Indigent

by Briana N. Cox

Leigh Pierce Estates is home to a diverse array of working mothers, immigrants, the forgotten elderly. All working poor—and all in danger.
Because the tenants of Leigh Pierce are disappearing.
Xavier, a young Black man living in an opiate-afflicted, gentrifying Atlanta neighborhood, is thrust into a surreal nightmare of starvation and consumption after a chance encounter leaves him infected with something horrifying.
Succumbing to his infection, Xavier is drawn into the cobbled-together family squatting in Leigh Pierce’s A patriarch and matriarch from the Rust Belt whose health left with the Ford factories forty years ago, a first-gen American who learned that the institutions supposedly there to help were not a real option … People who, through a myriad of roads, fell into the same self-destructive cycle of indigency, harboring dark secrets and darker appetites.
Now, Xavier is forced to confront the cost of survival in a world that has disregarded him, lost in a messy family dynamic of codependency and complicity all too like what he’s used to—a dynamic he’s desperate to break.

Genres: Horror, Adult, Fiction, Queer

Kindle Edition

Published March 20, 2026

Reviews

[Zana · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.75 stars.

I've read books about haunted houses, but a haunted apartment complex was a new one for me.

I'm a fan of social commentary in horror and I'm happy to say that this novel knocked it out of the ballpark. The intersections of race, class, and immigration were well exemplified in the setting (a working-class apartment complex) and the characters and their circumstances (a Black mother and her son trying to improve their lives and a mixed family just trying to survive through questionable means).

Every character here was struggling and hustling, so what will it take to escape poverty's clutches? A new job? Moving into a better neighborhood? Schooling?

Combining Southern Gothic, body horror, and cosmic horror, poverty and survival in this novel manifested in several forms: cannibalism, parasites, and seemingly friendly neighbors who might or might not take advantage of your hospitality.

Unfortunately, this wasn't a 4-star or higher read for me. The beginning was a confusing whirlwind filled with too many POVs that I couldn't quite understand what was going on. Perspectives jumped around a lot as the story went on, which didn't really end my initial confusion. I think if the author stuck to just Xavier and Ari's dual POVs (which pretty much captured the important perspectives), then this would've been a much stronger read.

But other than that, I enjoyed this novel for what it was and I'm interested in reading more of Briana N. Cox's future works.

Thank you to Briana N. Cox and NetGalley for this arc.

[jade ⋆₊˚ ᰔ]

