Jessica Mansour-Nahra was a communications consultant and writer in Brisbane, London and Sydney, before tree-changing to a hamlet in Wiradjuri Country, where she lives with her husband and their beloved dog. Jessica holds degrees in history and law from The University of Queensland. The Farm is her first novel.
An eerie psychological thriller, rippling with the Gothic undertones of Rebecca, from a startling new Australian talent. The Farm enthrals from the very first page.
The radio sputters out and the cows disappear . . . It is suddenly deeply quiet, with the bird calls and crunch of rolling tyres the only sounds. I twist slowly to look out the back window; the gate has long since disappeared.
When 37-year-old Leila suffers a health tragedy, she doesn’t recover as quickly as she expected. Her partner, James, suggests a year away from the city – they’ll stay on his family farm, where the wide, open spaces and clean country air will help her come to terms with her grief.
But the property is remote and the house oppressive. Leila is disturbed by strange noises, fleeting visions and intrusive dreams. James worries that her medication is causing hallucinations.
As Leila’s isolation grows amid the haunted landscape, so does her suspicion that she isn’t the first woman James has relocated to the farm. Is what she’s experiencing real? Or is it all in her head?
Compulsive and claustrophobic, The Farm is a Gothic ghost story ripe for book club discussion. It asks confronting questions about women’s bodies, what is expected of them, and who is really in control. And in Jessica Mansour-Nahra, Australia has a stunning and remarkable new talent.
(3/5)
I enjoyed parts of this compelling book. It reminded me of why I loved reading, I stayed up late several nights finishing this. It was engaging and kept my interest.
My main criticism is that the theming of the book was rather heavy handed and felt preachy.
(5/5)
The Farm is a gripping and thought-provoking read that’s hard to put down. From the very first page, it draws you into a world that is both unsettling and utterly compelling. The story is intricately woven, blending suspense with social commentary in a way that keeps you guessing. It explores themes of power, identity, and sacrifice, raising important questions about autonomy and control in today’s world. The characters are complex and believable, and the plot unfolds with just the right balance of tension and revelation. An excellent read for those who enjoy fiction that challenges as well as entertains.
(3/5)
For a debut, this was a great read. It was descriptive and set the scenes well, slowly building the intrigue and suspense.
In the first couple of chapters we’re thrown into the heartbreak of a miscarriage, and how much it affected the characters shows in the way Jessica writes. You can feel the emotions. James comes across as condescending with tons of gaslighting but then comes across a very caring partner. I was interested to see his character development.
The focus that she wasn’t in control of her body, that he was twisted and made her feel like she was losing her sanity was a great aspect to the story, giving creepy, thriller vibes. The unnerving atmosphere of the farm was so sinister, but I hoped there would be a little more focus on the ghosts as it is a Gothic Ghost story.
Overall a great read, but for me, it lacked a ‘wow factor’ twist and could have focused less on the pregnancy loss, as I feel this was overpowering the thriller/suspense aspect of the book.
(4/5)
With hints of Jane Eyre, The Collector and The Yellow Wallpaper, and a mention of the original gothic novel The Castle of Otranto, The Farm blends Aussie Noir, thriller and gothic elements together in a way I never thought possible.
After a miscarriage, Leila and her partner James retreat to his family homestead for a year to recover and mentally heal. What Leila starts to understand is there is a family history at this isolated house. There are motifs everywhere – on vases, jewellery, wallpaper etc – people around town mention things in passing or become visibly uncomfortable when Leila mentions where she’s living. It isn’t until Patricia, James’s mother, arrives to “help out” that Leila starts to understand the comments and the overall bad feeling she has, especially regarding the attic.
There isn’t any in-your-face horror, but an increasing anxiety of “is everything in her head or did she actually see/hear that?!”. The ending felt a little rushed, but was also very gratifying.
Congrats on a fantastic debut novel Jessica! Can’t wait to see what you do next.
(5/5)
I loved this book! It was well written, with a solid plot and characters.
Two important themes form the basis of this suspenseful novel, namely domestic violence and agency by women over their bodies. Naming the book parts with the menstrual cycle phases was a very clever decision. But I spotted a few minor typos that must have been overlooked in the proofreading process.
It was hard to put this book down (and only did so reluctantly for work, dog, husband and running)! The bond with Rusty the dog was beautifully depicted and it is clear it is written by someone that has a special connection with their dog, one that I can relate to very much.
