream and reality tied into one. Which made it all that scarier.

The book focuses on Brooke, a queer woman who moves to Vancouver to be with her sister, Izzy, who is having reproductive surgery. Her ex-girlfriend loved horror movies, and as the novel continues on, Brooke begins to find subtle traces of horror infiltrating her and her sister’s lives.

Throughout the novel, Cleary incorporates horror references, bringing a cinematic element to the story. While Brooke never wanted kids, and Izzy always did but ends up not being able to have any, conflict begins to arise between the two women. After mysteriously becoming pregnant, Brooke begins to see Izzy crack at the edges as her yearn for a child – and Brooke’s lack thereof – collide.

Cleary incorporated so many things that women and people assigned female at birth (AFAB) encounter with our bodies. While there were some detailed descriptions of things like post-hysterectomy, pregnancy, periods, and miscarriage, the book also focused on other issues women and AFAB folx often face. Including disordered eating, doctors not listening to health concerns, women who choose not to have children being ridiculed, and the battle of feeling like your life is meaningless without a child if that is something you have always wanted.

The horror references are incorporated in a way that those unfamiliar with them will be able to understand the context, and the pace of the novel is slow and searing. It felt like the reader was forced into Brooke’s shoes without a means of escape.

Cleary has made herself known as a master of quiet horror with this novel alone. While there were very sensitive topics discussed and some graphic imagery, the book focuses on creating a terrifying atmosphere that slowly builds.

Afterbirth by Emma Cleary will settle deep under your skin, and you may never be able to claw it out.

*Thank you to Harper for the advance copy!

[Frankie Ness · Rating 3 out of 5]

Sadako, Rosemary’s Baby, Carrie. Just some of the horror movies mentioned in this book that alludes to the plot of Afterbirth.

From the get go, the vibe is heavy and dark. You can tell the sisters are a little off as the first chapters described Brooke and Izzy’s backgrounds and relationships while hinting at what’s to come. By midpoint we can see where the story is going and what kind of horror awaits us. It’s bizarre, obsessive, with a lot of unexplained events that remained unexplained until the end.

Inasmuch as I enjoyed the story, I’m left wanting as the book ended without closure. I can ignore the fact that Emma Cleary kept IT mysterious or how it was humanly possible for Brooke to leave the apartment considering her condition even with assistance. What grates on my nerves is how Izzy’s behavior was ignored after the fact, how Brooke didn’t even try to hold her accountable for anything, or even discuss WTF and how the fuck was even possible?!

I get that not everything has to be explained in horror, but considering the precedent of Izzy being so open about her medical condition, how Brooke even went to the doctors to get checked, how they know IT exists, the resolution demand some level of debrief between the two.

[Audrey Bonfig · Rating 2 out of 5]

For me, this book felt disjointed and all over the place - it almost seemed as if the author had a ton of ideas and just shoved all of them together in one book without thinking about how all the parts worked together.

All the plot points felt half-baked:

1. What was the source of the parasite in the walls?
2. How did Medusa become the way she was? What happened to her?
3. Izzy’s transformation from concerned sister into deranged psycho was way too abrupt. It was never fully explained what caused it, the sympathetic magic or the rot in the walls?
4. Medusa made it seem as if the parasite’s been there for a long time yet no one else in the building seems to be affected.

On top of that, for a lot of this book I was just bored. Nothing was happening and I wasn’t excited to pick this up.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC of this book in exchange for my honest review.

[Beast · Rating 2 out of 5]

"An extraordinary literary horror debut from a rising star."

In no way, shape, or form is this book any of these words, and least of all combined, except for 'debut'. It is a debut. It reads like one.

Emma Cleary throws everything she can at you in an attempt to make you feel unsettled or "terrified" as she put it: gore, oozing, mold, rotting fruit, viscera, broken mirrors, looming silhouettes, power outages, creepy children's drawings, eerie Japanese nursery rhymes, references to other, better horror media. It's like she's trying to throw every concept she finds creepy at the wall to see what will stick. I was left utterly cold at these cheesy attempts.

