The Crowfield Curse by Pat Walsh
William is an orphan and he works in a abbey for enough food and shelter to survive. It’s not much a life, but it’s all he can do, unless his brother Hugh comes to claim him from London. But his destiny changes when he finds and rescues a Hob caught in a hunter’s trap and a mysterious masked man and his servant arrive at the abbey. The dying abbot has a secret, and William finds himself swept up in a world he never would have imagined.
But, despite the back of the book cover sounding like description I just gave, this novel reads like a cross between a myth and a story. There are sweet little humourous moments, mostly provided by the Hob, but generally it’s a pretty ideological story in which a good man (or boy in this case) faces a series of challenges and is both helped and hindered by supernatural forces/God and succeeds essentially because of his inherent goodness.
The book is slow, methodical and beautifully written. Certainly compared to Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, it’s not nearly as readable, but as a mythological tale, it’s much more telling. It’s layered, blending the pre-Christian British myth with Biblical stories, and it kind of feels like Britain to me. I mean, at least what it feels like to visit Britain. I think that’s probably what I loved most about it.
There isn’t that much else to say about this book. You should probably read it yourself. Inside with tea as you watch the rain or snow lashing against your windows.
Which, let’s face it, is pretty much every day of this whole entire winter.
Last movie I watched:
About Time. Always About Time. Because it is beautiful
Last TV show I watched:
Downton Abbey. I FORGOT HOW GOOD THAT SHOW IS.