Review - Until We Drown by Ava Morwood

Until We Drown

Ava Morwood (Alison Littlewood)

HarperNorth, 9 April 2026
Available as: HB, 352pp, audio, e   
Source: Author
ISBN(HB): 9780008724665

I'm grateful to the author for sending me a copy of Until We Drown to consider for review.

At time of writing this review, there is a debate going on (or at least there is if you follow these things) about a Guardian article which seems to be saying that too many horror films are being made. I think the article is basically somebody saying, they don't like horror. This is at the same time, absolutely fine because we all have our likes and dislikes and absolutely not fine if it come from a place that horror is somehow lesser, because that approaches sneering at what other people like, and that's always sad.

I was reminded of this context because reading Until We Drown I was aware that it was horror but I was exercising all kinds of readerly muscles besides the "oooh, scary" set. Sadness. Annoyance at a prickly character. Exasperation (won't you all just TALK to each other!). Worry at where this was going. All the best books do this to me, and it didn't, of course, surprise me in the least. Horror is much, much more than "oh there's a monster/ bloodstained slasher in the cave". Even Scooby-Doo was more than that. 

So, in Until We Drown we have, essentially, a family drama, at the centre of which is the relationship between Ellie and Ethan. Ellie is the narrator, telling us both about her life and her marriage. Ethan appears a bit hapless at first, suffering, like the kids, from being uprooted from a cheerful seaside home to the darker atmosphere - in many ways - of the Peak District, about as far as you can get in England from the sea. That is, until we learn that it's his trespasses that have led to the move. He still sulks, however.

But. But. We also learn that Ellie's drive to get away from the sea goes beyond Ethan's failings, it links to an incident when she was 14 and saw a young boy drown. Ellie's been burdened with guilt ever since, convinced that everyone around her is judging her. Whether or not they are is never clear - what is clear is that nobody ever talked to her about this very traumatic experience, a pattern that repeats in this novel as everyone has secrets from each other, including, eventually, teenage son Zack. (I exclude 4-year old Libby, who couldn't keep a secret to save her life).

So there's already tension between Ellie and Ethan, which Morwood conveys very well, even though it's mostly unspoken, or redirected. You just see little ripples on the surface of the pond, signs of something big and nasty moving in the depths. 

Then things begin to go wrong, in disturbing ways. Libby's whole mermaid obsession rubs her mum up the wrong way, reminding her of Ethan's straying (I should say, these past events are told gradually through chapters headed by"A memory" or "A postcard", so initially the picture isn't clear). Ellie's dismayed to discover that landlocked Derbyshire has plenty of mermaid traditions of its own. Ellie tangles these stories with the mermaid classics - Disney and Hans Christian Anderson - and notes the subtext, the female not allowed a voice, the prince who always gets what he wants. 

Oh, and also, Ellie has a kind of foresight or second sight inherited from her gran, which gives her insights, to a degree, but also sends her down rather frightening rabbit holes as she struggles to understand what is going wrong.

There is, then, an element of the supernatural but - to quote MR James - "We do not know the rules". Ellie has been trying to suppress this uncanny aspect of herself and it's not something she is willing to turn to for help. Indeed that's a running theme here - Ellie is very much alone, she has to work things out for herself, making this book a very stressy two-hander between her and Ethan. (In hindsight, others have been trying to help or at least warn her, but that's missed until the last minutes).

I love books with that composition - a real-life, 21st century mystery built on tangled hopes and fears, with just a dash of the uncanny. Because, really, we are superstitious creatures, prone to see connections between unrelated events, fear retribution for sins and omissions and look for taint in places and people and for bad luck. We are also inclined to bargain, to sit in the doctor's waiting room thinking "oh make this not be serious, make this not serious". All these instincts come out when we are afraid or we lack agency, which is just the situation Ellie is in, and which is the very crux of horror. That is, of nuanced, complex horror. Because nuanced, complex horror is the essence of the world we live in, not crude monsters. (Well, until the crude monsters became billionaires and got control of the world, but you see what I mean).

And nuanced, complex horror is just what Morwood serves up with Until We Drown. It is deeply chilling, heart wrenching at times. You fear for everyone here, threatened on so many levels, and yes, you sense a wickedness at work. It's a mark of the writing though that the precise nature of that wickedness isn't at all clear till the very end, nor how it might be overcome. 

A brilliant read, one I'd strongly recommend. 

(Oh and, yes - spoiler - the dog DOES survive, if that's something you would worry about, as I would).

For more information about Until We Drown, see the publisher's website here.

#Review - The Hollows by Daniel Church

The Hollows
Daniel Church
Angry Robot, 8 November 2022
Available as: PB, 460pp, audio, e  
Source: Advance copy
ISBN(PB): 9781915202383

I'm grateful to Angry Robot for sending me a copy of The Hollows to consider for review.

What. A. Book!

The Hollows takes us to the remote Peak District town of Barsall as midwinter appraoches. For non UK readers, the Peak District is a hilly part of England that is often cut off by snow in winter, a region of beautiful countryside, remote farms and isolated inns.

The author makes full use of that remoteness. As the darkest time of the year approaches, folk horror merges with cosmic horror to create a unique threat which Barsall's resident police constable, Ellie Cheetham, must take on with no backup or support. All communications cut off and with perplexing hints that the terror she confronts may spread wider than just her own town, Ellie is stretched to the limits. And the threat isn't all supernatural, there is one very formidable, very antisocial family in Barsall that regards the season as an opportunity to put itself first - and settle some scores.

I loved the Hollows. It scores highly in so many ways. There are hints of what is to come, and desperate attempt to understand the threat. There's a grimly determined woman at the heart of it all, absolutely set on doing her duty to uphold the peace and protect the vulnerable. There are desperate fights and heartbreaking loss (warning - and I make no apology for spoilers - dogs are involved). There is a satisfying historical mystery aspect that accounts for what's happening. Above all, there's a race against time as it becomes clear what is at stake.

But it's not just all those themes. The writing here is just so tactile and satisfying, blending the high fantastical - glimpses of monsters through the drive snow, cryptic runes, accounts of horror in ancient church records - with the mundane - the personal tragedy that brought Ellie to Barsall, the more or less trustworthy backgrounds of the townsfolk who she will have to depend on, her friendships with Milly, the local doctor and with the no-nonsense vicar who spends her afternoons in the pub drinking whisky and reading paranormal romance. Church is able to turn the story on a sixpence, taking us in a moment from the cosiness of an empty bar, the fire banking down, a single lamp lit, and a glass of whisky on the table to a jarring, utterly incomprehensible threat; or from banter between work colleagues to a threatening house full off potential killers - which nonetheless contains a vulnerable child. He's equally good at conveying the terror of being in a white-out blizzard to the weirdness of a cave system stocked with... no, I won't go there. Spoilers!

I loved how in this book we go from the mode of a normal police procedural - a body is discovered on the hillside, the doctor summoned, photographs taken - to the eruption of the uncanny, via a rising need for improvisation, a rising sense of threat, from a frenzied car chase on bad winter roads to a jealous confrontation, the human inextricably mixed with the monstrous. The book never rests, never gives a moment for the reader to gather their thoughts, before moving us on to another situation, another high-stakes gamble with enemies alternately very human and very alien.

A thoroughly good read, ideal for the cold, dark, nights.

For more information about The Hollows, see the publisher's website here.