2 stars

thank you Briana N Cox for an ARC copy in exchange for feedback

~~~

unfortunately, this book really didn’t do it for me. while the concept had potential but the idea never felt fully fleshed out. the narrative jumped around so much that it became difficult to follow, and instead of feeling intrigued, i spent the majority of the book feeling confused.

the constant shifts made it hard to connect with any of the characters on a deeper level, and honestly, there was just WAY too many different POV’s. just as i would start to settle into someone’s perspective, the story would move on, which kept me from becoming emotionally invested. there were moments that carried weight and hinted at something impactful, but the lack of focus and clarity often undercut those moments.

i didn’t start to feel genuinely interested until about 75% into the book, when i finally pieced together what was happening. at that point, the themes and message became clearer, and i could see what the author had been working toward all along. unfortunately, that sense of understanding came too late to fully redeem the reading experience.

[Adam Allen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Briana N. Cox has done a truly remarkable thing with this book. It’s brilliant, cutting, socially conscious horror. It creates a fully realized community in the high rise apartment building at the heart of the story. It is suspenseful, scary, and fun. And it is so gloriously gross.

Following an… outbreak of … something very bad at an apartment building filled with marginalized people, low income, elderly, BIPOC, this story shows the hypocrisy and power imbalance at the heart of the medical industry while at the same time being a fully realized horror story, Cox has created a uniquely American nightmare and is an absolute must read for 2026.

[David Griffiths · Rating 4 out of 5]

Welcome to Leigh Pierce Estates, a lower working-class housing estate with a parasite problem. Not that the authorities seem to care. The residents are disappearing, and young handyman Xavier has come into contact with the culprit, which begins to take hold on Xavier’s appetites. But how can the residents of Leigh Pierce survive in a world that has failed them?

Drawing the obvious parallel to Bong Joon Ho’s brilliant ‘Parasite’, Briana N Cox has a lot that she wants to say in this marvellous and claustrophobic horror thriller. It is foremost a scathing indictment of American healthcare and how communities are marginalised. There’s critique of the Opioid crisis and urban gentrification. It’s a book that you’ll be unpacking the symbolism long after you’ve put it down.

As a playwright myself, I often wonder of our relative advantage in writing truthful dialogue. It came as no surprise to find that Briana N Cox is a Fellow of the TN Playwrights Studio. Her dialogue is sharp, characters well developed and setting vividly drawn. I particularly enjoyed the change in styles from the more conversational residents of Leigh Pierce to chapters focused on the clinical doctors, complete with footnotes to their published research – a wry touch which helped accentuate their callousness to those affected.

The symbiosis that forms a central part of the horror does affect the narrative and dialogue. I felt sometimes disoriented as focus shifted between multiple characters. But this is clearly a conscious choice from a writer that is drawing you in and allowing you to experience events as the characters themselves experience them. It’s a unique stream of consciousness style of prose that is sometimes confounding but ultimately rewarding.

It’s not an easy read but, like the parasitic terror that hides within the novel, it lingers. And the injustices that it brings to light will burrow into your brain.

Indigent by Briana N Cox is available March 2026.

[Hanna · Rating 3 out of 5]

Thank you NetGalley for yet another ARC!!!
But… the only thing I can say for sure is that I’m confused.

I read the first part of the book more than once, not because it was so amazing, but because I genuinely had no idea what was going on.
I didn’t realize at first that it was written from multiple perspectives, and I definitely missed some important side details.

I’m still not sure if that was my fault or just the writing style. The structure of the book felt off. Maybe that was intentional, maybe it was a stylistic choice, but either way, it made it really hard to follow.
I also got confused by the random words that were thrown into the text. It made it hard for me to follow the story.

After I finished it, I looked up some reviews on Goodreads, and I was honestly relieved that I wasn’t the only one feeling this way.

The main theme was actually good, but in a very disturbing way. I cringed so many times while reading. Sometimes I had to skim certain passages instead of really letting every word sink in. It was definitely very gory and explicit.
I don’t usually have a problem with that, but this book made me realize I apparently have a huge fear of getting worms inside my body and feeling them move under my skin.

So yeah… I’ll be recovering from that for a while. Thanks for that.

[timeforthecheck · Rating 2 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC.

I’m conflicted on this, and I’m thinking I read this at the wrong time.

I actually went into this arc completely blind, and I’m not going to recommend that to anyone. It was fine for me, but this definitely wouldn’t be for everyone. Read the content warnings. If you are squeamish, hate blood, dislike graphic and gory details, this isn’t the book for you.

It took me a while for me to catch on with what was happening in the book. The themes and messaging about generational medical trauma and marginalized groups inaccessibility to medical care was brilliant. It’s horrifying to read, and the author makes her point brilliantly.

I will say that even with the messaging, it was the vehicle used that really wasn’t my favorite. This was a hard book to follow, which again, could totally be me and the time I read it. There were too many POVs, and sometimes you didn’t know whose POV you were in automatically. You didn’t get close to some of these characters, and just when you think you are about to, the POV switches. And…I didn’t like the worms having thoughts.

I’m very intrigued to read more of her work though. I would cautiously recommend this if you like weird, gory books with brilliant messaging.

[Krystelle · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC!

I think this was more than worthy as a body horror piece. I absolutely adore it when something leans into the absolute nastiness of body horror- it just lends so much to the story.

I liked the structure in terms of the various reports that we got throughout the novel, and I think the action moved along at a reasonable pace. The gore was certainly enough to set teeth on edge if you’re easily bothered by that kind of thing, and it was great.

I think it’s well worth a special mention that this kind of horror is vital to our current world. If you want to do horror and base it in social issues, it is so important to go through things like the medical system and analyse them. This book does just that, and I feel it’s fairly essential to horror as a whole to explore these sorts of themes.

I do think one improvement could be made, which was how the points of view worked. It could have been made even better by following just one or two characters instead of switching it up so many times. Realistically though, this was a great book that focuses on a very real horror of our age, and it was well worth the read.

[Johanna Van]

I blurbed this one!

"Both a sharp indictment of the American healthcare system and a tightly plotted thriller, Indigent will invade both your mind and body and not let go even after you have read the final page."

[Megan Martin · Rating 3 out of 5]

I liked the premise of the book and the first part was fantastic. After the halfway point, things got muddled. I think the book tried to incorporate too many themes. It was still worth the time to read. This is good for people who enjoy body horror.

[Briane (BookishBatz) · Rating 5 out of 5]

First, I want to thank the author for the eARC copy of this book! I'm terrible at writing reviews and I don't know how to write about this one without giving too much away so here it goes!

