Beneath A Thousand Skies

Summary:

You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but sometimes a book just seizes you by the laps with its cover and refuses to let go. That was absolutely the case with The Bone-Drenched Woods,  because the cover is absolutely stunning and as soon as I saw it, I knew that I needed this book – and I am counting down until I can nab a physical copy.

I wasn’t prepared for just how this book would consume me, and even as I get to writing this review a few weeks later, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I think part of the reason why this book was so consuming, is that Russell has dived into the very human fear of the unknown, of stepping across that boundary and border, whether a physical one, an emotional one of a societal one, unless the path is mapped out. How many of us have had that moment of being in the woods, and hearing movement in the depths and having that shiver at the back of your neck? Or stared out at the ocean late at night and wonder what lurked in its depths? That fear is tapped into here, and I think the fact that it is so grounded in nature, and in human lives, is why it slips in so deep, like a knife slipping between the bones.

In the same way that fear sparked familiarity, and understanding, even in the face of the fantastical elements; the way that society had developed in response to that fear was something that resonated. Russell capturing both historical influences, but also the human desire to stamp control and rules over the wilderness and uncertainty that lay beyond the threat of that fear.

‘They were all witches, the wicked women, the women who looked beyond the lantern glow of the doorways, beyond the dangling bones.’

Safety in the known, the idea of home, and village and a shared burden as a shield against the unknown. The idea that anyone who looked beyond or dared to step beyond those carefully established paths and rules, was a threat or a wicked accomplice to the Trees or the Deep. The Bone-Drenched Woods calls upon the idea and tradition of witch hunts, on the othering of those different, and almost laughs in its face – we see the cost to those caught in the crosshairs of those beliefs, we see the bargaining, the sacrifices – and we see that that ultimately those actions are futile, because the threat and the fear and the hunger are both external and internal threats. Humans themselves are in so many ways, the same as the threats they try to defend themselves against.

‘This world is too full of fear and hunger. We consume ourselves, we starve ourselves, and the world continues to turn and feed.’

The worldbuilding is spectacular and yet in many ways breathtakingly simple, and when I wasn’t wrapped up in the atmosphere that permeates every inch of this book, I was marvelling at how Russell had built up this world around that fear. When I say simple, I don’t mean there weren’t layers, but it was almost laser focused and nuclear, because that was what this world had become in the face of that unknown. The villages were islands, and therefore so was the worldbuilding, but within that scope Russell has developed such individuality for both villages that are central to the story, shaped by the location, by different threats, different hierarchies that were mirrors but different. The way bones are interwoven into everything both as protection, tradition but also threat was a creepy delight to read; and I loved that the horror of the bones was often human-centric, through ritual and choice, and condemnation.

I also liked the threads we got of how people moved on to different villages, through safe paths. It was subtle, adding both to the threat of the woods, but also building up the impression of a wider world beyond this nuclear existence that we follow in the Bone-Drenched Woods. It was easy to imagine almost a spider-web of villages spread out across a much wider landscape, held together by tenuous threads, but each connection its own island and castle against the threat. And after seeing the difference between the villages, it was so easy to imagine the subtle differences that would exist across all of them, adding an extra depth to the worldbuilding.

Character wise, I absolutely adored Hyacinth. This is a girl turned woman, absolutely shaped by the world she’s grown up in, with the traditions and expectations, the weight a family where some children have left and more remain, and all eyes are on you. When she first pushes the boundaries it’s so understandable that you cheer for her and want to go on this adventure; and Russell plays with that to devastating effect. The fallout of that, and the events that unfold, could destroy a person – instead we see Hyacinth bloom, as stubborn as the flower on the rockface exposed to the worst of the elements. Hyacinth is a complicated mess of grief and loss, stubbornness and independence, and willing to speak up and act in a way that goes against expectations, even with a noose hanging above her neck. Her interactions with her husband were some of my favourites, Russell encapsulating a relationship where both parties are being held to the knife and the barbs had me laughing and wincing, but the tension and threat, but also the equilibrium when it was needed was absolutely stellar writing.

While there were certainly direct antagonists, usually the men who had risen to be Elders and were the rods that kept everyone on the agreed path or else brought punishment down on their heads. And of course, what lurked in the shadows of the forest and depths of the ocean, which were an ever-present menace that permeated every inch of this book. The main enemy here was more insidious, so that in many ways every character including Hyacinth herself was an antagonist. Against one another, because fear makes an uneasy bedfellow and unity in the face of fear can be fragile. Against the unknown. Against humanity itself – as we see when Hyacinth risks punishment for the simple act of daring to go and check on people.

Mistress Yarrow was a character I found fascinating, because in some ways she was a more subtle mirror to Hyacinth. The push and pull between them, and Sorrell, was woven into the story in such a way that by the time it builds to a crescendo it catches you off guard. I also like the aspect that these two women who dare, who push back against expectations, one more overtly than the other to be sure, are almost the most honest characters, even though they weave lies to live. And also in a way, they are the ones who truly live – yes with a risk of death a hairbreadth a way, but when you compare them to the other characters bound into the way of life, it’s almost like they have stepped beyond an illusion.

Sorrell and Morgan were almost foils to these two women. Sorrell actually grew on me, in the shadow cast by Hyacinth and the light cast by Mistress Yarrow; whereas Morgan was someone who I ended up disliking more by the end. But these men had found ways to be themselves as much as they could within the restraints of society, both scarred and marred by the expectations of society and their own actions disappointing those expectations. But again, there is feeling that life itself was constrained, and that they were consumed by the world because they couldn’t break free.

I did find that the ending itself felt a little rushed, and as though there was half a step missing between what happened at sea and the ending. In some ways it was fitting as it felt like Hyacinth had been tossed on the currents of fate from the very beginning, and the ending was a final coming home; but it did take me a little out of the story at the very end. However, what I did like about the end, was that it felt very much like a beginning, like a new path opening up because of the journey that had happened before, and it felt like a promise being kept, as though this was what we had been waiting for alongside Hyacinth.

The Bone-Drenched Woods is an intensely atmospheric read, that showcases a masterful understanding of human fears and how they manifest both individually, but through interactions with others, until the line of the original fear is entirely blurred. The folk horror elements were deliciously described, and this was a book that creeps under your skin, until you want to either clutch bones against the unknown or run off under the trees; and has a main character who absolutely captured my heart.