This review comes to us from horror author and freelance writer Jena Brown. She's provided a quick synopsis of Dearest below for those who have not read it; you'll find her full review after the block.
From the moment Flora gives birth to Iris, she’s overwhelmed. First, with love; then, when the reality of being a new mom comes crashing down on her, with everything else. As the sleepless nights build up and the loneliness creeps in, Flora’s reality blurs with nightmares and memories of trauma.
Desperate, Flora reaches out to her estranged mother, who quickly appears on her doorstep. But is it a miracle or an omen? After all, there’s a reason they haven’t spoken for years. Soon, it’s cleat that there’s another presence in the house — something dark and sinister.
With time running out, Flora has to untangle whether she’s losing her mind, or if she’s the only thing standing between her precious baby and horrific evil… before it’s too late.
It's been more than two decades since I had to care for a newborn, but the one thing I remember so clearly is the constant battle between love and fear. Somehow even those two words don’t capture the emotions; they’re so powerful, it’s overwhelming.
There’s a love so ferocious it steals your breath. But there’s also the relentless terror that if something — anything — goes wrong, the wreckage will be beyond devastating. Add in severe sleep deprivation and I think it’s safe to say that most new mothers experience a surreal emotional state that can be difficult to articulate, and even harder to understand.
It’s in this state that we find Flora. Walters takes that tired, emotional condition and turns the dials up even further. It’s a recognizable distortion, and yet, like looking into a funhouse mirror, you can’t help but sense that something isn’t quite right. It’s nothing you can put your finger on, nothing you can point at. That’s where the novel’s uneasiness lives. Are we being too harsh on Flora? Or is she not being vigilant enough? Worse still, is she not being honest with herself and the people around her?
This discomfort isn’t something you’re eased into. Rather, you’re thrown in — feet unsteady, eyes filled with sleep. The narrative is visceral, the atmosphere steeped with dread. Thanks to a shocking prologue that grabs you by the throat, you go into the book knowing that something is wrong. But it’s impossible to know exactly what. Are these feelings the result of a certain harshness we unfairly aim at all mothers? Or is it warranted? How can you tell the difference?
With the control of a seasoned novelist, Walters entrenches these questions from the start. Even as dread lingers from the opening, the first few chapters are aimed toward tired calm. The careful prose mirrors Flora’s aching body and slow-moving thoughts. You aren’t simply sympathetic to Flora; you are immersed in her experience.
It’s a brilliant hook, one that catches you in its grasp before you feel the bite under your skin. And when that next spike of fear hits, it strikes dead-on. Each short chapter throws a sharp jab to the sternum. It’s unsettling and addictive, with ups and downs that make the novel impossible to put down.
Flora’s world is so familiar, her loneliness and uncertainty so poignant, that even when you know something is wrong, your mind races to explain the oddities away. You want to be wrong, even though you know better. It’s in this conflict that the deeper questions live. This novel is about more than supernatural entities with malicious intentions, although those elements are sublime. Hidden beneath the main plot is a powerful meditation on how precarious motherhood can be and the price that women sometimes pay.
One of the most compelling elements is Flora’s relationship with her mother. Again, you don’t have to be a parent to wonder what patterns you might paint on an unborn child, how you might inadvertently inflict pain throughout their childhood. Through flashbacks, we see Flora’s relationship with her own mother and can’t help but worry for her, Flora, both as a child and as a new mother. This worry is only amplified when her own mother arrives. Yet at the same time, isn’t any help better than watching Flora slowly drown on her own?
Indeed, the most difficult part of this book is that Flora is drowning. It isn’t just how tired she is, or that there’s a genuinely evil presence lurking in the shadows. Motherhood is hard, and sometimes the people that love you the most make it harder. There’s an expectation that instinct will kick in, that somehow, you’ll just know what to do. But so often that doesn’t happen. It takes a village, they say. But Flora is alone. Surrounded by well-meaning people, but alone all the same.
Her fear of failure wouldn’t make for a smooth transition into motherhood under the best of circumstances; in this context, it sets the stage perfectly for horror. Walters carves out quietly insecure thoughts from Flora, twisting them until they reach through the page and straight into your heart. Haven’t we all felt alone, inadequate, misunderstood? Haven’t we all felt like if we fail, we’ll lose everything?
Flora is at her most vulnerable, with the most to lose. Her fight isn’t just to survive, but to ensure that her daughter does too. But there’s a chance Flora herself might be the monster she’s struggling against.
And here is where the novel delivers its biggest sucker punch: if women are expected to simply adjust to being a parent, if women are expected to ease into the transition with no problems, then how are they supposed to ask for help? Suddenly, it makes sense why Flora reaches out to her mother, because no one else can quite understand that frantic, desperate need better than someone who has lived it — who has survived it.
The best horror is rooted in reality, and in that sense, Dearest delivers in spades. According to the NIH, one in seven women will struggle with a severe mood disorder in the first year after childbirth. Of those women, half will go undiagnosed. For many, this will be their first encounter with a depressive episode.
These statistics are staggering, and put Flora’s harrowing journey into heartbreaking perspective. She tries to be fine, to put on a strong façade, and yet she is still falling apart. It shouldn’t take a supernatural occurrence to shake her family awake. But it does. And that makes for a fantastic story that you won’t soon forget.
From start to finish, Dearest is a brilliant novel. It is devastating and harrowing, yet it thrills like your favorite classic horror film. The scares are phenomenal and the underlying threads of truth crawl under your skin and stick to your bones. Walters tackles complicated and complex issues but never neglects to entertain. If you love horror with depth that still manages to be absolute mayhem, Dearest is a must-read.
About the author
Jena Brown grew up playing make-believe in the Nevada desert, where her love for skeletons and harsh landscapes solidified. In addition to freelance writing, Jena blogs at www.jenabrownwrites.com. When she isn’t imagining deadly worlds, she and her husband keep busy being bossed around the Las Vegas desert by their two chihuahuas.
