Three old friends fleeing from their lives in academia take on a unique restoration project in the hills of New England, only to find that the stewardship of their crumbling new property comes with a magical obligation. When a desperate teenager turns up on their doorstep claiming sanctuary, it brings them into direct conflict with an ancient power of the land – one who rules over its debtors without mercy. The Hearth’s new keepers have 24 hours to save their new friend, fulfill their unexpected obligations, and claim the future they didn’t know they wanted.
Walking a Wounded Land by Andrew Knighton
Ghosts linger amid the fields and streets of England, waiting to be summoned by those who can walk their paths. Paul is one of the walkers, returned home to follow in a friend's last footsteps and learn how he died. But the land is a place of conflict, caught between connection and control. To find peace, Paul will have to confront his own past and other people's power, in a poignant tale of grief, justice, and walking your own path.
The concept of publishing two novellas in one volume is a sound one, as printing costs are pretty much the same as if each were to be published separately , so the publisher saves money, and the reader effectively gets a BOGOF deal... a win/win situation. Wizards Tower Press has gone to great lengths to ensure that the stories are complementary, as is the case here, both featuring forms of ancient earth magic, though the stories themselves are quite different. The first, by Ruthanna Emrys, took me a little while to settle into, but supernatural beings abound, and by the end I was very much wanting to know what happened next to the characters and community she has created. The second, however, grabbed me from the start and was absolutely 'up my street.' Andrew Knighton's writing style, storyline, and descriptions and evocation of place were just wonderful. As is so often the way with short story collections, so it is here... every reader will have their own likes/dislikes, and not every story will hit home for you. While I enjoyed the first but loved the second, you might well have the opposite opinion... but isn't that voyage of discovery the joy of the reading experience?
I bought this book for Ruthanna Emrys’ story – I will show up for anything and everything she writes! – which, as expected, knocked my socks off. But I am delighted to be able to reassure you that Andrew Knighton’s story also turned out to be awesome, and the two stories make such a wonderful pair together!
Emrys’ story follows a friend/found-family group who have made the excellent decision to move in together. Things get magical quickly, because it turns out that their new house is, historically, a kind of provider-of-sanctuary for the magical community – all of which they learn when a teenager shows up on their doorstep asking for that sanctuary. To my delight, this is something they don’t hesitate to provide, in large part because they’re part of the queer community and used to unrelated adults having to step up to help minors abandoned by their families. It’s their anarchist, hard-left ideals/philosophy that guide them through the ensuing shenanigans, that help them figure out what kind of duties they’re willing to accept, what kind of enemies they’re willing to take on, and how to do go about doing both of those things. The prose is silken, gilded, absolutely GORGEOUS, and Emrys is big on making magic both wondrous and strange. I was endlessly delighted by this story, every detail seemed like it had been written just for me – the cleverly twisty ways Emrys thinks, EEE! Perfection, no notes, I loved every second of it.
The second story is also excellent, and superficially very different: the main character can do magic by walking, walking purposefully and meaningfully, especially over paths others have used, and when he learns an old friend has died, he decides to walk the paths to see if he can find out why. He’s accompanied by another old friend, a most excellent artist companion who I would not have been upset to see starring. I had a much harder time getting a grip on the magic in this one, but it was very much about – place, about human connection, and how our origin places shape us and how we shape them back. Winding through the story is a resistance to the idea that the old needs to be bulldozed in favour of the new, but I appreciated the nuance that was injected by a few other perspectives, pointing out that no, we shouldn’t destroy the old, but we do need to update it sometimes, that coming into a community and railing against the new development is kind of a dick move when the people living there do need a source of new jobs or some other boost to the local economy. It’s a bit more complicated than the anti-development side likes to admit. And like Emrys’ story, there’s some anarchist themes, the idea that land can’t belong to a single person or family or corporation, or at least shouldn’t; the need for people to take care of each other. I liked it a little less than the first story, but it’s objectively excellent and gave me tons to think about.
I loved how well these stories contrasted, but also went so well together. At first glance, the first story is about the Hearth, this magical house, provider of sanctuary, and the second story is all about the outdoors, so they kind of look like opposites. But they’re both about community, about the hand reaching out to you from a stranger, from the past; they’re both about seeking ways to help, to combat narcissism and greed; they’re both about the struggle of how to help that plagues so many would-be activists – and they’re both, I think, about focussing on the local, the what’s-in-front-of-you, the people-in-front-of-you, which I think was done really beautifully in both stories, in beautifully different ways. And both stories feature magic that is – quiet, not so cinematic, magic that’s personal and intimate, but that can still be incredibly powerful.
Absolutely ADORED this book, these two stories together. Genuinely, this is one of the most beautiful things I’ve read this year, and I want to recommend it to EVERYBODY. I’m so looking forward to jumping into the rest of the Wiz Duo series, which I will absolutely be doing now!
Look past the, uh, rudimentary cover; this book contains two remarkably good novellas. Ruthanna Emrys works in the nature of failure and hospitality, Andrew Knighton on connection and regret. Both in wonderful prose and both deeply concerned with the connection between people and place. Both queer as hell. Importantly, putting these two next to each other in the same volume works; it's not just two good novellas, it's two that make sense in conversation with each other. Suspect the format and aforementioned cover might get in the way of these getting the attention they deserve and that'd be a shame. In a year of good novellas both of these are right up there.
This is an excellent concept by Wizard's Tower Press - publish two similarly themed novellas in one book. Good for the reader, the authors and the publisher.
I originally bought this for Andrew Knighton's story 'Walking A Wounded Land', which I thoroughly enjoyed. Loved the concept of Walkers who can see the ghosts of the past as they travel the paths of England. The journey (literal, spiritual, emotional) of the main character is captivating and will keep you reading.
It was also a joy to discover the second novella by Ruthanna Emrys that take a different, more community approach to the power of the land. I now have a new author to follow!
I very much enjoyed both of these stories, and appreciated the fact that it felt like their themes of protection and of place and the magic of place fit together very well, and I got a definite sense that both authors love the places that they were writing about. I also definitely found myself reminded of how much I really don't understand England or Britain or, perhaps, anywhere that has the sort of old relationship to place that American culture lacks because of the amnesia and disjunction caused by the continent's history of genocide and displacement.
Not so keen on the Emrys, The Sheltering Flame, which was just too long. But it's a decent modern fairy tale.
Andrew Knighton's Walking a Wounded Land, on the other hand, held the line for me with a sense of a land haunted by memory that's both memory and haunting.