Folk horror is a term that’s been applied to films more than books. The so-called ‘Unholy Trinity’ of folk horror films (1968’s Witchfinder General, 1971’s The Blood On Satan’s Claw, and 1973’s The Wicker Man) were the first to codify the genre, though it’s since been applied retrospectively to a number of other works. More recent examples include The Witch (2015), Midsommar (2019), and Kill List (2011). The Fiends in the Furrows: An Anthology of Folk Horror is an attempt to redress this balance, collecting nine short stories that each have their own fascinating take on the genre.
The hallmarks of folk horror are isolated rural communities, ancient beliefs and superstitions (often coming into conflict with modern sensibilities), old gods, rituals, cults, and creatures from folklore, among many others. I generally avoid ratings in my reviews, but I want to go through each story in turn, so I’ll mark each one out of 5.
Review by Charlie Alcock
- ‘Sire of the Hatchet’ by Coy Hall: Far and away my favourite. Hutter and Wulfric are two travelling executioners, who arrive in the village of Strattonwick to find themselves in the middle of a conflict between a pastor and a woman accused of witchcraft. Beautiful writing, a strong sense of atmosphere, and thematic unity combine to make this a mini-masterpiece. 5/5
- ‘Back Along the Old Track’ by Sam Hicks: A holidaymaker catches the attention of two powerful families after an encounter at a funeral. Hicks builds tension effectively as mysteries circle around the unnamed protagonist, coming to a head in an unsettling climax. The main character is a bit of a blank slate, but there’s enough going on to overlook it. 3.5/5
- ‘The Fruit’ by Lindsay King-Miller: My other favourite. A lesbian couple lives in a village enslaved by a malicious orchard. When one of them decides she wants a child, she turns to the trees for help. Fantastic descriptions, memorable characters, and a brilliant central conceit. 5/5
- ‘The Jaws of Ouroboros’ by Steve Toase: Despite an ingenious concept – all the stone circles in the country are gradually devouring the land – I found this somewhat lacklustre. It felt underdeveloped, and unfortunately didn’t manage to use its ideas to say anything interesting. Still, solid writing and an evocative atmosphere made it a worthwhile read. 3/5
- ‘The First Order of Whaleyville’s Divine Basilisk Handlers’ by Eric J. Guignard: This was the closest anything in the collection got to comedy, while simultaneously featuring the most evil character of all 9 stories. As basilisks approach the town of Whaleyville, a young man harbours a crush on Rosalie, the newest inhabitant. I enjoyed it a lot. 4/5
- ‘Pumpkin, Dear’ by Romey Petite: An eerie but charming story about psychosis, reanimation, and winter squash. 3.5/5
- ‘The Way of the Mother’ by Stephanie Ellis: A secluded valley is protected from the outside world by a terrifying ritual. For me, this was the most disturbing, which is saying something. 4.5/5
- ‘Leave the Night’ by Zachary von Houser: The main character is an alcoholic, and the incoherence with which his misadventure in a small town is told could arguably be a result of his inebriation, but it comes across as sloppiness. He’s pretty unlikeable too, so there’s little to root for as he uncovers the secrets of the locals. There’s some compelling imagery, but too much is going on at any one point, and at least one plot thread goes unresolved. Sadly disappointing. 2/5
- ‘Revival’ by S.T. Gibson: A brilliant way to end the collection. Callie is friends with her father’s snakes, but when she senses one speaking to her, she is moved to take action. This is the story with the most low-key supernatural elements, suitable for a story about human frailties. 4.5/5
Review by Charlie Alcock
RSS Feed
