Let me start this review with the dedication:
‘𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝—𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭.’
So who is going to psychoanalyze me for always gravitating towards books that are just one long allegory on the world depending way too much on mothers/women and not giving them everything that they deserve? or will I just continue reading weird girl lit?
‘𝐀 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬. 𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.’
One of the biggest feat of Caitlin Starling is the fact that she wrote a vampire book in 2026 that is completely new and fresh. In this world vampires cannot feed on human blood during their years-long transition or they run the risk of becoming unwanted monsters that do not fit in the world. Instead they have to feed on vampire blood, but most vampires cannot sustain to feed their ‘fledglings.’ And not only did they not feed on human blood during their transition, but they regressed into being almost like ‘babies’ they couldn’t really take care of themselves and didn’t remember much of anything. But Beatrice not only can sustain this, but she can feed multiple fledglings at once, as she is a broodmother. Vampires trust her with their sired and will come collect them when they can finally feed on humans. And here comes the never ending metaphors/allegories. Women for 100s of years now have been made to feel shameful if they could not breastfeed their children. As if formula is something that would somehow make kids grow up to be this unwanted, not normal, functional human being in society. It’s such a silly thing that society deemed to put shame onto. And before formula existed, and even when women could breastfeed, it was deemed ‘poor’ to breastfeed their own babies. Families would get wet nurses instead, and make these women form bonds, put way too much pressure on them and not give them nearly enough of the right resources to feed babies that were not their own.
‘𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬? 𝐇𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐝.’
Beatrice did the best she could in her situation. She never felt like she could truly love the fledglings, but she cared for them fiercely. She was not in charge of the situation in which fledglings came to her nor the environment that they had to live in together. I think that it was difficult for her to reconcile this intimacy that she formed while feeding with the fact that they would grow up and move on from her. They would go into the world and see how other people might live (people, who were their family, were much richer and could give them way more). The fledglings would always have that memory of being fed, taken care of, safe, but what else really?
‘𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.’
As much as this story was focused on feeding someone else’s ‘baby’ this story read to me as how difficult it is to be not only be a mother, but a woman. How in this world we are ignored, not heard and even when we complain loudly we get pushed to the side. Oh it’s just ‘anxiety’ ‘are you sure you’re not on your period?’ ‘did you drink enough water?’ Or worse yet, we just keep it to ourselves because we couldn’t dare let anyone know we failed. Beatrice always knew something felt wrong, but she didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t want to admit that maybe she couldn’t do her job anymore, or she took too much on at once or even have anyone else know what she felt. She was afraid of someone and coming to pick her apart and make it her problem instead of helping. I think today women, and especially mothers, are afraid to ask for help because we think we won’t get it and even worse we will get criticized for failing.
‘“𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐢𝐭? 𝐓𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨. 𝐓𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞. 𝐍𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐮𝐬.”’
We put way too much pressure on new mothers. If anything were to happen, society immediately says ‘well what did the mother do?’ If we see a new mother out enjoying herself, society asks ‘who is home with the baby?’ It’s always, always on the mother. And if you have someone who even just a ‘mother figure’ like Beatrice who is these fledglings’ broodmother they still look at her at fault if anything were to happen. Not to their sire who left them in this dirty, unknown environment. Women of the world are always placed as guardians of the new generation, but are never coveted as such treasures. Men truly have the power, but if anything were to happen why aren’t they blamed?
‘“𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝—𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞,”…𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐓𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞: 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲, 𝐧𝐨, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝.’
Again, even when women/mothers are spread way too thin, tired, tied down by other people’s responsibility, and can’t even have time to themselves we look to them for the answers. After reading the author’s notes at the end of this book and her saying she thought of this idea from the history of wet nurses, truly nothing could make more sense. This was so well written, I couldn’t stop reading it. Caitlin Starling does speculative fiction like no one else. She knows how to write in such a way where you’re always on the cusp of ‘oh I know what this means’ or ‘I know where she is going with this’ and you never are right until all of the sudden you read one single line and it hits you like a rock. The prose was beautiful and weird, and one of my favorite ways of reading a story- it was a personal love letter, a personal retelling.
‘𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 . . . 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥.’
Thank you so much NetGalley and St. Martin Press for this ARC, I’m so unbelievably happy to have received this book🖤