Starve Acre by Andrew Michael Hurley
In the aftermath of their son’s death, Richard and Juliette are rattling around their lonely house on the edge of moorland, spiralling in their grief. He busies himself researching the barren field of Starve Acre where a gallows tree, the Stythwaite Oak, once stood. Her reaction is more spiritual — early on, she summons a local group of occultists called the Beacons, prompting Richard’s disdain.
Hurley’s rural Yorkshire scenery is full of wild beauty, but it also thrums with old violence and fresh menace. He is in his element with this type of folk horror. Some early passages involving the gradual reanimation of a hare’s unearthed skeleton, as it sprouts organs, sinews, skin and fur, risked being ludicrous, but I found them fantastically visceral and creepy.
I only wish that the couple’s strained relationships with the villagers had been explored further, and that the conclusion had been stronger. Many well-turned phrases and macabre images from Starve Acre will stick with me, but I’m not sure the ending will.