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Fawn
Hardcover
About the author
C.N. Vair
2 books111 followersC.N. Vair (she/her) is a horror and dark fantasy author living in Western New York. A former journalist, she’s interested in the history and haunted corners of small towns, the magic and malice of the natural world, and power in all its forms. When she’s not writing, you can find her wandering in woods and cemeteries, growing poisonous plants in her garden, or spending time with her husband and dogs.
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
August 30, 2026
absolutely delicious. what started as a seemingly cosy read a about a witch cultivating her sanctuary very quickly turned into something much darker and compelling.
i bought this book today and devoured it one sitting. the perfect amalgamation of everything i love in a book 🦌🖤
i bought this book today and devoured it one sitting. the perfect amalgamation of everything i love in a book 🦌🖤
September 10, 2026
absolutely phenomenal 😭 i don't have words right now for how this book made me feel but it was immaculate
September 8, 2026
If I could rate this 10 stars, I would. This consumed me, in the best sense. Tess is one of my all time favourite female main characters, ever. She’s incredible. She stands her ground and fights for what she wants, when men come in and try to take everything from her she doesn’t shy away.
I can’t talk about the story without writing page after page, just know that you need to read this book. Especially if you’re a woman. Absolute *chefs kiss* 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻
I can’t talk about the story without writing page after page, just know that you need to read this book. Especially if you’re a woman. Absolute *chefs kiss* 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻
September 12, 2026
There’s a scream of rage inside me. As a woman, I must muzzle it to be able to function in a world that expects women to behave a certain way; to fall in line to the status quo no matter how much it makes us bleed. Accept our boundaries only matter to us. The patriarchy finds our red lines amusing at best and inconvenient at worst.
To live daily with the dissonance of knowing our lives are not our own to live as we choose. We grow used to the noose around our necks. But the scream? It stays. It never leaves us. Sometimes it wakes us up in the dead of the night. It frightens the cats so much they scatter and hide under the bed.
“You sound like a banshee,” your partner says. Turns their back to you and huffs back to sleep while you lie there seething, eating, drinking, breathing pure, true, honest rage.
You touch your neck, sensing the chafe of the noose that reminds you that no matter how hard you resist, you will do what you are expected to eventually—that your agency is always an illusion. The amount of suffering you experience until you submit is, ironically, always your choice. A devil’s choice of agency where there is none and the hope that you might, this time, break free.
Fawn caught me from the first line and didn’t let me go. I’m still thinking about it, the feelings I felt as I read it. The anger. The rage. How I felt seen. How I felt vindicated. Understood. How brilliantly Vair excised the cruelty women face living in a world possessed by men and painted it across a billboard one hundred feet high.
Tess could be any of us. She could be you. She could be me. Fawn circles female rage and agency with a delicate touch through the steady disintegration of Tess’s sanctuary, of the loss of her decades-old garden of safety, serenity, abundance, beauty, healing, and calm.
Tess’s agelessness and her sanctuary are built on power drawn from the natural world . . . and on her connection with the devil with whom she made a deal to be able to live under horrifying circumstances. It asks us to consider how we might react to circumstances beyond the boundary of her control as they force her into a smaller and smaller crucible. Would you resort to her choices? Would I?
Through Tess, Vair takes us right to the edge of the patriarchal paradigm and gives us a glimpse of the other side, for now a fiction, perhaps, one day . . . a reality. The tension is exquisite and masterfully done. Tess’s loss of agency and the “choices” she is offered as her sanctuary is clawed away from her piece by piece are all equally repulsive.
Tess wanted very little. But even a little freedom for a woman is unbearable in a world driven by a system that sees women as second to the mandate of men. I could not put this book down. I read it in one sitting the day it arrived at my door. When I closed the book, I felt my scream had lessened. Just a little. But it was enough.
If you like Madeline Miller’s Circe and V.E. Schwab’s The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, you will love this book. Fawn bleeds with some of the most beautiful lyricism I have ever read. I eagerly await Vair’s next book.
Review of Waterstones special edition, signed copy.
