Literature & Fiction
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Wilder Girls
A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER!
"The perfect kind of story for our current era."-Hypable
From the author of Burn Our Bodies Down, a feminist Lord of the Flies about three best friends living in quarantine at their island boarding school, and the lengths they go to uncover the truth of their confinement when one disappears. This fresh debut is a mind-bending novel unlike anything you've read before.
It's been eighteen months since the Raxter School for Girls was put under quarantine. Since the Tox hit and pulled Hetty's life out from under her.
It started slow. First the teachers died one by one. Then it began to infect the students, turning their bodies strange and foreign. Now, cut off from the rest of the world and left to fend for themselves on their island home, the girls don't dare wander outside the school's fence, where the Tox has made the woods wild and dangerous. They wait for the cure they were promised as the Tox seeps into everything.
But when Byatt goes missing, Hetty will do anything to find her, even if it means breaking quarantine and braving the horrors that lie beyond the fence. And when she does, Hetty learns that there's more to their story, to their life at Raxter, than she could have ever thought true.
And don't miss Rory Power's second novel, Burn Our Bodies Down!
Praise for Wilder Girls:
4 STARRED REVIEWS!
"Take Annihilation, add a dash of Contagion, set it at an all-girls' academy, and you'll arrive at Rory Power's occasionally shocking and always gripping Wilder Girls."--Refinery29
"This thrilling saga...is sure to be one of the season's most talked-about books, in any genre."--EW
"Fresh and horrible and beautiful....readers will be consumed and altered by Wilder Girls."--NPR
"The perfect kind of story for our current era."-Hypable
From the author of Burn Our Bodies Down, a feminist Lord of the Flies about three best friends living in quarantine at their island boarding school, and the lengths they go to uncover the truth of their confinement when one disappears. This fresh debut is a mind-bending novel unlike anything you've read before.
It's been eighteen months since the Raxter School for Girls was put under quarantine. Since the Tox hit and pulled Hetty's life out from under her.
It started slow. First the teachers died one by one. Then it began to infect the students, turning their bodies strange and foreign. Now, cut off from the rest of the world and left to fend for themselves on their island home, the girls don't dare wander outside the school's fence, where the Tox has made the woods wild and dangerous. They wait for the cure they were promised as the Tox seeps into everything.
But when Byatt goes missing, Hetty will do anything to find her, even if it means breaking quarantine and braving the horrors that lie beyond the fence. And when she does, Hetty learns that there's more to their story, to their life at Raxter, than she could have ever thought true.
And don't miss Rory Power's second novel, Burn Our Bodies Down!
Praise for Wilder Girls:
4 STARRED REVIEWS!
"Take Annihilation, add a dash of Contagion, set it at an all-girls' academy, and you'll arrive at Rory Power's occasionally shocking and always gripping Wilder Girls."--Refinery29
"This thrilling saga...is sure to be one of the season's most talked-about books, in any genre."--EW
"Fresh and horrible and beautiful....readers will be consumed and altered by Wilder Girls."--NPR
Editorial Reviews
A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER!
A New York Public Library Best Book of the Year
★ "Power's evocative, haunting, and occasionally gruesome debut will challenge readers to ignore its bewitching presence." -Booklist, starred review
★ "This gritty, lush debut chronicling psychological and environmental tipping points...weaves a chilling narrative that disrupts readers' expectations through an expertly crafted, slow-burn reveal of the deadly consequences of climate change....Part survival thriller, part post-apocalyptic romance, and part ecocritical feminist manifesto, a staggering gut punch of a book." -Kirkus Reviews, starred review
★ "An ode to empowering women and a testament to the strength of female bonds....Far more than just an unsettling horror story, this powerful debut novel about a strange disease at an all-girls boarding school explores female empowerment, friendship and survival with tenacity and brilliance." -Shelf Awareness, starred review
★ "Electric prose, compelling relationships, and visceral horror illuminate Power's incisive debut...[and its] environmental and feminist themes are resonant, particularly the immeasurable costs of experimentation on female bodies, and the power of female solidarity and resilience amid ecological and political turmoil." -Publishers Weekly, starred review
"Tightly coiled narration moves between quietly reserved to vividly but coldly detailed, doubling the horror." -Bulletin
"Your new favorite book." -Cosmopolitan
"Everything about this thrilling, unnerving debut will make you want to immediately read it. For fans of Mindy McGinnis and Gillian French." -Paste
"Wilder Girls is so sharp and packs so much emotion in such wise ways. I'm convinced we're about to witness the emergence of a major new literary star." -Jeff VanderMeer, author of the New York Times bestseller Annihilation
"Wilder Girls is the bold, imaginative, emotionally wrenching horror novel of my dreams-one that celebrates the resilience of girls and the earthshaking power of their friendships. An eerie, unforgettable triumph." -Claire Legrand, New York Times bestselling author of Furyborn
"A nightmarish survival story that's as much literary fiction as it is young adult...I couldn't look away." -Casey McQuiston, New York Times bestselling author of Red, White, and Royal Blue...