I did struggle getting into this at first (sometimes, I struggle with trying to keep up with multiple POVs) about 30% in everything started clicking for me. The switch between the consciousness of the parasites and the characters were disorienting at times but it felt intentionally and eventually, it added to the overall experience.I absolutely loved the atmosphere and the sense of dread it ended up creating. Briana did an incredible job depicting the issues of systemic racism within the medical system (and the world in general). It is definitely one of the best horror books that I have read in a while and definitely one that I will continue to think about.

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

Atlanta has a worm problem (the worms are a metaphor (the worms are also real worms))

BWAF Score: 7/10

TL;DR: Indigent is the debut that arrives already knowing what it wants to say and exactly how loud to say it. Cox builds a parasite novel out of asbestos ceilings, medical debt, and the specific silence of people the system has decided not to notice. It is visceral, structurally confident, and quietly furious. Horror that earns its metaphors and then makes them bleed.

The first chapter of Indigent is called “CAM <3” and it’s already doing something almost unbearably efficient: a mother’s handwriting on a cigarette carton, marking something beloved that is slowly killing the person who holds it. The image is doing so much work before the actual novel has even started. Briana N. Cox knows exactly what she’s doing from page one.

Leigh Pierce Estates is a crumbling low-rise in gentrifying Atlanta, home to working mothers, elderly tenants who check on each other because nobody else will, an undocumented Vietnamese nail technician, a guy selling catfish from his trunk, and maintenance man Xavier, who is trying, against considerable odds, to go to physical therapy school. Then tenants start disappearing. Then a dying girl in the alleyway seizes in Xavier’s arms and her hair comes out in his hands like dandelion fluff. Then her blood gets in his mouth. Then something starts growing inside him. Something with needs.

What it is exactly, I won’t say. What I will tell you is that Cox’s parasite conceit runs on about six levels simultaneously, all of them load-bearing. There’s the biological, which is deeply unpleasant in the best possible way. But there’s also the parasite of slumlord neglect, the parasite of medical debt, the parasite of gentrification eating a neighborhood alive while its residents vanish unnoticed into redevelopment paperwork. Indigent is a book about consumption in every direction: bodies, families, cities, care. The word “indigent” means destitution, and it also refers to a specific legal status affecting medical access in Georgia. Cox is using that double meaning the whole time.

Cox writes with a density that tips into something almost synaptic with sentences coiling and releasing, medical terminology worming through character interiority the way the parasites themselves do. Xavier memorizes the bones of the hand when he’s anxious. He names the taxidermied alligator skull he finds in a dead man’s apartment Lando. After a dying girl’s blood gets in his mouth, he calls urgent care to get tested, then goes home and eats pork chops with his mom and wins a scholarship to physical therapy school. That collision of the mundane and the monstrous, held in steady hands without irony, is where Cox lives. The horror never announces itself. It accumulates.

The tenants of Leigh Pierce are among the better ensemble casts in recent horror. Miss Inez, fourth-floor grandmother, who hauls a neighbor’s kid inside and washes his mouth out with soap. Lan at her nail station, invisible to the women whose cuticles she clips, occasionally talking about them in Vietnamese because why the hell not. Rashon, who is minding his own damn business in B4 and loses Zion to something he can’t explain and can’t tell the cops about because the cops won’t listen and he knows it. These people are not parables. They’re just people. Cox is ruthless about giving them full humanity before tightening the noose, and that discipline is what makes the book work. You cannot be scared for a symbol.

Briana N. Cox is a writer and screenwriter from rural Tennessee, the oldest of seven kids, first-generation academic, with degrees in cognitive science and speech-language pathology, which explains a lot about why this book’s body horror feels practically clinical. Indigent is her debut novel, though she’s been stacking credentials as a screenwriter for years: Best Script at the San Francisco Independent Film Festival, Best Tennessee Writer at the Nashville Film Festival, Stowe Story Labs, the Moonshot Initiative Feature Accelerator, Variety’s 2024 Next List. This is someone who has done serious structural work for a long time and brought it to prose for the first time and book is tightly assembled conceptually. It occasionally shows in a different way, too: the first act carries a slight screenplay-mode deliberateness, the kind of thorough establishing that’s required in a spec but can feel dense on the page. That’s a minor quibble. It is a real one.

There’s a moment when Camille, the book’s haunting prologue figure, all cracking nails and thinning hair and hollow stomach, pops an orange soda in the parking lot of a Georgia roadside motel at midnight and can’t quite taste it anymore, only the ghost of something sweet she loved as a kid. That’s the emotional center of what this book is doing with its body horror: the body as a ledger of everything you’ve lost. Later, the chapter introducing Leigh Pierce itself reads almost like a geological survey: fifty years of compounded landlord neglect, asbestos ceilings, overtaxed water heaters, the surrounding greenspaces bulldozed one by one into yoga studios. Cox lets the building speak, and what it says is damning. And then there’s the parasite family in the basement, the “cobbled-together” one, whose domestic scenes are the strangest and most fascinating passages in the book. Leena pressing organ meat between Ari’s teeth in the pre-dawn quiet, chin resting in his hair, patient and unhurried. It looks like tenderness. It’s also something else entirely.

The ending doesn’t resolve cleanly, and that’s the right call for a novel about systems that don’t resolve cleanly. Some threads don’t get tied. This is partly thematic and partly just the cost of a book this ambitious in scope. Cox’s final pages contain some of her most controlled, precise writing, and the image she closes on is the kind that will show up uninvited in your head three days later.

Is it perfect? No. The first third requires patience and a certain tolerance for disorientation as the parasite-consciousness sections are deliberately destabilizing. But the book really clicks around the 30% mark. If you need propulsive, you’re going to be frustrated. The plot machinery underneath the literary texture occasionally grinds audibly. But Indigent is doing something that most horror novels won’t touch directly: asking who the American machine actually considers a person, and what happens to those people when the consumption reaches them. The answer is ugly and human and occasionally blackly funny, and in the book’s best moments, it is genuinely terrifying. That’s a hell of a debut.

[Alison Faichney · Rating 4 out of 5]

That was a ride and a half. This was my first work by Cox but between that cover and description who could pass this one up? I also can wholly relate to the subject matter. It’s based in my home state and town of Atlanta, GA. Much of the book is a discussion on the abhorrent healthcare system in the states and how the reverberations of lack of adequate medical care echo throughout a community. My family was uninsured for six years and it was hell. We were also super lucky that none of us got sick and hit with a massive healthcare bill, until we weren’t. My husband went to the ER and ended up spending 13 days in the hospital. He was misdiagnosed multiple times which put him through serious medical trauma, additional medical conditions and probably gallons of his blood. His recollection of the near-fortnight is next to nothing, but I won’t ever forgot those days. And the cherry on top of this was the bill we received for 200k.

