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Hemlock
Not yet published
Expected 20 Jan 26A woman haunted by a dark inheritance returns to the woods where her mother vanished, in this queer Gothic novel—a butch Black Swan.
Sam, finally sober and stable with a cat and a long-term boyfriend in Brooklyn, returns alone to Hemlock, her family’s deteriorating cabin deep in the Wisconsin Northwoods, where her mother disappeared years before and never returned. But a quick, practical trip takes a turn for the worse when the rot and creak of the forest starts to creep in around the edges of Sam’s mind. It starts, as it always does, with a beer.
As Sam dips back into the murky waters of dependency, the inexplicable begins to arrive at her door in the forms of a neighbor who leaves no trace, a talking doe who sounds just like Sam’s missing mother, and a series of mysterious gifts that might be a welcome or a warning. And as Sam’s stay extends—as the town’s grip on her tightens and her body takes on a strange new shape—the borders of reality begin to blur, and she senses she is battling something sinister—whether nested in the woods or within herself.
Hemlock is a carnal coming-of-addiction, a dark sparkler about rapture, desire, transformation, and transcendence in many forms. What lives at the heart of fear—animal, monster, or man? How do we contain a threat that may come from within? And how can we reject our own inheritance, the psychic storm that’s been coming for generations, and rebuild a new home for ourselves? In the tradition of Han Kang’s The Vegetarian, Hemlock is a novel of singular style, with all the edginess of a survival story and a simmering menace that glints from the very periphery of the page.
Sam, finally sober and stable with a cat and a long-term boyfriend in Brooklyn, returns alone to Hemlock, her family’s deteriorating cabin deep in the Wisconsin Northwoods, where her mother disappeared years before and never returned. But a quick, practical trip takes a turn for the worse when the rot and creak of the forest starts to creep in around the edges of Sam’s mind. It starts, as it always does, with a beer.
As Sam dips back into the murky waters of dependency, the inexplicable begins to arrive at her door in the forms of a neighbor who leaves no trace, a talking doe who sounds just like Sam’s missing mother, and a series of mysterious gifts that might be a welcome or a warning. And as Sam’s stay extends—as the town’s grip on her tightens and her body takes on a strange new shape—the borders of reality begin to blur, and she senses she is battling something sinister—whether nested in the woods or within herself.
Hemlock is a carnal coming-of-addiction, a dark sparkler about rapture, desire, transformation, and transcendence in many forms. What lives at the heart of fear—animal, monster, or man? How do we contain a threat that may come from within? And how can we reject our own inheritance, the psychic storm that’s been coming for generations, and rebuild a new home for ourselves? In the tradition of Han Kang’s The Vegetarian, Hemlock is a novel of singular style, with all the edginess of a survival story and a simmering menace that glints from the very periphery of the page.
352 pages, Hardcover
Expected publication January 20, 2026
11572 people want to read
About the author
Melissa Faliveno
3 books153 followersAuthor of TOMBOYLAND: ESSAYS and the debut novel HEMLOCK, forthcoming January 20, 2026 from Little, Brown.
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July 9, 2025whoever coined this as a "butch black swan" in the marketing department deserves a raise i'm so serious
December 28, 2025
I received a copy for review purposes. All opinions are honest and mine alone.
Let me start by saying, I HATE the publisher’s first sentence in the opening of the summary about this book: “…in this queer Gothic novel - a butch Black Swan.” What?!?!?
Not in a million years is this debut novel, by Melissa Faliveno, anything like that wretched description. Yes, main character, Sam, a woman who is doing battle with emotional demons, does have a lesbian experience during the course of the story. Is it so important it deserves top billing by the publisher? I don’t think so…
Sam is also a recovering alcoholic who is reevaluating her life; not quite a midlife crisis but a similar assessment. Her current 10+ year relationship with Stephen is not working for her. She loves him but is just not sure she wants to be with him anymore. Sam considers herself “androgynous” and has had relationships with men and women at various times. She’s a writer but not satisfied on that front, either. Sam has lots of questions about her mother who vanished in the woods surrounding her inherited cabin named HEMLOCK, in Wisconsin’s north woods, where she’s gone to sort her life.
Faliveno has a lovely way with descriptive prose. Her language is atmospheric and creates characters of HEMLOCK, (the rundown cabin), and surrounding woods. Readers will find much to ponder with the relationship between Sam, the cabin and their transformations.
Sam and the cabin are ponderable but there is a doe that visits with Sam and speaks to her that defies most rational thinking; or is there? It shows up a lot, (maybe it’s a function of alcoholism? L), at all times of the day and night. Could it be dreaming? When she’s drunk and sober.
Do you believe in communication from those who have gone on before you? So many possibilities and this tiny mountain village has a few interesting neighbors that want to offer Sam a lending hand; or do they? Inquiring minds want…need to know about the doe.
I spent a bunch of time wondering if the title of the book was a clue. Do you know what hemlock can do? Main character, Sam, spends a lot of time thinking and wondering about her entire life. Her partner, Stephen, is wondering about her.
Recommended for readers who don’t need quick, easy answers, enjoy psychological conundrums, aren’t offended by R rated, sapphic sexual encounters and a full complement of foul language📚
Read and Reviewed from a NetGalley eARC via Kindle, with thanks to the publisher and author
Let me start by saying, I HATE the publisher’s first sentence in the opening of the summary about this book: “…in this queer Gothic novel - a butch Black Swan.” What?!?!?
Not in a million years is this debut novel, by Melissa Faliveno, anything like that wretched description. Yes, main character, Sam, a woman who is doing battle with emotional demons, does have a lesbian experience during the course of the story. Is it so important it deserves top billing by the publisher? I don’t think so…
Sam is also a recovering alcoholic who is reevaluating her life; not quite a midlife crisis but a similar assessment. Her current 10+ year relationship with Stephen is not working for her. She loves him but is just not sure she wants to be with him anymore. Sam considers herself “androgynous” and has had relationships with men and women at various times. She’s a writer but not satisfied on that front, either. Sam has lots of questions about her mother who vanished in the woods surrounding her inherited cabin named HEMLOCK, in Wisconsin’s north woods, where she’s gone to sort her life.
Faliveno has a lovely way with descriptive prose. Her language is atmospheric and creates characters of HEMLOCK, (the rundown cabin), and surrounding woods. Readers will find much to ponder with the relationship between Sam, the cabin and their transformations.
Sam and the cabin are ponderable but there is a doe that visits with Sam and speaks to her that defies most rational thinking; or is there? It shows up a lot, (maybe it’s a function of alcoholism? L), at all times of the day and night. Could it be dreaming? When she’s drunk and sober.
Do you believe in communication from those who have gone on before you? So many possibilities and this tiny mountain village has a few interesting neighbors that want to offer Sam a lending hand; or do they? Inquiring minds want…need to know about the doe.
I spent a bunch of time wondering if the title of the book was a clue. Do you know what hemlock can do? Main character, Sam, spends a lot of time thinking and wondering about her entire life. Her partner, Stephen, is wondering about her.
Recommended for readers who don’t need quick, easy answers, enjoy psychological conundrums, aren’t offended by R rated, sapphic sexual encounters and a full complement of foul language📚
Read and Reviewed from a NetGalley eARC via Kindle, with thanks to the publisher and author
December 26, 2025
At first, things got off to a bit of a rocky start with this one. A lot of the sentences start with “She.” It seemed like the language didn’t have much variation. But as I read, I got into the flow of the language and didn’t really notice it as much, and pretty soon I found myself invested. I ended up thinking the writing was good, especially the descriptions.
The author is skilled at creating an atmosphere and describing things in a way that really puts you there. The feeling of slowly succumbing to the warmth of a strong alcoholic drink. A delicious and filling meal at a restaurant. (That happens twice, and god was I hungry both times.) A violent and frightening thunderstorm at an isolated cabin.
I’m not sure how I feel about the talking deer, even now. I liked the concept, but it wore thin after a while because the deer talked too much. It lost its mystery. I think I would have preferred a more unsettling, prolific approach to this idea instead of a very chatty animal that cracks jokes. At the same time, I eventually found myself invested in the welfare of the deer, and almost annoyed at the book for making me feel that way. There was clearly more going on also, in regards to the deer’s meaning, that I have theories about but I don’t think I grasped 100%. This seems like the sort of book that wants you to come up with your own answers.
There was one chapter near the end that was absolutely gut wrenching. Some of main character Sam’s memories in this story are so vivid and sad and detailed that part of me wonders if there is some truth to them. (I hope not.) They’re very raw and painful. I really felt for her and her struggle in the present day made sense to me.
