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The Leveret
Once of the most anticipated books of the year according to Sunday Times Style and Glamour
A heartbreakingly gorgeous and lyrically haunting debut novel about grief in the aftermath of baby loss and the power of queer love – perfect for fans of Julia Armfield, Sophie Mackintosh and Daisy Johnson
Moving to the countryside is supposed to fix Clare and Phoebe’s relationship. A fresh start, a change of scenery, a chance to heal after the miscarriage of their baby girl.
Instead, Phoebe feels suffocated. Back in the rural community she ran from at seventeen and unable to face the partner she cannot help, she throws herself into work on the family farm. Clare is a stranger in the village, uninitiated and out of place. She spends her days drifting around the cottage, its walls groaning and shifting as she withdraws into a world inside her head.
One day, wandering through the forest nearby, Clare finds a leveret – her own little Isla. A surrogate to lick and love. A way to feel whole again.
But as Isla grows into an adult hare she becomes wild and unruly – a kicking, biting, scratching creature. With Clare’s grasp on reality growing ever more tenuous, Phoebe begins to question whether Isla is the cure for grief Clare is searching for as she desperately clings on to the woman she loves . . .
With this bruisingly tender love story, debut author Anna Goldreich has conjured a hazy dream of a novel about the fantasies we create as a refuge from grief. The Leveret is a heartbreakingly gorgeous and lyrically haunting hymn to queer love and the power to rebuild from the wreckage of a relationship.
A heartbreakingly gorgeous and lyrically haunting debut novel about grief in the aftermath of baby loss and the power of queer love – perfect for fans of Julia Armfield, Sophie Mackintosh and Daisy Johnson
Moving to the countryside is supposed to fix Clare and Phoebe’s relationship. A fresh start, a change of scenery, a chance to heal after the miscarriage of their baby girl.
Instead, Phoebe feels suffocated. Back in the rural community she ran from at seventeen and unable to face the partner she cannot help, she throws herself into work on the family farm. Clare is a stranger in the village, uninitiated and out of place. She spends her days drifting around the cottage, its walls groaning and shifting as she withdraws into a world inside her head.
One day, wandering through the forest nearby, Clare finds a leveret – her own little Isla. A surrogate to lick and love. A way to feel whole again.
But as Isla grows into an adult hare she becomes wild and unruly – a kicking, biting, scratching creature. With Clare’s grasp on reality growing ever more tenuous, Phoebe begins to question whether Isla is the cure for grief Clare is searching for as she desperately clings on to the woman she loves . . .
With this bruisingly tender love story, debut author Anna Goldreich has conjured a hazy dream of a novel about the fantasies we create as a refuge from grief. The Leveret is a heartbreakingly gorgeous and lyrically haunting hymn to queer love and the power to rebuild from the wreckage of a relationship.
205 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 18, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews
May 3, 2026
I don’t often enjoy stream of consciousness as a narrative device but it worked really well in this case. The switch to Phoebe’s POV in between Clare’s chapters was refreshing and keeps the story from dragging.
We follow Clare and Phoebe who are trying to deal with the loss of their unborn baby. In her depression Clare latches onto a baby hare (leveret) she finds in a hedgerow. She starts treating it as a sort of surrogate for what she lost. As she spirals more and more into depression we see the despair of her wife Phoebe and the people close to her at their inability to understand or help her.
I am not a mother, nor do I want children of my own, but I was deeply moved by this exploration of maternal grief.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
We follow Clare and Phoebe who are trying to deal with the loss of their unborn baby. In her depression Clare latches onto a baby hare (leveret) she finds in a hedgerow. She starts treating it as a sort of surrogate for what she lost. As she spirals more and more into depression we see the despair of her wife Phoebe and the people close to her at their inability to understand or help her.
I am not a mother, nor do I want children of my own, but I was deeply moved by this exploration of maternal grief.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
June 29, 2026
Thank you NetGalley for a early access copy in exchange for a review. All opinions are my own.
Firstly I understand why this book isn’t for everyone, the writing may not suit everyone with the constant stream of thoughts and consciousness, it was a bit intense at times and I get that people may feel like it is disjointed but I loved it, I can’t think of any other way you could have written this better or different.
How this book deals with such a devastating topic and how the pain transfers to a leveret is delicate but equally devastating in a different way. It takes something unbelievably heavy and transforms it into something strangely alive. It shows that grief doesn’t disappear it shifts into a different kind of grief a fragile kind that I thought was very moving.
I was also really struck by how drastically different the experience feels from Phoebe’s point of view. While Clare’s perspective is this all consuming and feverish like, Phoebe’s offers a grounding contrast, more measured, perhaps more outwardly focused, yet still carrying its own quiet weight of shared sorrow and love.
