The most important thing about this book is that it was written. It exists. It is out there. You should read it. If you are a parent, you should read it. If you are a young woman, you should read it. If you are a minority, you should read it. If you are queer, you should read it. IF YOU ARE A YOUNG MAN, YOU SHOULD READ THIS.

If you are familiar with the world of red-pill/ manosphere/ PUAs, the information presented in the book isn't new, but it is organized and laid out in a way which is extremely friendly to people who are not. Bates did an exceptional job at picking apart the layers of online misogyny and how the communities are different and how they are the same. She makes it easy to see how people can fall down the rabbit hole of extremism.

The most important point Bates discusses is how to stop young men from being indoctrinated into the world of extreme- and online-misogyny. As someone who has been a high school student in the last decade, the problem is worse than anyone realizes. Misogyny NEEDS to be addressed starting from a young age -- starting from elementary school. By the time high school roles around, many boys are already set in their ideals and don't want to here anything different. It is not just that they brush aside 'feminist' or 'non-misogynist' discussions, they are already actively cruel. I can remember buying a feminist pin on vacation when I was ~15 and putting it on my backpack. Within a week, I had removed it. In every class, someone commented or asked if I really was a feminist, if I hated men, if I believed such lies. Boys who I considered my friends repeatedly brought up misogynist and red-pill talking points, berating me until I admitted they were right. I would not be left alone. I was scared of being seen as a feminist. It put an actual target on my back. These boys believed what they were saying because no one had ever told them they were wrong. My high school years were during the first Trump presidency. I sat next to boys who joked about Trump 'grabbing them by the pssy', and verbally degraded me if I voiced any discomfort. I had boys tell me that the wage-gap for women was real, but it was because they deserved it. They believed we deserved it. No one had ever told them that we didn't. If we tried to argue we were man-hating feminists -- we were out to ruin their lives -- we were prudes and suts and lesbos and f*ggots. Educators heard them say such things and said nothing. Parents heard them say such things and said nothing. If we are surrounded by boys telling us we deserve it, eventually we think we do. If we didn't, wouldn't someone say something?

I don't have any complaints, only suggestions. I think the book could have benefited from exploring how race effects the spread of hate and misogyny and how it differs from white-misogyny. Exploring the cross-over between misogyny and transphobia (because the crossover is huge) would have increased the depth of the book. But, honestly, both of those suggestions could be entire books in their own right.

Thank you NetGalley, Caitlin Starling, and the publisher for the chance to read the arc.

Vampire stories have always been about rebirth, in a sense. The change is transformative. You come out the other side different, yet the same. Usually though, the weight of transformation from human to vampire is placed on the one undergoing the transition. The themes of rebirth were not taken so literally. There is no re-raising of the new vampire, no years-long processes of teaching them again how to exist in their new body. There is no mother dedicating their life to caring for the young. Milkteeth is different.

Beatrice is a broodmother. She is the one who raises the vampires after transition -- spending years with them locked in a dingy basement as she feeds them and helps them reach the other side of their rebirth. Her existence is necessary. There is something in her body with an alchemical property giving her the ability to feed the young when no one else can. The young she cares for are not her own, and are instead sent to be in her care by more powerful vampires. Beatrice is special. She is rare. She is one of a kind.

"But for me...for me it is definitional. It isn't inertia. It isn't conditioning. It isn't slavery. It is an imperative. And I knew then that if I ran into the night, I would find myself with young suckling at my veins eventually."

Although Beatrice is a necessity to keep the vampire species alive, the others look at her with disgust. Being a broothmother is instinctual, exhausting, dirtying work, and they don't want to see themselves reflected in her. The shame forced upon Beatrice, and the other vampires desire to pretend she does not exist, mirrors so many experiences human mothers face in the real world. Motherhood is not an easy, pure, clean act. It is not easy. It requires a transformation of its own. It requires immense sacrifice. So often mothers are taught to hide away any parts of the journey which are not picturesque, and refused the help they ask for by those closest to them.

"Transition is a painful thing. There is no way around it; you must rip out what once was in order for the new beast to form."

I don't want to give away too much as such an important aspect of the novel is discovering what being a broodmother truly entails along with Beatrice. Milkteeth presents vampires in a unique, enlightened way. The symbolism and allegories to sex and sexual awakenings are completely removed and replaced with ones about motherhood and community and discovering the strength hidden inside.

"I did not love them as I love you. But that does not mean they did not matter. Surely that's obvious to you by now? Surely you have had a sense that love is a load-bearing word that contains within it a whole universe of nuance? I use it not in the way it is perhaps better used, to mark general care and affection and loyalty, but in a way that has the most meaning to me."