I don’t think I agree with the “Black Swan” comparison. “Hemlock” is more like a horribly depressing portrait of addiction with a slight touch of Lars Von Trier. But as always, these things are open to individual experience and interpretation.
What’s not up for debate is that this is a stark portrayal of alcoholism and how it can tear individuals and families apart. It also certainly does the “horror as metaphor” thing, as in addiction turns you into a monster, but it’s not quite so blatant about it. Which brings me to my biggest issue with the book: the message at large was too muddled for me because there were too many things mixed together. The Alcoholism causing blackouts and making Sam into something she knew well but didn’t want to be, while at the same time there was a bigger metaphor at play about gender nonconformity and sexual exploration. But that was also tied to references to becoming a literal monster, as Sam kept growing hair on her body and becoming aggressive. At one point there was even a conversation between characters about Cryptids and murderous creatures of the woods. Plus, there’s the talking doe. Every time I thought I had a grasp on what the author was saying, she would throw something else in.
This novel could potentially be very triggering for anyone who has struggled with Alcoholism or Suicidal ideation. Not the BEST choice for a Christmas read, honestly. (Merry Christmas, btw! I hope that whatever you celebrate, you had a safe and comforting holiday despite everything.)
My rating is 3.5 stars. The actual writing was quite good. I just think the some of it could have been more focused.
Thank you to Netgalley and to the Publisher for offering me this ARC in exchange for an honest review! All opinions are my own.
Biggest TW: Self-harm, *Alcoholism (including driving under the influence), Domestic Abuse, Suicidal Ideation, Homophobia/Slurs, Animal harm/death
The author is skilled at creating an atmosphere and describing things in a way that really puts you there. The feeling of slowly succumbing to the warmth of a strong alcoholic drink. A delicious and filling meal at a restaurant. (That happens twice, and god was I hungry both times.) A violent and frightening thunderstorm at an isolated cabin.
I’m not sure how I feel about the talking deer, even now. I liked the concept, but it wore thin after a while because the deer talked too much. It lost its mystery. I think I would have preferred a more unsettling, prolific approach to this idea instead of a very chatty animal that cracks jokes. At the same time, I eventually found myself invested in the welfare of the deer, and almost annoyed at the book for making me feel that way. There was clearly more going on also, in regards to the deer’s meaning, that I have theories about but I don’t think I grasped 100%. This seems like the sort of book that wants you to come up with your own answers.
There was one chapter near the end that was absolutely gut wrenching. Some of main character Sam’s memories in this story are so vivid and sad and detailed that part of me wonders if there is some truth to them. (I hope not.) They’re very raw and painful. I really felt for her and her struggle in the present day made sense to me.
I don’t think I agree with the “Black Swan” comparison. “Hemlock” is more like a horribly depressing portrait of addiction with a slight touch of Lars Von Trier. But as always, these things are open to individual experience and interpretation.
What’s not up for debate is that this is a stark portrayal of alcoholism and how it can tear individuals and families apart. It also certainly does the “horror as metaphor” thing, as in addiction turns you into a monster, but it’s not quite so blatant about it. Which brings me to my biggest issue with the book: the message at large was too muddled for me because there were too many things mixed together. The Alcoholism causing blackouts and making Sam into something she knew well but didn’t want to be, while at the same time there was a bigger metaphor at play about gender nonconformity and sexual exploration. But that was also tied to references to becoming a literal monster, as Sam kept growing hair on her body and becoming aggressive. At one point there was even a conversation between characters about Cryptids and murderous creatures of the woods. Plus, there’s the talking doe. Every time I thought I had a grasp on what the author was saying, she would throw something else in.
This novel could potentially be very triggering for anyone who has struggled with Alcoholism or Suicidal ideation. Not the BEST choice for a Christmas read, honestly. (Merry Christmas, btw! I hope that whatever you celebrate, you had a safe and comforting holiday despite everything.)
My rating is 3.5 stars. The actual writing was quite good. I just think the some of it could have been more focused.
Thank you to Netgalley and to the Publisher for offering me this ARC in exchange for an honest review! All opinions are my own.
Biggest TW: Self-harm, *Alcoholism (including driving under the influence), Domestic Abuse, Suicidal Ideation, Homophobia/Slurs, Animal harm/death
October 17, 2025
The concept for this novel was so cool…and it fell completely flat. The plot was weak and hinged entirely on the inner workings of the main character who was unreliable and unlikable but not in a dynamic and intriguing way—just in an insufferable way.
It feels like an endless stream of the character’s “self introspection” and recounting of past traumas that do almost nothing for the plot and somehow made me as a reader less interested in what was going on. About halfway through, I had this distinct feeling (and I’ve never felt this so starkly while reading a novel) that this main character wasn’t a character at all but just a slightly fictionalized version of the author, and one Google proved me right! The author looks the same as our character, had the same job, lived in the same places, you name it. Of course, elements of an author will show up in characters they write from time to time but it felt immediately clear that this character was not written to be an interesting main character, but instead to be a different version of the writer.
The book is clearly trying to be a metaphor for processing trauma and addiction and self identity but in the end it just felt like the author trying to process those things themselves while completely disregarding plot, character development, and all of the things that make a good novel.
Thank you to Little, Brown and Company and NetGalley for the ARC! Sorry I didn’t like the book!
It feels like an endless stream of the character’s “self introspection” and recounting of past traumas that do almost nothing for the plot and somehow made me as a reader less interested in what was going on. About halfway through, I had this distinct feeling (and I’ve never felt this so starkly while reading a novel) that this main character wasn’t a character at all but just a slightly fictionalized version of the author, and one Google proved me right! The author looks the same as our character, had the same job, lived in the same places, you name it. Of course, elements of an author will show up in characters they write from time to time but it felt immediately clear that this character was not written to be an interesting main character, but instead to be a different version of the writer.
The book is clearly trying to be a metaphor for processing trauma and addiction and self identity but in the end it just felt like the author trying to process those things themselves while completely disregarding plot, character development, and all of the things that make a good novel.
Thank you to Little, Brown and Company and NetGalley for the ARC! Sorry I didn’t like the book!
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September 20, 2025butch black swan??? say less
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
⭐️⭐️⭐️1/2
After a lifetime of addiction, Sam's finally sober and has a comfortable life in New York with her boyfriend and their cat. A trip to fix up her family's old cabin takes her back to the Wisconsin woods where her mother disappeared years ago, and as Sam works on the house, she finds herself haunted by her past and present alike.
Whew, what a book. Hemlock is a tough book to read; its subject matter gets very dark (please see content warnings below), and while I think it's more accurately described as a thriller, it does definitely veer into horror at several points. Faliveno's writing dances between sparse and poetic in a way that makes each creepy moment that much more jarring.
Hemlock is also a novel that does not provide easy answers, and often leaves the reader stumbling along just as confused as Sam is as her world becomes increasingly strange and untrustworthy. For most of the novel, this didn't bother me; I reveled in how that uncertainty wove such an eerie, tense atmosphere, and looked forward to the payoff of everything finally clicking into place. But as the novel neared its close, that moment of understanding never came. Instead the narrative was layered with progressively more open-ended questions: was it all just the alcohol? Mental illness? Werewolves? Cryptids? Gender dysphoria? Ghosts? I don't think that Faliveno really wanted to give a single answer and instead let the reader decide for themself. That will really work for some, but I found myself struggling to understand the intended meaning. Every time I thought I was piecing something together, something came along to contradict it.
I did enjoy how the novel paints solitude as both a refuge and a horror, contrasting the freedom of being alone and hidden from societal judgment, with the fear of having to fend for oneself and fight one's demons alone. I also enjoyed the exploration of Sam's genderqueerness and how expertly Faliveno made even Sam's most frustrating decisions empathetic.
I'm grateful for my time with the book because it helped me deeply understand a point of view very different from my own - but admittedly, I'm also glad to have its harrowing pages behind me.
Thank you to NetGalley and Little, Brown for providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Content Warnings for graphic depictions of alcoholism, suicidal ideation and suicide attempts, as well as moderate depictions of stalking, homophobia and animal death.
After a lifetime of addiction, Sam's finally sober and has a comfortable life in New York with her boyfriend and their cat. A trip to fix up her family's old cabin takes her back to the Wisconsin woods where her mother disappeared years ago, and as Sam works on the house, she finds herself haunted by her past and present alike.