Frankly, I'm not sure who this book is for. This was my first attempt at going in blind, not looking the book up online, not checking reviews, as those so often fail me, and relying solely on the book pitch itself. I did not guess that this would be focusing on motherhood and the absence of it, and I see the book has now been renamed into After Birth which would have clued me in, and perhaps I would have avoided it.

As a child-free person, I could not resonate with the motherhood yearning in this book, and I felt really put off by how much time the main character, who also does not want kids, gives to thoughts about motherhood and the absence of children. It felt really unrealistic and weird to me how much she internalized her sister's feelings and craving for motherhood. But I am not everyone else, so maybe this hits a chord with someone. It was my first introduction to "mommy horror" and I'm still not quite sure what I'm supposed to take from this.

Frankly, almost all of the horror in this book is firmly inside the main character's head and results from her feeling intensely emotionally fragile, but there's not enough buildup there for us to believe her descent into paranoia, so she comes off as quite pathetic and very little else. I did not understand what led her to be this meek throughout the book because frankly nothing about the setup suggested that she should be. While she was feeling creeped out by an empty swing on a playground, to me, the reader, this was just a perfectly mundane sight on a windy evening. Yet it was painfully obvious that the author was trying with all she had to make it seem creepy to the reader, not just the character. It was too obvious and did not work.

The dialogues between the characters were completely unrealistic because the author focused on making things seem creepy and eerie so much, she forgot to make people behave like actual people. If she were to make the dialogue any more lucid, the whole vibe of the "mystery" would utterly fall apart because there's very little of substance there. Certain characters like Medusa exist simply to be strange and unnerving, and in the end there is no resolution, no arc, not even a message. Hell, barely even an event. The disturbing final act starts building almost out of nowhere and then fizzles out, like the author forgot what story she was even trying to tell. "Something, something viscera" is not enough to create horror in the reader, no, not even when it concerns the very real body horror that is pregnancy and giving birth.

Speaking of which: there are a LOT of horrific things about pregnancy. The more you read about people's REAL experiences with pregnancy, the more horrified you get. And this is the best you could do? Well, that's just weak.

I am left wondering: what's the point? As an exploration of grief, it is utterly shallow. As a queer story, it barely holds any weight because most of the book is hetero-normative in every way. As a message about mental abuse and family trauma, it hardly scratches the surface with an utterly confusing ending that does not feel cathartic at all. It does not really hold any kind of feminist message. It contains women, some of whom are mothers or really wish to be, most of whom go through all the pains of being a woman, but so what? It doesn't seem to give any kind of opinion or message to chew on regarding any of the topics it tries to broach. It just kind of fizzles out much like a period would and about as unnerving if you happen to be a woman reading this.

[Kimberly · Rating 4 out of 5]

Emma Cleary’s Afterbirth looked me dead in the soul, whispered “you’re fine,” and then proceeded to unravel every illusion of control I’ve ever had about the human body.
Published by Harper—huge thank you to the publisher for the gifted copy that absolutely hijacked my reading mood in the best/worst way.

This is literary horror that doesn’t scream—it seeps. We follow Brooke, who arrives in Vancouver to care for her estranged older sister Izzy after a reproductive surgery that goes catastrophically wrong. And from the moment she steps into Izzy’s crumbling, mold-laced apartment—complete with a hallway-stalking woman known only as Medusa—you can feel something is off in a way that no amount of turning on lights is going to fix.

But this isn’t about jump scares or cheap thrills. This is about bodies, autonomy, and the deeply uncomfortable truth that for some women, motherhood is everything… and for others, it is absolutely not. Brooke and Izzy sit on opposite ends of that spectrum, and watching that tension evolve into something obsessive, raw, and borderline feral? Yeah, that’s where the real horror lives.

“There are things your body knows before your mind can understand them.”

That line alone basically sums up the entire reading experience. Because what happens to Brooke isn’t just strange—it’s invasive. Her body begins to betray her in ways that feel both supernatural and disturbingly grounded in reality, and the way Cleary writes those transformations? Intimate. Grotesque. Unavoidable. There is no soft-focus, glowing version of pregnancy here. It’s visceral, messy, and at times genuinely hard to sit with—especially because Brooke does not want it, not even a little.