This shift in viewpoint adds a lot of emotional depth and shows the ripple effects of loss across their relationship in a way that felt authentic and layered.
Overall, I really enjoyed this. It’s a short book that somehow manages to feel expansive, and I thought it was a powerful, haunting debut. The prose may not be for every taste, but if you can surrender to its rhythm, it delivers something truly special.
Firstly I understand why this book isn’t for everyone, the writing may not suit everyone with the constant stream of thoughts and consciousness, it was a bit intense at times and I get that people may feel like it is disjointed but I loved it, I can’t think of any other way you could have written this better or different.
How this book deals with such a devastating topic and how the pain transfers to a leveret is delicate but equally devastating in a different way. It takes something unbelievably heavy and transforms it into something strangely alive. It shows that grief doesn’t disappear it shifts into a different kind of grief a fragile kind that I thought was very moving.
I was also really struck by how drastically different the experience feels from Phoebe’s point of view. While Clare’s perspective is this all consuming and feverish like, Phoebe’s offers a grounding contrast, more measured, perhaps more outwardly focused, yet still carrying its own quiet weight of shared sorrow and love.
This shift in viewpoint adds a lot of emotional depth and shows the ripple effects of loss across their relationship in a way that felt authentic and layered.
Overall, I really enjoyed this. It’s a short book that somehow manages to feel expansive, and I thought it was a powerful, haunting debut. The prose may not be for every taste, but if you can surrender to its rhythm, it delivers something truly special.
July 10, 2026
made me cry, proper review to come.
would extremely highly recommend
would extremely highly recommend
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
4.5 rounded up because I can't justify not giving this one 5 stars.
People often like to point out how much progress society has made in terms of acceptance of the LGBT community. "Everyone is gay now!" "Why do they have to force these characters everywhere?" And it's true, that we've got gay characters on prime time television, and romance novels galore, but there's still a lot of catching up to do. I've been reading queer literature for fifteen years now, and once you tire of the "meet cutes" and the devastating coming of age stories, the flood of books slows to a trickle.
Anna Goldreich's The Leveret tells the story of two women coming to terms with losing their baby girl to a miscarriage, with alternating points of view between Claire, whose grief has become an all-consuming state of being, and Phoebe, who feels like she has lost not just a child, but also her partner and her relationship. When Claire finds a baby leveret and begins treating her like the daughter she's lost, her grip on reality slips further away.
It's a heartbreaking story. Claire's grief is so convincingly written that I often felt I had to put the book down to process, and yet I could not stop reading, and consumed the entire book over a single weekend. When Phoebe narrates, it is glaringly obvious that Claire is slowly going insane, and yet when Claire speaks it feels impossible to see things any other way. Goldreich makes Claire's pain a physical thing; "she was so angry, and I might have been angry too, but there was nowhere to put it". In fact, on every page, Goldreich's choice of words is exquisite. "And in a panic I lied, told her we were on our way, but she knew I had lied because she called me on the landline."
The Leveret captures an experience that has been told a thousand times before, but rarely, if ever, about a same-sex couple. It's just a drop in the ocean of stories waiting to be told about people who have really just begun to have their stories told, but little drops of water make the mighty ocean.
Thanks to NetGalley for the ARC!
People often like to point out how much progress society has made in terms of acceptance of the LGBT community. "Everyone is gay now!" "Why do they have to force these characters everywhere?" And it's true, that we've got gay characters on prime time television, and romance novels galore, but there's still a lot of catching up to do. I've been reading queer literature for fifteen years now, and once you tire of the "meet cutes" and the devastating coming of age stories, the flood of books slows to a trickle.
Anna Goldreich's The Leveret tells the story of two women coming to terms with losing their baby girl to a miscarriage, with alternating points of view between Claire, whose grief has become an all-consuming state of being, and Phoebe, who feels like she has lost not just a child, but also her partner and her relationship. When Claire finds a baby leveret and begins treating her like the daughter she's lost, her grip on reality slips further away.
It's a heartbreaking story. Claire's grief is so convincingly written that I often felt I had to put the book down to process, and yet I could not stop reading, and consumed the entire book over a single weekend. When Phoebe narrates, it is glaringly obvious that Claire is slowly going insane, and yet when Claire speaks it feels impossible to see things any other way. Goldreich makes Claire's pain a physical thing; "she was so angry, and I might have been angry too, but there was nowhere to put it". In fact, on every page, Goldreich's choice of words is exquisite. "And in a panic I lied, told her we were on our way, but she knew I had lied because she called me on the landline."
