The Hill in the Dark Grove
by Liam Higginson
The protagonists of The Hill in the
Dark Grove – the elderly couple Carwyn and Rhian – eke out an existence on
a remote sheep farm in North Wales. The novel is set in the present, but this
is not immediately apparent, as the couple are largely detached from the
comforts and amenities of contemporary life and continue to live according to
the timeless rural traditions of the area. The events of the novel are set in
motion by a discovery Carwyn makes on his land: he unearths a prehistoric
carved stone head and, after digging further, also finds a passage tomb and a
stone circle.
These finds point to ancient settlers in the area and their pre-Christian beliefs. As Carwyn’s newfound archaeological interest turns into an obsession, a veil of nightmares, omens, and general ill luck descends upon the farm and the surrounding valleys, suggesting that his discovery may have awakened an ancient evil.
This impression is reinforced by brief historical vignettes of two to three pages that serve as prologues to each chapter. Set in the same area but progressively reaching further back in time, these scenes consistently evoke death, danger, and superstition, contributing to the novel’s pervasive atmosphere of dread.
The central premise of Liam Higginson’s debut novel, with its strong tinge of “archaeological weird,” is hardly new. The baleful influence of pagan cults and prehistoric artefacts has long been a staple of weird fiction and folk horror, and more recently has also found its way into more mainstream literary fiction. A couple of notable examples include Ghost Wall by Sarah Moss and Barrowbeck by Andrew Michael Hurley. With Barrowbeck, this novel also shares the device of linking different stories to the same geographical setting across the centuries – another narrative hook that is becoming something of a trope (as in North Woods by Daniel Mason, currently on my to-read list).
What sets Higginson’s novel apart is the
care and affection with which the landscape and traditional ways of life are portrayed.
Inspired by the author’s native North Wales, the setting feels both authentic
and spellbinding. While the more overtly horrific elements come to the fore in
the final chapters, much of the novel is concerned with the life story of
Carwyn and Rhian, their communion with nature, and the everyday challenges they
face on the farm. Depending on the reader’s expectations, this may be both the
novel’s greatest strength and its main weakness. Readers who are solely after
Gothic horror may find the novel disappointing: it is very much a slow burn,
and only in the final pages does it move decisively into horror or thriller
territory. On the other hand, readers willing to immerse themselves in its
pastoral atmosphere – marked by the rhythms of the seasons and the cycles of
life – and to treat the darker, supernatural elements as a welcome addition
rather than the novel’s primary selling point are likely to find much to enjoy.
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