When I saw the artwork for this one I knew I needed it on my shelf ... luckily I have an interest in folk customs too, so when the publishers very kindly sent me a copy I was very excited to get stuck into it!
This is a beautifully crafted journey through Britain’s forgotten folklore... the strange seasonal figures, regional customs, and half-remembered rituals that sit just on the edge of mainstream memory. It’s a blend of travel writing, cultural history, and personal reflection and it manages to be both deeply grounded and slightly otherworldly.
I loved how she tackled idea of cultural memory and how certain stories and symbols survive while others slip into obscurity. MacBeth doesn’t just mourn these lost characters, she resurrects them on the page. We learn how pub signs, flowerbeds and local festivals are still considered part of the rich tapestry that makes up 'folk' in Britain today. She makes it clear that these aren’t just oddities, they’re remnants of a more communal (and arguably more connected) life and a seasonal understanding that we are missing in the modern world.
There’s also a powerful exploration of place and belonging. MacBeth travels from the Scottish Highlands to the rocky coasts of Cornwall, linking each folkloric figure with the land they come from along the way. For example, we learn of The Obby Oss in Padstow, a strange, chaotic spring ritual involving a horse-like creature and costumed dancers. MacBeth doesn’t just describe the scene, she reflects on how the ritual shapes a sense of local identity, even as the meaning of the ritual itself shifts over time.
What I really enjoyed was the tone of MacBeth's writing, it’s reverent and respectful without being dry, poetic but never precious. She clearly loves the subject and that comes through in every page. Her writing is full of small, sensory details, peat smoke, sea mist, ringing bells, all the textures of rural Britain, woven in with a sense of quiet enchantment.
That being said, I did sometimes want more. The author states early on that there is not enough time to go deeply into some of the folklore (of Scotland, Ireland and Wales particularly) but I still found some of the sections felt quite fleeting, just as I was getting properly drawn in, we’d move on. I found myself longing for a bit more historical context, or deeper commentary, especially around how these traditions were shaped by (and resisted) power structures like the church. That’s a little niggle really, the book is clearly intentionally wide-ranging and it does its job well... but I was enjoying it so much I could have taken more.
Still, The Lost Folk is a gorgeous, thoughtful book inside and out. It’s perfect if you’re folklore-curious, or if you’re drawn to the kind of storytelling that reveals the magic in the everyday.