A slow-moving horror story that asks the reader to consider what may be the truth behind ancient customs and myths, and what secrets a small, isolated community may be hiding from the rest of the world.
“One late October day, just over a century ago, the farmers of the Endlands went to gather their sheep from the moors as they did every autumn. Only this year, while the shepherds were pulling a pair of wayward lambs from a peat bog, the Devil killed one of the ewes and tore off her fleece to hide himself among the flock.” pg 1
The small gathering of farms, Underclough, is as much a character in this story as the actual characters.
“When the first buildings appeared, I could tell that Kat was disappointed. I think she’d expected to find Underclough nestled in the valley, not dark and cramped like something buried at the bottom of a bag.” pg 24
There’s a sense of inevitability about the whole thing. You’re not just born in this place. You live, work and die here, on the edge of the wilderness and the known world.
“Living on the farms was one endless round of maintenance. Nothing was ever finished. Nothing was ever settled. Nothing. Everyone here died in the midst of repairing something. Chores and damage were inherited.” pg 38
John Pentecost knows from his childhood that there are forces in nature that cannot be explained. There are whispers in the woods and shadows beneath the trees that move with their own power. There’s a reason why the farmers have a “Devil’s Day” each year, to put the spirit to sleep while they gather their flocks in peace.
“As the Devil watched me, the same question ran through my mind as incessantly as the river. Did I like stories? Did I like stories? I answered yes.” pg 146
Andrew Michael Hurley uses the environment and setting to slowly create a feeling of dread, but then I felt like he never delivered on the story that he so painstakingly sets up. The pace is glacially slow.
That being said, there are one or two scenes from Devil’s Day that haunted me when I read them. I just happened to be reading this the night a record-breaking windstorm blew through town. I heard eerie shrieks and groans coming from outside my windows throughout the evening.
I couldn’t help but wonder what I would say if the Devil asked me if I like stories…
Thanks for reading!
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