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296 pages, Paperback
First published July 1, 2012
When the nanny to the young Darrow boys is found murdered on the outskirts of Blackfield, Charlotte Markham, the recently hired governess, steps in to take over their care. During an outing in the forest, they find themselves crossing over into The Ending, the place for the Things That Cannot Die, where Lily Darrow, the late mistress of Everton, has been waiting. She invites them into the ominous House of Darkling, a wondrous, dangerous place filled with enchantment, mystery and strange creatures that appear to be, but are not quite, human.
However, everything comes with a price, and as Charlotte begins to understand the unspeakable bargain Mrs. Darrow has made for a second chance at motherhood, she uncovers a connection to the sinister occurrences in Blackfield and enters into a deadly game with the master of Darkling, one whose outcome will determine not just the fate of the Darrows, but of the world itself.
Charlotte Markham and the House of Darkling is a Victorian gothic tale about family ties, the realm beyond the living, and the price you pay to save those you love. michaelboccacino.com
I think it's much more of a dark adult fairytale than anything else. There are Gothic trappings, certainly, but I think there's a fable-like quality that runs much more deeply (and consistently) through the narrative. I am a massive, incredible nerd about all things related to Neil Gaiman, Tim Burton, and Steven Moffat. I think each of them tell very complex, adult stories using familiar, nostalgic narrative devices, and it gives everything they write this sense of timelessness and melancholy... which I love.
"...Dreams are my favorite things in the world. Sometimes they even come true, but sometimes we must learn when to wake up.”
Paul ignored me and pointed excitedly at something up ahead. “There!”
The path ended at a small fallow creek, but began again on the other side to disappear around a dark, massive cage of roots at the base of an ancient oak tree. Whatever lay beyond the magnificent tree was obscured in a thick, roiling patch of fog. James wrenched himself free from my hand and leapt over the creek, bounding into the mist before I was able to stop him.
“James!”
I quickly hoisted my dress up to my waist and jumped over the brook, glancing back at Paul to wave him on. Together we chased his brother into the mist.
The air around us grew heavy with a dampness that remained even as the fog subsided, and we found ourselves in the middle of a vast orchard. While it had been daylight mere moments before, the moon now hung low in the sky, larger than I had ever seen. It was so vast and oppressive I felt that if I were to reach toward the sky I might be able to push the orb back where it belonged, high above on the black velvet mantle of the night.
“It’s nighttime here.” Paul was behind me, hugging himself against the cool air.
“Perhaps I misjudged the time,…”
Charlotte Markham and the House of Darkling, page 54