Rating: ★★★☆☆ (3/5)
Alaina Urquhart’s The Butcher and the Wren enters the crowded field of true crime–inspired thrillers with a premise that promises chills and forensic authenticity. As the co-host of the popular Morbid podcast, Urquhart brings her real-life experience as an autopsy technician to the page, creating a world filled with morgue details and medical precision that could only come from someone who’s lived it. Unfortunately, while the book delivers on atmosphere and pace, it stumbles in execution and depth.
The story unfolds in the steamy, shadowed Louisiana bayou, where a calculating serial killer known as “The Butcher” leaves a trail of bodies behind. Dr. Wren Muller, a forensic pathologist with unmatched expertise, is drawn into a dangerous cat-and-mouse chase to stop him before he strikes again. Told from alternating perspectives Wren’s analytical mind and the killer’s chilling inner thoughts the novel attempts to explore both sides of obsession, morality, and darkness.
From the first few chapters, Urquhart captures attention with a gripping, cinematic setup. One early scene in particular, described with visceral tension, immediately pulls the reader into the horror of The Butcher’s crimes. Short, punchy chapters keep the pace brisk, ideal for readers who enjoy rapid-fire storytelling. The inclusion of true crime facts scattered throughout the narrative also adds a touch of realism that fans of the genre will appreciate.
However, the writing itself often feels uneven. While the author’s medical knowledge shines, her prose can be clumsy and repetitive, with overworked descriptions and awkward phrasing that disrupt the immersion. Several readers have noted sentences that feel unpolished or grammatically off, giving the impression that the manuscript could have benefited from more rigorous editing.
Characterization is another weak point. Wren, the protagonist, is introduced as a brilliant expert, but her personality comes across as self-satisfied and underdeveloped. We rarely glimpse the emotional or psychological depth that might make her compelling. Similarly, The Butcher’s motives remain murky, and despite Urquhart’s attempt to explore his psyche, he ends up reading more like a trope than a fully realized villain. The supporting characters particularly the police officers serve mainly as plot devices to move scenes along.
The setting, ostensibly New Orleans and its surrounding swamps, feels disappointingly superficial. Despite the potential richness of the location, the book relies on clichés Tarot readers, oppressive humidity, voodoo mystique rather than an authentic sense of place. It’s surprising, then, to learn that Urquhart has never actually been to New Orleans, and this lack of firsthand familiarity shows.
The plot’s structure builds toward a shocking twist, which genuinely surprises and reinvigorates the story. Yet, just as momentum builds, the ending cuts off abruptly, clearly leaving space for a sequel. This cliffhanger may entice some readers to continue, but others might feel unsatisfied by the lack of closure.
Ultimately, The Butcher and the Wren is a mixed bag. It’s a quick, gory thriller with a promising premise and plenty of cinematic potential, but it falls short of its full promise due to uneven writing, thin character work, and an overreliance on genre stereotypes. For fans of true crime and fast-paced serial killer stories, it may scratch the itch but those seeking more refined prose or psychological complexity might be left wanting.
If you’re curious to experience this dark debut for yourself, you can find The Butcher and the Wren on Amazon here: Buy the book on Amazon.
