Thank you NetGalley and Delacorte Press for the ARC in exchange for an honest review!
Clare Edge’s “Natural Selection” is feral, furious, and darkly funny. It’s a sharp-toothed YA thriller that takes female rage seriously and lets it run wild. Set in a small Montana town steeped in generational misogyny and willful blindness, this story is both a cathartic revenge fantasy and a sobering indictment of the systems that protect predators. I highly recommend looking into the content warnings for this book before diving in as there is SA mentioned throughout the book.
From the opening chapters, Edge makes one thing painfully clear: Kevin is dangerous. His behavior, like peeping on underage girls, driving drunk, spewing homophobia, and pushing boundaries, isn’t subtle, and the discomfort of reading about him feels intentional. Kevin isn’t a caricature; he’s recognizable, the kind of guy a town shrugs off with “boys will be boys.” The adults and authority figures around him, including law enforcement, are just as culpable, reinforcing a culture where girls are expected to stay quiet, forgiving, and compliant.
At the center of the story are three girls (Outlaw, Megan, and Bee) each carrying her own anger, fear, and reckoning. Megan, Kevin’s girlfriend, is frustratingly naive at first, desperate to hold onto the idea of a perfect life even as she ignores red flags she’s been warned about for months. Her growth comes slowly and imperfectly, but that realism makes it hit harder. Outlaw sees Kevin for exactly what he is from the start, while Bee, who is awkward, observant, and deeply relatable, begins to find both her voice and her feelings, including a tender queer romance that unfolds naturally amid the chaos.
What begins as a vow to humiliate and ruin Kevin spirals into something much bigger when a bear enters the story; this actual bear seems to be hunting the town’s worst men. As predators begin to fall, the story flirts with the supernatural. Is the bear an embodiment of the girls’ collective rage? A manifestation of long-silenced trauma? Or something even closer to them—a transformation, a reckoning, a natural response? Edge keeps the answer deliberately murky, allowing metaphor and horror to blur in unsettling, effective ways.
The message is bold, sometimes heavy-handed, but undeniably powerful: this town has been failing its girls for generations, and the violence inflicted on them doesn’t disappear; it mutates. The book leans hard into the idea of women’s rights and women’s wrongs, offering a brutal kind of justice that feels both thrilling and disturbing. There’s gore, there are difficult moments (including sexual assault), and Edge wisely provides clear content warnings.
Despite the darkness, “Natural Selection” crackles with humor, camaraderie, and fierce energy. The girls’ bond, which is messy, imperfect, and hard-won, is the emotional core of the story, and their reliance on one another offers a sense of solidarity that’s as empowering as it is cathartic. The ending lands with teeth: satisfying, enraging, and impossible to forget.
Overall, “Natural Selection” is a razor-sharp exploration of power, predation, and what happens when girls stop being prey. This is the “I choose the bear” book, and it absolutely earns that crown.