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Lured into a terrifying inheritance competition when returning home for her mother's funeral, a young woman must reckon with her mother’s secrets and a town’s past of deathly sacrifice.
Be careful of what grows here…
Maria's strongest memory of her hometown Talalora is crying as her mother sent her away. But when the sudden news of her mother’s death leaves Maria in shock, she returns. She’ll close old wounds for good and claim the inheritance her mother left behind; the home they once shared and a fresh start.
But Talalora isn't what Maria remembers. Once lush fields are barren; the flowers are withered. The townspeople are devoted to a lone priest, Father Benito, who declares her mother’s inheritance must be earned. To stake her claim, Maria must brave a series of trials pitting her against relatives she's never known.
Each trial, crueler than the last, tests Maria in the ways of the babaylan, healers that commune with the spirits. And with each trial passed Talalora's plants grow faster and stranger. But Maria’s progress brings memories of her mother. Now a childhood friend, a beautiful woman who shakes Maria’s heart, insists her mother's death was planned.
And Maria remembers the Diwata, a spirit and goddess who's ensured Talalora's fertile land for decades. She now wanders Talalora at night, twisted and strange, leaving flowers and ruin in her wake. Maria's fight for her inheritance becomes a search for the buried truth of Talalora, her mother, and a curse that threatens them all. What's been buried must bloom.
352 pages, Paperback
Expected publication March 9, 2027
Thank you to NetGalley and Berkley Publishing Group for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
This is botanical horror at its best. Lush descriptions of encroaching nature, of bright, captivating, sweet-scented flowers and a goddess who embodies both feminine rage and wild beauty in her floral domain. Daphne Fama's prose is fantastic in evoking a sense of something growing under your skin, her descriptions of floral body horror being both somewhat titillating and viscerally disgusting. With A Deadly Blooming Fama has written a very cinematic, visual novel that read like a whole movie unfolding before my eyes.
The core of this horror novel is (re)discovering your familial bonds and uncovering a very traumatic and dark secret. Maria, the main character, is compelling and sensible, and it was very satisfying to watch her unravel the lies of Talalora, the place she was born but barely remembers. She’s smart enough to trust her instincts and competent, too - she knows how and when to lie and pretend convincingly; Maria is also aware that she needs all the help and allies to finish the job. It did feel at times that Maria’s awareness seemed to vanish into thin air whenever the plot required for her to fall into a certain hurdle and move things along, but not too often.
Maria's development and character throughout the story are well-written, however, the whole of A Deadly Blooming takes place in three days, and three days is simply not enough time for relationships to bloom even under dire, scary circumstances. I didn't feel like Maria's connection with her aunts deserved to be as strong at the end with the little time they spent together. Three days is also not a long period for the main character to settle into a kind of rhythm at an unfamiliar place, and for her to notice when something is amiss, to feel so out of balance. The horror of this story is nature overtaking buildings and even people, and as a reader I would’ve liked for those changes in the setting to creep in slowly, to have time to feel the tension and the danger settling into the background. Daphne Fama’s prose is spectacular in captivating the reader and making them feel every terrifying thing, but the tight timeline makes scenes that are supposed to be heavy and important lack a certain depth.
Overall though, I simply consumed and devoured this book. The author made the setting feel lived-in and real, I could almost believe that a similar closed-off community exists somewhere in the world. Fama handled the themes of misogyny and generational trauma with a skilled hand, her commentary never coming across as overbearingly didactic but rather harsh in its realism. Considering the thematic gravity, the ending didn’t feel nearly cathartic or bloody enough, even coming off a little too cheesy, but the story was still wrapped up nicely and I look forward to more of Fama's work.