Waters and the Wild centres on eighteen-year-old Amy, who sees and hears fairies, and finds herself drawn to them even as she perceives the danger they represent. This has been going on since an incident at age five, but things come to a head, and the story begins, one night at a family wedding in the Amtrim Glens, when Amy heads off towards a supposedly fairy-haunted waterfall. She is stopped by wedding guest and distant cousin Simon, who is concerned for her safety, and who thus finds himself drawn into the world of the Lyles – especially when Amy then disappears.
Simon is the everyman character here, a rugby-playing web designer – relatable and realistic, but we never learn a great deal about his life before the story. That fits, because it points up that the focus is rightly on Amy and her family (as one would expect from Zebedee, family perhaps being her theme). Simon acts as an introduction to the Lyles and also a kind of observer, making this a bit like an Ulster working class Brideshead Revisited (well, I did say “a bit”). Amy, her separated parents and her older brother are superb creations, and the relationships, tensions and bonds within the family are very well done, dramatic without seeming exaggerated. As events unfold, all reveal their own issues, which weave together and are all tied up with Amy’s fairy “psychosis” (if that’s what it is). I could have spent a lot more time with them.
That’s possibly my only real criticism of the book: I wanted it to be longer. I wished Simon could have observed the Lyles at first in slightly less fraught circumstances. In particular, I think this would have given the mother, Emma, more space to breathe. She’s a very interesting character, and the key in a way to the whole thing, but I felt sometimes that she was being forced to reveal herself by the demands of the narrative rather than doing so completely naturally.
But better for a book to leave you wanting more than to outstay its welcome, which this never did. The characterisation here is uniformly good. Amy exudes vulnerability and determination, and the other leads are all sympathetic in their own way. Even the bit-parts feel like completely real people. And there’s a strong sense of place that comes through in the characters, their thoughts, dialogue, and the details of the setting. It feels very rooted in its landscape. Apart from a couple of minor blips in the second half, the pacing is excellent too.
As for Amy’s fairies, I loved their shifting slidiness, the way you don’t quite know what you’re dealing with. Most readers will want to know by the end whether they’re real or just in Amy’s mind. I won’t spoil that, but I found that side of things well-handled.
A very strong 4/5.