Whew, what a book. Hemlock is a tough book to read; its subject matter gets very dark (please see content warnings below), and while I think it's more accurately described as a thriller, it does definitely veer into horror at several points. Faliveno's writing dances between sparse and poetic in a way that makes each creepy moment that much more jarring.
Hemlock is also a novel that does not provide easy answers, and often leaves the reader stumbling along just as confused as Sam is as her world becomes increasingly strange and untrustworthy. For most of the novel, this didn't bother me; I reveled in how that uncertainty wove such an eerie, tense atmosphere, and looked forward to the payoff of everything finally clicking into place. But as the novel neared its close, that moment of understanding never came. Instead the narrative was layered with progressively more open-ended questions: was it all just the alcohol? Mental illness? Werewolves? Cryptids? Gender dysphoria? Ghosts? I don't think that Faliveno really wanted to give a single answer and instead let the reader decide for themself. That will really work for some, but I found myself struggling to understand the intended meaning. Every time I thought I was piecing something together, something came along to contradict it.
I did enjoy how the novel paints solitude as both a refuge and a horror, contrasting the freedom of being alone and hidden from societal judgment, with the fear of having to fend for oneself and fight one's demons alone. I also enjoyed the exploration of Sam's genderqueerness and how expertly Faliveno made even Sam's most frustrating decisions empathetic.
I'm grateful for my time with the book because it helped me deeply understand a point of view very different from my own - but admittedly, I'm also glad to have its harrowing pages behind me.
Thank you to NetGalley and Little, Brown for providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Content Warnings for graphic depictions of alcoholism, suicidal ideation and suicide attempts, as well as moderate depictions of stalking, homophobia and animal death.
October 20, 2025
I received a free copy of, Hemlock, by Melissa Faliveno, from the publisher and Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. Sam is an addict, she goes to Hemlock, her family's cabin in the woods and starts drinking. This book was way to depressing for me.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
This was such an interesting read for me. The Netgalley blurb had me thinking this would be somewhat gothic horror, but I was really pleasantly surprised by the direction it took! It had some horror elements sprinkled in, but the real meat of the book was something so poignant and full of life that I found myself feeling very reflective by the end (and almost brought to tears lol).
Hemlock follows Sam, who is returning to her family's cabin to restore and sell it as her father is growing older and her mother disappeared mysteriously several years ago. As she works on the cabin and exists in near-isolation - a stark contrast to her previous bustling NYC life - Sam's grip on reality begins to unravel and she begins to slip back into her prior drinking habits.
This book was such a beautiful yet visceral exploration into gender, nature, generational trauma, addiction, mental health, and so many other elements. Everything blended so well throughout the story that at some point I realized I had no idea where it was going, but I didn't really care, because I trusted the book to deliver me to where I needed to be.
I see a lot of myself in Sam. Sorrow aimed at a tumultuous childhood, self-destructive tendencies, and not quite knowing who you are outside of the body you happen to inhabit.
This was an incredibly powerful debut from Faliveno, and her voice and prose was so refined I was certain I was reading something from an author with several books under their belt. I will absolutely be looking out for future work from them!
Thank you to Netgalley and Little, Brown and Company for this ARC in exchange for an honest review!! 🤎
Hemlock follows Sam, who is returning to her family's cabin to restore and sell it as her father is growing older and her mother disappeared mysteriously several years ago. As she works on the cabin and exists in near-isolation - a stark contrast to her previous bustling NYC life - Sam's grip on reality begins to unravel and she begins to slip back into her prior drinking habits.
This book was such a beautiful yet visceral exploration into gender, nature, generational trauma, addiction, mental health, and so many other elements. Everything blended so well throughout the story that at some point I realized I had no idea where it was going, but I didn't really care, because I trusted the book to deliver me to where I needed to be.
I see a lot of myself in Sam. Sorrow aimed at a tumultuous childhood, self-destructive tendencies, and not quite knowing who you are outside of the body you happen to inhabit.
This was an incredibly powerful debut from Faliveno, and her voice and prose was so refined I was certain I was reading something from an author with several books under their belt. I will absolutely be looking out for future work from them!
Thank you to Netgalley and Little, Brown and Company for this ARC in exchange for an honest review!! 🤎
January 8, 2026
Got an arc from Libro.fm
This isn’t the kind of thing I normally read but overall I think I liked it. The audiobook is very well done I felt, in a way that feels intimate, like you’re out alone in the woods with the MC. Some of the sentences are a bit repetitive in a way I’m not sure I would’ve noticed if I weren’t listening to the audiobook, but I can chalk that up to it being a debut novel.
Large swaths of this book made me nostalgic for childhood trips to visit my godparents’ farm in the middle of the Pennsylvania woods and I loved the atmosphere of it all. There’s so much Gender going on here and I’m a sucker for transformation™️ as a metaphor for figuring out your gender shit, though I wish we could’ve used the word pan/bisexual since, even though Sam is clearly figuring out some gender stuff, she seems pretty comfortable in liking multiple genders.
So while a little rough around the edges, I can see this being a big hit with people who like the trippy, surreal, sapphic nature of like…Our Wives Under the Sea, just without the weirdly ableist undertones.
This isn’t the kind of thing I normally read but overall I think I liked it. The audiobook is very well done I felt, in a way that feels intimate, like you’re out alone in the woods with the MC. Some of the sentences are a bit repetitive in a way I’m not sure I would’ve noticed if I weren’t listening to the audiobook, but I can chalk that up to it being a debut novel.
Large swaths of this book made me nostalgic for childhood trips to visit my godparents’ farm in the middle of the Pennsylvania woods and I loved the atmosphere of it all. There’s so much Gender going on here and I’m a sucker for transformation™️ as a metaphor for figuring out your gender shit, though I wish we could’ve used the word pan/bisexual since, even though Sam is clearly figuring out some gender stuff, she seems pretty comfortable in liking multiple genders.
So while a little rough around the edges, I can see this being a big hit with people who like the trippy, surreal, sapphic nature of like…Our Wives Under the Sea, just without the weirdly ableist undertones.
January 12, 2026
Generational trauma, soaked in beer
Arc from NetGalley
Arc from NetGalley
July 31, 2025
This is a lovely, bittersweet book about Sam--newly sober--who leaves boyfriend Stephen behind when she travels to her family's cabin in the woods that's been abandoned since her mom took off and was never found. She's determined to fix it up and sell it to give the money to her aging father. But it's lonely and the bars are calling; eventually she hears a doe "speaking" to her. But she continues on her quest to repair things and even at times when it's painful to read, we know Sam has a good heart and will hopefully find a way to live fully!
Thanks to NetGalley for this ARC!
December 3, 2025
I'm not entirely convinced that 'a butch Black Swan' captures the full scope of this novel, but the description was intriguing enough to pull me in. I'm glad it did.
Hemlock follows Sam, a longtime alcoholic who returns to her parents' remote Wisconsin cabin. When she leaves for the cabin, she intends to stay for a few weeks to repair the cabin before returning to New York. New York. But as she falls back into drinking and sinks deeper into the isolation of the woods, her plans and sense of self begin to unravel. Her 10+ year relationship with Stephen, her career as a writer, and her identity all feel increasingly uncertain as she spends time in the forest.
Melissa Faliveno's writing is vivid and atmospheric. Her prose transports you to these damp, eerily quiet Wisconsin woods, where Sam undergoes her slow, uncanny transformation. My favorite parts of this novel were the horror and magical realism elements. There is a doe who speaks with Sam, and Sam wakes in the woods multiple times with no memory of how she got there. Because Sam is an unreliable narrator through her alcoholism, every strange moment carries a question: what's real, and what's the booze? I also loved that Faliveno didn't answer all the questions that arose. Hemlock is a haunting novel that leaves you thinking long after you read the last page.
Hemlock follows Sam, a longtime alcoholic who returns to her parents' remote Wisconsin cabin. When she leaves for the cabin, she intends to stay for a few weeks to repair the cabin before returning to New York. New York. But as she falls back into drinking and sinks deeper into the isolation of the woods, her plans and sense of self begin to unravel. Her 10+ year relationship with Stephen, her career as a writer, and her identity all feel increasingly uncertain as she spends time in the forest.
Melissa Faliveno's writing is vivid and atmospheric. Her prose transports you to these damp, eerily quiet Wisconsin woods, where Sam undergoes her slow, uncanny transformation. My favorite parts of this novel were the horror and magical realism elements. There is a doe who speaks with Sam, and Sam wakes in the woods multiple times with no memory of how she got there. Because Sam is an unreliable narrator through her alcoholism, every strange moment carries a question: what's real, and what's the booze? I also loved that Faliveno didn't answer all the questions that arose. Hemlock is a haunting novel that leaves you thinking long after you read the last page.
