During the 1200s in northwest England, in one of the coldest winters in living memory, a formidable middle-aged Irishwoman and the troupe she leads are trying to drive their three wagons across the mountains before the heavy snows set in. Molly, her powerful and enigmatic lover, her fey granddaughter, and her young apprentice, soon discover that something terrible prowls the woods. As the group travels from refuge to refuge, it becomes apparent that the mysterious evil force must be faced and defeated – or else they will surely die.
An unusual read. Those are the first words that came to mind the second I turned the last page (well, flicked the last digital page, really). My second thought: that I’d really enjoyed the story. There was something almost claustrophobic about it, even when the main characters are outside. This comes mainly, I think, from the cold. The snow, ice, and wind that chase the characters and force them to race toward shelters, gives the plot an urgency that might not otherwise have been there. Mainly, because the author does spend a lot of time on descriptions. They are beautiful and they really set the scene, but they can get a little overwhelming and they can slow the pace of the plot down. Some scenes felt unnecessary, like they were repetitions of previous ones, and though I imagine that the author added them to build up tension, they didn’t all succeed.
The last third of the book is wonderful. It really dug its claws into me and kept me turning the digital pages. The climactic scene is a beautifully crafted one that is like something right out of a fairy tale.
It is a book I’d recommend, though with caution. Keep in mind the writer is a poet, so the descriptions are poetic. Don’t expect John Grisham-style action. I will certainly be reading the next book in the series when it makes its way into the world.
Carabosse's Library 