A New York Public Library Best Book of the Year
★ "Power's evocative, haunting, and occasionally gruesome debut will challenge readers to ignore its bewitching presence." -Booklist, starred review
★ "This gritty, lush debut chronicling psychological and environmental tipping points...weaves a chilling narrative that disrupts readers' expectations through an expertly crafted, slow-burn reveal of the deadly consequences of climate change....Part survival thriller, part post-apocalyptic romance, and part ecocritical feminist manifesto, a staggering gut punch of a book." -Kirkus Reviews, starred review
★ "An ode to empowering women and a testament to the strength of female bonds....Far more than just an unsettling horror story, this powerful debut novel about a strange disease at an all-girls boarding school explores female empowerment, friendship and survival with tenacity and brilliance." -Shelf Awareness, starred review
★ "Electric prose, compelling relationships, and visceral horror illuminate Power's incisive debut...[and its] environmental and feminist themes are resonant, particularly the immeasurable costs of experimentation on female bodies, and the power of female solidarity and resilience amid ecological and political turmoil." -Publishers Weekly, starred review
"Tightly coiled narration moves between quietly reserved to vividly but coldly detailed, doubling the horror." -Bulletin
"Your new favorite book." -Cosmopolitan
"Everything about this thrilling, unnerving debut will make you want to immediately read it. For fans of Mindy McGinnis and Gillian French." -Paste
"Wilder Girls is so sharp and packs so much emotion in such wise ways. I'm convinced we're about to witness the emergence of a major new literary star." -Jeff VanderMeer, author of the New York Times bestseller Annihilation
"Wilder Girls is the bold, imaginative, emotionally wrenching horror novel of my dreams-one that celebrates the resilience of girls and the earthshaking power of their friendships. An eerie, unforgettable triumph." -Claire Legrand, New York Times bestselling author of Furyborn
"A nightmarish survival story that's as much literary fiction as it is young adult...I couldn't look away." -Casey McQuiston, New York Times bestselling author of Red, White, and Royal Blue...
Readers Top Reviews
whatkayliereads
So I decided to take part in the Rainbow Readers BC this month which kicked off with Wilder Girls. I was soooo excited to read this because it's YA, LQBTQ+ friendly, and a thriller, all of which I'm a big fan of. But this just didn't hit the mark for me. I don't know if it's because I'm a bit older now, but I don't seem to enjoy YA books the way I used to. The characters in this book, for me, didn't have enough depth. I wanted to know more about their past. I wanted to know more about The Tox. I wanted their relationships with each other to have more depth too. Don't get me wrong, I pretty much read this in one sitting and I did enjoy it while reading it but it felt like it was building up to something great, and it was so easy to read which was a nice change of pace from Outlander and Battle Royale which I've read previously.. but this just fell flat for me. EDIT: It's been over a week now since I finished it and I STILL keep thinking about how much I enjoyed it and in loving reading theories on it so I'm increasing my rating from 3.5/5 to a solid 4/5 so don't @ me.
El H
The way that Rory Power writes is addictive. I knew without hesitation that I was going to want to read more from her. The prose is lyrical and beautiful, and it draws you in, even when discussing gore and body horror. Everything was so vivid, and it made every chapter and twist emotive as hell. I felt like I was on the island with them, looking out at the woods and hearing footsteps down the halls of the school. The book focuses on three main girls: Hetty, Byatt and Reece. They were nothing like I expected, and I loved them more for that. All three of them were ‘flawed’, and who the hell wouldn’t be? I think we can all identify a little right now with being stuck in a quarantine, no idea when it might end, and imagining being stuck away from any communication, information or food? I wouldn’t be worrying about manners. The flaws they faced, one passive, one violent and the last impulsive and dishonest. They’re real, human flaws, and it made me feel like those characters were real. I also loved that their decision making wasn’t based on heroism. At no point were these girls trying to save the world, or their island, or even their fellow students. They were out to save each other, a team that included only Hetty, Byatt and Reece. It felt selfish and true that after all the hell they’ve been through, they would be so defensive. The romance between Hetty and Reece was subtle but lovely, and I liked that it wasn’t prioritised over everything else happening. The plot was ridiculously engaging. From the start you suspect that something isn’t quite right, but it wasn’t until a good two-thirds of the way through that the book let you put the clues you had together and find the right answer. It made me feel even more connected with the characters, like I was on the island with them and trying furiously to work out who I could trust – and no wonder they decided they could only trust each other.