January 4, 2026
Let me start by saying that this book was not what I expected. I thought it was going to be more bog horror, and that's on me. "butch black swan" suits it well as a descriptor. What it actually is is a reflection on the inheritance of alcoholism, identity, and place. Falveno's writing really brings you close to the main character - her struggles are frustrating but presented in such a way that you empathize rather than detach. I found the writing around the place - rural Wisconsin - to be very accurate - the people felt authentic and the writing was immersive. While I was expecting more of the struggles to be horror-esque tropes of, like, the impacts of rot on the psyche, that is not what this is. I particularly enjoyed her relationship with an older neighbor, Lou-Ann, and ached for her relationship with her father. It was a tough read, but not one that forced me to set the book down for a time. I was able to continue reading it because I was really just invested in where the author was taking us, and I'm still sort of at a loss for what the ending meant, but if you are prepared to read about some authentic struggles with alcoholism in particular, this is a solid read. Thanks to Little, Brown and Company and NetGalley for the ARC. All opinions mine.
September 4, 2025
Dark introspection in the Northwoods. This novel caught my eye as a fellow Wisconsinite. I loved the queries into identity, addiction, and one's relationship with nature. The nods to having formerly been religious and the way that absence lingers were some of my favorite excerpts.
The atmosphere and internal reflections were rich, while secondary characters and the practicalities of life were lacking details and order.
The atmosphere and internal reflections were rich, while secondary characters and the practicalities of life were lacking details and order.
October 14, 2025
I devoured this book in one sitting, which is highly unusual for me. I couldn’t put it down. I first fell in love with this author’s prose and nuanced take through Tomboyland, and Hemlock has all of that and more, and it’s the more that resonates for those of us who recognize the particular monsters that haunt this spectacular debut novel. Also: What a MOOD. I loved every exquisite page.
October 16, 2025
This one surprised me! It’s quiet but heavy, and the writing pulls you in little by little. I liked following Sam as she went back to the cabin and started slipping between grief, memory, and something she couldn’t explain. It’s sad, eerie, and raw in a way that sticks with you!
October 21, 2025
The premise is gothic and haunting, but the prose is so grounded and the emotions so relatable. I had no idea where the story was taking me, in the best way. I want to give this book to everyone I love and to anyone who's ever had to fight to feel at home in their body or in this world.
January 16, 2026
Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the advance copy in exchange for my honest review. I could not wait for this book to be over. It was depressing, there was no plot, but there is a talking deer, so I guess do with that what you will.
Currently reading
January 17, 2026“A butch black swan” …this is about to slap isn’t it?🫣
June 13, 2025
Quick very high level summary.
This story follows a woman (Sam) who has worked hard to remain sober when she returns to the family cabin in the woods where her mom disappeared. She returns to the dilapidated cabin with the hopes of restoring it for her dad. While there Sam begins to crack around the edges and fall apart just like the cabin. She begins drinking again, feels like she is being watched and starts hearing then eventually talking to a doe she has been feeding. She begins to question her sanity and relive her memories of her mother and grandmothers mental deterioration.
My Take.
he writing was so well done I could actually feel the emotions that the MC was going through. It has a dark and decaying feel to the writing with supernatural elements leaving an ambiguity surrounding events taking place. This ambiguity contributing to the mystery and the feeling of unease. There is so much ambiguity or uncertainty is going on in the environment around Sam as well as within Sam. Sam seems to struggle with her gender identity, sexuality and feelings of acceptance. Our MC Sam also struggle with secrets from her families past that play a crucial role in the story. Often blurring the lines between past and present.
This story explores themes like oppression, guilt, madness, and decay. All the beautifully macabre and darker aspects of human nature and I enjoyed every minute of it.
This story follows a woman (Sam) who has worked hard to remain sober when she returns to the family cabin in the woods where her mom disappeared. She returns to the dilapidated cabin with the hopes of restoring it for her dad. While there Sam begins to crack around the edges and fall apart just like the cabin. She begins drinking again, feels like she is being watched and starts hearing then eventually talking to a doe she has been feeding. She begins to question her sanity and relive her memories of her mother and grandmothers mental deterioration.
My Take.
he writing was so well done I could actually feel the emotions that the MC was going through. It has a dark and decaying feel to the writing with supernatural elements leaving an ambiguity surrounding events taking place. This ambiguity contributing to the mystery and the feeling of unease. There is so much ambiguity or uncertainty is going on in the environment around Sam as well as within Sam. Sam seems to struggle with her gender identity, sexuality and feelings of acceptance. Our MC Sam also struggle with secrets from her families past that play a crucial role in the story. Often blurring the lines between past and present.
This story explores themes like oppression, guilt, madness, and decay. All the beautifully macabre and darker aspects of human nature and I enjoyed every minute of it.
December 2, 2025
So I kind of hate books that are like “is this person going insane or is it the alcohol” they just don’t really do it for me. That said I didn’t hate this book, but I didn’t really like it either. Very middle of the road for me. “Butch Black Swan” is genius marketing but your book has gotta live up to that title and this one just didn’t.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
"Like a vampire she welcomed through the door, like a demon she had summoned herself. It set up camp in her spine, in her chest, in the back of her throat. Just a tickle at first, like spit swallowed wrong, then threatening to choke her."
"Before Steven she had been in love only once, with a woman...but the woman had broken her heart. She wasn't a gay...'I'm not sure I am either,' Sam had said. 'I don't really know what I am', and it hadn't really mattered. Sam didn't have the words for what they were or what she was, but she didn't care, some long-sealed well of understanding had opened up in her. All she knew was that she loved this woman and wanted to be loved back. It was the first thing that she felt such a thing and that was a long time ago. When she met Steven, she felt it again."
Thank you to Netgalley and Little, Brown and Company for this ARC audiobook in exchange for an honest review!
CW: Substance abuse, self-harm, sexual assault, homophobia, suicide attempt, missing person, generational trauma, addiction, mental health struggles, sexual content
I went into Melissa Faliveno's Hemlock expecting a Gothic horror novel, and what I got was something different. Not bad, just not quite what the setup promised. This reads more like an intimate exploration of family trauma than the creeping dread of Gothic fiction. Sam returns to her family's cabin in the Wisconsin woods, relapses into drinking, and things get weird. But the weird never quite tips into full horror territory the way I anticipated.
There are layers here that I found really interesting even if they felt under-explored. Religion comes up repeatedly throughout the book, and later there are connections to mythology that caught my attention. I wanted Faliveno to dig deeper into these threads, but they stay mostly at the surface. The two women who enter Sam's life at the cabin feel like the classic angel and devil on her shoulders, pushing and pulling her in different directions. It's an effective dynamic even if it's a familiar one.
The queer representation matters here. Sam's sexuality isn't neat or easily categorized, and the book doesn't try to force labels on her. I appreciated seeing homophobia included as part of the setting rather than pretending it wouldn't exist in rural Wisconsin. There's also a small but meaningful inclusion of Native voices and stories. Having just read Mask of the Deer Woman by Laurie L. Dove, which came out in 2025, that connection felt particularly resonant for me.
The big question hanging over everything is whether the strange things happening to Sam are real or symptoms of her mental health crisis and alcoholism. The body transformation she experiences could be supernatural, it could be in her head, or it could even be connected to her relationship with her own gender. Faliveno leaves this deliberately ambiguous, and honestly, it works. The uncertainty is more interesting than a clear answer would be.
I listened to the audiobook, and the narrator's tone fit the material well. That said, I eventually had to speed it up because the pacing dragged. The book takes its time, maybe too much time in places.
A lot of people have taken issue with the "Butch Black Swan" description in the marketing. I get why it's controversial, but after sitting with this book for a bit, I think it might actually be perfect. Pills and eating disorders become alcohol and addiction. Repressed heterosexual desire becomes queer desire and identity. Feminine aesthetics become gritty, earthy, masculine-leaning ones. The psychological unraveling and body horror are there, just refracted through a completely different lens.
This book is best for readers interested in addiction narratives, family trauma, queer literary fiction, and stories that blur the line between psychological horror and supernatural. If you're looking for straightforward Gothic horror, you might be disappointed. If you're open to something messier and more ambiguous, there's plenty here worth your time.