But I digress. Indigent tells the story of a small apartment building in Atlanta. The book has many POVs but is mostly driven by an incredibly infectious brain worm outbreak (still not as scary as RFK Jr’s books, amiright?). The plot mostly follows Xavier, a mid 20s Black man living a very day to day existence. He works as the maintenance man for his building and when he tries to help a sick young woman everything begins to unravel. The characters are incredibly well done and complex. Cox skillfully relies on imagery to showcase the despair and anguish and it works. However, Indigent isn’t a shallow creek to dip a toe in. This is a raging river of a book and you’re pushed right in. Sink or swim. The writing is excellent but complex. The POV shifts often and this isn’t one where the author will spoon feed you. If you like weird, literary horror with a heavy dose of ruminations of the effects of greedy capitalism on the health of more vulnerable Americans, definitely pick this one up. Not an easy read but a worthy one.

[Ryan Reagles · Rating 4 out of 5]

Indigent is one of those horror novels that doesn’t just want to scare you — it wants to make you uncomfortable in a way that lingers.

Briana Cox blends body horror with sharp social commentary in a way that feels intentional and grounded. The setting — a struggling apartment complex filled with people barely hanging on — feels real enough that when things start to unravel, it hits harder. The horror isn’t just the parasite. It’s poverty. It’s neglect. It’s the feeling of being invisible until something goes wrong.

The body horror elements are visceral without feeling unwarranted. They serve the story. The infection spreading through the building becomes this suffocating metaphor for systemic failure, and that’s where the book really shines. You can feel the anger beneath the prose.

Xavier, as a main character, carries the emotional weight well. His position as someone both inside and outside the tenants’ struggles gives the story a strong anchor. The dread builds steadily, and once it starts moving, it doesn’t let up.

If I had one critique, it’s that at times the thematic messaging can feel slightly heavier than the character development. There were moments I wanted just a little more depth in certain relationships before the horror overtook them. Not enough to break the story — but enough to make me notice.

Overall though, this is a strong entry in contemporary socio-horror. It’s unsettling, angry, and purposeful. Definitely check trigger warnings going in — this isn’t light reading — but if you’re into horror that has something to say beyond the gore, this one is worth your time.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ / 5

[Beatrice Lebrun · Rating 5 out of 5]

I devoured this book. Hungry, desperate for every single word that came next.

All the different points of view, the narration, the things that were left unsaid, a perfect puzzle painting a horrifying reality so many people live through every single day. This is what horror is, something that crawls under your skin while at the same time holding a mirror in front of you, forcing you to face realities you would prefer to ignore.

It's a smart book, one that doesn't care to do the thinking for you, but instead invites you to really breathe it in, digest it. I found it fascinating, one of those reads that'll bounce around my brain for a while.

I received this ARC through NetGalley and I'm leaving this review voluntarily.

[Brenda Marie · Rating 4 out of 5]

A literal gut wrenching horror offering so much.
Housing insecurity. Economic disparity. Community. Racism. All the judgement.
For me - most importantly public offices such as county health departments, cleanup of environmental destruction.
Lack of investing in people. people in low economic realities.
A moment of concern, a moment of care could have spared so many. All it needed was one person to care.

[Jessica]

I started this book a couple times- one time solo and then as a buddy read to motivate me, but unfortunately this story wasn’t for me.

I appreciate the characters and what we learn about them, but i found it to be frustrating to jump to a new character each chapter. The weird elements are there, it was just too disjointed to keep me engaged enough to want to continue.

Thank you very much to the author & Netgalley for this ARC. My thoughts are left voluntarily and my opinions are of their own.

[Karlee McMillin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thank you Net Galley for the ARC!

I could not out this book down. Not for ones with a weak stomach!

A stunning book about terrifying but very real world problems. Briana Cox tells a story of systemic Racism, housing insecurities , and the power imbalance of the medical industry!

[Chewable Orb · Rating 3 out of 5]

Indigent by Briana N. Cox
3.40 rounded down to 3🔮🔮🔮orbs
Est. Pub. Date: March 20, 2026
Briana N. Cox, Self-Published

The death of Orb…

💡 Orbs Prologue: Through a transparent tube, I float toward the snowballed brilliance of white. With a thud, I land as if a shoe has dropped. I awake… yet not quite. I hover in the corner of a quarantined section of the hospital, looking down upon a cadaver looking eerily similar to myself. Am I dead? Taking in more of the ominous scene, I watch two men in sterilized hazmat suits untangle my innards. My body lies in ruins. Fetid smells overtake the nasal cavities of all those cutting into my flesh in search of undesirable answers. By all accounts, my body should remain lifeless under the prodding. However, my vision is overtaken by snakelike movements, leading to an overstimulated situation succumbing to chaos. Cocking my head to the side, I notice slippery organisms dropping towards the cold, vinyl floor, yearning for purchase amongst the living. Searching for control, to feed an incessant hunger, a desire to be nurtured, cultivated. This is what “they” tried to avoid. Who are they, you might ask? Those in the know, government officials whose information remains stolen from the public's eyes, are treating the dregs of society as nothing more than laboratory rats. How did I get here, one might ask, and dear reader, I can tell you only what I can faintly remember….

🧐 A small glimpse: Xavier, resident maintenance man, lives in the low-budget housing location known as the Leigh Pierce Estates. People within its walls have become quite neighborly, and this living community does what it has to do to help each other to survive. Tenants' relationships remain close, so when some of the residents disappear, Xavier starts wondering where they have gone. Unbeknownst to everyone at Leigh Pierce Estates, drastic changes are forthcoming. Decisions that will leave residents stranded in search of an alternate living situation. With difficult times come new faces to the premises. A “family” has taken over one of the estate's apartments, but how did they come about seizing control? The complex is descended upon by detectives, looking to monitor the residents' health for strange changes and occurrences. As Xavier’s best efforts rise to the occasion, a new reality begins to unfold that surely has a “host” of undesirable consequences.

👍 Orbs Pros: Multiple POVs added different elements as the dreary world manifested. Emotional!! Lost beings in a hopeless world, attempting to survive something akin to an apocalyptic nightmare, living and breathing within the fatty tissues of flesh enveloping that which lies underneath. The meaning of family and its impact on the psyche to overcome traumatic events becomes both paramount and gutwrenching, intertwined. Interestingly horrific!! Whatever do you mean, Orb? Blood, death, a standard horror-filled affair, and yet in this story, the relationships between people remained what I remember most. Briana N. Cox, author, delivers a poignant story about the doldrums of inequality in society, also focusing on the moral compass of individuals during grotesque times. Cox poured liquid emotion from a tap, handed me a glass, and said, “Don’t mind the shards of glass on the rim.”

👎 Orbs Cons: I fought this book as if an angry Mike Tyson had magically appeared, ready to do one minute of light sparring. My cranium constantly pummeled! Now, the prose, while creative, just felt somewhat clunky. It never remained easy to consume, and I was constantly backtracking to reread passages to gain an understanding of the intent. A strange phenomenon began to materialize, where the writing remained arduous, yet I found myself at a crossroads of wanting to finish a compelling novel. Orb doesn’t quit! I remained steadfast on my trail of misery and climbed the snow-ridden path all the way to the top. I am glad I finished the book until its conclusion, but I did hope for a sunnier stroll along the way.

Recommended! Perhaps these hiccups I experienced will sidestep you completely, resulting in an amazing experience. I can recommend with a small "beware" sticker in the corner!

