How much do you know about botflies? If you’ve got a squeamish stomach about bugs and body horror, don’t look them up. These creepy parasites—which are horrifying enough in real life—become true fodder for nightmares in the hands of one of my favorite horror writers, T. Kingfisher. I’ve often admired the way Kingfisher brings out the horror in the natural world, from infectious fungi in What Moves the Dead to unexpectedly alarming ladybugs in A House with Good Bones. In her latest book, Wolf Worm, which came out last month, she takes it a step further by diving deep into the world of parasitic insects. In the end, though, it is human cruelty more than nature’s parasites that represents the true horror of this story.
Set in post-Reconstruction North Carolina, the story follows Sonia Wilson, a young artist trying to make ends meet after the death of her scientist father. She accepts a position as a scientific illustrator, the closest that women can usually get to having their research recognized by the scientific community in the 1890s. While Sonia had plenty of experience illustrating plants for her father, her new employer—the ill-tempered Dr. Halder—has her painting flies and larvae to accompany his jealously guarded research on parasitic and necrophagus insects. But Sonia wasn’t the first to take on the job: A series of impressively rendered watercolors—along with a cozy painting studio decorated with a feminine touch and plenty of extra paints, tools, and even sketchbooks—were left behind by a mysterious predecessor whom no one seems to want to talk about. That’s not the only mystery Sonia encounters. There are whispered rumors of devils or “blood thieves” haunting the nearby woods and tales of horrific murders that once took place there. And that’s not to mention the missing chickens and strangely deformed wildlife. Could these all be connected? Though Sonia knows the best way to stay employed is to keep her head down and focus on her paintings, her scientific mind can’t let these lingering questions go unanswered.
Wolf Worm puts a fun twist on a classic Gothic premise: the respectable but down-on-her luck young woman who must take up a new position (whether as employee or wife) in an isolated old house full of secrets and under a brooding and taciturn master. In this case, though, Sonia is neither a wife nor in one of the traditional female roles like governess, nurse, or companion. Instead, she is a working professional: a scientific illustrator. Nonetheless, her vulnerable economic position still puts her entirely in Dr. Halder’s power and the role leaves her in that liminal space between staff and member of the household. Wolf Worm also plays with the First Wife trope common in this type of Gothic story. Though Sonia is by no means a second wife or romantic prospect for the master of the house as Jane Eyre or the narrator of Rebecca are (indeed, some of the housekeeper’s first words to her are a warning not to expect marriage from Dr. Halder, a common relationship between scientists and their illustrators), she is still living under the shadow of her predecessor, who turns out to be Halder’s vanished wife, Louisa. Sonia is constantly comparing her artistic skills to Louisa’s and worries about living up to the precedent she set. Much like the anxious protagonist of du Maurier’s Rebecca, Sonia feels awkward about using her predecessor’s rooms and belongings, but she also becomes fixated on uncovering what happened to her. Notes and drawings left by Louisa serve as subtle clues to the past no one wants to discuss. Ultimately, Sonia breaks out of the toxic First Wife–Successor dynamic that typifies this trope by developing a feeling of kinship with Louisa through their shared love of art and respect for her craft. This sisterhood with the absent presence that haunts her drives Sonia to keep investigating and eventually allows her to achieve security, community, and professional fulfillment.
This novel also blends the brooding master of the house with the mad scientist trope. At first glance, Dr. Halder appears to embody the unpleasant but mostly harmless traits of the “mad scientist,” such as a lack of social graces, a disdain for laypersons and fellow scientists alike, and a single-minded focus on his area of study that results in complete neglect of anyone or anything outside of it. But over the course of the novel, he slowly reveals the more dangerous side of the mad scientist: a willingness—even an outright eagerness—to cross ethical and moral lines in the name of science. The scientific field in question in this book is that of entomology (the study of bugs), and readers will learn more than they possibly ever wanted to know about some of the horrors that exist in nature. But alongside this science-heavy plot, T. Kingfisher also brings in one of my favorite fantastical cornerstones of the Gothic genre in a way that I found delightful but cannot discuss further without revealing one of the best surprises of the book.
If you like intrepid lady scientists and surprising twists on classic Gothic tropes, be sure to check out Wolf Worm! You can find it on shelves now at your favorite local retailer or buy it online and support The Gothic Library in the process using this Bookshop.org affiliate link. Once you’ve read it, let me know your thoughts in the comments!