THE WOOD AT MIDWINTER

A much-loved author shares a tale for Christmastime.

In an afterword, Clarke tells readers how this story began as a BBC Radio 4 broadcast. Or, rather, she explains how her father’s neurodivergence, her beliefs about the consciousness of trees, and the music of Kate Bush begat a tale in which a young woman sees her future during a walk in a snowy forest. The author also explains how she was certain that Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell (2004) contained a footnote describing the city where her protagonist lives, but that it’s gone now—probably removed by a fairy “for reasons of his or her own.” It’s laudable that Clarke wants her readers to experience the narrative without preamble, but this backstory reveals her charms as a writer in a way that the story itself does not. Our heroine, Merowdis Scot, feels most at home in the woods and most herself in the company of animals. Even her sister, Ysolde—who comes closer than anyone to understanding her—is no substitute for Merowdis’ pig, her dogs, her many cats, or the spiders that weave their webs undisturbed in her room. Merowdis is taking a winter walk in the company of a trio of her four-legged companions when she encounters a fox and a blackbird and tells the wood of her desire for a child—a “midwinter child…A child to bring light into the darkness.” Given that Merowdis can’t imagine marrying and, given her ease with animals and unease around people, her wish will require a miracle that’s very different from the miracle found in the Christmas story. Once Merowdis sees her fate, this tale takes on some of the uncanny truth of folklore. Getting to this point, though, means connecting with an “unconventional” heroine who is both familiar and unexceptional in both children’s lit and books for grownups.

Could this be a made-for-gifting book created to coincide with the 20th anniversary of Clarke’s phenomenal debut?