💡 Orbs Epilogue: I lazily sat upon the rooftop of Leigh Pierce Estates with my college friend Xavier. Perched high above the concrete streets, we scanned for any “abnormalities,” people or persons who may not belong in this part of town. Xavier had told me about finding the body of a deceased woman last week and how the visions were haunting his mind. Xavier seemed abnormally distracted, as if he were an eagle searching for a fish in the ocean, his eyes displaying menacing desires that, if I’m being honest, made me feel a certain amount of discomfort. Abruptly, I let Xavier know my family was expecting me home for dinner shortly and that I needed to get going. “How about you stay and have dinner with my family?” Xavier suggested. I reluctantly accepted the invitation. Upon entering Xavier’s apartment, I heard the chain lock slide, metal scraping against metal in slow motion, and a strange smell of sanitizers hanging in the air….

Many thanks to the publisher, Briana N. Cox, for the ARC through NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.

[Laurie Nguyen · Rating 5 out of 5]

I received this book and am voluntarily leaving a review.

Indigent, by Briana Cox, is a dark, parasitic horror about the residents of Leigh Pierce Estates who are already on the brink and are desperately trying to claw their way out, in one way or another. Live-in handyman Xavier notices that one of the residents, Rashon Wilkinson, has recently passed away. After encountering the cause of Rashon’s death, Xavier finds himself with a terrible infection that causes him to develop a monstrous appetite. Soon, his new family and old family come to a head as he attempts to survive a society that threatens to push everyone off the edge.  

I loved Xavier’s interactions with his mother. Leena attempts to imitate what a loving mother should be, only to fall short of what a true mother is. Shanice Coates isn’t the perfect parent, but she tries to give Xavier everything she didn’t have. She almost reminds me of my own mother-in-law in her resilience alone. And though Xavier’s unfortunate luck has led him to a terrifying corner, his infection continues to pin him in, she doesn’t give up. She tries her damndest. Their relationship mirrors the community that the residents of Leigh Pierce have built for themselves. There’s a healthy system of interdependence that the residents have with each other, a neighborhood that can (somewhat) make up for the lack of professional care. There’s a reason why so many mental health folks, myself included, ask someone at risk of suicide and/or homicide, “Hey, do you have someone you can talk to? Do you have someone (or something) to live for?” A lot of someone’s strength comes from the family they have and the friends they surround themselves with. Of course, the residents may keep to themselves more often than not, and soon, they’re about to be in hotter water than the boiling liquid that is their lives. But they are there for each other. Even down to Rashon, Xavier noticed, even if no one else did.

This sharply contrasts with the aforementioned Leena and her family. Leigh Pierce’s residents have to stay close to each other (affordable housing is hard to come by these days), so they choose to look out for each other; it’s easier to live when everyone is, at the very least, tolerant of each other. Cyril and Leena, on the other hand, take their children by force. Ari and Camille didn’t ask to be in this family. Leena has taken the worms’ hive mind and felt that this was family, that she has expectations and latches onto them, then heaps these expectations on others and wants them to follow. True, they're struggling on the fringes of society that millions of families in America go through. But there’s a fine line between teamwork and “I-love-you-because-of-the-worms-feasting-on-my-flesh.”

I worked at a community mental health center for a few years. I was also working with a couple of organizations that work with homeless populations and those who can’t afford insurance. Unfortunately, Xavier’s situation isn’t new. There’s a waitlist for many centers across Texas, and for providers who are willing to do sliding scale, their waitlist can sometimes be months long. And for anyone who’s worked in community health, things can go from bad to worse in a heartbeat. I’ve seen folks who have lost everything overnight; suddenly, the people who have made it a point to give to the less fortunate rely on the same systems they’ve supported. They find resilience in their struggles, and they do everything they can to survive. They find meaning, but that doesn’t make their lives any easier.

Even down to my family. Without revealing too much, my own folks had to rely on doctors and other providers who would take them for cash pay. And even with those appointments, they needed to be ready to shell out hundreds of dollars for 15-30 minutes. When my husband and I were switching health insurances, I didn’t realize we were choosing an affordable option that few doctors in our area even accept. So for a few months, we were stuck in the same situation. Did you know that a visit to the Urgent Care for two people is around $350? I didn’t. But now I do.

There were times it was hard to distinguish the parasites’ thoughts from our characters' thoughts, though I feel Cox made that very intentional. I loved how callous the doctors were, and how Dr. Michaels suddenly sprang to action, too little too late. I like the discussion questions after; they all remind me of the old adage, “The greatness of a nation can be judged by how it treats its weakest member.” Although it did take me a while to warm up to the book, it left a lasting impression that makes it worth multiple reads. As such, I would give this book a 4.5 out of 5 stars, and recommend it to readers who enjoy racial horror, impending apocalypses, and fans of the movie, The Crazies.

[J. Neira · Rating 5 out of 5]

Truth: I was already biased in favor of Indigent for two reasons. Firstly, because I like the author on Threads. Secondly though, Indigent was originally going to be a Graveside Press title, which was the same indie horror publisher which was going to publish my debut horror novel.

In the end, both of us pulled our titles from GSP before they could be published. This was due to trouble caused by the man running GSP. Mine will be released by DFP while Indigent is self-published. Most of the GSP authors left & I have been doing my best to keep with many of them. We may not share the same publisher anymore, but I still will support all of their (other ex-GSP authors) stories when I can! Also, while I was a slush reader for GSP, I never read Indigent before. My slush-reads were in the middle-grade division (GRADEside) so, this is my first time reading Indigent.

With all this being said, the fact that I was biased in favor of Indigent doesn't mean my review will be dishonest. I have been biased in favor of authors before only to end up very disappointed with their work, though I've kept those instances private. Indigent is also very different from the horror stories I typically read (which tend to be YA or cozy) & there was no guarantee that I was going to personally like it. If I did not like it, though, I still would have given it a positive review /so long as it was well-written & thematically powerful in a way that I thought people who do gravitate to body horror would appreciate.

Thankfully though, I really did like Indigent & am able to post this five-star review. The opening scene is classic horror. The following scene is the only part of the novel where for a moment I worried I wouldn't be able to keep up. This is because of the multiple POV's within a few pages & I wondered how many more were up ahead. But then I kept reading &, no, thankfully this is our intro to characters who will be important throughout the novel. The diversity of the characters was something I liked.

The prose is excellent. Here is an excerpt: “This was industry. Consumption and starvation and consumption again, twice as hungry on the come around. Twice as urgent.”

I also felt it when the worms were described underneath everything. Something's coming, something inevitable. The dread here was perfect.

Xavier & Shanice are my favorite characters. I found their mother-son dynamic in the early scenes to be relatable & endearing. Also, this is not a funny book by any stretch of that definition, but I wanted to highlight this exchange because I found it amusing enough despite the grim context: "Hiding what?" she said. Worth a try. It's the thought that counts. "Boy, you take that man's shame and get rid of it. Now. Being dead doesn't mean he ain't embarrassed."