The Leveret captures an experience that has been told a thousand times before, but rarely, if ever, about a same-sex couple. It's just a drop in the ocean of stories waiting to be told about people who have really just begun to have their stories told, but little drops of water make the mighty ocean.
Thanks to NetGalley for the ARC!
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
I understand the intention: to show grief at its most consuming, its most irrational. But I was never quite able to suspend my disbelief enough to go with it. Instead of feeling immersed, I felt pushed out, watching it become more extreme rather than more affecting.
We follow Clare and Phoebe, a couple trying for a baby and losing it, over and over again. After a final loss — even after carrying to full term — their shared grief fractures in two: Phoebe, trying to piece herself back together in quiet, deliberate ways, and Clare, who seems to unravel entirely under the weight of it.
I found myself clinging to Phoebe’s chapters for dear life, if only for a sense of clarity. In theory, the dual perspective offers two ways of understanding loss — one grounded, one all-consuming — but in practice, Clare’s chapters became increasingly difficult to sit with.
When Clare discovers a dead badger and begins to map it onto her loss, it’s unsettling but still (somewhat) controlled. Not long after, she finds the leveret, and begins to treat it as a surrogate for the child she never had — quite literally breastfeeding it. From there, her voice fragments, each line slipping further into something disjointed and, at times, borderline nonsensical.
I can see the comparison to Julia Armfield, and I’d tentatively recommend it to readers who enjoy that kind of surreal, body-focused writing — but with a fair warning. This leans heavily into excess, and for me, it tipped too far into madness to be fully convincing.
We follow Clare and Phoebe, a couple trying for a baby and losing it, over and over again. After a final loss — even after carrying to full term — their shared grief fractures in two: Phoebe, trying to piece herself back together in quiet, deliberate ways, and Clare, who seems to unravel entirely under the weight of it.
I found myself clinging to Phoebe’s chapters for dear life, if only for a sense of clarity. In theory, the dual perspective offers two ways of understanding loss — one grounded, one all-consuming — but in practice, Clare’s chapters became increasingly difficult to sit with.
When Clare discovers a dead badger and begins to map it onto her loss, it’s unsettling but still (somewhat) controlled. Not long after, she finds the leveret, and begins to treat it as a surrogate for the child she never had — quite literally breastfeeding it. From there, her voice fragments, each line slipping further into something disjointed and, at times, borderline nonsensical.
I can see the comparison to Julia Armfield, and I’d tentatively recommend it to readers who enjoy that kind of surreal, body-focused writing — but with a fair warning. This leans heavily into excess, and for me, it tipped too far into madness to be fully convincing.
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
A dark, disturbing exposition of grief and its effects on a relationship. The novel is narrated by Phoebe and Clare following the loss of their daughter very late in pregnancy. They move to Phoebe's grandmother's cottage near the family farm to escape the memories but it is clear that Clare, who carried their daughter, needs far more than a change of scenery to feel whole again.
Phoebe's chapters are more structured and her coping strategy seems to be more focused on distraction, to the point where she fails to fully appreciate the depths of Clare's despair. Clare's chapters, on the other hand, slowly descend into madness as she adopts a young leveret which she proceeds to treat as a surrogate for the child she has lost. It is heartbreaking to read how the couple drift farther out of reach of each other due to their inability to drag themselves out of their own grief in order to reach out to each other.
I personally felt myself more aligned with Clare, though I can also see that her all-consuming grief left little space for Phoebe's pain which inevitably widens the chasm that has opened up between them. It was a huge relief when the novel ended with the women reconnecting, Phoebe having finally seen that Clare's despair has reached a depth that she is completely unable to fight her way out of.
This is heavy reading. Thankfully, it isn't too long of a novel as I don't think I could have handled much more.
Thanks to NetGalley and Penguin General UK for the ARC. All opinions are my own.
Phoebe's chapters are more structured and her coping strategy seems to be more focused on distraction, to the point where she fails to fully appreciate the depths of Clare's despair. Clare's chapters, on the other hand, slowly descend into madness as she adopts a young leveret which she proceeds to treat as a surrogate for the child she has lost. It is heartbreaking to read how the couple drift farther out of reach of each other due to their inability to drag themselves out of their own grief in order to reach out to each other.
I personally felt myself more aligned with Clare, though I can also see that her all-consuming grief left little space for Phoebe's pain which inevitably widens the chasm that has opened up between them. It was a huge relief when the novel ended with the women reconnecting, Phoebe having finally seen that Clare's despair has reached a depth that she is completely unable to fight her way out of.
This is heavy reading. Thankfully, it isn't too long of a novel as I don't think I could have handled much more.
