Is 'The Honeys' A Horror Novel?

I just finished reading 'The Honeys' and it definitely falls into horror territory, but with a unique twist. The story starts with eerie vibes—think unsettling summer camp vibes where something feels off from page one. The horror isn't just jump scares; it's psychological, creeping under your skin with disturbing rituals and unnatural behavior from the campers. The author builds tension masterfully, using the setting's isolation to amplify fear. There's body horror too—characters changing in ways that aren't human, and scenes that make you squirm. It's not splatterpunk, but the dread lingers. Fans of 'The Troop' by Nick Cutter or 'The Girls' by Emma Cline would appreciate this blend of social horror and grotesque transformation.

'The Honeys' is a horror novel, but it defies simple categorization. It starts as a coming-of-age story set at a prestigious summer camp, then spirals into something far darker. The horror elements are layered—there's folk horror in the camp's secretive traditions, body horror in the physical transformations, and a constant undercurrent of existential dread. What makes it stand out is how the protagonist's grief intertwines with the horror. Her twin sister's death haunts every page, making the supernatural threats feel deeply personal.

The pacing is deliberate, with the first half focusing on character dynamics before unleashing full terror. The hive imagery is brilliant—both metaphorical (social conformity) and literal (you'll see). The final act goes full cosmic horror, leaving you questioning reality. If you enjoy slow-burn horror with rich symbolism, like 'The Luminous Dead' or 'Mexican Gothic,' this delivers. The writing is lush but unsettling, perfect for readers who want their horror to simmer before boiling over.

Yes, 'The Honeys' is horror—but it's also a sharp critique of privilege and conformity. The camp setting isn't just backdrop; it's a microcosm of elitism, with the titular 'honeys' being the perfect, golden girls who hide something monstrous. The horror works on two levels: the visceral (disgusting insectoid transformations) and the societal (how far people go to belong).

What chilled me most wasn't the gore but the insidious way the camp's hierarchy mirrors real-world toxicity. The protagonist's outsider perspective makes the horror feel claustrophobic. Recommendations? If you liked 'Bunny' by Mona Awad or 'Plain Bad Heroines,' this has that same blend of satire and terror. The prose oscillates between lyrical and brutal, especially in body horror scenes that echo Cronenberg's films.