A complex, atmospheric exploration that doesn't quite deliver on its Gothic promises but offers something worthwhile in their place.
"Before Steven she had been in love only once, with a woman...but the woman had broken her heart. She wasn't a gay...'I'm not sure I am either,' Sam had said. 'I don't really know what I am', and it hadn't really mattered. Sam didn't have the words for what they were or what she was, but she didn't care, some long-sealed well of understanding had opened up in her. All she knew was that she loved this woman and wanted to be loved back. It was the first thing that she felt such a thing and that was a long time ago. When she met Steven, she felt it again."
Thank you to Netgalley and Little, Brown and Company for this ARC audiobook in exchange for an honest review!
CW: Substance abuse, self-harm, sexual assault, homophobia, suicide attempt, missing person, generational trauma, addiction, mental health struggles, sexual content
I went into Melissa Faliveno's Hemlock expecting a Gothic horror novel, and what I got was something different. Not bad, just not quite what the setup promised. This reads more like an intimate exploration of family trauma than the creeping dread of Gothic fiction. Sam returns to her family's cabin in the Wisconsin woods, relapses into drinking, and things get weird. But the weird never quite tips into full horror territory the way I anticipated.
There are layers here that I found really interesting even if they felt under-explored. Religion comes up repeatedly throughout the book, and later there are connections to mythology that caught my attention. I wanted Faliveno to dig deeper into these threads, but they stay mostly at the surface. The two women who enter Sam's life at the cabin feel like the classic angel and devil on her shoulders, pushing and pulling her in different directions. It's an effective dynamic even if it's a familiar one.
The queer representation matters here. Sam's sexuality isn't neat or easily categorized, and the book doesn't try to force labels on her. I appreciated seeing homophobia included as part of the setting rather than pretending it wouldn't exist in rural Wisconsin. There's also a small but meaningful inclusion of Native voices and stories. Having just read Mask of the Deer Woman by Laurie L. Dove, which came out in 2025, that connection felt particularly resonant for me.
The big question hanging over everything is whether the strange things happening to Sam are real or symptoms of her mental health crisis and alcoholism. The body transformation she experiences could be supernatural, it could be in her head, or it could even be connected to her relationship with her own gender. Faliveno leaves this deliberately ambiguous, and honestly, it works. The uncertainty is more interesting than a clear answer would be.
I listened to the audiobook, and the narrator's tone fit the material well. That said, I eventually had to speed it up because the pacing dragged. The book takes its time, maybe too much time in places.
A lot of people have taken issue with the "Butch Black Swan" description in the marketing. I get why it's controversial, but after sitting with this book for a bit, I think it might actually be perfect. Pills and eating disorders become alcohol and addiction. Repressed heterosexual desire becomes queer desire and identity. Feminine aesthetics become gritty, earthy, masculine-leaning ones. The psychological unraveling and body horror are there, just refracted through a completely different lens.
This book is best for readers interested in addiction narratives, family trauma, queer literary fiction, and stories that blur the line between psychological horror and supernatural. If you're looking for straightforward Gothic horror, you might be disappointed. If you're open to something messier and more ambiguous, there's plenty here worth your time.
A complex, atmospheric exploration that doesn't quite deliver on its Gothic promises but offers something worthwhile in their place.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Hemlock is not here to hold your hand, give you closure, or tell a story in straight lines. It’s here to trap you in a grief-soaked fever dream where sobriety is a ghost, the woods whisper, and you start questioning if the narrator is turning into a literal animal or if that’s just how alcoholism feels on a cellular level. Either way, Melissa Faliveno has handed us a book that feels like the literary equivalent of stumbling barefoot through the forest at 3 a.m., arguing with your dead mother. And I mean that as a compliment.
Sam, messy, guarded, queer, and freshly sober (but like… technically, not for long), bails on her not-quite-right Brooklyn life and heads into the Wisconsin Northwoods with nothing but a backpack full of tools and a heart full of unresolved childhood trauma. Her plan is to fix up the decrepit family cabin and finally sell it off, like maybe flipping real estate can exorcise generational demons. Spoiler: it cannot. Especially not when said cabin is a grief pit with the emotional weight of a haunted house and the physical stench of wet raccoon. This place is a rotcore nightmare and I loved every soggy, mildewed minute of it.
There’s something deliciously unbearable about watching Sam unravel. She’s a walking ball of avoidance and guilt, wrapped in flannel and haunted by the ghost of a mother who wandered into the woods and never came back. One beer becomes five, the forest starts looking sideways, and then… yeah, the deer starts talking. Or maybe that’s a hallucination. Or maybe she’s the deer. Or maybe this is just what happens when your body and brain are trying to process inherited trauma while hungover in a cabin that smells like mold and failure. Is it magical realism? Is it metaphor? Is it psychosis? Sure. All of the above. Go feral with it.
What works best here is the mood, thick and suffocating like a wet wool blanket. The prose is all damp leaves and quiet desperation, the kind of writing that makes you feel like your blood is humming just under your skin. It’s got the soft-body horror of The Vegetarian and the emotional tension of a breakup you never saw coming. But it’s also relentlessly internal. Like, Sam is in her feelings, and if you’re not into prolonged introspective spirals about gender, addiction, family, and identity while half-transformed in a forest, you might find this book like trudging through emotional quicksand. I was into it. But I get why others bounced off.
The ending is... ambiguous. Which is fancy literary speak for “You will not get answers. You will get vibes.” And honestly? That tracks. This book isn’t trying to give you a neat little bow. It wants you to sit in the mess, feel your skin crawl a little, maybe scream into a mossy void. Would I have liked a touch more clarity? Maybe. But I respect the chaos.
This is not a plot-driven novel. This is a soul-driven novel. It’s a book about someone trying to scrape themselves back together using rusted tools, bad instincts, and a talking woodland creature who may or may not be a metaphor for a dead parent. And it’s kind of beautiful in how much it refuses to pander or explain itself.
3.5 stars. For the queer forest decay, the emotional bloodletting, and the line where I realized I, too, might be one vodka cranberry away from turning into an emotionally damaged cryptid.
Whodunity Award: For Making Me Suspect My Own Nervous System Was Gaslighting Me
Big thanks to Little, Brown and Company and NetGalley for the ARC. I don’t know if you meant to hand me a full-on queer existential meltdown wrapped in deer-themed body horror, but I licked it off the forest floor like the emotionally unstable raccoon I am and I regret nothing.
Sam, messy, guarded, queer, and freshly sober (but like… technically, not for long), bails on her not-quite-right Brooklyn life and heads into the Wisconsin Northwoods with nothing but a backpack full of tools and a heart full of unresolved childhood trauma. Her plan is to fix up the decrepit family cabin and finally sell it off, like maybe flipping real estate can exorcise generational demons. Spoiler: it cannot. Especially not when said cabin is a grief pit with the emotional weight of a haunted house and the physical stench of wet raccoon. This place is a rotcore nightmare and I loved every soggy, mildewed minute of it.
There’s something deliciously unbearable about watching Sam unravel. She’s a walking ball of avoidance and guilt, wrapped in flannel and haunted by the ghost of a mother who wandered into the woods and never came back. One beer becomes five, the forest starts looking sideways, and then… yeah, the deer starts talking. Or maybe that’s a hallucination. Or maybe she’s the deer. Or maybe this is just what happens when your body and brain are trying to process inherited trauma while hungover in a cabin that smells like mold and failure. Is it magical realism? Is it metaphor? Is it psychosis? Sure. All of the above. Go feral with it.
What works best here is the mood, thick and suffocating like a wet wool blanket. The prose is all damp leaves and quiet desperation, the kind of writing that makes you feel like your blood is humming just under your skin. It’s got the soft-body horror of The Vegetarian and the emotional tension of a breakup you never saw coming. But it’s also relentlessly internal. Like, Sam is in her feelings, and if you’re not into prolonged introspective spirals about gender, addiction, family, and identity while half-transformed in a forest, you might find this book like trudging through emotional quicksand. I was into it. But I get why others bounced off.
The ending is... ambiguous. Which is fancy literary speak for “You will not get answers. You will get vibes.” And honestly? That tracks. This book isn’t trying to give you a neat little bow. It wants you to sit in the mess, feel your skin crawl a little, maybe scream into a mossy void. Would I have liked a touch more clarity? Maybe. But I respect the chaos.
This is not a plot-driven novel. This is a soul-driven novel. It’s a book about someone trying to scrape themselves back together using rusted tools, bad instincts, and a talking woodland creature who may or may not be a metaphor for a dead parent. And it’s kind of beautiful in how much it refuses to pander or explain itself.