G. NobleMD
For almost two years, the Raxter School for Girls has been cut off, quarantined from the mainland due to the Tox. It either kills you or physically changes your body - giving you an extra spine or your hand becomes covered in silver scales. Even the animals on the island have been affected (cannibal deer, for one). Most of the teachers have died and the remaining girls are left with just two adults who organise them into working groups such as Gun Shift (protection), and Boat Shift (they retrieve the food and other supplies left each week). When one of three close friends goes missing, the other two break the rules to find her. The story is told from the alternating viewpoints of Hetty and Byatt, BFFs with a third friend, Reese, involved in the plot. I had high hopes upon reading the first half, but I think it lost its way in the second half, and the conclusion was a bit of a disappointment. I expected something a bit darker to have been going on and I didn't feel as if enough had been adequately explained. I'm hoping there may be a sequel to go more into what was behind the quarantine. TW: violence, animal death, sickness, self-harm.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Something. Way out in the white-dark. Between the trees, moving where the thickets swarm. You can see it from the roof, the way the brush bends around it as it rustles to the ocean.
That size, it must be a coyote, one of the big ones hitting shoulder high. Teeth that fit like knives in the palm of my hand. I know because I found one once, the end of it just poking through the fence. Took it back and hid it under my bed.
One more crash through the brush and then the stillness again. Across the roof deck Byatt lowers her gun, rests it on the railing. Road clear.
I keep mine up, just in case, keep the sight raised to my left eye. My other eye's dead, gone dark in a flare-up. Lid fused shut, something growing underneath.
It's like that, with all of us here. Sick, strange, and we don't know why. Things bursting out of us, bits missing and pieces sloughing off, and then we harden and smooth over.
Through the sight, noon sun bleaching the world, I can see the woods stretching out to the island's edge, the ocean beyond. Pines bristling thick like always, rising high above the house. Here and there, gaps where the oak and birch have shed their leaves, but most of the canopy is woven tight, needles stiff with frost. Only the radio antenna breaking through, useless now the signal's out.
Up the road someone yells, and out of the trees, there's Boat Shift coming home. It's only a few who can make the trip, all the way across the island to where the Navy delivers rations and clothes at the pier the ferries used to come and go from. The rest of us stay behind the fence, pray they make it home safe.
The tallest, Ms. Welch, stops at the gate and fumbles with the lock until at last, the gate swings open, and Boat Shift come stumbling in, cheeks red from the cold. All three of them back and all three of them bent under the weight of the cans and the meats and the sugar cubes. Welch turns to shut the gate behind her. Barely five years past the oldest of us, she's the youngest of the teachers. Before this she lived on our hall and looked the other way when somebody missed curfew. Now she counts us every morning to make sure nobody's died in the night.
She waves to give the all clear, and Byatt waves back. I'm gate. Byatt's road. Sometimes we switch, but my eye doesn't do well looking far, so it never lasts. Either way I'm still a better shot than half the girls who could take my place.
The last Boat girl steps under the porch and out of sight, and that's the end of our shift. Unload the rifles. Stick the casings in the box for the next girl. Slip one in your pocket, just in case.
The roof slopes gently away from the flattop deck, third floor to second. From there we swing over the edge and through the open window into the house. It was harder in the skirts and socks we used to wear, something in us still telling us to keep our knees closed. That was a long time ago. Now, in our ragged jeans, there's nothing to mind.
Byatt climbs in behind me, leaving another set of scuff marks on the window ledge. She pushes her hair over one shoulder. Straight, like mine, and a bright living brown. And clean. Even when there's no bread, there's always shampoo.
"What'd you see?" she asks me. I shrug. "Nothing."
Breakfast wasn't much, and I'm feeling the shake of hunger in my limbs. I know Byatt is too, so we're quick as we head downstairs for lunch, to the main floor, to the hall, with its big high ceilings. Scarred, tilting tables; a fireplace; and tall-backed couches, stuffing ripped out to burn for warmth. And us, full of us, humming and alive.
There were about a hundred girls when it started, and twenty teachers. All together we filled both wings off the old house. These days we only need one.
