2020/101: Drowned Country -- Emily Tesh

“Your father also liked to sulk,” said Mrs Silver.
“I am not sulking,” said Silver.
“I cannot think what else to call it,” Mrs Silver said, “when a healthy young person insists on building himself a thorn-girt fortress and sitting in it consuming nothing but sour fruit and small beer for months on end. I blame myself. I should not have permitted you to read so many fairy tales as a boy.” [p. 19]

The splendid conclusion to the story that began in Silver in the Wood. That novella was told from the viewpoint of Tobias Finch, who'd lived in Greenhollow Wood for a very long time. Drowned Country, set two years later, is the narrative of Henry Silver, former student of the marvellous and now sulking in a ruined house while Finch assists Henry's mother in her work as a practical folklorist. The events that reduced Henry to lonely misery are related in flashback: meanwhile, Mrs Silver would very much like him to come to Rothport (a small town on the coast, strongly reminiscent of Whitby) and help investigate the disappearance of a young woman, Maud Lindhurst, who may have fallen prey to the local vampire.

Henry is reluctant -- let's call it reluctance -- to leave his house, and his wood. But the wood was once greater than it is now, and he can't use its current limits as an excuse. When he arrives in Rothport and discovers that Maud Lindhurst is not the delicate innocent he'd imagined, but instead a young woman with nerves of steel and a definite agenda, he realises that there is more at stake than his own feelings of betrayal and abandonment. Although obviously those are very important.

Henry comes off as rather less likeable in this installment than in Silver in the Wood, but there are extenuating circumstances, and a chance of redemption. The focus is very much on Henry and his feelings, but he's sufficiently self-aware to realise that he's acted reprehensibly, and miserable enough to welcome the opportunity to resolve matters and to redeem himself in the eyes of his loved ones. Tesh's attention to emotional detail occasionally makes Henry feel very self-absorbed, but the climax of the story makes it clear that he's not wholly selfish.

There's a strong sense of melancholy to much of the story, to the Wood itself, and its history: but again, some aspects of the situation can be set right. Some roots thrive better than others, and some things need to be set free.

I'd be fascinated to read more of these characters' stories -- especially that of Maud, who is as much an adventurer as Henry Silver (or his mother), yet is denied agency by society and by her parents.

Incidentally, Henry's decline is clearly due to his imperfect appreciation of cats: a warning to us all.

Silver liked cats perfectly well, but he could not imagine finding one interesting enough that it would bind him to humanity. [p. 97]