3.5 stars. For the queer forest decay, the emotional bloodletting, and the line where I realized I, too, might be one vodka cranberry away from turning into an emotionally damaged cryptid.
Whodunity Award: For Making Me Suspect My Own Nervous System Was Gaslighting Me
Big thanks to Little, Brown and Company and NetGalley for the ARC. I don’t know if you meant to hand me a full-on queer existential meltdown wrapped in deer-themed body horror, but I licked it off the forest floor like the emotionally unstable raccoon I am and I regret nothing.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Book review: Melissa Faliveno’s Hemlock.
Little, Brown and Company, with sincere thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for my gifted ARC.
There’s a particular kind of book that asks you to slow down, lower your guard, and follow it into the trees, even when every sensible instinct says not to. Hemlock is exactly that kind of novel. It’s quiet, eerie, deeply interior, and steeped in the sort of unease that doesn’t shout but hums steadily in the background. I read it curled up, cozy in the literal sense, while feeling distinctly un-cozy on the inside, which is honestly my favorite reading experience.
Sam is finally sober, finally stable, finally doing all the things she’s supposed to be doing. She has a long-term boyfriend, a cat, and a life in Brooklyn that looks functional from the outside. Then she returns alone to her family’s crumbling cabin in the Wisconsin Northwoods, the place where her mother vanished years earlier, and everything starts to slip. The cabin feels less like a building and more like a living archive of grief, addiction, and inheritance. Faliveno writes the setting so vividly that the woods feel sentient, watchful, and a little bit hungry.
This is a novel about addiction that doesn’t flinch. It understands how relapse often begins with practicality and self-justification, not melodrama. One beer. One night. One small decision that opens a door you thought you’d sealed shut. As Sam drinks, the world tilts. Reality softens at the edges. A doe appears. Or speaks. Or remembers. The book never rushes to explain itself, and I appreciated that trust in the reader. The ambiguity feels intentional, mirroring Sam’s own inability to tell what’s real, what’s memory, and what’s desire.
Faliveno’s prose is lush without being indulgent. The body horror elements are subtle but effective, tied closely to identity and transformation rather than shock value. This is very much a queer Gothic novel, not because it announces itself as one, but because of how it interrogates the body, gender, inheritance, and the fear of becoming what came before you. It reminded me that Gothic fiction works best when the monster might be external, internal, or entirely metaphorical.
One quote that perfectly captures the emotional core of this book: “Growing up in a family of drunks, you learn a few things. First, everyone has the ability to let you down, and probably will.” That sentence landed hard, and it stayed with me. It encapsulates the grief, self-blame, and warped self-reliance that ripple through Sam’s story.
I won’t pretend this is an easy or comforting read in the traditional sense. It’s slow, introspective, and deeply uncomfortable at times. But it’s also thoughtful, atmospheric, and emotionally honest. Hemlock doesn’t offer tidy resolutions or clear answers. Instead, it invites you to sit with uncertainty, with craving, with the strange beauty of becoming something new, even if that transformation feels frightening.
If you’re a reader who loves literary fiction with Gothic tension, queer themes, and a strong sense of place, this one is worth stepping into. Just maybe don’t read it right before a solo cabin trip.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½ (4.5 stars)
#Hemlock #MelissaFaliveno #BookReview #QueerGothic #LiteraryFiction #NetGalley #ARCReview #LittleBrownAndCompany #LGBTQBooks #GothicFiction #2026Releases #BookBlogger #QueerLiterature
Little, Brown and Company, with sincere thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for my gifted ARC.
There’s a particular kind of book that asks you to slow down, lower your guard, and follow it into the trees, even when every sensible instinct says not to. Hemlock is exactly that kind of novel. It’s quiet, eerie, deeply interior, and steeped in the sort of unease that doesn’t shout but hums steadily in the background. I read it curled up, cozy in the literal sense, while feeling distinctly un-cozy on the inside, which is honestly my favorite reading experience.
Sam is finally sober, finally stable, finally doing all the things she’s supposed to be doing. She has a long-term boyfriend, a cat, and a life in Brooklyn that looks functional from the outside. Then she returns alone to her family’s crumbling cabin in the Wisconsin Northwoods, the place where her mother vanished years earlier, and everything starts to slip. The cabin feels less like a building and more like a living archive of grief, addiction, and inheritance. Faliveno writes the setting so vividly that the woods feel sentient, watchful, and a little bit hungry.
This is a novel about addiction that doesn’t flinch. It understands how relapse often begins with practicality and self-justification, not melodrama. One beer. One night. One small decision that opens a door you thought you’d sealed shut. As Sam drinks, the world tilts. Reality softens at the edges. A doe appears. Or speaks. Or remembers. The book never rushes to explain itself, and I appreciated that trust in the reader. The ambiguity feels intentional, mirroring Sam’s own inability to tell what’s real, what’s memory, and what’s desire.
Faliveno’s prose is lush without being indulgent. The body horror elements are subtle but effective, tied closely to identity and transformation rather than shock value. This is very much a queer Gothic novel, not because it announces itself as one, but because of how it interrogates the body, gender, inheritance, and the fear of becoming what came before you. It reminded me that Gothic fiction works best when the monster might be external, internal, or entirely metaphorical.
One quote that perfectly captures the emotional core of this book: “Growing up in a family of drunks, you learn a few things. First, everyone has the ability to let you down, and probably will.” That sentence landed hard, and it stayed with me. It encapsulates the grief, self-blame, and warped self-reliance that ripple through Sam’s story.
I won’t pretend this is an easy or comforting read in the traditional sense. It’s slow, introspective, and deeply uncomfortable at times. But it’s also thoughtful, atmospheric, and emotionally honest. Hemlock doesn’t offer tidy resolutions or clear answers. Instead, it invites you to sit with uncertainty, with craving, with the strange beauty of becoming something new, even if that transformation feels frightening.
If you’re a reader who loves literary fiction with Gothic tension, queer themes, and a strong sense of place, this one is worth stepping into. Just maybe don’t read it right before a solo cabin trip.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½ (4.5 stars)
#Hemlock #MelissaFaliveno #BookReview #QueerGothic #LiteraryFiction #NetGalley #ARCReview #LittleBrownAndCompany #LGBTQBooks #GothicFiction #2026Releases #BookBlogger #QueerLiterature
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
3.25 stars
The description "a butch _Black Swan_" is a real draw. When I think of the reference material, I'm going immediately to body horror, dopplegangers, unreliability, physicality, and sensory overload. I'm also thinking of creative self expression and self discovery. A lot of these ideas and motifs do come through in this novel, but I found myself getting hung up on missed opportunities.
Sam goes back to her family's deteriorating cabin in the woods of Wisconsin to apparently reflect on many negative memories from her early life and to maybe lose touch with reality now. Sam's relationship with alcohol is difficult, to put it mildly. She is an alcoholic and knows she should be sober but cannot maintain this life in this space. There's an immediate return to drinking when she arrives, and her related trauma also surrounds her. The thing is, and I say this with extreme personal experience on this topic, when this is who you are, you also know your triggers and how to manage them...and how to NOT manage them. Having had this personal experience, it was difficult to read Sam's repeated choices. It's clear that she's in one place and thinks she's in a different one. Such is the life of an addict, but that doesn't make it pleasant - or anything but wildly frustrating - to read.
What Sam's choices do give readers is an automatic sense of unreliability, and that is a feature the author manages well. Sam begins to have sensory encounters that do not match typical people's experiences in the world. I disliked the infiltration of Sam's substance abuse because I wanted a better sense of Sam's psychology versus Sam's drunkeness. I'd have loved to see more insidious flashbacks of Sam's relatives and memories of their bouts, along with some of Sam's, and maybe more tension about whether or not Sam might return to these choices. Instead, Sam is just immediately drinking.
Another element of this novel that drove me a little wild was Sam's partner. The relationship between the two of them felt very hollow. It's intended to appear troubled, but I'd have rather had a friend, mentor, coworker, barista, truly almost anyone else besides this guy as a lifeline to Sam's old life. I never bought any sort of authentic connection between them, and so much of Sam's journey is figuring out identity. You went from dating this dude to whatever is happening now? Seems extra odd, Sam.
