Secluded in the forest, Margot and Mama live in a decaying cottage. Whenever a stranger or stray stumbles upon their home, Mama warmly welcomes them in with a yellow-toothed smile. But what the strays come to discover is that their hostess has an insatiable appetite, and they are the only meat that will satisfy her hunger. When a woman appears at their door — one unlike any previous stray — Margot is faced with change and growing pains.
Written by debut novelist Lucy Rose, “The Lamb” follows a young girl as she struggles to gain independence and individuality in her sheltered and abusive household. Margot has always known two things: she must stay quiet and out of the way, and that she is just like Mama, cut from the same cloth. But as she begins to disobey one, she realizes the other may not be so true.
Rose’s novel is horrifying and twisted yet also poetic and beautiful, portraying daughterhood and toxic motherhood in the form of a gothic folktale. Despite the element of fantasy, Rose familiarly depicts the coming-of-age challenges that children experience, especially those who have complicated relationships with their own parents.
Margot’s innocence stands in stark contrast to the dark nature of the novel, a contrast that is made shockingly obvious from the first line as she recalls a memory from her fourth birthday — plucking severed fingers from her shower drain — in gruesome detail. She recollects the strays that the fingers had previously belonged to, what they looked like and how they behaved in their final moments.
It is easy to sympathize with and root for Margot, who yearns for maternal love but in turn is viewed as a burden by Mama. She carries a daughter’s desire to have her own mind and defy the expectations that are set before her. The most telling manifestation of Margot’s naivety, though, is her desperation to snare and hold her mother’s praise and attention, regardless of the neglect she faces. She craves a warm, loving smile, as all children do, but from Mama she only ever receives a cold and rotten one.
Rose encapsulates Margot’s youthfulness by keeping her writing simple and almost juvenile. Margot’s thoughts are unembellished and relayed straightforwardly. This writing style serves as a continuous reminder of how horrific and sad Margot’s situation is. It is clear from the start that Margot, with an unsettling presence and possessing a hunger unlike any other, is different from her peers at school — and she knows it. Yet by constructing Margot as an innocent character, trusting of Mama and perceiving her grim circumstances as normal, Rose creates an overwhelming sense of empathy for Margot — so much so that I couldn’t help but worry that she wouldn’t make it out of everything free and unscathed.
Although Mama is extremely flawed, punishing Margot when she is anything except silent and obedient, Rose allows her to experience the same struggles of motherhood that many others do. There are multiple instances in which she mentions her disgust for the unattainable standards of perfection that mothers are expected to adhere to, as well as the blatantly ignored fact that they are their own people outside of motherhood. It is hard for her to come to terms with Margot’s developing individuality after the sacrifices she believes she’s made for them both, leading to resentment toward her daughter.
At the same time, however, I found myself wishing that Rose had provided more depth and insight into Mama as a character and her relationship with Eden — the stray who turns Mama and Margot’s world upside down. That being said, while I felt that Mama and Eden could have been further flushed out, their depiction as pure evil through Margot’s eyes only served to amplify Margot’s childish perspective, despite flattening the complexities of the two women.
Rose deliberately captures the essence of these realistic obstacles with thrilling prose, making it surprisingly easy to relate to either character in spite of the terrifying ways in which they handle their problems. She explores just how far mothers and daughters are willing to go in the pursuit of breaking away from one another and into their own identities, questioning whether or not loving your own blood comes naturally.
Whether you are a mother, a daughter, a fan of folk horror or just interested in a heartbreaking tale of girlhood and selfhood — with a healthy dose of cannibalism on the side — “The Lamb” is sure to tug at your heart (and place it on a dinner plate).
Daily Arts Contributor Meagan Ismail can be reached at mismai@umich.edu.