And Izzy… whew. Her grief, her desperation, the way her longing twists into something sharp and consuming—it made me deeply uncomfortable in that “this is too real” kind of way. Their relationship is the emotional core of the story, and it’s messy, layered, and painfully human even as everything around them starts to slip into nightmare territory.

Now let’s be honest—this is a slow burn. The first chunk takes its time building atmosphere, layering in side characters and threads that don’t always fully come together. You might find yourself thinking “okay… where are we going?” But once it locks in? It does not let go. The final stretch is chaotic, surreal, and completely unhinged in a way that feels intentional, like the story itself is unraveling alongside Brooke.

⭐️⭐️⭐️✨ (3.5)

For me, this lands solidly in that “I’m unsettled but impressed” category. It’s not perfect—pacing issues and a few dangling threads kept it from being a full knockout—but as a debut? It’s bold, original, and not afraid to get deeply uncomfortable.

If you’re someone who loves horror that leans literary, that prioritizes character over plot, and that explores female rage, bodily autonomy, infertility, and sisterhood through a lens that is equal parts emotional and disturbing… this is absolutely your kind of chaos. Think Nightbitch, Motherthing, or anything that makes you sit there afterward like, “well… I’ll never be the same.”

Also, we need to talk about that ending. Because I’m still processing, still slightly confused, and still not entirely convinced I wasn’t just gaslit by a book… and honestly? Respect.

Would you read a story that turns motherhood into horror, or are we keeping our emotional stability intact this week?

#Afterbirth #EmmaCleary #BookReview #LiteraryHorror #HorrorBooks #MommyHorror #Bookstagram #ReadersOfInstagram #DarkFiction #PsychologicalHorror #WomenInHorror #QueerReads #BookRecs #BookishLife #BookCommunity

[Heather · Rating 4 out of 5]

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Thank you to NetGalley and Harper for the ARC.

📝 Short Summary

Afterbirth follows Brooke as she leaves behind the mess of her own life and heads to Vancouver to care for her estranged sister, Izzy, after reproductive surgery. But nothing about this visit feels normal. Izzy’s apartment building is decaying, an eerie woman known as Medusa seems to haunt the halls, and the line between horror movies and real life begins to blur. As the sisters’ already fragile relationship starts to crack open, strange and disturbing events build into something deeply unsettling, raw, and impossible to look away from.

Review

This was mommy horror at its best for me. It is strange, raw, uncomfortable, and the kind of book that keeps you questioning everything the whole time. I kept asking myself, is this real, is this imagined, is this some kind of dream logic, and that made the reading experience even more intense.

One of the strongest parts of this book was the atmosphere. Emma Cleary knows how to create images that get under your skin. The descriptions were honestly stunning in that dark, unsettling way where you can see everything so clearly even when you wish you could not. There is a very eerie, almost hypnotic quality to the writing that really worked for me.

This is definitely not a book for everyone, and I think that is part of what makes it stand out. It takes its time getting where it is going, so yes, it has a slow start, but for me that slower build helped the dread settle in. It gives the story room to grow stranger and more unnerving, and by the time things really start escalating, you are already fully trapped in that discomfort.

What I also appreciated is how messy and emotional this book feels. It is not horror just for shock value. There is so much here about sisterhood, maternity, bodily autonomy, obsession, and the way relationships can become twisted by old wounds and buried resentment. That gave the story a lot more depth and made the horror hit even harder.

I really loved how uncertain the whole book feels. It never lets you get too comfortable, and it keeps shifting just enough that you are always slightly off balance. That feeling of not fully trusting what you are seeing or reading worked so well here and added so much to the overall tension.

Overall, I thought this was a really strong and memorable horror debut. It is unsettling, beautifully written, and not afraid to make the reader uncomfortable. If you like raw, weird, deeply atmospheric horror, this is absolutely one to pick up. Just know going in that it is a slower burn and definitely not trying to play it safe.

✅ Would I Recommend It?

Yes, but to the right reader. If you like slow burn horror, body horror, and books that leave you feeling unsettled and a little haunted, this is worth reading.