There are many reasons that I choose not to finish a book and then subsequently am compelled to write about the experience in a review. Sometimes it is irritation or anger or frustration. Sometimes, like now, it’s because I’ve stumbled across a book that will be someone’s catnip; it’s just not my catnip. I can’t force myself through the rest of the story, but I’m desperate for Thistlemarsh to find its readers. So much so that I wish I could add an asterisk to the ‘DNF’ at the top of this review and somehow flag that this is not an ordinary DNF.
Mouse inherits Thistlemarsh, a manor house, from her uncle but she has to fix up the house in a month or the house goes to Carlyle, someone she hates A LOT. She needs the house because it is where she is going to care for her brother who is deeply traumatised by World War One and can’t fend for himself at the moment or perhaps ever again.
While walking to visit her childhood friend who became the village vicar, she accidentally frees a faerie, Thornwood, from a statue in the woods around the house. In return for a (minor) sacrifice on her part, he agrees to fix up the house for her. Only it doesn’t go smoothly.
Here is my first problem with the book (that might not be a problem at all for other readers): not a lot happens. That smidgen of plot summary takes you bang up to 31% of the book, so it is slow going. In my current personal circumstances, I need something more strident and dynamic in a plot, but I can absolutely see how a slow, gentle story like this could be very comforting for a reader.
An example of the slowness is that there is just over a page talking about how Mouse is making her supper. No thoughts or things happening aside from that. Just a description of her making and eating an egg sandwich and drinking a pot of tea. That’s all that happens for a page. While this is a dealbreaker for me personally, it isn’t necessarily a dealbreaker for someone else.
The writing is lovely. Yes, it’s slow, but the description is rich and creative, especially descriptions of the magic that Thornwood does in the house. Here’s an example of it:
The shape the magic created was massive, a spiderweb of overlapping strands that crisscrossed between portraits, tables, and doors. In the entry way, tangles clustered along the tapestry, in the great elk antlers, and above the doorways.
The Faerie men stalked the lines like cats. Thornwood’s jacket sleeves bore long, dark scorch marks that reached his elbow. He raised his right hand, and Mouse gasped. His hands were clawed.
He snapped his fingers, and the glow of his magic fell away from the threads. Lines of gold remained suspended in the air, the bars of an immense birdcage. With her pinky, Mouse plucked at the closest string. It hummed like a harp. The sound echoed through the hallway, and the other lines joined in harmony where they crossed.
Mouse herself is intrepid and determined. She has some baggage from a childhood that was mostly unhappy, but she is deeply committed to her brother. Thornwood is cantankerous which I always enjoy in a character. But both characters for me lacked depth though. That might well be because I stopped reading at 31%, but life is too desperately short to force my way through a book that isn’t holding my attention.
Nonetheless, Thistlemarsh deserves readers who will be made immensely happy by this cosy fantasy. If you do pick it up, please share in the comments how you found it.
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