There's a gothic sensibility at the core of Alissa York's first novel, Mercy. The town of Mercy, Manitoba, is a hotbed of eccentricity and irrational longing where people nurse secret loves, illicit desires and hidden obsessions and where the town drunk lives on the bog in a house made of empty bottles. August Day is a young priest who arrives in Mercy to replace the recently deceased Father Rock. August's mother was a prostitute, and he bears the scars of an emotionally challenging upbringing. His first task upon arriving in Mercy is to preside at the wedding of Thomas Rose and Mathilda Nickels, the town butcher and the young niece of the church housekeeper. But the moment August and Mathilda lock gazes their tragedy is set in motion, and for the remainder of the first part of the novel, which is set in the late 1940s, Mathilda tries to seduce August while he resists her advances with every ounce of strength and every scrap of faith he can muster. It is, however, not enough. When we return to Mercy for act two it is now 2003, and we encounter some of the folks whose lives and fates were shaped by the tragic events of those early years. Alissa York writes beautiful prose, but one reaches the end of this novel feeling that perhaps a firmer editorial hand would have been of benefit to the book and its author. There are too many obscure passages and vague connections, and the odd behaviour of some of the characters seems to have no purpose other than to be odd. There is also a tacked-on quality to the second part of the book, which is less than dramatically satisfying. Some readers, as they approach the end of this section, will be scratching their head wondering what it's all about. Mercy is, in the final analysis, a first novel, and its weaknesses are of the sort that an experienced writer will solve next time out. But Alissa York's talent is undeniable, and because she knows how to use compelling characters and dramatic tension to pull the reader into her story, her next book will be worth seeking out.