The Crucible meets The Virgin Suicides in this haunting debut about five sisters in a small village in eighteenth century England whose neighbors are convinced they’re turning into dogs.
Even before the rumors about the Mansfield girls begin, Little Nettlebed is a village steeped in the uncanny, from strange creatures that wash up on the riverbed to portentous ravens gathering on the roofs of people about to die. But when the villagers start to hear barking, and one claims to see the Mansfield sisters transform before his very eyes, the allegations spark fascination and fear like nothing has before.
The truth is that though the inhabitants of Little Nettlebed have never much liked the Mansfield girls—a little odd, think some; a little high on themselves, perhaps—they’ve always had plenty to say about them. As the rotating perspectives of five villagers quickly make clear, now is no exception. Even if local belief in witchcraft is waning, an aversion to difference is as widespread as ever, and these conflicting narratives all point to the same ultimate conclusion: something isn’t right in Little Nettlebed, and the sisters will be the ones to pay for it.
As relevant today as any time before, The Hounding celebrates the wild breaks from convention we’re all sometimes pulled toward, and wonders if, in a world like this one, it isn’t safer to be a dog than an unusual young girl.
This was... not good at all. Similar to Hungerstone, this is a retelling that does not deviate nearly enough from the source material. From the synopsis alone, you can guess exactly where this starts and ends. The entire book builds up to a foreboding denouement, only to breeze through it with the most heavy-handed dialogue and predictable conclusion.
The book follows the general plot arc of the The Virgin Suicides directly, and borrows an identical narrative style (e.g., the five sisters themselves are never given explicit POV chapters). Where The Virgin Suicides leaves a lot of intrigue and mystery surrounding the sisters and their true motives, The Hounding simply does not. The very literal dialogue squashes any sense of intrigue, and the 'mystery' at the core of the book is one that exists only to the characters and not the reader. Given we know the truth and the characters are unwilling to change their perspectives regardless of the evidence presented, you're left slogging through 200+ pages just to end up exactly where you expected on page 1.
The thesis of the book essentially boils down to "misogyny is bad" which is true but hardly novel or explored with any nuance. It doesn't help that several recent titles use the same imagery (women as dogs is a central theme in both Organ Meats and Nightbitch) or use a similar closed, historical setting but with more subversions for the reader (Lapvona and The Water Cure).
I think if you have never read The Virgin Suicides and only like a bit of ambiguity in your books, you might enjoy this more. But if that's the case, I'd recommend reading The Virgin Suicides instead and saving yourself the disappointment.
This book wasn’t groundbreaking or even relating the girlhood experience in a new way, but I still ate it up. It was VERY reminiscent of The virgin suicides in atmosphere and the way the story is told: through the eyes of everyone but the sisters. I loved the feverish heatwave setting too, there’s something so alluring about the nastiness of a blistering hot small village where everyone drinks and stinks and slowly goes insane
This proved to be a much quieter read than expected. Purvis' prose is wonderfully dark and gloomy, and her characters are well drawn, but I'd have liked to see the themes explored more deeply.
"Come to think of it, there had been several occasions when people had found something unusual in the girls. Sharp teeth—yes, they'd always had sharper-than-normal teeth. And dark hair. And glowing eyes, like the eyes of hungry dogs."
Some thoughts now that I've finished the book:
- We spend a lot more time getting to know the villagers of Little Nettlebed than expected.
- It takes much longer than anticipated to arrive at any whisperings of the Mansfield girls turning into dogs.
- While the blurb promises a village where strange, uncanny things happen, we see few examples of that throughout the book.
- There's only a peripheral exploration of the book's themes of toxic masculinity and female persecution, most notably when Peter blatantly thinks to himself that he hates women and again when the Mansfield girls acknowledge that they're being punished for being nonconformist girls.
- The ending didn't scratch my itch, especially given that the most crucial scene is witnessed by... There's probably a deeper meaning at play here about our willingness to see and/or our ability to see the truth, but that doesn't change the fact that I wanted more.
'They were not normal, those girls. The story confirmed for everybody what they had always known: there was something unnatural about the five sisters.
