
They say madness comes in many forms, but in Victorian Psycho, it wears lace gloves, and tells bedtime stories.
Reading this felt like a breath of fresh, dusty Victorian air, where the protagonist, Winifred Notty, says what she thinks and does what she wants, with zero regard for how society expects a woman to behave. It reminded me of Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder, where sanity slips slowly, unapologetically, and becomes something wild and unrecognizable.
Winifred arrives at Ensor House prepared to play the part of the proper governess. But between tutoring the disturbingly polite children, sidestepping the grotesquely repressed Pounds family, and gently tormenting the house staff, her grip on reality unlaces. What begins as prim turns perverse with funny, sharp, and deeply unsettling undertone.
Virginia Feito doesn’t just craft a psychological thriller, she stages a gothic rebellion. This isn’t just a woman losing her mind. It’s a clapback to an era where women were institutionalized for being too emotional, too opinionated, too alive. Where ‘hysteria’ was diagnosed like a seasonal cold, and hysterectomies were prescribed to cure passion.
Victorian Psycho is not just gorgeously macabre in a way it’s liberating. And I adored every unhinged minute of it.
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