It's a shame that this book should have been entertaining. There is, at its core, a penny dreadful or a classic horror crossed with a classic mystery, the kind that makes you question whether reality is scientifically empirical, paranormal, or divinely predetermined, and complex in ways humans cannot even conceive. It should have been the kind of book that fans of Stranger Things, His Dark Materials, and Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children would have flocked to. BUT, this book is soooo poorly executed. It is bloated, redundant, and surprisingly both shocking and boring. It was almost as if I were reading the script for a 10 episode Netflix series, instead of one solid book, because the plot meanders and splinters so much, and the reader is distracted with unnecessary backstory to "fill the run time".

The pacing of the story might be what killed it for me, but I'll get into the body horror and sexism first. Spoilers ahead. If you're squeamish or easily triggered, this book is definitely not for you, and don't bother with the rest of this review. Enjoy the rest of your day!

I should have heeded all of the reviews that gave trigger warnings. The setting and timing of this story is brilliant: A lot of scientific discovery and theories were being made about evolution, mutations, anatomy, genetics (though they didn't have that word yet), etc etc, and the study of bodies lends itself perfectly to body horror stories. BUT, for all that the setting was a cool playground for a horror story, it was still insensitive, jarring and disgusting the way that anecdotes about fetuses in jars, forced Cesareans, failed abortions, miscarriages, and rape were just thrown in as set decoration. These were not presented as traumatic events that the mother was struggling with (emotionally, morally, and physically). There was little to no prose given over how these events made women feel. Rather, they were included in a list of things which simply are. She wore gloves, she had a doily on her desk, and she had a stillbirth some ten years ago, but all that was behind her now. WHAT?!?! No offense to male authors, because some of you write women WONDERFULLY, but I immediately clocked that J.M. Miro was a dude because of the lack of emotional depth given to the women in this book who endured sexual trauma. Fellas.... There is a distinction between physical violence and sexual violence. In an R rated movie, let's say, you can be sensational about injuries and murder, it gives a cathartic thrill. But sexual violence is not thrilling, it is not cathartic. Quite the opposite, it is often weighty with grief, shame, anxiety, powerlessness, resentment, etc. It is the difference between our hero claiming power, and our hero having power stolen from them. There is nothing triumphant in enduring sexual violence, not like the reward for winning a fight or a battle. And sexual violence is not a brief wound which can be physically mended; it lives on under the skin in triggers and reminders of the trauma endured. If the audience is meant to identify with and sympathize with the character, then misrepresenting a heavy burden of suffering as a fleeting shocking moment, is not only disingenuous to your character and the story you want to tell, but it's hurtful to your audience.

J.M. struggled to write women in general. This book would not pass The Bechdel test. Most of the female characters were flat and identical in motivation: There was some man in their lives whom they admired and wanted to serve/avenge/flirt with, and their time with other women was spent talking about the mutual male acquaintances in their lives or being suspicious of one another. Secondly, this book fell into the trope for "a strong woman means she uses weapons, right?" Nope! Strength is measured in character, not weaponry, and a strong female lead doesn't outsource her moral scales to the man in her life. "Ooo, I have my misgivings about all the dead babies and missing orphans in Dr. B's care, BUT, he's the man in charge, so I trust him!" Finally, most of the women weirdly had latent maternal instincts which would kick in when they were around Marlowe. Maybe that was part of Marlowe's magic, because, as a mother of two, I am still waiting for those "maternal instincts" to kick in. FELLAS!!!.... Women are not predisposed to be nurturing any more or less than you are. Having empathy is just a basic human skill set you learn. It is not an animal instinct brought on by hormones. It is a choice you must make, to be mindful of another person. Anyone can do it, and women can most certainly fail at it when we're stressed, or have not had a lot of experience being patient with others (read as: with children). She does not transform into Mom Mode just because of her proximity to a small stranger. (Likewise, a child is not necessarily, inherently docile or ingratiating! Why would a child defer to the nearest female stranger for safety?) A woman being near a child is not like two strong magnets pulling together, they do not naturally gravitate toward one another. Temperament, personal history, the chemistry between the two people - you know, BASIC CHARACTERIZATION - matter!

Speaking of characterization... The final nail in the coffin for this book was its pacing, which was largely bloated because the author gave DETAILED backstories to EVERYONE, and repeated those details every time that character reappeared in the book. It was as if the author didn't trust us to remember the character chapter to chapter (episode to episode), so he would give us a "fun" little recap on who their parents were, who had died in their family, where they grew up, how they new about the Cairndale Institute, what their magical powers were, ETC! It was mind-numbing!!! Imagine if in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry didn't get to Hogwarts for 300 pages, because the author kept stopping to tell us that Hagrid's mom left and his dad died when he was young, he was expelled and framed for murder in his teens, and he frequently drinks himself into a stupor because he blames himself for borrowing Sirius Black's bike and riding off with baby Harry instead of clobbering Black for betraying the Order of the Phoenix!.... WHOSE. BOOK. IS IT?!?! It's not titled Rubeus Hagrid and the Sorcerer's Stone! These are all facets of Hagrid's character that are interesting to know, and even relevant to later plot... But there IS a plot, and THE MAIN CHARACTERS have to embark on it, take part in some shenanigans, exchange some witty banter, tug at the heartstrings of the reader... Too much backstory retracts from the NOW, from the central thread of the book. Were the backstory being extolled in pieces, like a puzzle, to give us a different understanding of the world from our hero's bias take on their reality, or even to underscore a theme (ex. History Repeats Itself, or the classic Hero's Not So Different From the Villain, or even This Tragedy Was Avoidable, Ahhhh, Heartbreak, Dramatic Irony!) then A LITTLE goes a looong way. But not EVERY character should get a full biography, complete with their parents sexual history, as a cheat sheet for introductions or characterization. Much more can be learned about that character by just having them interact with other characters or their environment. Save the bios for the appendix, Tolkien! XD

A poor understanding of violence and trauma, and a poor understanding of at least half of humanity, make for a VERY poor horror story. In my opinion, horror is at its best when the story reveals something about humanity. Can we trust our perception of reality? To what depths will we sink, or delude ourselves into believing are acceptable? What physical horror is science, nature, God, or the human body capable of? Where is the veil between life and death? All fun concepts that have been explored more effectively and succinctly by V.E. Schwab, H.P. Lovecraft, Joseph Conrad, Pierce Brown, Jay Kristoff, J.K. Rowling, Edgar Allan Poe, Leigh Bardugo...

What I'm saying is, go pick up another book. ;P