(3/5)
Leila and partner James move from Sydney to his family’s isolated farm after she suffers a miscarriage. Leila feels apprehensive and has some strange experiences, but are they real? She is using a cocktail of strong painkillers and alcohol to numb both physical and emotional pain. With a sense of foreboding, the reader starts to see subtle indications of James’ coercive control with their move to the farm.
Leila is an imperfect narrator and for me an unsympathetic one. Try as I might, I could not engage with her.
Sections of the book became repetitive and overly long, and whilst that may have been the author’s objective to reflect the monotony of Leila’s days, it became difficult to maintain interest in the plot. Feminist themes regarding motherhood and agency of a woman’s body are explored, as well as the power of complex mother daughter relationships. I would have liked to delve into Leila’s relationship with her mother more.
A slow burn thriller that explores some important issues with mixed results.
(4/5)
Gripping, full of emotional grief, page turning and suspenseful. Those are my few words to describe a novel that had you turning pages!
The Farm was a gripping thriller. I found the tensions of the house on the farm and relationships of the characters disarming and intriguing at the same time. The attitudes of main characters left you wondering how was this going to end. The grief, sadness, and deceit enveloped you and you were always being enticed into a void with religious and ritual overtones. Very glad to experience a quiet ending.
(4/5)
This debut gothic thriller wastes no time pulling you in. From the first pages you’re with Leila, the story’s complex main character, reeling from loss and recovering from major surgery. To heal, she moves from the city to her boyfriend James’s parents’ remote farm, an eerie place with strange smells, unsettling noises, and a creeping sense that something is very wrong.
Leila is the ultimate unreliable narrator. Clouded by grief and pain meds, her blurred perception keeps you questioning what’s real, who can be trusted, and where the danger truly lies.
Beneath the central mystery run darker themes of parental neglect, emotional manipulation, and unsettling hints of religious ritual. These elements are introduced subtly but effectively, adding depth without overwhelming the pace. Among the darkness, there is light in the form of Rusty the dog, a steady and loyal companion, and Matt the handyman, a classic Aussie bloke with a happy-go-lucky charm that will feel familiar to many.
Mansour-Nahra cleverly plays with ambiguity, crafting a disorienting atmosphere. It delivers on all fronts: tension, pace, an isolated setting, and an unreliable narrator, so if you’re a fan who loves these boxes ticked, you’ll definitely want to check this one out.
(4/5)
The Farm by Jessica Mansour-Natra is a modern-day psychological thriller that feminine issues modern societal setting.
The story captured my attention from the beginning to the dramatic climax at the end. The descriptive nature of the Australian landscape, to the emotional and physical distress of the main character is beautifully written.
Leila is a confident, smart, professional woman living in Sydney who plumets into a deep depression post a miscarriage and traumatic surgery for fertility issues. Her partner James takes her to the family farm, with the expectation that it will be a time of healing and opportunity for Leila pursuing a creative dream of writing a book.
I loved the use of the fertility cycle in the book bringing that truly feminine understanding to it, the use of symbolism and cult like nature to control fertility and women’s expected role in society. Whilst Rusty the dog brings light and warmth to a very dark story. I thought the story really explored the issues of fertility and abuse in a slow and subtle way in the beginning to an intensifying climax at the end. Thanks to Good Reading Magazine for the opportunity to read this thought-provoking novel.
(3/5)
The Farm explores domestic control and psychological trauma through the experience of the main protagonist, Laila. Set against the backdrop of an idyllic, though isolating, mountain environment, the narrative unpacks the insidious nature of coercive control by James and his mother Patricia and the complexities of the family past entanglements. The story delves into the link between isolation and abuse, while examining how deeply personal histories and unresolved guilt can entrap us in a cycle of dependency and victimhood.
Told through the lens of an unreliable and emotionally fragile narrator, the novel challenges the reader. Laila is a successful 37- year-old professional with considerable life experience, having lived overseas ad maintaining financial independence, however, her emotional scars from childhood abuse and abandonment renders her susceptible to this kind of manipulation. The novel’s themes underscore generational violent behaviour towards women and cultish behaviour.
Laila’s ultimate escape is not only seen as a physical act of survival, but a symbolic break from the cycle of silence and complicity. Though in the end, Laila’s ongoing emotional struggles and future ties create confusion of the long-term impact of abuse and breaking free from its legacy.
(4/5)
Gripping, full of emotional grief, page turning and suspenseful. Those are my few words to describe a novel that has you constantly turning pages, like The Farm!
I found the tensions of the house on the farm and relationships of the characters disarming and intriguing at the same time. The attitudes of main characters left you wondering how was this going to end. The grief, sadness, and deceit enveloped you and you were always being enticed into a void with religious and ritual overtones. Very glad to experience a quiet ending.
