Nestlings by Nat Cassidy

A book review graphic from Wondered Pages features the cover of Nestlings by Nat Cassidy. The book cover shows a dark, eerie gargoyle-like creature with wings perched on a ledge above a skull, with a city skyline in the background. Around the book are arrows pointing to keywords: "Vampires," "Urban Horror," "Motherhood," "Deception," and "Paranoia." The rating shown is 2 out of 5 stars. The bottom of the image includes the website wondered-pages.com and a small "Book Club" graphic in the corner. The background is a soft pastel gradient.

I picked up Nestlings for a book club read, and it was my first official foray into the horror genre. Usually, I gravitate toward romance and fantasy, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I came into it open-mindedly but quickly became frustrated with the characters, pacing, and lack of actual scares. It didn’t give me chills. It just left me puzzled.

Ana and Reid move into the mysterious Deptford building in New York City after the traumatic birth of their child leaves Ana paralyzed. While Ana struggles with postpartum depression and resentment, eerie things start happening, culminating in strange bite marks on their baby. The more Ana pushes for answers, the more it seems like something ancient and sinister is lurking in the walls of the building.

Nat Cassidy’s writing attempts to balance psychological horror with urban legend vibes, but the tone never quite lands. Instead of creeping dread, much of the book felt like a chaotic blend of body horror and melodrama. While the creature lore was inventive, the pacing dragged, and the emotional beats felt unearned.

The book tries to explore postpartum depression, caregiving, disability, gender roles, and existential dread. Those themes didn’t feel authentic to me. Ana’s inner turmoil was less compelling and more self-pitying, especially when paired with a backstory that didn’t align with her present motivations. The theme of being “trapped” physically, emotionally, and supernaturally was clearer but still muddled by inconsistent character choices.

Ana was difficult to connect with, and her resentment toward motherhood felt underdeveloped and contradictory. It didn’t make sense that someone so convinced she’d be a bad mother would pursue intense fertility treatments. Reid’s character was even more frustrating because he was a grown man with Peter Pan syndrome who was too busy simping for a vampire to protect his family. On the other hand, Camilla was by far the most intriguing character in the book. Her mystery, charisma, and dual life as a vampiric Hollywood figure made her someone I wanted to know more about.

The Deptford building had the potential to be a genuinely eerie, character-rich setting. It had hidden histories, weird neighbors, and monstrous secrets. It never became the fully immersive gothic setting I wanted. The vampires were a creative, grotesque twist on the myth, with their Capri Sun-style feeding tubes and batlike aging. The whole thing felt more like a conspiracy thriller than a horror story.

“Grief is the space between two states of being: who you were and who you are.”

“Adulthood was all about compromises, wasn’t it? You decide what you need, what you want, and shift your priorities around until you find the least bad combination. Each compromise was a link in a chain, and if that chain dragged you down to the bottom of the East River? Well … at least you had Netflix and Spotify to distract you while you sank.”

“I think Healing begins when you finally recognize there is no moving on. Only moving forward. You don’t actually leave anything behind. You carry it with you.”

  • The reimagined vampire lore was disgusting and different in a compelling way.
  • Camilla and her friends had a rich, gothic energy I wish had been the story’s center.
  • I appreciated the attempt to blend body horror with emotional trauma, even if it didn’t hit me.
  • Ana and Reid were both insufferable in their own ways.
  • The book wasn’t scary or creepy. It was more confusing and drawn out.
  • There are so many unexplained or half-baked elements: Frank’s return, the skinned dog creature, the vague feeding rules, Charlie’s fate, the glue substance, and the vampire ethics.
  • The ending was anticlimactic and too sanitized for a horror novel.

I can see why horror fans might find something to appreciate here, but for me, it didn’t hit. I found myself siding with the vampires more than the protagonists, which probably wasn’t the goal. I wouldn’t recommend this one unless you’re a die-hard horror reader who enjoys messy metaphors and experimental monster lore.

Did Nestlings creep you out or bore you as it did me? What did you think of the vampire lore? Would you have sided with Camilla or Ana?

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