Our Take

Ainslie Hogarth's Motherthing is a gloriously unhinged debut that merges domestic horror with pitch-black comedy to explore trauma, obsessive love, and the ghosts—both literal and psychological—that haunt us. What sets this novel apart is Hogarth's ability to make readers simultaneously root for and recoil from Abby, an unreliable narrator whose desperation for maternal love and marital devotion drives her to increasingly disturbing acts. The prose crackles with dark humor even as it delivers genuine scares, creating a reading experience that feels like Ira Levin's Rosemary's Baby colliding with Carmen Maria Machado's twisted domesticity. Hogarth fearlessly examines how childhood trauma shapes adult relationships and how the need to be loved can curdle into something monstrous. The novel's willingness to go to truly grotesque places—that chicken à la king recipe will haunt you—while maintaining emotional authenticity is remarkable. Fans of Grady Hendrix's horror-comedy like How to Sell a Haunted House or the psychological unsettling of Catriona Ward's The Last House on Needless Street will devour this twisted tale. For readers who appreciate horror that explores the terrifying potential within seemingly ordinary people, Motherthing is a memorably disturbing achievement.