To live daily with the dissonance of knowing our lives are not our own to live as we choose. We grow used to the noose around our necks. But the scream? It stays. It never leaves us. Sometimes it wakes us up in the dead of the night. It frightens the cats so much they scatter and hide under the bed.
“You sound like a banshee,” your partner says. Turns their back to you and huffs back to sleep while you lie there seething, eating, drinking, breathing pure, true, honest rage.
You touch your neck, sensing the chafe of the noose that reminds you that no matter how hard you resist, you will do what you are expected to eventually—that your agency is always an illusion. The amount of suffering you experience until you submit is, ironically, always your choice. A devil’s choice of agency where there is none and the hope that you might, this time, break free.
Fawn caught me from the first line and didn’t let me go. I’m still thinking about it, the feelings I felt as I read it. The anger. The rage. How I felt seen. How I felt vindicated. Understood. How brilliantly Vair excised the cruelty women face living in a world possessed by men and painted it across a billboard one hundred feet high.
Tess could be any of us. She could be you. She could be me. Fawn circles female rage and agency with a delicate touch through the steady disintegration of Tess’s sanctuary, of the loss of her decades-old garden of safety, serenity, abundance, beauty, healing, and calm.
Tess’s agelessness and her sanctuary are built on power drawn from the natural world . . . and on her connection with the devil with whom she made a deal to be able to live under horrifying circumstances. It asks us to consider how we might react to circumstances beyond the boundary of her control as they force her into a smaller and smaller crucible. Would you resort to her choices? Would I?
Through Tess, Vair takes us right to the edge of the patriarchal paradigm and gives us a glimpse of the other side, for now a fiction, perhaps, one day . . . a reality. The tension is exquisite and masterfully done. Tess’s loss of agency and the “choices” she is offered as her sanctuary is clawed away from her piece by piece are all equally repulsive.
Tess wanted very little. But even a little freedom for a woman is unbearable in a world driven by a system that sees women as second to the mandate of men. I could not put this book down. I read it in one sitting the day it arrived at my door. When I closed the book, I felt my scream had lessened. Just a little. But it was enough.
If you like Madeline Miller’s Circe and V.E. Schwab’s The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, you will love this book. Fawn bleeds with some of the most beautiful lyricism I have ever read. I eagerly await Vair’s next book.
Review of Waterstones special edition, signed copy.
September 15, 2026
Fawn is an unsettling folklore horror that kept me guessing from start to finish. The fawn itself was an intriguing addition, and I was constantly wondering what was really happening, why, and how the increasingly desperate situation would end.
The folklore atmosphere creates a strong sense of dread without relying on excessive gore, making it a great introduction to horror for readers who prefer creepy over gruesome. Although my gore meter is probably quite robust, I appreciated how the story focused more on mystery and unease.
There was some effective misdirection with several plot lines, and I particularly enjoyed the novel's take on the Devil, which felt fresh and interesting.
A creepy, atmospheric read that kept me invested throughout.
The folklore atmosphere creates a strong sense of dread without relying on excessive gore, making it a great introduction to horror for readers who prefer creepy over gruesome. Although my gore meter is probably quite robust, I appreciated how the story focused more on mystery and unease.
There was some effective misdirection with several plot lines, and I particularly enjoyed the novel's take on the Devil, which felt fresh and interesting.
A creepy, atmospheric read that kept me invested throughout.
September 5, 2026
difficult to put into words how much I adored this book, it’s truly something special. tess and the fawn’s relationship was beautiful and made me incredibly emotional 😭 I loved them and their development was written spectacularly. this is the type of story that will stick with me for a long time ❤️🦌
September 5, 2026
Rooted in nature and deep magic Fawn, (The Devil knows her Name in the US), is outstanding!
My favourite book this year I absolutely loved it 🖤🦌🤎🧡
My favourite book this year I absolutely loved it 🖤🦌🤎🧡
September 17, 2026
More like a 4.5
Never fuck with a witch that’s for sure
Never fuck with a witch that’s for sure
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews