Jacquie Walters’ Dearest is a chilling, atmospheric read that takes horror to a place that feels both familiar and terrifyingly raw. As someone who loves horror novels, I found Dearest to be a unique blend of psychological horror and supernatural dread, wrapped in a narrative that explores the intense pressures and dark uncertainties of early motherhood. Walters expertly taps into primal fears—the fear of failing, of isolation, and of the unknown—while grounding the story in the everyday struggles of her protagonist, Flora.

The book opens with a shocking prologue that immediately sets the eerie tone. From there, we are introduced to Flora, a new mother grappling with extreme exhaustion and the overwhelming feeling of disconnection. What I loved about this book is how Walters blends the very real horror of postpartum depression with supernatural elements that make you constantly question what’s real and what’s imagined. Flora’s feelings of isolation, her fracturing relationship with her own mother, and the increasing oddities happening around her make for an unsettling, immersive experience.

For fans of slow-burn horror, Dearest is perfect. The tension builds methodically, with small, creeping details that grow into something far more disturbing as the novel progresses. The writing pulls you into Flora’s disoriented state of mind, making her sense of paranoia feel all too real. Walters’ portrayal of Flora’s exhaustion and mental strain is masterful, and as a reader, you can’t help but feel trapped with her in this claustrophobic spiral of terror.

The supernatural elements are subtle but unnerving. Instead of relying on jump scares or grotesque imagery, Dearest focuses on a creeping sense of dread that seeps into every page. There’s a constant, unshakable feeling that something is terribly wrong, and Walters leaves you guessing whether Flora is truly experiencing a haunting or if it’s all the result of her mental state unraveling. This ambiguity adds to the horror, keeping readers on edge and invested until the very end.

What makes Dearest stand out in the horror genre is how it delves into themes that are often glossed over in typical horror fare—namely, the emotional and psychological toll of new motherhood. Flora’s struggles feel deeply relatable, and the book’s exploration of societal expectations on women to handle motherhood effortlessly is both poignant and unsettling. Walters isn’t afraid to shine a light on the darker aspects of parenting, making Dearest as much a psychological study as it is a ghost story.

If I had to nitpick, some readers might find the pacing slow at times, but for me, it was exactly what allowed the tension to simmer and build to a satisfying climax. It’s not a horror novel that rushes towards a bloody conclusion; instead, it lets you sit in the discomfort and unease of Flora’s world until you’re fully immersed in it.

Overall, Dearest is a must-read for horror fans who appreciate a story that blends psychological terror with supernatural suspense. It’s a haunting exploration of motherhood, identity, and the inescapable fear of losing control. Walters has crafted a novel that sticks with you long after you’ve turned the final page—making you question, as Flora does, what’s real and what’s lurking in the shadows.

For anyone who enjoys horror with psychological depth and an emotionally resonant core, Dearest will not disappoint.