Literary folk-horror? "The Willow King" by Meelis Friedenthal, translated by Matthew Hyde

"The Willow King" by Meelis Friedenthal, translated by Matthew Hyde

Literary folk-horror or fictional history?

The 16th and 17th Centuries were an important period for the development of science as we know it. Unfortunately, the history we’re generally fed is a black-and-white narrative made of heroes and villians, with brave, progressive scientists forging ahead despite the supernatural trammels of religion (and, more specifically, the censorship of the Roman Catholic Church and its nefarious Inquisition). 

The truth is much more nuanced and interesting. For a start, within science itself there were several competing approaches. The “mechanical science” of Kepler and Newton would eventually hold sway, but one should not discount the influence of the “natural philosophers” – early chemists and biologists such as Robert Boyle. Natural philosophers tended to follow theologically suspect pantheistic views (hence their clashes with the Church) but most of them also dabbled in alchemy and magic even whilst trying to study these esoteric subjects “empirically”. Some natural philosophers investigated folk remedies and witches' spells, in the belief that they had a basis in “real” science. Thus we meet, for instance, Jan Baptista van Helmont, a 17th Century scholar from the “Spanish Netherlands” (modern-day Belgium), who published studies on a method for treating gunshot wounds, involving dipping the offending weapon itself in a salve made up of, amongst other dubious ingredients, blood and “moss taken from a skull”. But it would be wrong to draw too clear a line between the “natural” and “mechanical” philosophers and brand the latter as more empirical and secular in approach. Newton dabbled in alchemy too, and Kepler had his quasi-supernatural theories about the “music of the spheres”. On the other hand, Helmont, when not hunting for moss in graveyards, was carrying out groundbreaking experiments which have gained him the epithet of “father of pneumatic chemistry”. In other words, this was an era in which the greatest and most rational of scientific minds held opinions which were, by present-day standards at least, manifestly irrational. (Some books which delve into these matters : Miracles at the Jesus Oak: Histories of the Supernatural in Reformation Europe, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, God's Philosophers: How the Medieval World Laid the Foundations of Modern Science).

In his novel “The Bees” (renamed as “The Willow King” in Matthew Hyde ’s excellent translation) Meelis Friedenthal takes us back to the late 17th Century and immerses us into the philosophical and scientific debates of the age. His protagonist Laurentius is a scholar who has just arrived to complete his medical studies at Dorpat (modern-day Tartu, Estonia), after having hastily abandoned his course at the University of Leiden under suspicion of heresy. Laurentius embodies the contradictions of his world. Well abreast of the cutting-edge works of Boyle and Descartes, he nonetheless clings on to the outmoded views of Aristotle and the medical theories of Galen regarding the body’s “four humours”. Besides, Laurentius appears to be still in thrall to the superstitions of the common people. Over the course of a feverish week spent in a rain-sogged Estonia, where peasants are suffering a terrifying famine and word is spreading of a mysterious and devilish “willow king”, he finds himself taken over by the supernatural dread which marked his boyhood.

This is undoubtedly a quirky work or – if you are feeling ungenerous – a flawed one. Apart from a few chapters, the novel is largely rendered in a third-person narrative which generally follows the interior monologues of Laurentius, interspersed with occasional, pointless exclamations (“Ah!”, “Right!”, “Hopeless!”, “Very well!”) The characters often indulge in learned explanations and debates, providing us (quite unsubtly) with historical context and an overview of current philosophical trends. The plot is initially sketchy and eventually downright confusing. 

Yet, despite my reservations, I lapped this novel up, haunted by its dark atmosphere and the author’s uncanny ability to recreate not just the sights and sounds of 17th century Estonia, but also the very thoughts of his characters. Indeed, my take on the novel is that it is a journey into the mindset of the period, and that the more fantastical parts of the plot are meant to represent the (for us) irrational beliefs of the time. Friedenthal moves deftly between genres – this is, nominally, a historical novel but, when Friedenthal pulls out all the stops, it ventures into Gothic and folk-horror territory and becomes deliciously creepy.

One final tip - it makes sense to read the author’s afterword before delving into the book. It gives context to the novel without any spoilers and might make the work more intelligible to those who are new to the exciting historical period it portrays.

Paperback, 288 pages

Published January 5th 2017 by Pushkin Press (first published 2012)