The Unmothers by Leslie J. Anderson ostensibly follows a reporter through a small town. This reporter, Marshall, and this town, Raeford, both have parts of their past they’d rather not share. Not kept secret is why Marshall is in town: a horse gave birth to a human baby. If that sounds unbelievable, don’t worry; Marshall and her boss think so too. This folk horror novel is also a detective story—one where the stakes keep rising. You can follow the case when this debut novel arrives from Quirk Books on August 6th, 2024.
Before I can dig into this story, I have to address the point of view. This book does not entirely follow Marshall. I understand from a summary standpoint how it makes sense to frame the story in this way, but it did color my reading expectations. I wasn’t a fan of Marshall at the start, and wasn’t looking forward to spending so many pages with her. But when the viewpoint kept changing, I struggled to adjust to the new shape of the story. I think I counted around twelve distinct perspectives, when I originally thought it was sticking with two. About halfway through my reading, I realized the main character isn’t Marshall: it’s Raeford.
Once I made that connection, I really started to enjoy this book. I distinctly remember something happening—something delightfully leaning into folk horror—where I said, “Okay, this is what I came here for.” That scene, and many following, were awesome. The atmosphere of Raeford clings to you. It’s sticky, like blood. And the cast of characters that populate it? That’s one benefit of Marshall as a character: you get to meet them as an outsider and as an insider. Dualities like this, how and why people relate to each other, is a crucial scaffold to this novel. With Marshall, we are able to learn about the town and truly see how insular and untrusting they are. With the perspectives of those who grew up in town, we get to see how that trust gets further divided and what lines they have drawn for themselves.
Also of note–Raeford is a horse town. The politics of the industry create some of these lines, as does simple experience. Just because you see your neighbor’s horse walking down the road doesn’t mean you know how to ride, or more importantly, train. There’s a level of pride and superiority that those at the top of their field inhabit. A squabble between two men over a stud is made abundantly clear from the start. That’s a pretty testosterone filled conversation for a book like The Unmothers. It’s a book steeped in motherhood, birth, and the community found amongst women. The men are left almost entirely on the outside of these conversations and rituals. Or at least, they’re supposed to be.
The main conflict in this story, in this town, arises from that gender line being crossed. On one hand, there is a man who is willingly exposed to some of the mystery surrounding the bloody history of this town. On the other, there is a man who is violently seeking those secrets for his own use. Even deeper into the fabric of this town, there is a break within the circle of women as well. There is no clear path of initiation into these customs, or the rules. And when rules like this are broken, the price is high. Some of these breaks come from outside the community, like poverty or substance abuse. The town makes it a point to highlight those prices that are being publicly paid.
These heavy concepts and sweeping social commentary almost hurts this novel. Talking with a friend, we each got half of the story we expected, the story we wanted. This novel really did do a lot, which is a huge undertaking for a debut. I can see where things were going, and how much heart went into this vision, but for me that did distract from the book I thought I was reading. Really, I commend Anderson for tackling something so vast on a first go. It may not have been a perfect read for me, but I see a lot of talent here. Especially when it came to the almost cosmic horror elements peeking through. I cannot stress enough how much I loved those aspects of this book. It makes me really hope we see more from this author. And if you’re on the fence, aren’t you at least a little curious enough to pick this up? I think it’s worth it.
Images via Quirk Books.
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