The Mother Thing: A Horror Novel of Maternal Rage and Monstrous Love

She was supposed to be grateful. She became something else.

Mara is a mother. She has been a mother for six months. She has been a mother long enough to know that it is not what they promised. Long enough to know that the love is real but it is not enough. Long enough to know that the exhaustion is not a phase, it is a state of being. Long enough to know that the nothing is not depression, it is not anxiety, it is not a sickness — it is a truth she has been told to bury.

She stands in front of a fish tank and watches the last fish die and feels nothing. She holds her daughter and wants to run. She smiles when she wants to scream. She says I'm fine when she is not fine. She gives when she wants to take. She serves when she wants to be served. She is what they want her to be.

But that is not all she is.

She is something else. Something older. Something deeper. Something that has been waiting. Something that has been growing. Something that has been becoming. Something that is almost there.

She is a mother thing.

And this is her story.

The Mother Thing is a novel of maternal rage and monstrous love. It follows Mara as she transforms — from exhausted mother to reluctant monster to accepting mother thing to wise First Mother. It is body horror of the ordinary: the milk that changes, the teeth that sharpen, the hunger that will not stop. It is psychological horror of the unspeakable: the rage that lives in the body, the nothing that lives in the chest, the shadow that follows every woman who has ever been told to be grateful.

It is a story about what happens when a mother stops pretending. When she stops giving. When she stops serving. When she stops smiling. When she screams. When she breaks a mirror. When she stops the crying. When she eats steak in the car. When she bites. When she wants more. When she takes more. When she is always hungry. When she is never full. When she is becoming. When she is almost there. When she is there.

The Mother Thing is not a book about postpartum depression. It is not a book about mental illness. It is not a book about a mother who is sick, or broken, or mad, or a monster. It is a book about a mother who becomes what she was always meant to be. It is a book about the monstrous-feminine — the mother who is too much, who takes too much, who wants too much. It is a book about the rage that mothers have been told to bury, and have buried, and have been buried alive for.

It is a book about becoming. About taking. About feeding. About love that is indistinguishable from monstrosity. About a mother who would do anything for her daughter — including becoming the thing that haunts the world so her daughter never has to.

Perfect for readers of: Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder , The Push by Ashley Audrain , Our Monstrous Bodies by Emma Cleary , The Lamb by Lucy Rose , But Won't I Miss Me by Tiffany Tsao , The Substance (film) , Titane (film) . Hereditary (film)