An intense, slow-burn decent into madness where nothing happens. Not a criticism but praise.
The whole book is set in the attic where Marguerite is learning to become a good wife. We get snippets of her past life outside the house, and her mother's history, but other than that, we are in the attic with Marguerite.

The commentary on a woman's place and her ability to run a home and raise a family really reminded me of the Yellow Wallpaper. It had the same one woman, one room premise, but expanded so deeply into Marguerite's thought processes that I really felt connected with her. Some of Parry's descriptions, particularly of the rotting food, bordered on stomach churning. The repetitive nature of Marguerite's life in the attic was clearly part of the monotony of her experience there, and it helped develop the readers understanding of her situation.

This isn't my usual kind of read, but I'm glad I gave it a chance. It's definitely a story that will stay with me for some time.

I loved this dark Victorian Gothic horror that explored themes of class, queerness and the bonds between mother and daughter. The story follows Maugeritte who has been locked away in the attic in her childhood home by her mother to educate her so that she might be suitable to marry an older (and poorer) man, that her mother does not approve of, with only Victor Hugo, Mrs. Beaton's Cookbook and a carrion crow nesting in the roof for company. The premise evokes both Jane Eyre's 'madwoman' in the attic and a (much) darker version of the fairytale 'Rapunzel'. The tight pacing and switch between the mother and daughter's backstory kept me gripped and guessing about the motivations behind each of their actions. Beautifully told, even if at times I was reading between my fingers.

This was an insanely harrowing and enchanting at the same time. Unlike anything I have ever read before.

I am unsure what else I can even say about this book! It has to be read to be understood. Please check the content warnings for yourself but as a general rule, I would recommend it to readers who like:

-literary fiction
-women's fiction
-a harrowing, heartbreaking read
-graphic description
-a deep backstory of repression
-discussion over class
-discussion over the role of women in society
-portrayal of abusive family relationships
-heavy topics such as self-harm and abuse
-haunting language
-beautiful characterisation

One that will stick with me for a very, very long time.

Thanks to Netgalley for an advanced copy of this book in exchange for this review.

Heather Parry, author of 2022's spookiest debut with Orpheus Builds A Girl, has done it again. Carrion Crow is a feverish, claustraphobic sophomore outing, filled with unsettling images and clever criticism of Victorian social mores.

Marguerite Perigrine has been locked in the attic by her mother, Cécile, in preperation for her upcoming marriage. Trapped in this small space, Marguerite has only her own thoughts. Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management and a sewing machine for company; she will emerge, reborn as the perfect wife, from the attic when her mother decides the time is right. But when is the time right? Just how long has Margueirte been in the attic? Carrion Crow delivers on a deeply unnerving premise with aplomb.

The novel weaves together Marguerite's present with Cecile's past, giving us a slow but satisfying exploration of the damage that's been done to these women by social mores and patriarchal horrors. Parry’ slowly unveils layer upon layer of family secrets, twisted societal expectations and the impact that these things have had on both Marguerite and her mother. Both women are intricately characterised; the novel, at times, feels like a deep-dive study into their unravelling physches. Carrion Crow is not an intricate, plotty novel, but these two women will stay with you.

Parry is a masterful writer of body horror - as evidenced by her debut and her excellent short story collection from last year - and isn't afraid to make full use of this gift in the novel. In Carrion Crow, she seems equally focussed on making the reader feel disgust, horror and dread as she is making us think about the awfulness of being a young women in Victorian England. It is, not to put too fine a point on it, completely gross; even now I feel nauseous at remembering some of the scenes in this one.

Marguerite becomes less and less stable as the novel progresses; thus, she becomes less and less of a reliable narrator. By the end, things seem positively depraved, bordering on supernatural, and the ending took my breath away.

I really admire Heather Parry's uncompromising horror writing; this isn't a novel that hits you over the head with its opinions or ideas, nor is it action-packed. It is, however, rich and rewarding, and one I can't wait to re-read upon release.

Wow this really surprised me, this is my first read from the author and I only picked it up as someone who automatically gives the benefit of the doubt to anything spooky with Corvids involved. But I practically inhaled this, it’s only short (thankfully or I wouldn’t have slept) but I couldn’t put it down and burned through it in one sitting.