The Boat girls come banging through the front doors, letting their bags drop, and there's a scramble for the food. They send us cans, mostly, and sometimes packs of dried jerky. Barely ever anything fresh, never enough for everyone, and on an average day, meals are just Welch in the kitchen, unlocking the storage closet and parceling out the smallest rations you ever saw. But today's a delivery day, new supplies come home on the backs of the Boat Shift girls, and that means Welch and Headmistress keep their hands clean and let us fight for one thing each.
Byatt and me, though, we don't have to fight. Reese is right by the door, and she drags a bag off to the side for us. If it were somebody else, people would mind, but it's Reese-left hand with its sharp, scaled fingers-so everyone keeps quiet.
She was one of the last to get sick. I thought maybe it had missed her, maybe she was safe, and then they started. The scales, each a shifting sort of silver, unfolding out of her skin like they were comin...
That size, it must be a coyote, one of the big ones hitting shoulder high. Teeth that fit like knives in the palm of my hand. I know because I found one once, the end of it just poking through the fence. Took it back and hid it under my bed.
One more crash through the brush and then the stillness again. Across the roof deck Byatt lowers her gun, rests it on the railing. Road clear.
I keep mine up, just in case, keep the sight raised to my left eye. My other eye's dead, gone dark in a flare-up. Lid fused shut, something growing underneath.
It's like that, with all of us here. Sick, strange, and we don't know why. Things bursting out of us, bits missing and pieces sloughing off, and then we harden and smooth over.
Through the sight, noon sun bleaching the world, I can see the woods stretching out to the island's edge, the ocean beyond. Pines bristling thick like always, rising high above the house. Here and there, gaps where the oak and birch have shed their leaves, but most of the canopy is woven tight, needles stiff with frost. Only the radio antenna breaking through, useless now the signal's out.
Up the road someone yells, and out of the trees, there's Boat Shift coming home. It's only a few who can make the trip, all the way across the island to where the Navy delivers rations and clothes at the pier the ferries used to come and go from. The rest of us stay behind the fence, pray they make it home safe.
The tallest, Ms. Welch, stops at the gate and fumbles with the lock until at last, the gate swings open, and Boat Shift come stumbling in, cheeks red from the cold. All three of them back and all three of them bent under the weight of the cans and the meats and the sugar cubes. Welch turns to shut the gate behind her. Barely five years past the oldest of us, she's the youngest of the teachers. Before this she lived on our hall and looked the other way when somebody missed curfew. Now she counts us every morning to make sure nobody's died in the night.
She waves to give the all clear, and Byatt waves back. I'm gate. Byatt's road. Sometimes we switch, but my eye doesn't do well looking far, so it never lasts. Either way I'm still a better shot than half the girls who could take my place.
The last Boat girl steps under the porch and out of sight, and that's the end of our shift. Unload the rifles. Stick the casings in the box for the next girl. Slip one in your pocket, just in case.
The roof slopes gently away from the flattop deck, third floor to second. From there we swing over the edge and through the open window into the house. It was harder in the skirts and socks we used to wear, something in us still telling us to keep our knees closed. That was a long time ago. Now, in our ragged jeans, there's nothing to mind.
Byatt climbs in behind me, leaving another set of scuff marks on the window ledge. She pushes her hair over one shoulder. Straight, like mine, and a bright living brown. And clean. Even when there's no bread, there's always shampoo.
"What'd you see?" she asks me. I shrug. "Nothing."
Breakfast wasn't much, and I'm feeling the shake of hunger in my limbs. I know Byatt is too, so we're quick as we head downstairs for lunch, to the main floor, to the hall, with its big high ceilings. Scarred, tilting tables; a fireplace; and tall-backed couches, stuffing ripped out to burn for warmth. And us, full of us, humming and alive.
There were about a hundred girls when it started, and twenty teachers. All together we filled both wings off the old house. These days we only need one.
The Boat girls come banging through the front doors, letting their bags drop, and there's a scramble for the food. They send us cans, mostly, and sometimes packs of dried jerky. Barely ever anything fresh, never enough for everyone, and on an average day, meals are just Welch in the kitchen, unlocking the storage closet and parceling out the smallest rations you ever saw. But today's a delivery day, new supplies come home on the backs of the Boat Shift girls, and that means Welch and Headmistress keep their hands clean and let us fight for one thing each.
Byatt and me, though, we don't have to fight. Reese is right by the door, and she drags a bag off to the side for us. If it were somebody else, people would mind, but it's Reese-left hand with its sharp, scaled fingers-so everyone keeps quiet.
She was one of the last to get sick. I thought maybe it had missed her, maybe she was safe, and then they started. The scales, each a shifting sort of silver, unfolding out of her skin like they were comin...
