Withered Hill (2024) is the first foray into folk horror for David Barnett, having previously written, among other things, romantic comedies. One could wryly say this novel, drawing slightly on that genre, is where Bridget Jones has an appointment to keep with the Wicker Man. But beneath that fun comparison, is a surprisingly tightly-plotted book that delivers a multi-strand story with aplomb and keeps the reader engaged throughout.
Folk Horror, as a subgenre, is typically where ancient customs cling to the rural landscape; where an isolated outsider falls into the nightmare of superstitious tradition. The first chapter strays from that, opening in London on a boozy last bash with the girls. The chapter’s curious subtitles of ‘Outside’ and ‘Days to Withered Hill: 30’ suggest we have time to observe our outsider, thirty-two-year-old Sophie Wickham, the last woman standing from a group of settled-down friends.
Just as we’ve gotten to know Sophie, we’re already in Withered Hill. 357 days in! Here, in this strange woodland village somewhere in Lancashire, Sophie is told she can leave, a sentiment that chimes with the book’s opening sentence (“Everyone leaves eventually.”) — quite the curveball. And no sooner have we gotten used to this Sophie, the narrative switches timeline again to Sophie’s first day in the village, arriving naked and confused, guided in by residents wearing masks of pigs and hares.
Once settled into these changing timelines, the story becomes a delightful and suspenseful pagan braid, each strand overlapping the other in service to the whole. The mystery becomes not just how will Sophie get to Withered Hill, but how she will adapt to it once there, and how she will endeavour to leave.
There’s no denying that Withered Hill leans heavily into its plot-driven structure, offering a fast-paced thriller rather than any deeper journey. The prose is tight, functional, and streamlined, serving its suspenseful mode very well. The narrative is continually raising questions while the drip feed of what’s actually going on reveals nothing until it’s prudent to do so. All rather well done I think, given the three narrative strands’ potential to reveal earlier details.
At its heart the story is environmental, with the people of Withered Hill dismissive of those outside its influence. There, they follow the seasons in the old ways in service of a folkloric entity known as Owd Hob. In truth it often feels more folk fantasy than folk horror, but there’s definitely a few scenes that belong in the latter.
Barnett’s story is highly propulsive, for those willing to go along with it. There are times when certain elements – especially in the chicklit to conspiracy sections – where the plotting feels too visible and the characters too bare-boned in service of the plot. And other times in Withered Hill where the unhelpful villagers surrounding Sophie can get a bit repetitive in their unwillingness to directly assist. But overall it’s a dark popcorn, compulsively readable, mysterious, and leaves you craving more when it’s over.