Anne, Elizabeth, Hester, Grace and Mary are five sisters growing up in rural 18 Century Oxfordshire but they've had a hard time of it. Both of their parents passed years ago and now their beloved Grandmother has also passed, leaving just their nearly blind Grandfather to try and keep them in line, keep the farm going, but he requires more help than he can give. The girls are in effect on their own and their forced independence has locals questioning just what is going on with them, no one more than the local ferryman Pete, 'It was as though they spoke a silent language he couldn't understand, it unsettled him. It made him feel less strong, less good....'. As Pete increasingly worries about his future marriage and his business rapidly drying up as the summer drought persists, he insists that these girls have turned into dogs, yes real b**ches, in front of his very eyes. Like a flame set to the tinder dry grass that surrounds them, the rumour takes flight, even among those loathe to truly believe it.
Such a unique and beautifully written story, it's hard to believe it's a debut. In true literary style, there are many messages in its lovely prose but how you interpret them is up to the reader. Told across a few POVs, the overarching point is how a vicious rumour can spread like a cancer, infecting the good sense of people who feel vindicated of their jealousy find themselves thrilled at the drama of cancelling those who defy convention. I feel that many literary lovers will enjoy contemplating this one too.
'We went out when we weren't supposed to, we were too free, and this - all of this - is our punishment. It has nothing to do with the idea of us becoming dogs, and everything to do with the fact of us being girls'.
A question for the readers of my review: If "The Hounding" is set to release in 2025, and I read it in 2024, of which year should I consider this to be my favorite novel? The answer is both. I fear I will never be able to get this one out of my head.
Described as "The Cruible meets the Virgin Suicides" I knew I was going to love this book from the jump. "The Hounding" is delicious and atmospheric- centered around the five Mansfield sisters told through the perspective of their blind grandfather, the village ferryman, the town bar maid, and two young boys hired by the Mansfields for the hay harvest. Despite being set in the eighteenth century, the language is easy to follow. It does not rely on the headiness of old english to spin a devastatingly beautiful prose. Every single word is deliberate and necessary- creating an all too real sense of dread. The ending leaves us with the heavy question: Is it safer to be a woman or a dog?
Thank you, Netgalley, Xenobe Purvis, and Henry Holt & Co for the eARC. I really, truly loved every second.
All it takes is one sonofabitch to stir up an entire village. Grrrr.
The Hounding is a historical fiction novel about five sisters living on a farm in a small village filled with superstitious people. The sisters have been raised by their grandparents after being orphaned and are mourning their recently deceased grandmother. Many of the townsfolk are wary of them because they’re not demure, mild-mannered creatures. Their grandfather has allowed them to run free and wild. They’re a little loud, they laugh freely, and they keep themselves to themselves. So, OF COURSE, that makes some of the local men feel a certain way. One day their grieving is mistaken for howling and rumors spread that they are able to change into dogs. They then get blamed for everything ailing the town.
It’s an infuriating look at human nature but it makes for an interesting read. I loved learning more about these unconventional siblings, their lovely grandfather who fears he’s failed them, and the decent men and boys in the community. There are some beautifully written passages here.
“He and his wife had brought them up as they had brought up their own son with interests and dreams. Perhaps it had been a mistake, he thought. To let them believe they could reach beyond what the world expected of them, the world expected so little.”
If that doesn’t break your heart, I don’t know what will. When compassion and freedom and equality are seen as a flaw/impossibility for some, it allows the dredges of humanity to act on their worst urges.
Anyhow, some terrible things happen here but they’re very much implied and not on the page which was perfectly fine by me because I was absolutely not in the mood to read that kind of explicit detail. I thought during reading, and especially after I finished reading this book, that turning into a dog wouldn’t be the worst thing in their world and also in this one because people can be atrocious.
I see this book being compared to a lot of things, but it kept giving me shades of We Have Always Lived in the Castle and I’m sticking with that mood. Most of it was its own thing and I’m glad to have listened to it on audio. The narrator has a lovely cadence that suited the time period and material.
I received my audio copy from Netgalley after my very long absence from ARC reviews and I’m glad I chose this one. This review, like all of the reviews I write, are nothing but my initial feelings and gut reactions after having finished.
A book in which a drunken misogynist that nobody likes being around can spread vicious rumors about a group of young girls turning into dogs (bitches) and somehow that’s more believable than the possibility that those girls just like to play outside in the dirt and don’t want to smile at random men.
Thank you so much to Henry Holt for gifting me an ARC of this strange, wonderful little book and a huge congratulations to Xenobe Purvis on her debut novel!
Another gr summer challenge read! This is under debut darlings and lightning round, so I'm hitting two birds with one stone + people say this is a weird one and hearing weird, it just makes me want to read it more 👀✨
It's the season of strangeness in Little Nettlebed, 18th-century England, and the strangeness begins with the five Mansfield sisters - Anne, Elizabeth, Hester, Grace, and Mary. Living on a farm with their blind, recently widowed grandfather Joseph, the sisters quickly become the center of fear, rumor, and hysteria.
What Lit My Mood A unique and beautifully written gothic tale with sharp feminist themes. I loved how it explored paranoia, scapegoating, and the way rumors can warp reality until the whole village is vibrating with fear. Seeing the story through the eyes of five different villagers but never the sisters themselves heightened the unease and tension of the rumors.
Where My Mood Flickered Even though I adored the themes and atmosphere, the pacing dragged in places. My focus wavered, and there were moments I didn’t feel pulled back to it as strongly as I wanted.
Audiobook vs. Reading I dipped into both formats and enjoyed them, but the audiobook pulled me in more. The narration carried the eerie atmosphere beautifully.
Witchy Mood Reader Rating Almost Aligned: The vibes were rich, haunting, and atmospheric, but the slower pace kept the spell from fully enchanting me.
Verdict Add it to your altar and summon it when you crave a gothic tale where rumor turns to ritual and fear prowls like a hound at the door.
I received an audiobook from the publisher through NetGalley and an a copy from Edelweiss
I realize many of you love this book for its clear feminist overtones. I did too! But there is a thread to this text that bothers me because it is an ableist trope of the worst kind-- that hormonal young girls can't be trusted, or rather, can only be trusted to be animals. I know a lot of you did not see this thread, which is great! You get to read and interpret books however you want! And as a disabled woman with mental illness, and with a graduate degree in writing fiction, and with many decades of reading experience, I am confident in how I read books. Don't stop commenting how you didn't see what I saw, you're allowed! But I thought I would just add a short explanation here, where it doesn't seem like I'm arguing with anyone. Happy reading!
Pre-Read Notes:
I know very little about this book book going in, only that it is a strange coming of age story about some sisters. I love creepy sister stories, and this title seems to refer to a strange culture, maybe a cult. It looks good and weird!
"Come to think of it, there had been several occasions when people had found something unusual in the girls. Sharp teeth—yes, they’d always had sharper-than-normal teeth. And dark hair. And glowing eyes, like the eyes of hungry dogs." p80
Final Review
(thoughts & recs)Well I loved this book until the second to last paragraph. And I was turned off enough by what I read there that it made me dislike the entire book. Let me say this loudly for the "feminists" in the back: women and girls with mental illness are not animals. We wouldn't be better off as animals or happier as animals. We like being human; the problem is society, not us. This trope stigmatizes women with mental illness in a dangerous way.
I don't recommend ableist books and I don't recommend this one.
My Favorite Things:
✔️ "The way they held themselves, the whispering folds of their dresses, their habit of tucking their hair behind their ears— it was at once both fascinating and foreign. Last year he had seen for the first time a bear being baited at a tavern in town, and he felt now a little as he had then. He’d marvelled to encounter the creature up close: its greasy fur and persistent scent, the pink of its tongue, the chain biting into its neck. The bear had left him light-headed, and these girls had done the same." This paragraph is extremely forboding and clever in its construction, where genteel girls are compared to a grisly trophy. This is excellent foreshadowing.
✔️ "She believed herself to be better than him, that was what he’d come to understand. The look she gave him sent violence coursing through his body. It made him want to do unmentionable things." p40 Men are so good at blaming their violence on the victims of their violence. This kind of peek into the thoughts of secondary characters, their reactions to the sisters, is actually great setting work. Life is hostile for the sisters because they reflect everyone's fear back at them.
✔️ "“Why should they want to scare you?” He gave her an ugly smile. “They’re wilful girls. They need no reason.”" Independent girls are evil to this town. I love the old feeling of the setting. It raises the stakes, because these people were bored, and boredom always leads to trouble for the least members of a community.
✔️ A little slow moving, but the pace works for the suspense and mystery, which play with each other I interesting ways in this story.
✔️ The style is concise, which I like. but sometimes the descriptions are too tight and I can't visualize what the author is describing to me.
✔️ I feel a keen desperation reading this and all I can say is this is exactly what it feels like to be a mentally disabled girl or woman. No one sees who you are and everyone thinks they know what you are.
✔️ "He longed not to be there, in the crackling heat. He longed to be far away— far from Pete, who seethed with anger, and Thomas, deliriously faithful to the girls, and Richard, biting his lip behind Robin, and the Mansfield sisters, whom he feared might actually turn into dogs and eat Pete Darling before his very eyes. He wanted no part in the rage which ringed them all together. It horrified him; it made him sick." p161 I feel this. The suspense is thick!
this gagged me tbh Think if ottessa moshfegh did a kinda surreal 1800s historical story. It’s not quite as ‘weird’ as the summary suggests; the whole girls turning into dogs thing is mostly left open-ended for most of the story, and the book is told from several different townspeople’s perspectives but never the girls themselves. It’s an obvious allegory that’s done in such a fresh and interesting way, and the writing is haunting and lyrical. This deserves to be a big buzzy book this summer!
This reads both so old and so new at the same time. Like it could have been written during the Salem Witch Trials or in August of 2025. I loved pondering the question: is it safer to be a dog than an unusual young girl? We think on this through the lens of different villagers as things get more and more unsettling and you want to turn the pages faster and faster. This was a strange little book, bizarre yet beautiful, and is leaving me grateful for the women (dogs?) I surround myself with.
The Mansfield girls have always been a little...odd, and Little Nettlebed has always been a bit...unusual. That was even before someone claimed one of the Mansfield sisters transformed into a dog right in front of their eyes. This is eighteenth-century England, and people may not believe in witches anymore, but they certainly believe in the weird. If you ask five of their neighbors, the Mansfields have always been weird, and if their strangeness is starting to affect Little Nettlebed, maybe it's time to do something about that.—Rachel Brittain
Xenobe Purvis's debut novel, "The Hounding," is a stunningly haunting tale interweaving the uncanny with the deeply human. Set in the eerie village of Little Nettlebed, the story follows the enigmatic Mansfield sisters, who find themselves at the center of supernatural rumors claiming they are transforming into dogs. Purvis's prose is both lyrical and chilling, perfectly capturing the unsettling atmosphere of eighteenth-century England.
What makes this novel truly compelling is its multitude of perspectives based on gossip, jealousy, and lies, thus revealing the villagers' fears and prejudices. The initial rumor begins with a man who feels hatred for the oldest Mansfield sister, Anne after being "disrespected" by her simply because she did not speak to him. He imagined he deserved complete control over all women, and Anne was not one to give up her control.
Each villager's or character's viewpoint adds layers to the narrative of the sisters' ability to turn into raging mad dogs, showcasing how suspicion and fear of the unknown can lead to tragic consequences. The sisters, portrayed as misunderstood and odd, evoke empathy from a few and hatred from many who say they are from the devil as the girls navigate the perilous waters of societal judgment, isolation, and the need for doctors and the village vicar to cast the evil away.
Themes of conformity and the fear of difference resonate powerfully in today’s world, making the story feel timeless and relevant. Their sweet (almost blind) grandfather tries everything to get the girls to submit to village norms and expectations and considers moving the family to a new village that doesn't know them. But Anne refuses to run away from their problems, explaining that they shouldn't have to conform to others and leave their livelihoods and family lands behind. Purvis showcases in such a clever way the darkness of human nature and the fear that women (and girls) must endure daily. We, as women, are not made to add comfort to men; we are not made to provide them a sense of control or superiority, and we should feel safe to walk through our villages (neighborhoods) whenever we please. The author expertly blends these harsh realities with folklore, creating a riveting, thought-provoking, and unsettling tale.