I will say that I am easily grossed out by body horror, which is why I rarely read it. But I knew what I was getting into, and it would be unfair to whine about it. Indigent does a very good job for those of you who like body horror. One example that might be considered mild compared to what happens in the latter half of the book, but really stuck with me was when something wet popped in the girl's throat & she looked at Xavier with a Did you hear that? It reminds him of when his mother ran over a cat & had the same look, hoping her son didn't realize what just happened. The girl dying right after adds to the disturbing nature of this scene. The implications make the whole scene more disturbing.

Indigent is explicitly political & assertive in showing us who the real enemy is, like a lot of great horror. I won't give spoilers, but the author is just as clear-eyed in diagnosing the rot of capitalism as John Carpenter is in They Live, which is one of my all-time favorite horror movies. Partly for that reason, I love this novel & I hope it goes wide

Thank you to author Briana N Cox for providing me with an ARC copy!

[Heloísa · Rating 3 out of 5]

This one was rough! And quite a ride, as well.

The first 30% of this novel is very, very hard to get through. The story is told from multiple points of view, which alternate frequently, and it’s sometimes hard to even comprehend what’s going on — or why you should care. There’s so many characters thrown at you and, again, why exactly should you care about them? I feel like this was trying to build up tension, but had the opposite effect: images are just flashing by you until something miraculously sticks.

If I wasn’t going to review this for NetGalley, I probably wouldn’t have kept on reading.

However, I did! Still not sure if it was entirely worth it, but let’s deal with it in parts.

The point the author is getting across is very simple to understand, which makes the confusion in the beginning so much more frustrating. However, the pace really picks up by the 40% mark, more things start happening and the stakes become much higher. Comparing to the slog that was the first half, it’s a lot easier to read the rest of the book in one day (which is what I did).

What I can say I definitely enjoyed: the grotesque, the gore, and the body horror were all exquisite, very well written and impactful. If you eliminate the fluff spent on characters that didn’t matter, you have a few to at are sort of remarkable: Xavier was interesting and, although Ari didn’t quite hold up on his own, his relationship with Cam and Xavier was able to carry his arc through. Even though it wasn't the main focus, the "familial" dynamics and the subtle balancing of Leena's and Cy's wedding was also intriguing. I also enjoy the portrayal of class disparity, and the descriptions of the building and the people living in it. And, of course, the star of the show… The worms and the illness and what it was — it was amazing. You can definitely tell the author has experience in healthcare. And the whole concept of it, the unending hunger, the communication between them, and when we catch glimpses of how people survive while infected? Top tier, no notes.

Some people pointed out they weren’t interested in the medical horror aspect of it, or the social commentary regarding healthcare, but I think it was executed well: it’s not on the nose, and it makes sense with the previously established setting, which I appreciate. In fact, I kind of wish we had even more of this in the novel, to be honest. I loved the sections that followed the doctor that specialises in the worms (and the added detail of the footnotes won me over, just like the medical reports added in).

Even with all of that, the book didn’t completely compensate for its first half. Even when you’ve pieced every POV together, the writing can still be so confusing — and, I mean, sometimes it’s hard to even get what’s going on at all. I can see that this is probably a literary allusion to the blurring of reality, but it was still hard to follow. The voices from the characters also aren’t very unique. The dialogue is great, but when it comes to narrating, it’s homogeneous. I’d find that very interesting to deepen the concept of the worms having this collective consciousness, but, as it is now, it extends to characters not affected by this illness at all.

I’d also say the ending was quite disappointing…? We kept building up and up, just for it all to end in a very subdued way. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but all the rush and the drama and the desperation, and then our final pages are just whimpering.

All in all, I think plenty of people would have a great time with this book. It has a complex, interwoven story; the medical aspects and the gore are hard-hitting and impactful; and there are many fucked-up connections that are delicious to see unfold. You have to be patient to see all of it, though.

[Reid · Rating 5 out of 5]

Going to keep this spoiler free.

Stories set in the Southern US are often dominated by the shadow of the antebellum mystique. If you've never visited, most fiction would have you believe that every state below the Mason-Dixon is frozen in time, bereft of modern technology and gripped by the gnarled fingers of cotton plants.

The NEW South is just as haunted as its ever been, but the dangers are less concrete in form. Indigent feels as if its stalked me all my life, speaking the warnings and fears my grandmother and older cousins treated as commonplace. The story follows Xavier, a pragmatic and and well-meaning kid whose life is slowly consumed by the dark machinations of a foreboding new family in his apartment building. In a way, the book feels like a long summer in Georgia, dream-like prose mimics the sticky heat that pulls at the limbs and turns the world into a hazy kaleidoscope of semi-consciousness. While it can be a bit hard to parse at times, the result is what feels like a more authentic stream of thought that makes the reader feel as if they are riding inside a character's skull rather than simply watching their story unfold. The narrative rewards those who attempt to piece together the non-sequitors and seemingly random formatting choices and reveals an intense clash between finding love for a flawed person and really deciding how deeply rotted a person needs to be for them to be worth abandoning. Themes of addiction, prejudice, and self-loathing get a new spin in the context of destructive positivity and the stifling weight of dependency/duty. A distinctly southern element is the overwhelming suppression of sincerity, replacing clear communication with a rigid set of social norms that chokes the life out of people who are simply locked out various parts of society by expectations and stereotypes. I got a real sense that we are meant to really sit with the idea that it is often extremely easy to, very sincerely, love deeply ignorant, cruel people and that maybe that doesn't necessarily have to be something we need to clarify or fix. The highlight of the story is a series of intense, slow-burning and loving relationships that easily jump over the romantic into a spiritual/metaphysical connection definitely worth the effort of picking up a copy. The author writes these characters as if they're desperately trying to crawl into each others skin, and maybe they are.

I think the only major flag I'd caution readers about is that the author has a very specific take on body horror. The theme of "consumption" is integral to the story and characters experience every possible interpretation of the word, right down to their physical bodies. If you're squeamish, really consider whether or not this is for you, theres a lot of very visceral scenes and often times they tend to be exceptionally detailed.

[Ashley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Thanks to NetGalley for the Advanced Reader Copy.

This was a mixed bag of a horror novel. This book is centred around Xavier, a student and the unofficial handyman of a lower income apartment complex as he comes into contact with a dying woman who unwittingly shares her affliction. The apartment complex Leigh Pierce Estates was a vivid setting, a home for the forgotten- the immigrants, the working mothers, the poor elders, the addicts in recovery. The rundown housing, flooding, and moldy units. The cheapest units in the dank basement where people rarely see. The constantly broken amenities that keep the handyman busy but will never have the investment to replace. But also the pride of the residents that while it's a lower income area, it's not Section 8 housing, it's safe housing, it may be rundown but it's not dangerous. It's the perfect setting for a horror novel as when residents start disappearing, especially those down in the basement, not many questions are asked. Their meager belongings are sold off for personal profit and the apartment flipped to the next poor soul who will tolerate the damp and mold.