This definitely does have a creepy environment, a struggling protagonist, and some really interesting magical realism/mentions of supernatural stuff, but I wanted more authentic identity development, a stronger Gothic tie to the house and the woods, deeper exploration of Sam's queerness (sexuality, gender identity, and gender expression included), and more use of the supernatural versus just discussion of it. There is a lot of promise in the concept, but I had higher hopes for the outcomes. I'd definitely give this author another shot based on how much intrigue I found even in conjunction with opportunities to do more.
*Special thanks to NetGalley and Hachette Audio for this alc, which I received in exchange for an honest review. The opinions expressed here are my own.
The description "a butch _Black Swan_" is a real draw. When I think of the reference material, I'm going immediately to body horror, dopplegangers, unreliability, physicality, and sensory overload. I'm also thinking of creative self expression and self discovery. A lot of these ideas and motifs do come through in this novel, but I found myself getting hung up on missed opportunities.
Sam goes back to her family's deteriorating cabin in the woods of Wisconsin to apparently reflect on many negative memories from her early life and to maybe lose touch with reality now. Sam's relationship with alcohol is difficult, to put it mildly. She is an alcoholic and knows she should be sober but cannot maintain this life in this space. There's an immediate return to drinking when she arrives, and her related trauma also surrounds her. The thing is, and I say this with extreme personal experience on this topic, when this is who you are, you also know your triggers and how to manage them...and how to NOT manage them. Having had this personal experience, it was difficult to read Sam's repeated choices. It's clear that she's in one place and thinks she's in a different one. Such is the life of an addict, but that doesn't make it pleasant - or anything but wildly frustrating - to read.
What Sam's choices do give readers is an automatic sense of unreliability, and that is a feature the author manages well. Sam begins to have sensory encounters that do not match typical people's experiences in the world. I disliked the infiltration of Sam's substance abuse because I wanted a better sense of Sam's psychology versus Sam's drunkeness. I'd have loved to see more insidious flashbacks of Sam's relatives and memories of their bouts, along with some of Sam's, and maybe more tension about whether or not Sam might return to these choices. Instead, Sam is just immediately drinking.
Another element of this novel that drove me a little wild was Sam's partner. The relationship between the two of them felt very hollow. It's intended to appear troubled, but I'd have rather had a friend, mentor, coworker, barista, truly almost anyone else besides this guy as a lifeline to Sam's old life. I never bought any sort of authentic connection between them, and so much of Sam's journey is figuring out identity. You went from dating this dude to whatever is happening now? Seems extra odd, Sam.
This definitely does have a creepy environment, a struggling protagonist, and some really interesting magical realism/mentions of supernatural stuff, but I wanted more authentic identity development, a stronger Gothic tie to the house and the woods, deeper exploration of Sam's queerness (sexuality, gender identity, and gender expression included), and more use of the supernatural versus just discussion of it. There is a lot of promise in the concept, but I had higher hopes for the outcomes. I'd definitely give this author another shot based on how much intrigue I found even in conjunction with opportunities to do more.
*Special thanks to NetGalley and Hachette Audio for this alc, which I received in exchange for an honest review. The opinions expressed here are my own.
January 16, 2026
A lost and struggling protagonist in her late thirties returns to her family’s cabin to repair it. Isolated deep in the woods, Sam is left mostly alone for weeks not only physically, but with her questions, her past and present demons. Slowly, the darkness of the forest begins to close in around her… or maybe it is her own darkness doing so?
The novel opens with gorgeously eerie, gothic-esque prose. As a reader (or in my case, listener), it felt almost removed from the present, as though the story could just as easily be set 150 years ago. Faliveno’s writing is richly descriptive and immersive; the sense of creeping unease settles in early and lingers. This is not traditional horror with jump scares, but rather an introspective, literary approach with subtle supernatural and magical realism touches. While the genre labeling as “gothic horror” feels slightly misleading, I didn’t mind.
The story is told entirely through Sam’s POV, building out her character through memories, reflections and the few encounters she has with others during her cabin stay. I really liked the sprinkle of unreliable narration, because of that very main character centric perspective, that added to the eerie atmosphere. The horror elements were used as a metaphor, exploring generational trauma, abandonment, addiction, belonging and Sam’s own exploration of genderqueer identity. The novel moves slowly at first, then starts building and ends with a few very emotionally intense and raw scenes.
While the atmosphere is impeccable, the narrative sometimes felt overdrawn, with mood building overtaking narrative focus. Still, Hemlock is an honest and compelling read.
The audiobook narration was smooth and expressive, elevating the experience with well placed dramatic and emotional emphasis and seamless character differentiation.
Thank you to NetGalley and Hachette Audio for the early audiobook access in exchange for my honest review.
The novel opens with gorgeously eerie, gothic-esque prose. As a reader (or in my case, listener), it felt almost removed from the present, as though the story could just as easily be set 150 years ago. Faliveno’s writing is richly descriptive and immersive; the sense of creeping unease settles in early and lingers. This is not traditional horror with jump scares, but rather an introspective, literary approach with subtle supernatural and magical realism touches. While the genre labeling as “gothic horror” feels slightly misleading, I didn’t mind.
The story is told entirely through Sam’s POV, building out her character through memories, reflections and the few encounters she has with others during her cabin stay. I really liked the sprinkle of unreliable narration, because of that very main character centric perspective, that added to the eerie atmosphere. The horror elements were used as a metaphor, exploring generational trauma, abandonment, addiction, belonging and Sam’s own exploration of genderqueer identity. The novel moves slowly at first, then starts building and ends with a few very emotionally intense and raw scenes.
While the atmosphere is impeccable, the narrative sometimes felt overdrawn, with mood building overtaking narrative focus. Still, Hemlock is an honest and compelling read.
The audiobook narration was smooth and expressive, elevating the experience with well placed dramatic and emotional emphasis and seamless character differentiation.
Thank you to NetGalley and Hachette Audio for the early audiobook access in exchange for my honest review.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
3.75
I loved a lot of the themes in this book. The main one — addiction — was portrayed with particular detail and nuance. Alcohol almost becomes its own character in a way here. For Sam, it's her inheritance, along with the cabin deep in the woods. Her relationship with the women in the family is important as well. All of them were very much in tune with the world of nature, rather than that of men. They were strange, unlike what society wanted them to be, and that's what Sam was too. I resonated with the talk about gender and the desire to be something beyond that, something between man and animal.
Another huge thing was Sam's relationship with religion, with God. She talks of the "God-shaped hole" left in her heart from losing her faith. And how she learns to fill that hole with a faith of another kind.
I enjoyed the clear, vivid images the author paints with her writing. The atmosphere was so sharp I could feel it all down to the last little bird chirping in the trees.
Although for the most part it was very easy to read, I did find some issues with certain parts of the story being a little dragged out. In some places that rich writing was kind of hindering the progression of events in a chapter. Some fast paced moments require that same speed in the writing too, for the reader to get through them just as quickly. The chunky passages were at times getting in the way.
And I did expect something crazier from this story, with how it's been building up. I can't say the ending quite lived up to what the rest of it promised. It is rather slow and even uneventful. A big part of it is memories, thoughts, which I enjoyed anyway. So if that's something you'd like to experience, along with evocative prose and the creepy atmosphere of the Northwoods, I'm quite sure you'd find this to your taste.
Thank you to NetGalley for providing the arc.
I loved a lot of the themes in this book. The main one — addiction — was portrayed with particular detail and nuance. Alcohol almost becomes its own character in a way here. For Sam, it's her inheritance, along with the cabin deep in the woods. Her relationship with the women in the family is important as well. All of them were very much in tune with the world of nature, rather than that of men. They were strange, unlike what society wanted them to be, and that's what Sam was too. I resonated with the talk about gender and the desire to be something beyond that, something between man and animal.
Another huge thing was Sam's relationship with religion, with God. She talks of the "God-shaped hole" left in her heart from losing her faith. And how she learns to fill that hole with a faith of another kind.
I enjoyed the clear, vivid images the author paints with her writing. The atmosphere was so sharp I could feel it all down to the last little bird chirping in the trees.
Although for the most part it was very easy to read, I did find some issues with certain parts of the story being a little dragged out. In some places that rich writing was kind of hindering the progression of events in a chapter. Some fast paced moments require that same speed in the writing too, for the reader to get through them just as quickly. The chunky passages were at times getting in the way.
And I did expect something crazier from this story, with how it's been building up. I can't say the ending quite lived up to what the rest of it promised. It is rather slow and even uneventful. A big part of it is memories, thoughts, which I enjoyed anyway. So if that's something you'd like to experience, along with evocative prose and the creepy atmosphere of the Northwoods, I'm quite sure you'd find this to your taste.
