A wonderfully atmospheric and deeply unsettling novel, full of images so vivid they seem to leap off the page. Worsley's fiction is something to savour
A rich, wonderfully uneasy pleasure. Exquisitely written and deeply original, with secrets that are tightly layered, always surprising and teased out with impressive control
Kate Worsley has a wonderfully fertile imagination. She writes for the senses: the touch of soil; the taste of a home remedy; the whiff of decay. Her wily prose curls around the story she is telling, like a creeper
Beguiling, and written with a piercing eye for style. It burrows under the surface of the rural idyll, exposing a shadowy hinterland
A spellbinding evocation of the rural uncanny. In deceptively sensual prose Kate Worsley eviscerates the idyll of the smallholding and lays bare the vicious desperation of characters pitted against the elements and themselves
I loved the brooding suspense of Foxash - both the unspoken and the fear of speaking dominate its claustrophobic setting. Worsley takes us into a revelatory and revisionist corner of the Twentieth Century.
With slow, quiet intent Kate Worsley builds a tense atmosphere of looming horror. This book demands to be savoured, even as it clamours to be devoured
Foxash almost pulses with the force of its telling; the prose is lush, with a feverish, seething, darkly erotic edge. All that ripens, soon rots, and what rots must be hidden. What a story Worsley has conjured