Thanks to NetGalley and Penguin General UK for the ARC. All opinions are my own.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 29, 2026
Thank you to Penguin Books for sending me an advance copy of this book.
Read my full review here.
‘She’s a beautiful thing,/a mystical creature/strange/folkloric/terrifying,’ Phoebe, one of the protagonists of The Leveret, thinks. ‘She’ is the titular leveret, or young hare, who wanders into the life of Phoebe and her partner Clare when they move to the countryside.
But this is no Beatrix Potter fable. Clare is traumatised from a recent miscarriage, and fixates on adopting the hare, which she names Isla, as a means of coping. Goldreich narrates this story of grief and obsession in two distinctive styles—conventional prose for Clare, fragmented free-verse for Phoebe—that evocatively delve into its tragic heart. ‘If I swallowed this earth, took it down in big gulps, would it fill up the hollow of my belly?’ Clare wonders as she walks through the woods. ‘Maybe, inside the swallowed earth, there would be a seed, so out of my mouth I would grow a tree, and I’d be full of something alive.’
Read more here...
‘She’s a beautiful thing,/a mystical creature/strange/folkloric/terrifying,’ Phoebe, one of the protagonists of The Leveret, thinks. ‘She’ is the titular leveret, or young hare, who wanders into the life of Phoebe and her partner Clare when they move to the countryside.
But this is no Beatrix Potter fable. Clare is traumatised from a recent miscarriage, and fixates on adopting the hare, which she names Isla, as a means of coping. Goldreich narrates this story of grief and obsession in two distinctive styles—conventional prose for Clare, fragmented free-verse for Phoebe—that evocatively delve into its tragic heart. ‘If I swallowed this earth, took it down in big gulps, would it fill up the hollow of my belly?’ Clare wonders as she walks through the woods. ‘Maybe, inside the swallowed earth, there would be a seed, so out of my mouth I would grow a tree, and I’d be full of something alive.’
Read more here...
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
3.5 stars rounded up.
A grieving couple move to the countryside to heal, but begin to spiral and drift further apart after the discovery of a leveret.
This was tremendously raw and very poetic in its delivery. Clare’s POV in particular was almost overwhelming with her pain and delusion. It was almost a relief to return to Phoebe, who was also just trying to survive.
The idea of the leveret was unique and at times uncomfortable to sit with. Clare’s mental state was laid fully bare, her grief given a physical form. Even so, I struggled with her. Something about her just didn’t resonate with me. Where I expected to feel sympathy and understanding, I felt mostly nothing, or at times a growing mild annoyance. I can understand why, but her behaviour felt too strange and excessive at times.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC in exchange for an honest review
A grieving couple move to the countryside to heal, but begin to spiral and drift further apart after the discovery of a leveret.
This was tremendously raw and very poetic in its delivery. Clare’s POV in particular was almost overwhelming with her pain and delusion. It was almost a relief to return to Phoebe, who was also just trying to survive.
The idea of the leveret was unique and at times uncomfortable to sit with. Clare’s mental state was laid fully bare, her grief given a physical form. Even so, I struggled with her. Something about her just didn’t resonate with me. Where I expected to feel sympathy and understanding, I felt mostly nothing, or at times a growing mild annoyance. I can understand why, but her behaviour felt too strange and excessive at times.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC in exchange for an honest review
June 22, 2026
UK Paperback sent by publisher. US edition out February 2, 2027.
Goldreich's debut novel pulled me between stream of consciousness and prose, detailing the grief that Phoebe and Claire share after the loss of their pregnancy, and their divergence when Claire takes in a baby hare and names her Isla.
Claire's rupture in infancy echoes Edelman's figure of the child, while Phoebe's prose leans into the struggle of the death drive and queer parenting. Isla takes on Claire's phantasm and shatters Phoebe's "natural", all the while hidden away in the woods.
I read this entire book in one sitting, which gave it an almost meditative quality. The push and pull of the form reeled me back in and tore me apart.
4.5/5 stars.
Thank you Anna & Ruby for the ARC/UK edition!
Goldreich's debut novel pulled me between stream of consciousness and prose, detailing the grief that Phoebe and Claire share after the loss of their pregnancy, and their divergence when Claire takes in a baby hare and names her Isla.
Claire's rupture in infancy echoes Edelman's figure of the child, while Phoebe's prose leans into the struggle of the death drive and queer parenting. Isla takes on Claire's phantasm and shatters Phoebe's "natural", all the while hidden away in the woods.
I read this entire book in one sitting, which gave it an almost meditative quality. The push and pull of the form reeled me back in and tore me apart.
4.5/5 stars.