"The Hounding" is a masterful exploration of how society often punishes those who dare deviate from the norm (there were several very interesting relationships and characters to read more about), the fine line between conformity and individuality, and the true freedom of women. This book is a must-read for anyone who appreciates beautifully crafted narratives that probe the depths of human nature. Five stars!
** Also - This cover is gorgeous!
Thank you, #NetGalley, #XenobePurvis, and #HenryHolt&Company, for the ARC in exchange for my honest review of #TheHounding.
The Mansfield girls give the “the dog days of summer” a whole new meaning in The Hounding by Xenobe Purvis. Sorry I couldn’t resist! This was a fairly quick read and I enjoyed the setting of a small 18th century village and the deep sense of foreboding the author creates. As the summer heat slowly becomes oppressive, the river dries up and the folks in the village seem more on edge. Never much caring for the Mansfield girls anyway, things began to boil over in town when one of the locals accuses them of turning into dogs. The novels touches on several topics including what is a young woman’s place in the society in which she lives? Can she/should she challenge societal norms? And what will the consequences of her choices be? It was interesting to see how this story plays out and how the different characters in the village react to the the rumors and innuendos about the girls. I enjoyed this but it just fell a little flat for me. Thank you so much to Henry Holt publishing for the opportunity to read The Hounding.
"The Crucible meets The Virgin Suicides in this haunting debut about five sisters in a small village in eighteenth century England whose neighbors are convinced they’re turning into dogs."
Hauntingly beautiful and atmospheric, Xenobe Purvis's debut is destined to become a cult classic. It is reminiscent of The Scarlett Letter with a mob mentality of false accusations. Moving on from witches, five townspeople tell the story from their perspective. The novel is an examination of the dangers of rumors and gossip and how the story continues to evolve and shift from reality. Yet most people are prone to believe the worst of others based on hearsay. The novel begs the question: Is it better to be a girl or a dog? What is a woman's place in society? This is unique and thought-provoking, and I will be thinking about the Mansfield girls and the villagers' treatment of them for a long time.
Many thanks to NetGalley, Henry Holt and Company, and Xenobe Purvis for an advance reader's copy in exchange for my honest review.
God forbid a woman have hobbies—or a mind of her own, or a refusal to bow to whatever man thinks he’s owed her obedience. The Hounding takes that old, tired fear of independent women and twists it into something uncanny, feral, and unforgettable.
Set in Little Nettlebed, England, this novel thrums with dread and gossip, told through the eyes of villagers who are convinced the Mansfield sisters are transforming into dogs. Are they really? Doesn’t matter. What matters is how quickly a rumor rooted in bruised male ego metastasizes into mass hysteria. That tension—between what’s real and what’s projected—is what makes this book so brilliant.
Xenobe Purvis’s writing is lush, eerie, and razor-sharp. It balances the weight of old superstition with the immediacy of modern fear, timeless and unsettling. I loved how she rooted us in the natural world—muddy rivers, strange heat, the shimmer of mussel shells—while keeping the emotional focus locked on the sisters, who are some of the most alive characters I’ve read all year. Anne, in particular, stole me: stubborn, magnetic, unwilling to bend even as the noose of suspicion tightens.
What really gripped me was the question pulsing beneath the horror: is it safer to be seen as a dog than to live as an unusual young woman? Watching the villagers answer that question through violence, fear, and judgment was both enraging and hypnotic. The book builds slowly, deliberately, until it’s impossible to look away.
Bizarre and beautiful, feminist and feral, The Hounding left me shaken, awed, and deeply grateful for the women (and dogs) I surround myself with. A debut this strange and confident is rare. Xenobe Purvis is a writer to watch, and this book is one I’ll be pressing into everyone’s hands.
Also, Olivia Vinall absolutely shines as the narrator - bringing all the villagers to life in a clear distinct way! Thanks to Netgalley and Macmillian Audio for the advanced copy!
the nightbitchification of culture... oh my god and they were dogs?? wild and ungovernable and hated by sexists who wanted to control them?!? damn that's crazy ive never heard of anything like that before
arc provided by netgalley in exchange for an honest review!