Allen & Unwin, Australia 2026
Cover design Christa Moffat, Christabella Designs
Cover illustrations Nastia/Adobe Stock
The Followers is a whip-smart fiction, delving into the dark hothouse that girlhood can be from pre-puberty, through teenhood and into young womanhood.
There was a time when we could easily leave our girlhoods behind if we chose to, but contemporary life provides the ever present temptation of social media and its ability to peer into the lives of people we grew up with that bit they make public anyway.
Told mostly in the voice of Teresa, the story follows her ache to be one of the ‘in crowd’- a desire which encourages, nay demands, the surrender of a moral compass.
Queen Bee of the ‘in crowd’ in Teresa’s life is Lacey, whose power to command obedience in her acolytes seems endless. Nevertheless, this wealthy child leads a rudderless life of parental neglect, finding her philosophy through popular glossy magazines.
The school playground populace is held thrall via the weapon of the marble competition. Lacey’s group rules the roost, determining who can play and who cannot.
Into the mix comes the socially disadvantaged Carmel Strongman, who becomes the ‘whipping boy’ for the elite group, is treated abominably and then disappears from their lives. She is soon a thorn in Lacey’s side via her outstanding skill at marbles.
It is probably not too much of a give-away to reveal that the abominable bullying of Carmel is not the last word, and that in her way Carmel steals that from the later life Lacey, who has, also not surprisingly, become a hugely popular wellness and lifestyle Influencer.
The author has deftly managed to subtly direct the reader’s attention to the diverse parenting styles and models of family we expect to see in contemporary society. How well children survive their early years is equally as diverse and not dependent upon wealth, but upon love.
Whilst we are deep in the mind of Teresa for much of the story, the book invites us to question the reliability of this prime witness, who even in adulthood seems to be skewing her memories in order to not look so bad – such a human thing to do, it must be said.
In her examination of human nature, Maree Spratt proves herself to be an astute and curious observer. She sometimes makes us cringe; at other times we recoil in horror at the darkness of the human soul. We equally fist pump the small victories.
It’s a clever and complex piece of writing but also always entertaining.
Thank you to Allen & Unwin for my review copy and to Maree for such an interesting conversation about girlhood, social media and parenting.