Thank you Anna & Ruby for the ARC/UK edition!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
The Leveret follows Phoebe and Clare as they move to the countryside after the loss of their baby. Stylistically I like how this book is written, however saying this it did take me a while to get into the flow of it. Cutting between both characters perspectives, you get an interesting insight to how each of them are dealing with their grief and readjusting to life as they know it. Tensions change when Clare finds Isla, a leveret, on a walk one day and decides to bring it up as her own. I think it was a fascinating exploration of grief and enjoyed the character development throughout. Thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for access to this book.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
I reaaaally loved this! The Leveret follows a lesbian couple, Clare and Phoebe, who relocate to the countryside after suffering the loss of their baby girl.
It has such eerie and immersive prose. We get both Clare and Phoebe's POVs, and it was so interesting to flip between their individual perspectives on how they’re both processing grief, adjusting to their new environment while rebuilding their relationship and the introduction of Isla, a leveret Clare finds on a walk and wants to care for.
A stunning debut. Thank you to the publisher & NetGalley for an early review copy!
It has such eerie and immersive prose. We get both Clare and Phoebe's POVs, and it was so interesting to flip between their individual perspectives on how they’re both processing grief, adjusting to their new environment while rebuilding their relationship and the introduction of Isla, a leveret Clare finds on a walk and wants to care for.
A stunning debut. Thank you to the publisher & NetGalley for an early review copy!
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
So sad and haunting. This is about baby loss and being consumed by grief. Clare finds a leveret and transfers all her aching love to it, but of course it is no substitution for a real baby.
Her grief also manifests itself in loss of personal care and anorexia. Phoebe, her wife, feels the loss of the baby deeply too, but doesn’t know how to help Clare through her all-consuming grief.
Told from two points of view, I liked the alternating chapters between Clare and Phoebe. It was almost sparse, but lyrical prose.
Her grief also manifests itself in loss of personal care and anorexia. Phoebe, her wife, feels the loss of the baby deeply too, but doesn’t know how to help Clare through her all-consuming grief.
Told from two points of view, I liked the alternating chapters between Clare and Phoebe. It was almost sparse, but lyrical prose.
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
4,5
This is so sad, it almost had me in tears... It's heartbreaking to read how Phoebe and Clare are grieving -each in her own way- and the difficulty of communication and connection when something awful has happenend. The writing is beautiful and I like how Goldreich gave each character a specific voice/sound that is completely her own. I highly recommend this debut!
Thank you Hamish Hamilton for the advanced reading copy.
This is so sad, it almost had me in tears... It's heartbreaking to read how Phoebe and Clare are grieving -each in her own way- and the difficulty of communication and connection when something awful has happenend. The writing is beautiful and I like how Goldreich gave each character a specific voice/sound that is completely her own. I highly recommend this debut!
Thank you Hamish Hamilton for the advanced reading copy.
June 19, 2026
3
Setting: UK
Rep: lesbian protagonists
I wanted to love this one more than I did - I wish it had leant harder into the oddness (not to say it isn't odd - Clare breastfeeds a baby hare after all). It was a very quick listen and by the end it felt quite unresolved and like it was over very suddenly. Might have enjoyed more if I'd read physically.
Setting: UK
Rep: lesbian protagonists
I wanted to love this one more than I did - I wish it had leant harder into the oddness (not to say it isn't odd - Clare breastfeeds a baby hare after all). It was a very quick listen and by the end it felt quite unresolved and like it was over very suddenly. Might have enjoyed more if I'd read physically.
June 30, 2026
A visceral, resonant, beautiful novel which, with fearless originality, gives voice to the wild depths of grief and love. My heart is both broken and healed, and I will carry Clare, Phoebe, Isla, and this very special book with me like a leveret in a baby sling, close to my heart, kicking and beautiful and perfect 🐇🐇🐇
July 9, 2026
Beautifully and compassionately written this is a story of love, loss, grief and mental health. Clare and Phoebe have lost a baby to late miscarriage/stillbirth and then Clare finds and adopts a leveret.
July 9, 2026
i wasn't expecting a tiny hare to become one of the most heartbreaking portrayals of grief i've read in a while, but here we are. it's raw, intimate, and never tries to make grief feel understandable or easy.
3.75
thank you to the publisher for the gifted copy <3
3.75
thank you to the publisher for the gifted copy <3
July 7, 2026
Raw in a peeling the layers of an onion kind of way
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
Started off slowly, it almost felt like every sentence was trying to be too profound, but the second half ended up being lovely. The leveret as a personification of Clare’s grief was a super interesting take, and I liked seeing Phoebe’s grief alongside hers especially as it was easy to be drawn into Clare’s line of thinking. One to look out for come June!!
Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews