Spoilers ahead
I came across Devil's Day purely by chance, the selection made on my behalf by Broad Books - a subscription service for secondhand books that I was eager to investigate and support. For £8.99 I received three previously-owned paperback books which supposedly fit into the theme of Thriller. Devil's Day is book one of three read, responses to books two and three will naturally follow. The old adage 'never judge a book by it's cover' immediately springs to mind following the conclusion of my journey through the Endlands. Proclamations of 'Winner of the Costa First Novel Award' and reviews such as 'the New Master of Menace' by the Sunday Times and 'Book of the Year' from five journalistic sources lead you to the conclusion you are about to read something truly gripping and suspenseful. A Thriller. My anticipated experience and expectations were however not entirely met. I would like to clarify that, for the record, I did not hate the book. There were a number a genuinely interesting and engaging aspects to the story I did enjoy. However, I cannot escape two distinct facts of my experience with Devil's Day: This is not a thriller. I do not know what it actually is. I have a few issues with Devil's Day, some of which reared their heads early doors and rode every page to the books conclusion. As much as I enjoyed the colloquialism of the Endlands, and the skill involved in creating a tone and atmosphere of a small secluded village in the North of England - there felt at times too much time spent on insignificant chatter. Where I fully appreciate that a great deal of the feeling of a tightknit farming community is conveyed through the natural and fluid conversations between the families of the Endlands, and their recollections of the Gaffer and the longstanding traditions of the valley, and that this closeness is imperative to be established as strong and unwaivering for a later plot point to land - I found myself understanding this sense of steadfast community long before the general chit chat phased into conversations that fed directly into the main plot points in a way that posed questions you actually craved answers for. I found myself feeling like a lot was being said, and only some of it mattered in the greater scheme of the story. Which leads me into another issue - the story itself. I found myself running into walls trying to decipher exactly what it was supposed to be. The introductory pages recall the blizzard of a century ago, when the Devil came and, leaving no footprints on the snow, visited houses in the Endlands at random, bringing death where He went. Little detail regarding the fabled blizzard which brought the Devil to the village is provided, simply a vague overview of what would go on to found longstanding traditions of Devil's Day in the Endlands. This tradition is however prevalent throughout the book, and almost a metaphor for the responsibility John feels towards the farm. The concept of the traditions of Devil's Day - from the making of the crown, to the preparation of the first born lamb of the season, the songs passed on from generation to generation in the aural tradition, and references to having to teach the child the fiddle to ensure that aspect of the days celebration does not get lost to history - all strengthen and support the overwhelming sense of responsibility and the call to home of John and the Pentecost land. In losing the Gaffer, John feels the history of the Pentecost name and the threat of it's extinction from the maps of the Endlands. Much in the way that the story of the blizzard and the time the Owd Feller came to the Endlands is kept alive by the small community of the village, the Pentecost farm can only be kept vital and exist if there are next generations to pass the legacy down to. There is a beauty in the parallel between the passing of traditions and the passing of land, that the current generation is already simply working to pass the essential history of the Endlands to the next before they have even taken on the full responsibility on the land themselves. The wall of boots a poignant and perfect summarisation of the fundamental nature of this place - every generation lovingly working for the next, because they deserve to enjoy the Endlands and be part of its heritage. The bittersweet aspect of this is the very striking lack of next generations remaining, and the real danger of names deeply tied to these moors and farms being lost in time. Devil's Day and the passing on of land from generation to generation walk hand-in-hand, this I had no issue with and enjoyed thoroughly. This aspect of the story however was basically the only solid aspect you could grab onto. Other aspects included intermittent references to and flashbacks of the time John's childhood bully, Lennie, died. These are fleeting and although try to appear to have significance and seem mysterious, left me cold. The 'bizarre' behaviour of Grace I found predictable and lacking any real depth - she never struck me as a threat or sinister, just a lonely little girl with a fixation on the pretty and young Kat. The implication that the Devil was in John as a child when he watched Lennie die, and Grace during her 'strange behaviour' while John and Kat are at the farm for the Gaffers funeral and to help with the Gathering, left me wanting. The Devil throughout is an ambiguous entity that leaps from weather to creature to man and flits between anything and everything at it's whim. It is hard to feel anything particularly strong or significant about the Devil as the acts of those influenced by Him are not exactly horrific or shocking. A boy who was being beaten repeatedly by a bully, a bully that was using a knife on this boy, watches him get carried away by the river rather than help potentially prevent the bully drown. A lonely little girl has childlike perceptiveness heightened, and is more emotionally unstable than usual. A stray, starving dog acts aggressively when looking to get food and faced with people. The only instance of the Devil doing anything more heinous are the fabled events of the blizzard, which by the end of the 294 pages you still know very little in regards to detail, and the manner in which the demi-gangster and pointless character/plot point Dent was dispatched. In both instances, you don't particularly care - which is maybe something of note if you view it as an apathy for the Devil's work. However that feels like a stretch, and it is ultimately simply apathy for aspects of the story which have no teeth. There was simply nothing particularly 'thrilling' for me about Devil's Day. The revelation of the death of the boy by the drunken hands of the Gaffer, which the Endlanders helped cover up, was not expected but did not rock me significantly. Similarly the big reveals of John's involvement in Lennie's death, Grace having the Devil in her, Dent's death - all left me shrugging my shoulders, saying to myself 'ok, and what else?' and finding not a great deal else was to follow. Dent in particular felt so redundant, I initially suspected his existence to be a red herring as it seemed so pointless for this to be part of the significant story line. His death was meaningless, and by association Jeff's death could have occurred a number of alternative ways and still had the same impact - the one time he was keeping a promise, he dies before he can fulfil it. The historical aspects of the narrative, whilst providing a little insight into the nature and heritage of the location, felt superfluous and almost a way of trying to legitimise the threat of the Devil and generic demonic loose threads weaving throughout the pages. The superstitions and folk lore of the Endlands, their deep rooted belief in the Devil and his prevalent threat and presence felt more reasonable when in the isolation of The Blizzard. Shoehorning in Lords and Ladies getting drunk and dallying with the occult trivialised the Endlands perspective on the Owd Feller for me. The Toffs sought thrills and entertainment in playing at sprit chasing and trivial blood sacrifices, whilst the local's respect the Devil and his threat to their lives and livelihoods. The two things are contrasting and rather than enhance the reality of the Devil and the Endland's way of life, the Toffs detracted from the story for me overall. The characters were more or less engaging and most fleshed out fairly well. I struggled to recall who was who in regards to Angela and Liz for sometime, the strong women very similar. John and Dadda's relationship was interesting in its layers and dimension - these are not the men who hug freely or expose themselves emotionally, yet say considerably more in a few words and gestures than you would expect. Kat I found deeply bratish, and frustrating. The lack of sense, understanding or support she showed throughout the book was irritating and made me push against the character, and the fact that we are supposed to believe that she somehow completely changed her mind regarding the farm out of absolutely nowhere left me jarred and disappointed. Overall I kept hitting the same wall as I completed every chapter - There is a lot of nothing being said, and not enough detail on the parts that are ultimately going to matter and form the core of the narrative. The primary issue I had reading Devil's Day however, is so trivial I am somewhat disappointed to commit to airing the grievance. He said. She Said. Kat said. I said. I appreciate that when trying to convey a conversation on the page, there will be instances where 'X said' is used, this is easy, clean and clear. However, repeated used of 'said' throughout the conversation as the only means of distinguishing who is speaking starts to feel lazy, and also ruins the flow of that conversation. You are constantly stepping outside of that suspended reality you are trying to engage in - all because the author could not think of a more creative way of indicating who was saying what to whom. There are instances where there are only two people speaking in Devil's Day, and 'x said' is still used. Where there are more than two individuals, it is almost unbearable the frequency in which dialogue is broken by 'said'. I am aware that this sounds petty and nitpicky, however as a means of context and example, I started to notice the overuse of 'said' very early on. I made it to page 44 of 294 before I felt compelled to check if this was just me or there was a significant use of this method of clarifying the speaker. On page 44 there are 32 lines of text. The phrase 'x said' or 'said x' appears on 16 of these. Page 166 this phrase is used 16 times, and on page 180 where there are only 265 words to the page we see this used 19 times, meaning 38 of the 265 words are used solely by the author being unable to clarify who is speaking in any other way that 'x said' - 14% of the page is literally just he said, she said, I said - this was consistent throughout the book and it wore thin very quickly. The art of writing a conversation so that you can identify who is speaking without having to break the flow of the dialogue is not necessarily easy. However, I would argue that there are numerous very simple ways to imply or suggest to the reader from who the dialogue is coming other than simply breaking up sentences with 'said'. Your aim as the author is to have the reader totally engrossed, hanging on every word. When you over use any element in your story telling, you start to chip away at the Readers attention to the story as things start to jar. And the more they have to step out of the world the harder it is to keep in it. Every time Hurley used 'said' he disconnected me from the atmosphere and community he was working so hard to build. It got to the point where the conversations felt stilted and lacked the gravity or weight they demanded. It was frustrating, disconnecting and eventually irritating, and really took away from the story for me as it is so heavily led with dialogue. I could not decide wether Hurley felt we'd be incapable of understanding who was speaking at any given time with more subtle cues, or if he simply lacked the imagination to try to indicate this in any other way that simply 'said' , but either way I was left feeling a little like these aspects of the story were dumbed down due to the lack of ability to curate a conversation with any creativity. Overall, I was left relieved I had finished the book so I could move onto something else, which makes be deeply sad. I cannot tell you what this book is and its ultimate point, nor what genre best describes the story. I can only advise that if you are picking this up on the assumption it is going to be a riveting thriller and that's exactly what you are in the mood for, you may wish to save this for another day. DTB