I liked Xavier as a character and most appreciated being in his POV. He felt real, with goals and pressures to improve his situation and therefore his mother's. The ghosts of lost relatives. The connections he feels to friends and acquaintances. His inability to trust the people and institutions that on paper should be there to help and protect him but never do in reality.

Where the novel struggled was with the other POVs. At the beginning it switches POVs a bit too rapidly and quickly introduces us to several characters we don't yet know the connections between. There's also times where the POVs are not just from different characters but from the past, these can become confusing when you get the POV of someone who died chapters previous. There was also the elements of a type of found family and family related terms were used but they weren't technically related. It makes sense due to the shared affliction but it read oddly. Some of these characters would reference names in a way that made them sense relevant or known but had never been referenced before. I was frequently confused who people were. Cam's perspectives especially.

I also felt there were logical inconsistencies about the effects of the affliction. Then once Xavier realizes what's going on, he seems to accept it really passively. Just a sense of "I guess this is life now, shucks". Which considering the requirements of living in that way are pretty extreme, just didn't make much sense.

One of those books where I appreciate the project but the execution didn't work for me.

[Wyatt Flett · Rating 4 out of 5]

ARC via NetGalley. Thank you to Briana N. Cox for this copy.

Briana N. Cox’s Indigent centers on two families who are living in Leigh Pierce Estates. There is the young, live-in handyman, Xavier, and his mother, Shanice, and there is Leena, her husband Cyril, and their children. As residents begin disappearing as a parasitic infection breaks out within the complex, they deal with the situation differently. Xavier's infection becomes a burden for him as he is trying to find a better future for himself, while the infection unites Leena’s family through an unhealthy, horrific way of life. Soon, all these families’ lives intersect, and together, they spin out of control as they try to find stability amid the pressure of institutional neglect.

In telling a story about an urban plague, Cox conveys it through multiple consciousnesses. This narrative style can effectively depict characters who are losing their bodies and minds as they become further dissociated. It lets us invest in Xavier’s anxieties and his hunger, which only intensified as the infection’s side effects worsened. Meanwhile, we also read about Leena and Cyril as they adapt to their baffling definition of family unity. Cox creates a raw approach that lets readers put themselves in her characters’ minds as they deteriorate in an already deteriorating state. There’s also a lot of grotesqueness related to the infection, whether that be displayed through the appearances of these parasites or graphic, gory actions that are underlined by desperation and madness. Signs of the consequences that are caused by a broken healthcare system that serves as an enabler for the infection itself, as part of Cox’s social commentary on the topic.

I admired Cox’s approach to getting the reader into her characters’ psychologies, but I still hesitate when it switches between perspectives, which can be disorienting in following every one of them. With enough patience, I could easily understand the residents of the Leigh Pierce Estates and how they feel their conditions have forced them to do what they choose to do. It just took a bit of reading to understand the connections, and I found myself dreading the fates that could befall these characters.

Through body horror, Cox has allowed herself to craft a meaningful social commentary on the disparities of the healthcare system in marginalized communities through Indigent. I recommend this urban nightmare.

[Hannah Rebekah · Rating 5 out of 5]

I had the very, very good fortune of first reading this book when I was working for an indie press as the acquisitions manager and the author submitted it to us. That was a while ago, so I sat down to reread the book and re-familiarize myself with the story and the characters.

Some things never change. As back then, I wound up reading this book in one sitting. I do feel that it is a book that commands your full attention because there are a lot of characters and a lot going on. That is not an insult, though; I consider it to be the highest compliment when a book just draws you in like that.

The writing was perfect. I loved the stream of consciousness type writing. I loved wondering when it was the person and when it was a parasite. It was so engaging and I will definitely be reading anything else that Briana writes with great eagerness. The story never felt rushed but never felt stalled either, always moving forward and keeping me guessing as to what would happen next. (Good thing I have a terrible memory, eh?)

I enjoyed the characters and found it spectacular that Briana could so well flesh out so many different people. Of course, it's no surprise that Xavier was my favourite character; I don't know how he couldn't be. He was a very, very enjoyable MC and whilst I found myself wanting the best for most of the cast, he was the one that I really, really wanted to come out stronger and better.

I cannot speak on the issues of race that was so heavily touched upon in this book other than to say that it definitely made me think a lot. The commentary both on race and poverty really sat with me. (The poverty one I could relate to. Housing like that, I could relate to. It felt so real and exact and I never once thought that Briana had no idea what was being written about.I trusted Briana entirely and was not disappointed.)

Overall, I cannot tell you how excited I am that this book is being published. I am eagerly keeping an eye on various websites to see when the preorder for the physical copy drops, because this is a book I need physically on my shelf. This is a book YOU need, either physically or in ebook format. Whilst this book is not a knock down, drag you by your hair kind of scary, it has an unsettling, creeping eeriness that will be eating at you for days to come and I think, personally, that's the best kind of horror there is.

[Biblioamory (Joyce) · Rating 5 out of 5]

I received this as an ARC from the author. All views expressed are my own.

Recommended - For the horror readers who know that horror is inherently political

This was a work of art.

It’s honestly quite tempting to leave the review at that, because I don’t think anything else I say will encapsulate this feeling more fully than those simple words.

It was slightly slow to start and had a smidgen of trouble finding its feet, due to introducing all of its moving characters and parts. And it may or may not have been better served by removing some of the more minor POVs.

And look, if you’re not okay with gore and some graphic descriptions, this may not be for you. Checking the CWs is a good idea.

But those are minor quibbles, honestly more present because I know some people are more bothered by it than I am. The story and pacing quickly accelerated, and then didn’t stop running and, frankly, that’s what I cared about the most.

Horror, I think, can sometimes get caught up in its concepts and forget about character development, good dialogue, the balance of introducing an idea and doing all the other storytelling that’s needed to make a book truly and deeply good.

This did not have that problem in the slightest.

Character development? Check. The MCs all felt real, sometimes to a truly uncomfortable degree.

Concept? Check. I was reminded, at points, of Mira Grant’s Parasitology trilogy because worms. But these worms are different and, although uncomfortable for some of the same reasons, this felt more insidiously complete and, therefore, terrifying.

Dialogue? Tentative check. Only because I’m not very good at assessing dialogue, generally. It didn’t feel like it was trying hard to be something; the exchanges felt natural and necessary. Nothing felt too overly long or unwieldy. It served its purpose.

