Set in the rolling fells of Cumbria, The Lamb is a book rife with body horror and cannibalism. Perhaps the last thing you would expect of this book is for it to be boring, and yet, it was.
From the outset, the book plunged headfirst into gore, beginning with the unsettling image of severed fingers in a bathtub. While this makes for a rather compelling and attention-grabbing opening, it ultimately worked against the book as a whole, making the repeated images of cannibalism lose their shock value. If body horror is normalised from page one, then it leaves no space to progress and build tension.
The lack of real narrative progression culminated in this book being a painfully slow read. My patience was not even rewarded by a striking ending since the final twist was obvious from a mile off. The writing itself was not bad, but it was the narrative that truly let The Lamb down.
The only redeeming quality of this book was its use of metaphor and its exploration of the themes of consumption, motherhood, and sexuality. It presented an intriguing and unique exploration of the experience of being a mother however, I felt it somewhat lacking in its exploration of the experience of being a child despite it being from the perspective of a daughter. Adding that to the fact that I found few of the characters truly likeable, it became difficult to connect to the story in any way.
I must admit, it was not the worst book I have ever read, but the hype I had heard for it online left me bitterly disappointed by the predictable, slow, and overall boring narrative. It’s undeniable that the concept has real potential, but I believe it would do much better if it was distilled down to a punchy, shocking short story.