(4/5)
Talk about a tense read! I was constantly trying to decide whether the menacing atmosphere was real, or in the main character’s imagination. The author did a great job with the characterisation – Leila was both sympathetic and believable and had enough flaws that I did doubt her sanity at times.
The farm in the title was so realistic; rural properties can be really isolated, have terrible internet access, and creepy. I was also constantly unsure if it was a haven to recuperate and enjoy a treechange or a really bad decision to move to the farm. There were some enjoyable side characters as well but ultimately my favourite relationship was the one that developed between the main character Leila and her boyfriend’s family dog Rusty. Not only was Rusty a faithful companion but also made me think differently about some of the events in the book.
An entertaining gothic thriller I would recommend reading – unless you are on an isolated rural property and have a vivid imagination.
(3/5)
The Farm is a slow-paced psychological thriller complete with moody undercurrents and tension.
Set in New South Wales, Australia, Leila is an independent career-driven woman who despite the odds, has carved out a life for herself in Sydney. After a crushing experience, her partner James convinces her to move with him to his parents’ rural estate in the mountains to recuperate. Once there, isolated and alone for much of the day, Leila’s experiences of the farmhouse and its surroundings cause her to doubt her sense of reality. Are her experiences real or imagined?
(5/5)
A thought provoking read, raising the question, ‘Are women ever really in control of their bodies?’
Gripping you from the first page, the story is set up from the start with little slivers of info, as you delve further you start wondering is James a good or bad guy, is it in Leila’s head?
The Farm is wonderfully written book that holds your interest throughout, wondering where the story is heading and how it will all pan out.
(4/5)
I was lucky enough to receive an ARC of The Farm by Jessica Mansour-Nahra, and while it’s not my usual genre, I’m so glad I read it.
The story is deeply tied to the Australian outback, and that connection felt personal for me, having been born in the area myself. The writing is what truly kept me hooked—Jessica Mansour-Nahra paints such a vibrant, detailed world that you can almost feel the heat of the red dust and hear the quiet hum of the land.
The characters felt authentic, and their struggles were written with depth and care. Though there are some tough moments, the story is compelling and full of emotional resonance. For a book outside my usual reading tastes, it was an unexpectedly engaging and rewarding read.
(4/5)
The Farm by Jessica Mansour-Nahra is an atmospheric trip to the country which has a few issues involved.
Leila is having trouble recovering from some medical problems, so her partner suggests going to stay at his parents farm while they are at their beach house. He has been working there part-time and she can work from anywhere. It seems like the answer to both their problems and a change might be good to get their relationship back on track. Leila finds it hard to settle in with no country experience and has her pills to help her relax and for sleep. Then she starts to see and hear things no-one else can and feels like she’s going crazy and she and her partner James are not going as well as they’d both hoped but are persisting. The novel takes a turn from there and is a battle for survival I did not see coming.
This novel has themes of women and issues they bear the burden for, what choices they can have over their own bodies, racial differences, domestic violence, family loyalty, and isolation. It had me questioning what I may have done in that situation and glad we had some conclusion and reasons for how it ended.
(4/5)
The Farm is a feminist-leaning first novel by Jessica Mansour-Nahra. It provokes questions of female human and civil rights regarding body autonomy and fertility, as per Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale.
Increasingly unreliable narrator, Leila Haddad, is a business consultant in her late 30s. At the start, Leila is living in Sydney’s beachside Coogee; has a committed relationship with psychologist James; and is eager to start a family. Unfortunately, Leila’s first pregnancy results in a devastating miscarriage. After James, who divides his time between Sydney and his hometown near Bathurst, suggests they move to his family’s farm for their mutual recoveries, this “makes sense” – until it doesn’t – for Leila.
The colonial farmhouse is an allegory for Leila’s hopelessness, literally being isolated inside and out. The rural landscapes provide gothic and unsettling backdrops against which Leila experiences her increasing lack of agency. She does not know how to stop James making decisions for her, whilst grappling with her physical pain and perceived biological failure.
A thoroughly entertaining read.
(3/5)
The Farm had a strong, atmospheric opening and the setting was well drawn, but overall it didn’t quite deliver for me. While the gothic tension and sense of isolation were intriguing, I found the story lacked enough substance to really hold me. The characters and their choices didn’t always feel believable, which made it harder to stay invested.
By the end, I was left feeling like there was something missing—threads that could have been explored more deeply or moments that might have landed with greater impact. A promising debut with some evocative writing, but ultimately it left me wanting more.