Spoiled Milk
In 1928, Emily Locke's final year at the isolated Briarley School for Girls is derailed when Violet, the school's brightest star (and a cunning beauty for whom Emily would do anything), falls to her death on her eighteenth birthday. Emily and her buttoned-up rival Evelyn are, for once, in agreement: Violet's death was no accident. There's an obvious culprit, the French schoolmistress with whom Violet was getting a little too close - they just need to prove it.
Desperate for answers, Emily and her classmates turn to spiritualism, hoping for a glimpse of wisdom from the great beyond. To their shock, Violet's spirit appears, choosing pious Evelyn as her unlikely medium. And Violet has a warning for them: the danger has just begun.
Something deadly is infecting Briarley. It starts with rotten food and curdled milk, but quickly grows more threatening. As the body count rises and students race to save themselves, Emily must confront the fatal forces poisoning the school. Emily's fight for survival forces her to reevaluate everything she knows: about Violet, Evelyn, Briarley, and, ultimately, herself.
Avery Curran channels the indelible ambience and intrigue of the classic boarding school novel while turning the beloved genre on its head in this visceral, exuberant debut.
Reviews
SPOILED MILK is a dirty little jewel of a novel, as thrilling as it is unsettling, as moving as it is frequently horrifying. Curran writes with incredible precision on fear, desire and the insidiousness of authority and empire. A truly impeccable novel.
The haunted lesbian boarding school horror show we always wanted. From its dread-inducing opening to that breathtaking finale, SPOILED MILK is brimming with images that we'll carry into way too many nightmares. Avery Curran is a witch.
Something wicked oozes through Briarley School for girls. Has the slave trade, spiritualism or sapphic desire unleashed it? Whichever way it's slick and rotten fun. Get ready for your new literary pash.
SPOILED MILK is a post-war fable about the death of Empire and a lesbian phantasmagoria, but it's also one of the most well-executed pieces of horror writing I've ever read. It is a terrifically nasty, loving, heretical, filthy look at the boarding school story; Avery Curran puts the entire genre in its grave and then invites the reader to view its exhumed corpse. This book destroyed me.
Queerness weaves through the novel like an inversion of the rot spreading through the school. Though the book is steeped in the realities of the time period, Curran wonderfully shows how the girl’s burgeoning sexuality and relationships provide them with a complicated refuge from the dangers within and beyond Briarley. The use of foreshadowing effectively builds tension and dread . . . the novel’s true strength is exploring the complex relationships among the girls—both living and dead—and the unknowns of the world. A queer, eerie debut.
lush and haunting . . . Briarley contains echoes of classic literary gothic manors like Thornfield Hall and Hill House and the narrative does a good job teasing out the dark history of slavery and empire packed into its bricks and mortar. On the way to Briarley’s bloody dissolution, Curran delivers a chilling tale of repressed passion, queer awakening, and the corrosive power of silence. It’s an impressive start.
Bristling with tension, Spoiled Milk is Enid Blyton on acid; a gothic, sinister and darkly funny read. I raced through the blood-chilling finale.
Pure class with a delicious touch of high kitsch, Spoiled Milk is gory, tender, sexy, wry, and just so exquisitely written. It says as much about first love as it does masticated limbs, about Empire as it does ectoplasm—read it and be enthralled.
Seances, ectoplasm, soft and furious kisses, a love triangle with a ghost, all of it hurtling towards a hauntingly beautiful finale. Spoiled Milk is the book of my dreams and my nightmares
Step into the halls of Briarley, where nothing is to be trusted and the only thing more frightening than death is having to live long enough to grow up. Both darkly funny and genuinely harrowing, Spoiled Milk is the boarding school novel my spooky heart has been waiting for. Avery Curran has written an absolute knockout.
What a vicious, elegant, deliriously unpleasant book - as if Stephen King’s IT was a lesbian boarding-school story set in the beginning of the dying days of empire. I was thrilled.
Is there a more atmospheric gothic setting than the cloistered halls of an English girls’ boarding school on a rotting country estate? Spoiled Milk’s Briarley harbours a sapphic hothouse of heady spiritualism and bitter, shifting loyalties as its girls grapple with the shocking death of their charismatic classmate Violet. Curran’s chilling prose offers a slow-burn horror story in the vein of Daphne Du Maurier, deepening the dread as the girls careen toward a bloodcurdling cry of a climax.
Dread crawls steadily and inexorably throughout the pages of this thrillingly creepy novel, culminating in an ending that is thoroughly unsettling and – as in the best Gothic fiction – inevitable. Trust is an illusion, and safety is only ever fleeting. No one is safe, not even the reader
A nauseatingly good work of lesbian horror where nobody comes out unscathed, reader included. What rot!!
Spoiled Milk asks what would happen if the acolytes of Muriel Spark’s Brodie set were left to fend for themselves in a Shirley Jackson novel--and the answer is this deliciously dark gothic debut from Avery Curran. I adored Curran’s twisted take on the campus novel
Spoiled Milk is like the most delicious kind of treat: midnight, clandestine, and best eaten with your hands. When the favourite girl at Briarley falls to her untimely death, an inexorable chain of events is set in motion. Avery Curran’s spellbinding Gothic debut is sinister and playful in equal measure, and builds to a roaring crescendo of repressed rage and queer desire. The coming-of-age novel I wish I’d had.
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