Thank you to NetGalley for providing the arc.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
This book could be triggering for readers with a history of addiction, especially alcoholism, so I want to say that upfront. I personally found it more cathartic than distressing, but trauma lands differently for everyone. I have loved many people who struggle with addiction, and because of that, this was a suffocating, heavy read at times.
Hemlock is not a plot driven story, and I think expectations matter a lot here. If you are looking for something fast or plot focused, this likely will not work for you. This is a deeply character centered novel that leans hard into familial trauma, inheritance, and the slow unraveling that comes with relapse. The metaphors tied to addiction, grief, and the body were incredibly well done, often unsettling in a way that felt intentional and earned.
Sam’s return to her family’s cabin and the way the woods, the town, and her own dependency begin to blur together creates an oppressive atmosphere that mirrors addiction itself. The surreal elements, especially the voice of her mother and the shifting sense of reality, felt less like horror set pieces and more like emotional manifestations of trauma. I appreciated how the book captured that claustrophobic cycle of wanting escape while being pulled deeper inward.
That said, the pacing and inward focus kept this from being a five star for me. At times, the story felt so steeped in its own internal weight that it became exhausting rather than illuminating. Still, I admire what this book set out to do, and I think it will resonate strongly with the right readers!
I listened to this thanks to the gifted copy from Netgalley & Hatchette Audio. Kira Fixx did phenomenal narrating this book! She perfectly captured the emotions and anger that comes with struggling with addiction. I will be looking for more books narrated by her!
Hemlock is not a plot driven story, and I think expectations matter a lot here. If you are looking for something fast or plot focused, this likely will not work for you. This is a deeply character centered novel that leans hard into familial trauma, inheritance, and the slow unraveling that comes with relapse. The metaphors tied to addiction, grief, and the body were incredibly well done, often unsettling in a way that felt intentional and earned.
Sam’s return to her family’s cabin and the way the woods, the town, and her own dependency begin to blur together creates an oppressive atmosphere that mirrors addiction itself. The surreal elements, especially the voice of her mother and the shifting sense of reality, felt less like horror set pieces and more like emotional manifestations of trauma. I appreciated how the book captured that claustrophobic cycle of wanting escape while being pulled deeper inward.
That said, the pacing and inward focus kept this from being a five star for me. At times, the story felt so steeped in its own internal weight that it became exhausting rather than illuminating. Still, I admire what this book set out to do, and I think it will resonate strongly with the right readers!
I listened to this thanks to the gifted copy from Netgalley & Hatchette Audio. Kira Fixx did phenomenal narrating this book! She perfectly captured the emotions and anger that comes with struggling with addiction. I will be looking for more books narrated by her!
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
3.75⭐️
Hemlock was a very immersive experience for me, especially as an audiobook. I enjoyed it a lot in this format — Kira Fixx’s narration reflects the tension and unease so well, adding an extra layer to the already heavy atmosphere.
The novel is eerie on multiple levels: atmospherically, psychologically, and character-wise. Plot-wise, it unfolds slowly, but the dread is constant, making this feel like a perfect winter read. Sam, the protagonist, returns to her family’s isolated cabin in the Wisconsin Northwoods — a place neither she nor her father has visited since her mother disappeared in the woods years ago. She leaves behind her “ideal” life in Brooklyn, complete with a cat and a long-term boyfriend, and returns alone to Hemlock.
What follows is a deeply unsettling spiral. Sam’s long-term addiction becomes almost a character of its own, haunting her alongside the forest and her family’s past. As the psychological horror intensifies, Sam becomes increasingly unable to tell where to look, how to protect herself, or even what she needs protection from. That uncertainty is where the novel is at its strongest.
The book gave me a similar feeling to The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson — not because of overt ghosts or clear supernatural entities, but because of the isolated atmosphere that creates the haunting itself. In Hemlock, Sam is haunted less by something external and more by inheritance, memory, and the weight of her family’s history.
I would definitely recommend this to readers who enjoy slow-burn, psychological horror, especially those who appreciate mood, atmosphere, and character-driven dread over fast-paced plots.
Thank you to NetGalley and Little, Brown & Company for providing me with an ARC. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
Hemlock was a very immersive experience for me, especially as an audiobook. I enjoyed it a lot in this format — Kira Fixx’s narration reflects the tension and unease so well, adding an extra layer to the already heavy atmosphere.
The novel is eerie on multiple levels: atmospherically, psychologically, and character-wise. Plot-wise, it unfolds slowly, but the dread is constant, making this feel like a perfect winter read. Sam, the protagonist, returns to her family’s isolated cabin in the Wisconsin Northwoods — a place neither she nor her father has visited since her mother disappeared in the woods years ago. She leaves behind her “ideal” life in Brooklyn, complete with a cat and a long-term boyfriend, and returns alone to Hemlock.
What follows is a deeply unsettling spiral. Sam’s long-term addiction becomes almost a character of its own, haunting her alongside the forest and her family’s past. As the psychological horror intensifies, Sam becomes increasingly unable to tell where to look, how to protect herself, or even what she needs protection from. That uncertainty is where the novel is at its strongest.
The book gave me a similar feeling to The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson — not because of overt ghosts or clear supernatural entities, but because of the isolated atmosphere that creates the haunting itself. In Hemlock, Sam is haunted less by something external and more by inheritance, memory, and the weight of her family’s history.
I would definitely recommend this to readers who enjoy slow-burn, psychological horror, especially those who appreciate mood, atmosphere, and character-driven dread over fast-paced plots.
Thank you to NetGalley and Little, Brown & Company for providing me with an ARC. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
Review of advance copy received from Goodreads Giveaways
Hemlock by Melissa Faliveno
Thank you to Little, Brown and Company for the ARC! 🌿📖🫶
There’s something chilling and intimate about this book, like stepping into the woods alone and realizing the trees are whispering your name.
Hemlock is part queer Gothic, part psychological unraveling, and part fever dream. The lines between woman, wilderness, memory, and monster start to blur until you’re not sure if you’re reading a story about addiction and grief… or a descent into something ancient and feral. 🦌🕯️🌧️
• Gorgeous, lyrical prose: heavy with atmosphere and dread
• Sam is a deeply introspective, flawed, and vulnerable protagonist
• The cabin and woods feel alive, like characters with secrets of their own
• Haunting imagery, strange neighbors, talking animals, and shadowy loss
But it’s also a slow, murky read, deliberately disorienting.
• Readers wanting tidy resolutions or a fast-paced plot may feel adrift
• Some elements (like the talking doe or surreal body horror) toe the line between brilliant and bewildering
• Sam’s introspection can feel repetitive or indulgent depending on your patience with literary fiction
• Feels personal to the point of metafiction which may not work for everyone
Still, I found myself caught in the emotional tangle of it all. 💔 The grief, the disassociation, the queer longing, the rot and rebirth, it’s all here in messy, poetic, and sometimes painful detail. Hemlock won’t be for everyone, but for the right reader, it’s going to bloom into something unforgettable.
4 stars 🌟🌟🌟🌟
This book howls quietly, but it echoes deep.
Thank you to Little, Brown and Company for the ARC! 🌿📖🫶
There’s something chilling and intimate about this book, like stepping into the woods alone and realizing the trees are whispering your name.
Hemlock is part queer Gothic, part psychological unraveling, and part fever dream. The lines between woman, wilderness, memory, and monster start to blur until you’re not sure if you’re reading a story about addiction and grief… or a descent into something ancient and feral. 🦌🕯️🌧️
• Gorgeous, lyrical prose: heavy with atmosphere and dread
• Sam is a deeply introspective, flawed, and vulnerable protagonist
• The cabin and woods feel alive, like characters with secrets of their own
• Haunting imagery, strange neighbors, talking animals, and shadowy loss
But it’s also a slow, murky read, deliberately disorienting.
• Readers wanting tidy resolutions or a fast-paced plot may feel adrift
• Some elements (like the talking doe or surreal body horror) toe the line between brilliant and bewildering
• Sam’s introspection can feel repetitive or indulgent depending on your patience with literary fiction
• Feels personal to the point of metafiction which may not work for everyone
Still, I found myself caught in the emotional tangle of it all. 💔 The grief, the disassociation, the queer longing, the rot and rebirth, it’s all here in messy, poetic, and sometimes painful detail. Hemlock won’t be for everyone, but for the right reader, it’s going to bloom into something unforgettable.
4 stars 🌟🌟🌟🌟
This book howls quietly, but it echoes deep.
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