Dollface by Lindy Ryan: PTA politics, plastic masks, and a suburban slasher that’s wickedly fun

If you’ve ever suspected the PTA might be hiding a few skeletons in its meticulously organized closets, Dollface by Lindy Ryan leans all the way into that suspicion—and then hands the skeleton a knife. Releasing February 24, 2026, Ryan’s latest horror novel drops readers into a glossy, gossip-filled suburban nightmare where fitting in might be deadlier than standing out.

Jill is a horror author who has just relocated to suburban New Jersey, hoping to settle into a quieter life and, ideally, make a few mom friends without alienating them by waving around her Final Girl coffee mug. That goal becomes increasingly complicated when a serial killer wearing a plastic face mask begins targeting the town’s overly polished PTA moms. As the body count rises and the social hierarchy begins to crack, Jill finds herself pulled deeper into the chaos, inching closer to becoming the last woman standing.

Marketing comparisons pitch this novel as “Barbie meets Scream.” Personally, I didn’t see much Barbie in the DNA, but the Scream influence is unmistakable. Ryan nails the delicate balance of horror and humor that makes meta slashers so entertaining. The novel leans into familiar genre beats while maintaining a sharp sense of fun, delivering gore alongside biting social satire. If you enjoy horror that knows exactly what it is and invites you to laugh while it slices, this one will absolutely land.

I honestly see a slasher movie adaptation in this book’s future. The pacing, the ensemble cast, and the escalating paranoia all feel tailor-made for the screen. The suburban setting works particularly well, turning carpool lines and ice cream socials into spaces charged with suspicion and dread.

Was the ending unexpected? For me, not entirely. Ryan plants enough behavioral red flags throughout the story to signal that several characters aren’t quite right in the head. What the novel does effectively, though, is maintain uncertainty about which unstable personality is responsible for the increasingly bizarre attacks plaguing the PTA. The mystery becomes less about whether something is wrong and more about identifying where the real danger lies.

I often find myself looking for characters I can relate to in one way or another in every book I read, and the funny thing about Jill in this novel is that I relate to the fact that super nice Pollyanna-type women always want so very badly to be my best friend. And this often does not end well. That super niceness is usually just a cover for someone with control and boundary issues, and that is definitely the case with Jill’s new neighbor Darla, who also happens to be the head of the PTA at Jill’s son’s school.

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Darla is one of the book’s standout characters precisely because she feels exaggerated and authentic at the same time. Her constant use of “dear,” the overly familiar physical gestures, and her carefully curated aesthetic initially feel almost cartoonish. Yet Ryan captures a personality type many readers will recognize. Everything about Darla is performative, from her aggressively friendly demeanor to her beaded headbands and coordinated outfits—which, I’ll admit, reminded me of someone I know in real life. Characters like Darla thrive on presentation, and Ryan smartly uses that performative quality to underscore the novel’s themes of appearance versus reality.

The book occasionally stumbles when several characters launch into extended monologues about niche historical topics, ranging from the origins of ice cream socials to detailed histories of horror literature and film. These moments felt a bit pedantic and, frankly, unrealistic. The average person simply doesn’t carry that much hyper-specific knowledge around in conversational form, and those who do usually don’t deliver it so enthusiastically and frequently. The one person I can think of in my own life who is like this is that one professor in my department—you know the one I’m talking about—the one who, when I hear his voice in the main office, I jump up and shut my office door so he doesn’t choose me as his audience of the moment. Because people like him are looking for an audience, not a conversation.

Even with those occasional tangents, Dollface remains an entertaining read. Ryan’s strength lies in her ability to blend suburban satire, character-driven humor, and genuine slasher tension into something that feels both playful and unsettling. The novel understands the social minefields of parent cliques and weaponizes them in clever, often darkly funny ways.

Horror fans who enjoy self-aware slashers, messy social dynamics, and a steady drip of suspicion will find plenty to enjoy here. Ryan delivers a fast-paced, gleefully vicious story that skewers performative perfection while celebrating the chaos simmering just beneath the surface of suburban life.

What do you think—are suburban slashers your thing, or do you prefer your horror in a different setting? Let me know in the comments!

Dollface by Lindy Ryan releases February 24, 2026. An advance reader copy of this book (ARC) was provided to me by the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

Related Content

• Interview with an author: Lindy Ryan (Los Angeles Public Library)
• Author Lindy Ryan and the vampiric hold of Beaumont (The Texas Signal)
• Lindy Ryan: Stories are all around us (LitReactor)
• Lindy Ryan: Humor, heart, and horror (Fresh Fiction)

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