The Witch Elm

When you consider reading a book, you might do well to first ask yourself a couple of questions. Such as, Am I in the mood for a quick read? A read that doesnt require me to stop and think over what I just learned about the main character or as to what I would do in a similar circumstance? In The Witch Elm we have a character-driven absorbing read that will, on occasion, challenge you. Folks looking for a quick read, especially commuters, may want to look elsewhere.

If youre still here, welcome to my reading room

POV: First person, which imparts an intimacy that is needed by a tale such as this. Getting inside Tobys head to learn how he experiences, and attempts to recover from, his fall is one of the major themes in this character-driven story.

BLUSH FACTOR: To put it gently, unless your church group differs greatly from mine, you will NOT be reading this aloud to them. In fact, youre more likely to disavow any knowledge of this book, even if you did read it in bed and keep it hidden from view by visitors.

ADVENTURE: Yes, at least for me, as Im a Yank. For people in the UK, I have no idea.

THE WRITING: Friendly, intimate, chatty. Good flow and, dare I say, sway. Almost feel like its a waltz. Mind you, when I was younger I abhorred think books, which, at 528 pages or thereabouts, I would have run the other way to find a quicker read. I was the sort who decried the loss of trees for such books. Now, though, Ive come to appreciate what additional pages really means character development, asides that afford us time to view how the other half lives. Or, permit us to develop a one-on-one relationship with the narrator to appreciate how they can draw us in with a gentle tug here and there.

In other words, if youre looking for a quick read, this is liable to disappoint. It also, however, might draw you in to show you the value of what I stated above.

GRAMMAR, EDITING & SUCH: This is a first-rate production by a premier writer. Bear in mind, though, this is written by a writer in the UK, so some terms might need a little interpretation to fully appreciate their meaning.

CHARACTER: Watching how the writer brings Toby from a full, happy, lucky man downwards is engrossing.

Excerpt

This excerpt comes from quite early in the story, so is free of what I consider spoilers, plus free of words that Amazon does not permit in reviews. This glimpse, however brief, will show a side of Toby that may dispel any prejudices in his favor. If that could annoy you, please pass on reading the excerpt.

hadnt there been some coke left over from that Paddys Day party? But surely if they had been planning to give me hassle over that, they would have mentioned it by now How about your car? Martin asked.

Oh, I said. My car hadnt even occurred to me. Yeah. Its a BMW coupeI mean, its a few years old, but its probably still worth Did they take it?

They did, yeah, Martin said. Sorry. Weve been keeping a lookout for it, but no joy yet.

The insurancell sort you out, no problem, Flashy Suit told me comfortingly. Well give you a copy of the report.

Where were the keys? Martin asked.

In the living room. On the, theword gone againthe sideboard.

He blew air out of the side of his mouth. In full view of the windows, man. Ever leave the curtains open?

Mostly. Yeah.

Martin grimaced. Youll know better next time, wha? Did you have them open last Friday evening?

I dont Getting home, going to bed, everything in between, it was all blank, a black hole big enough that I didnt even want to get near itI dont remember.

Did you have the car out that day?

It took me a moment, but: No. I left it at home. I had figured that, whatever happened with Richard, I was going to want a few pints.

In the car park in front of the building.

Yeah.

Do you drive it most days?

Not really. Mostly I walk to work, if the weathers OK, save the hassle of parking in town? But if its raining or, or Im running late, then yeah, I drive. And if I go somewhere at the weekend. Maybe two days a week? Three?

When was the last time you had it out?

I guess I knew I had stayed home for a few days before that night, couldnt remember exactly how long The beginning of that week? Monday?

Martin lifted an eyebrow, checking: You positive? Monday?

Maybe. I dont remember. Maybe it was over the weekend. I got where he was going with this. The car park was open to the road, no gate. Martin thought someone had scoped out my car, clocked me getting into it, watched the windows till he identified my apartment, and then come looking for the keys. In spite of the element of creepinessme sprawled contentedly on my sofa eating crisps and watching TV, eyes at the dark crack between the curtainsI liked that theory, an awful lot better than I liked my Gouger one. Car thieves werent personal, and they were hardly likely to come back.

Anything else valuable? Martin asked.

My laptop. My Xbox. I think thats it. Did they

Yeah, Flashy Suit said. Your telly, too. Thats the standard stuff: easy to sell for a few bob. Well keep the serial numbers on file, if youve

French, Tana. The Witch Elm: A Novel (pp. 57-59). Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

BOTTOM LINE

As other reviewers have stated, the story slows a bit during the development stage, but that I believe was an artistic decision and has nothing to do with why Im taking a star away. Oh, and although there is some hint of sex in the romantic aspects of the story, there is nothing graphic, from my viewpoint. In fact, I might have preferred to see some. So, why four stars? The profanities and other slang are so numerous. Mind you, I agree with the decision to include rough street talk to set the tone. However, in my thinking, less can be more. Mostly though, I just want to ensure readers wishing to avoid such talk are properly alerted.

