Synopsis
Ana and Reid needed a lucky break.
The horrifically complicated birth of their first child has left Ana paralyzed, bitter, and struggling: with mobility, with her relationship with Reid, with resentment for her baby. That’s about to change with the words any New Yorker would love to hear—affordable housing lottery.
They’ve won an apartment in the Deptford, one of Manhattan’s most revered buildings with beautiful vistas of Central Park and stunning architecture.
Reid dismisses disturbing events and Ana’s deep unease and paranoia as the price of living in New York—people are odd—but he can’t explain the needle-like bite marks on the baby.
Review
First and foremost, a big thank you to the folks over at NetGalley for the advanced e-copy!
Nat Cassidy, you’ve done it again. After reading his debut horror novel, Mary: An Awakening of Terror, I felt as though Cassidy gave us a piece of his soul. That particular novel included a very personal foreword and afterword in which he details the specifics of his inspiration for the story and how it is dedicated to his late mother who suffered from multiple sclerosis. I felt like I had been hit by a lightning bolt; not only was Mary a completely enthralling, haunting good time with a well-written female main character, but I too could relate with having a parent with MS. Enter the announcement of Nestlings, and I knew I had to see if lightning would strike twice. It certainly did.
Nestlings is a creature that buries deep beneath your skin only to sink its bloody fangs deep in your system around the last third or so of the novel. Things start out with an already rocky outlook; Reid and Ana have had a remarkable string of misfortune with the struggle to conceive, the loss of Reid’s mother, and the eventual birth of their daughter Charlie which left Ana paralyzed. On top of this, they live in an apartment with an abhorrent landlord only until they learn they have won an affordable housing lottery that grants them the chance to live in the luxurious, historic apartment building, the Deptford. This would seem to be a lucky break until you factor in the apartment’s location on one of the top floors while Ana utilizes a wheelchair. In an effort to turn their luck around themselves, Reid and Ana decide to move anyway, a choice that will irrevocably change the trajectory of not only their lives but their daughter Charlie’s as well.
On the surface, it’s very clear to see the numerous levels of trauma Reid and Ana are dealing with prior to their move to the Deptford. However, the gnarliest of traumas stem from what is unspoken: the city of New York is still reeling from the COVID pandemic, Ana is working through her own postpartum feelings which are compounded by her loss of mobility, Reid is attempting to be the main caretaker of both Ana and Charlie, and Reid and Ana continue to strive to create a better life for themselves amid so much loss. Above all else, Ana and Reid just want to establish some sense of normalcy, some sense of home. Cassidy toys with the saying “know your home” versus “know you’re home,” an idea which still haunts me in the days after reading this story. This most fundamental desire for a place to reside comfortably is the great equalizer in Nestlings, the aspect that every single person can relate to. In relation to this universal yearning, Cassidy’s writing shines as he creates characters who are undeniably authentic. While reading this book, the only word that would continually come to mind was dread. This is simply because I was placed so squarely in Reid and Ana’s (mostly Ana’s) shoes that I couldn’t help but take on the feelings and struggles they faced. Let me just say, I have never in my entire life been more upset about a Home Depot errand (if you read the book, you know).
The struggles that arise once Ana and Reid realize something is terribly wrong in their new abode are the most horrifying strain of terror. This all plays into the “be careful what you wish for” trope that is partially at play in Nestlings, but even more distressing are the conflicts arising between Ana and Reid. Since they are both so solidly written, I felt as though I was holding a front-row seat to watch Mom and Dad fight. This tension and unease that unfurls between the two becomes a monster of its own, an entity separate from the perceived evils that lurk in the halls of the Deptford.
Speaking of the entities that call the Deptford home, Cassidy’s take on “vampires” was so emphatically refreshing. No spoilers to be told here, but I absolutely loved the manner in which the residents of the Deptford were unveiled. The mystery behind their origins and what new fresh hell is plaguing Ana and Reid’s small family really propelled the plot forward at an accelerated pace. Here again, Cassidy injects more of himself by centering these revelations on Jewish roots. Around the last third of the book, a certain chain of events really allows the story to take flight (please pardon the bird pun). The construction of this narrative generates little to no room for the possibility of any semblance of a peaceful conclusion. Worry not, the ending of this story is everything.
Beyond plot devices and literary techniques used, Nestlings is another piece of personal horror fiction from Cassidy. In the afterword, he outlines the personal tragedies he’s endured in the last few years which have made their way into his novel. In my eyes, there’s something tremendous to be said for turning so much pain and suffering into some form of art and then making the conscious choice to share that art with others. The authenticity of Cassidy’s works is more than apparent because of this. It is the reason Ana and Reid feel so real; their problems are our own. If I’m being candid, it is why I love reading horror. Another human being sharing their fears, their vulnerabilities, with the world is in and of itself inherently frightening. But when the result is books like Mary and Nestlings, you can’t lose.
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