_The Shadow Year_ is a skillfully written book that is as much gripping childhood narrative as it is a horror/fantasy story and a wonderful dose of nostalgia. It succeeds at being all three things and I found it a gripping read all around.
The story centers on an unnamed narrator (if he was named I missed it), a boy in his final year of elementary school. His life centers around his older brother Jim, occasionally a bit of a torment to the narrator but most of the time a protector and friend he spends a lot of time with, his sister Mary (an interesting character, she has strange abilities with numbers and has more than one personality – the main alternate one is named Mickey, but also there is a Sally, Sandy, and Mrs. Harkmar – seen as playing by the adults but accepted rather matter-of-factly by the two brothers), his mother (who is most of the time in the grips of rather obvious alcoholism, occasionally coming out of the fog of wine to artistically paint or be more active with her children), his father (who works multiple jobs, generally coming home at midnight and only seen by the kids usually on the weekends, doing the best he can to be a good dad), and their grandparents Nan and Pop (who live in apartment that is part of their house). Though Jim is starting to get a few friends in school as he joins the wrestling team, for the most part the three siblings only have each other (well Mary has several imaginary friends). Most of the narrator’s interactions with his classmates are either to be fascinated by their weirdness or more often avoid them so he doesn’t get in fights.
The book is set in the early or mid-1960s (sometime after 1963 I gather) on Long Island, in a small town that the two brothers know well. They know their small town in the way that generations through the 1980s knew their home, by walking, bike riding, taking short cuts, playing in the woods, and looking for real or imagined treasures often miles from home. Apparently a very much ended era, the two boys (and occasionally Mary) would spend hours from home, their parents having no idea where they were, the boys seeking their own entertainments, their childhood geography a mixture of the real, the imagined, and the emphasis a young boy might place on a particular aspect of a place, with their real map perhaps marking paces such as a “kingdom of crickets” (“in the early fall, among the goldenrod stalks and dying weeds,” something most adults wouldn’t even notice or care about), a lake that the boys were told was bottomless (one they suspect is probably not, realizing that they were maybe being told that by concerned parents, but with more than enough childhood sense of wonder to imagine that it might really be bottomless), their pathways not just named streets but shortcuts through fields and forests that lead behind particular people’s house or to the school or local shops, some they could ride their bikes on, others that they had to walk or even climb.
And I did say real map, as Jim (with some help from the narrator) had constructed in the basement of their home something called Botch Town, a miniature cityscape made from toys and trash, with local houses, the school, roads, interesting areas of the woods, and individual neighbors represented. Quite accurate, the boys would show the activities of all the local neighbors, be they adult or kid, some of these activities recorded in notebooks.
What might have just been an interesting and well-written childhood narrative took some unusual turns. One, a prowler is apparently in the neighborhood, briefly glimpsed climbing ladders or peering into windows at night, all attempts to get a good look let alone catch the man ending in failure on the part of both the local police and the siblings’ neighbors. Two, the boys start to fear a mysterious man in white, one they come to call Mr. White, who drives around in a white car and they think is responsible for some local disappearances. Three, figures in the town start to move without either Jim or his brother having moved them, the person responsible they discover is Mary. Far from getting angry at their little sister, they fully accept her mysterious powers, especially when she is proven right again and again about where Mr. White or the prowler is, two mysteries that the two boys take upon themselves to solve.
The mysteries of Mary’s powers, Mr. White, and the prowler were quite interesting and conveyed in a fascinating way, almost in a form of magical realism; the boys simply accepted that say Mr. White had evil powers or that Mary had access to knowledge (or ways of processing it) that she shouldn’t reasonably have. At times I was left wondering was this the force of childhood imagination at work or was this something really supernatural? Or both?
The writing was evocative and descriptive, with some really well written passages. Here is a favorite, that shows a childhood appreciation of things that not all adults retain as well an outdoorsy child’s knowledge of the local neighborhood:
“The days sank deeper into autumn, rotten to their cores with twilight. The bright warmth of the sun only lasted about as long as we were in school, and then once we were home, an hour later, the world was briefly submerged in a rich honey glow, gilding everything from the barren branches of willows to the old wreck of a Pontiac parked alongside the Hortons’ garage. In minutes the tide turned, the sun suddenly a distant star, and in rolled a dim gray wave of neither here nor there that seemed to last a week each day.”
I will definitely seek more of this author to read in the future.