In Elizabeth Rose Quinn’s debut novel “Follow Me,” the glossy world of mommy influencers becomes a blood-soaked battlefield where likes, followers, and brand sponsorships are worth killing for. Part social media satire, part slasher horror, Quinn delivers a wickedly entertaining but uneven thriller that takes aim at the commodification of motherhood in the digital age.
The premise is deliciously dark: Adrienne Shaw’s twin sister Chiara disappears after attending an exclusive “CoMOMunity Style Summit” for Instagram mothers. After a year with no answers from authorities, Adrienne—a substance-abusing, commitment-phobic disaster—infiltrates the next summit by posing as a mother herself. What she discovers is a cultish retreat where perfect mothers with picture-perfect lives harbor murderous secrets beneath their Valencia filters.
The Good: Sharp Social Commentary with Teeth
Quinn excels at skewering the absurdity of influencer culture with precision and bite. The novel’s greatest strength lies in its unflinching examination of how motherhood has become yet another performance to be monetized online:
- The obsessive documentation of childhood moments not for memory but for engagement metrics
- The competitive crafting and seasonal decorating that turns domestic life into content creation
- The relentless pressure to appear effortlessly perfect while hiding the struggles of actual parenting
The summit itself is brilliantly conceived—a weekend retreat on an isolated ranch where mothers compete in team-building exercises, learn to create “Gorgeous Gourds” table settings, and confess their motherhood “failures” in ritualistic sharing circles. The novel’s villain, Thea McCorckle, embodies the dark heart of influencer culture: a charismatic leader who has built an empire on the insecurities of women desperate for community and validation.
The Bad: Uneven Pacing and Tonal Shifts
Where “Follow Me” by Elizabeth Rose Quinn stumbles is in its pacing and tonal consistency. The first half of the novel plays as a darkly comic satire, with Adrienne’s cynical observations about the mommy influencers providing genuine laughs. However, the second half accelerates into a blood-soaked slasher that—while entertaining—sometimes veers into territory so over-the-top it undermines the sharper social commentary.
The final act, in which Adrienne faces off against multiple murderous mothers in increasingly improbable ways, sacrifices some of the book’s earlier psychological tension for splashy violence. While this pivot to full-blown horror might appeal to genre fans, it occasionally feels at odds with the more nuanced examination of motherhood and social media addiction established earlier.
The Characters: A Mixed Bag
Quinn has created a compelling protagonist in Adrienne—flawed, bitter, but ultimately determined to find her sister at any cost. Her complicated relationship with Chiara, shown through flashbacks, provides emotional weight to her mission. Their sisterly bond, fraught with resentments yet unbreakable, forms the emotional core of the novel.
The supporting cast varies in effectiveness:
- Thea McCorckle: A deliciously evil villain whose perfect exterior masks sociopathic tendencies
- The Mom Squad: While initially distinctive (the fitness mom, the homesteader, the couponing expert), they sometimes blur together as obstacles rather than fully realized characters
- Bernice: A standout character whose apparent authenticity amid the fakery provides the novel’s most surprising twist
Where the characterization falters is in the treatment of some peripheral characters, particularly the Summit attendees who sometimes read as identical, indistinguishable followers rather than individuals. This may be intentional satire about conformity, but it occasionally flattens what could be a richer exploration of why women are drawn to these communities.
The Writing: Pulpy and Propulsive
Quinn’s prose is snappy and accessible, moving the plot forward with efficient dialogue and vivid descriptions. She has a gift for capturing the specific language of mommy influencers—the cutesy hashtags, the faux vulnerability, the sanitized struggles—with deadly accuracy.
Particularly effective are the flashback sequences that establish the complicated bond between Adrienne and Chiara, showing how their lives diverged when Chiara embraced motherhood while Adrienne continued her self-destructive patterns. These quieter moments give emotional resonance to what could otherwise be a straightforward revenge thriller.
The novel’s strongest passages come when Quinn explores the genuine isolation of motherhood that drives women to seek community online. In one poignant scene, a group of mothers scream their rage into the night, acknowledging the fury that bubbles beneath their perfectly composed Instagram captions—a moment that cuts through the satire to something painfully real.
The Verdict: A Flawed but Fascinating Debut
“Follow Me” by Elizabeth Rose Quinn isn’t perfect. Its tonal shifts can be jarring, some plot developments strain credulity, and the final confrontation might leave readers who preferred the subtler social commentary feeling alienated. At times, the novel seems unsure whether it wants to be a psychological thriller or a splatter-fest.
Yet, there’s something undeniably compelling about Quinn’s dark vision. In an era where everyone is curating their personal brand online, “Follow Me” asks unsettling questions about authenticity, the commodification of identity, and the dangerous lengths people will go to protect their carefully constructed image.
For readers who can embrace both the novel’s satirical bite and its eventual pivot to Grand Guignol horror, “Follow Me” delivers a thrilling ride that will make you think twice about your social media habits—and perhaps feel a new appreciation for the messy, unfiltered reality that never makes it to the grid.
Who Should Read It?
“Follow Me” by Elizabeth Rose Quinn will appeal to:
- Fans of darkly comic thrillers like “Gone Girl” and “Sharp Objects“
- Readers who enjoyed the social media critique of “Followers” by Megan Angelo
- Anyone who has ever felt the pressure to present a perfect life online
- Thriller readers who appreciate social satire mixed with their suspense
Those seeking a traditional whodunit or a purely psychological thriller might find the novel’s eventual shift to explicit violence jarring. However, readers willing to embrace Quinn’s willingness to push boundaries will find “Follow Me” a memorable, if imperfect, debut.
Final Thoughts: A Mirror to Our Digital Selves
Elizabeth Rose Quinn has tapped into something undeniably relevant with “Follow Me.” As our lives become increasingly performed for online audiences, the novel serves as a grotesque funhouse mirror reflecting the pressure to curate perfect images of ourselves—and the rage that simmers beneath that perfection.
While occasionally heavy-handed in its messaging and uneven in its execution, “Follow Me” marks Elizabeth Rose Quinn as a fresh voice willing to explore the darker aspects of our relationship with social media. If this is her debut, readers should be excited—and perhaps a little frightened—to see what she does next.
Whether you read it as a cautionary tale about the dangers of social media or simply as an entertaining thriller with a contemporary edge, “Follow Me” by Elizabeth Rose Quinn will leave you examining your own relationship with the personas we create online—and perhaps reaching for the “delete account” button on your favorite social platforms.