Carrion Crow dives headfirst into a feverish, gothic descent that echoes classics like The Yellow Wallpaper, but takes it to a significantly more unhinged level. Parry crafts an atmosphere that feels alive and malevolent, turning Marguerite’s confinement into a revolting descent as her mind begins to rot in isolation. Parry’s language is pretty viscerally detailed, and often lingers on bodily horror in a way that is disgustingly immersive.

Unlike typical tales of isolated women, this story leans much further horror, with Marguerite’s experiences having her slipping beyond humanity and into something monstrous. The novel definitely thrives on atmosphere, rather than giving you a big dramatic plot, but I would strongly defend that it doesn’t need it.

Parry’s storytelling is hauntingly effective, using unreliable narration and a non-linear structure to slowly reveal layers of family secrets, twisted control, societal expectations and just a dash of generational trauma. The themes of gender, class, and sexuality, explored through Marguerite and her mother’s history, adds complexity, offering a surprisingly raw commentary on the topics. It’s a book that invites analysis and reflection—rich in subtext that rewards patient readers. It leaves you with questions, and would definitely appeal more to fans of ‘show-don’t-tell’ styles of writing, so don’t expect it to slap you round the face with obvious answers.

I will say that it’s probably not for everyone; I think if you’re not used to the gothic genre you might struggle, but if you’re into a slow horror that’s more about mood and psychological decay than nail-biting action, this might be right up your alley.

A big thank you to the author, Netgalley and the publisher for the e-ARC in exchange for an honest review

Carrion Crow is a novel about a woman shut in an attic to learn how to be a good wife, in a gothic exploration of polite society and secrets. Marguerite was locked in the attic by her mother, Cécile, with only Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management and a sewing machine for company, plus a crow she discovers has made its own within the roof. Cécile appears sporadically to bring food and check on Marguerite's progress, but Marguerite starts to lose track of how long she's been there, and why is she fighting to get married in the first place?

Told alternatively in Marguerite's present and the history of her mother, this novel slowly unravels a story of social position, respectability, and secrets, whilst still not handing the reader everything on a plate. The narrative unfurls in a way that the reader starts to understand things before Marguerite does, creating a sense of dread as you realise what she hasn't. In particular, Marguerite's 'plan' that has led to her being in the attic is heartbreaking once you realise how her belief, from her mother, in ideas of polite society and what she must do to be allowed what she wants is misguided, but also deeply tied up in class, position, and gender. Queerness is shown in opposition to these ideas of polite society, but also the thing that offers alternative ideas of freedom.

This historical gothic novel is slow and lingering, without an easy answer or way out. I'm not usually a fan of historical novels, but Carrion Crow gripped me, though the backstory elements sometimes felt too drawn out. Fans of gothic novels will enjoy this one, which doesn't shy away from some more disgusting elements.

I don't think I really understood this book so I really didn't enjoy it. I didn't DNF as I wanted to see it through. I liked the parts where we looked back on Cécile's life but they came out of nowhere and I don't really understand the relevance to the plot? (Apart from maybe to explain the families situation?).

Carrion Crow follows Marguerite who has been locked in the attic of her family home by her mother. Her mother, Cécile has engaged Marguerite to a man called Mr Lewis and aims to teach her the proper ways of being a lady whilst she is in the attic. For example, she has a copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management.

To be completely honest I really did not understand this story. I just didn’t get it. It felt so empty to me and I just feel absolutely nothing for this book. It just wasn’t for me and it was lacking.

Oh my what a glorious and wretched novel. This was unlike anything I’ve read before. While the main plot itself was uneventful and repetitive, the writing made this novel stand out. Parry describes the human body with so much detail and grotesque levels of complexity that reading this made me feel like I was stuck in the attic with Marguerite and her crows.

Marguerite becomes something inhuman as the story grows, her confinement gives way to something unnatural living inside her. Through her unreliable narration, we learn about her life before her entrapment, her lovers and her hopes for her future. I also enjoyed the exploration of her mother and her life and the chaotic nature that surrounded the house.

This novel descends into pure madness and feels like a giant, festering wound unraveling. There’s no other way to describe it, it was sickening and heartbreaking and I couldn’t put it down.