Four stars out of five. Still, four stars is certainly a strong recommendation to read.

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Having enjoyed the author’s other books, I found this one to be a slog. Ms. French is a very skilled writer, but finishing this one was a battle. At the center is Toby, a twenty something hail fellow well met. He spends his time pushing the ethics envelope on the job, drinking with his buddies, pulling adolescent pranks and occasionally paying attention to his girlfriend, Melissa, who is the only ray of sunshine in this gloomy book and although he professes to love her, it’s hard to see why she cares about him.

On an ordinary evening, two men burgle Toby’s apartment and beat him nearly to death. Since he is the narrator and spends the first third of this book in the hospital, there is very little action and is largely written as though he were not on a morphine drip and completely aware. Even drugs do not keep Toby from being annoyed. He’s in pain, hates the doctors, wishes his mother would leave him alone and so on.

Released from the hospital, Toby has lasting effects from the beating, some physical, some psychological. He doesn’t want to do anything but mope around while resenting anyone who tries to help. He’s such an unlikable guy it’s difficult to feel sorry for him. Just when I was ready to give up on this book, his family convinces Toby to move in with his bachelor uncle, Hugo. Hugo is terminally ill and can’t be alone and since Toby isn’t doing anything anyway, he agrees.
Both Melissa and Toby move in with Hugo, who is failing but whose attitude is the opposite of his nephew, gentle and considerate. Melissa goes to work and Hugo spends his days tracing people’s ancestry online. Toby takes too many drugs and wanders around feeling sorry for himself. Each Saturday the extended family visits The Ivy, Hugo’s home. They bring food. There are parents, cousins, children and they drink and talk and talk and talk. These conversations are not much different from most family get togethers. Lots of resentments pop up, eyeballs roll, parents yell at the children. Just when it appeared that nothing was every going to happen again in this book, Eureka!

At one of these Saturday free for alls, Hugo shoos the children outside to go on a hunt for buried treasure and one of them discovers a human skull. Half the family is for tossing it over the fence but Hugo insists they call the authorities. There is much discussion among the family members about whether the skull is ancient or contemporary and so on and, of course, they have no idea.

When the identity of the deceased is discovered to be contemporary, the police become involved and the hunt is on. The police are called and to a man they are menacing and suspicious while being verbally obsequious. With nothing else to do, really, Toby sets out to be a detective. He plies his cousins with alcohol and engages them in verbal jousts and asks what he thinks are brilliant questions in hopes of gaining some clues as to what they know. Toby has become paranoid and afraid after his beating so poking his nose into deep waters would not seem to be logical but forward he rushes, drunk and stoned. Melissa is disgusted and moves out. Toby whines.

The characters, with the exception of Melissa and Hugo, are not sympathetic and they talk, talk, talk and Toby complains for hundreds of pages. This might have been a better book if Toby himself had been the victim as the suspect pool would have been wide. From the point where Toby moves in with Hugo, this book is like a play. All the action takes place at The Ivy, home of the Witch Elm of the title. Toby doesn’t leave, Hugo doesn’t leave. Melissa leaves and comes back and the rest of the cast wanders in and out, airing complaints. The last half of the book is nearly all dialogue. It’s a trial to read a book where the narrator is a a self-absorbed brat who stays stoned and is all about me! me! Rarely do I dislike a book so much that I considered chucking it half way through.

Why? Why didn’t her editors tell her how bad this was? Why does Toby spend most of the book feeling sort for himself? Why can’t I tell you how bad this book is without revealing the plot? Would I dislike the book as much if I didn’t know French was capable of so much more? I’m not sure. But I slogged through it for that reason. The basic kernel of the plot could have been a good book and the author is certainly good. But our main characters are not likeable, and our hero spends much of the book telling us how miserable he is, and nothing at all uplifting comes out of the mess that is their lives. I’m not saying that a mystery should have a happy ending, just ….wow.

As others have noted, this novel is a departure from Tana Frenchs other works. The plot is, perhaps, overly intricate, though the unreliability of the narrator provides an excuse for that. It is occasionally brutal, occasionally beautiful but, for me, the unlikability of 95 percent of the characters made this book a difficult read. I truly didnt care about them. As a result, the long, long road to resolving what happened became a battle between mild curiosity about what might have occurred and increasing dislike of everyone involved.

Still reading this book. Tana French can do no wrong! Every character she ever portrays, with their flaws and strengths, are all well but concisely described, with the story always fluid and gripping. As always with her books, I don’t want this novel to end!

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