And, most importantly, it addressed topics like racism, classism, and trauma in as insidious and understated a way as the horror concept at its core. Those things were the vehicle and amplifier for what and how things went wrong. In their own way, they were also horrific and terrifying for that reason, but also on their own.


I love love loved this book. If you are a horror reader, you should be reading this.

[Audrey | WellReadandUndead(ish) · Rating 2 out of 5]

I want to start out by saying that this book has a fantastic premise, a killer opening, and very interesting characters. Unfortunately, I think the writing style and organization of the book undermined the book's momentum. Because the author jumped between so many character perspectives within each chapter (and did so without letting you know who you were reading from until you figured it out again), it made the narrative feel choppy and prevented me from being able to spend long enough with each character uninterrupted to build an attachment to them.

This is a case in which I could tell that these characters feel fully fleshed out, have backstories, motives, hopes, dreams, and struggles, but the audience wasn't really privy to that information. We get glimpses of what could've been a very complete story. I think the same story could've been told from three important perspectives: Cam, Xavier, and Ari. Each perspective could've been used very strategically to explore the cannibalistic parasitic body horror element, the commentary on poverty crafted and sustained by an uncaring society and the myth of a meritocracy (particularly seen through Xavier's conflicting feelings about higher education and his mother's, Shanice, dream to pull her and her son out of poverty but being trapped by the unfair realities of her job, race, and living situation), and how those two things converge to create a unique kind of horror that prays on fatigue, failing health, and being desperate to have a different way out. And clearly, these perspectives were used to explore these topics to a certain degree, but it takes a lot of piecing together from the audience as the flow and connections weren't easily made.

If you find that these ideas are interesting, I suggest you still give the book a try, particularly if you like working for the message and having to reflect on the book after you've read it, not just to parse out your feelings, but just to understand what you've read. There are lots of readers like that, and this might be your book. Unfortunately, it wasn't really my book.

[Faith L · Rating 4 out of 5]

The medical trauma in this story stands out because it is the reality of people living in the U.S. INDIGENT takes it further with horror elements. Xavier is the main character and the major setting is Leigh Pierce Estates. The themes include the issue of urban gentrification, how the U.S. healthcare system harms people, and codependent relationships.

I enjoyed Xavier, Ari, and Shanice’s individual arcs. Xavier’s character was interesting to read and we see his work, his concerns, him experiencing hardships regarding healthcare. There are moments in Xavier's chapters that feel very literary and I like the experience of asking questions such as "What does this choice say about his character development?" and "How does this horror element reflect the exact same ways that people in the U.S. navigate the absence/negligence of healthcare?" There are several times in his perspective when he faces biohazards and I appreciate what those biohazards show about setting and class.

I also like the dynamic between Xavier and Ari and seeing how different their paths are from the beginning versus the end. I couldn't believe so much had happened on their journey.

The doctor character was interesting to read because of his family history and comparing that to his position in the present setting makes me think about his hypocrisy and cowardice. That character is something for me to reflect on in the future and ask myself what other jobs are like his and how is power used? I appreciate how his character makes me think about complicit choices that do active harm to people who need healthcare.

The last third of the novel is memorable and I’m not going to look at some objects the same way! The metaphors are delightful and match the tone and atmosphere, and/or has juxtaposition that brings a scene together very well. I can't forget the horror of the finale and how I froze up and needed five minutes to process EVERYTHING!

Thank you Briana Cox for the ARC! This review is my own opinion.

[Nikki Tucker · Rating 5 out of 5]

Indigent is not simply horror. It is hunger given teeth. It is rot with a heartbeat. It is a building that breathes — and what it exhales will stay with you long after you close the book.

Set inside the crumbling Leigh Pierce Estates, Indigent follows a parasitic infection that spreads through an Atlanta housing complex, but the true contagion is far more insidious: poverty. Neglect. The quiet violence of being unseen. The horror here is both biological and systemic, and Cox wields that duality with surgical precision.

The parasite is grotesque — gloriously, unapologetically grotesque — but it never feels gratuitous. The body horror is purposeful. It mirrors what institutional neglect does to communities: it consumes from the inside out. Residents disappear. Others change. Hunger becomes literal. Survival becomes monstrous.

What elevates this novel into five-star territory is its structure. The multi-consciousness narrative immerses us in the deteriorating minds and bodies of its residents — Xavier, the weary handyman; the squatter family in the basement; the desperate, the overlooked, the forgotten. Cox does not flatten them into archetypes. She gives them interiority. She gives them dignity. And then she forces them into impossible choices.

The writing is sharp, literary, and unflinching. At times it feels slippery and suffocating, in the best way, as though the prose itself is infected. It clings to you. It crawls under your skin. It demands that you sit with the discomfort of class struggle and gentrification, not as abstract concepts, but as lived, decaying realities.

This is socially conscious horror at its most effective: the monster is real, yes — but so is the system that allowed it to thrive.

For a debut, this is astonishing. Bold. Uncompromising. Intellectually rich while still delivering the visceral punch horror readers crave. Cox proves that literary horror can be both brutally grotesque and deeply compassionate.

If you like your horror with teeth,and something urgent to say, Indigent belongs on your shelf.

Five stars. And then some.

[Mariah · Rating 5 out of 5]

Indigent is a horror stream of consciousness. Readers will see bones break, friends ache, and macabre deaths through this stream of thoughts and dialogue. This presentation of horror is interesting because it provides a first-person perspective into the events and you feel a pacing that never ends. The novel is fast paced by nature and it stirs up this string of anxiety through your bones. This is horror that does what horror is supposed to do – get under your skin and really make you think. Horror that is gut-wrenching and eerie to the core until you face the fears that society has conjured up.
This is a narrative about the need for a cultural reset and the way we tackle human rights and equality. Briana Cox is exceptional at highlighting key inequality and systemic racism that plague our real society with horrors. This is going to get under your skin and make you cringe from the sheer macabre detail – but you will not be able to look away. These are how these injustices are going to make you feel because the fiction is inspired by the unfortunate reality of the society. Society is scary when you think of all the ways it makes you look away from the very things that are harmful to society.
I love a narrative that forces you to sit with your thoughts as you navigate this stream of consciousness. That is what books are designed to be and this narrative is political by nature. It is well detailed and structured to force the readers into a place that may make them uncomfortable. The discomfort is what is going to stick with you and to force you to look at things you may be privileged to shy away from. A truly unique spectacle of a horror narrative I indulge you read this March! Thank you Briana Cox and Netgalley for this advanced digital copy. All opinions are my own.
For more reviews, recommendations, and tarot readings, visit my blog, https://brujerialibrary.wordpress.com/