The genre of classic gothic fiction has been largely overlooked in the recent past. The Loney, which has been described by The Guardian as a “masterpiece by which Hurley must enter the Guild of the Gothic … ” is a welcome addition for aficionados of the genre. This debut novel of Andrew Michael Hurley bagged the Costa First Novel Award this year. It is an atmospheric gothic story set in the ’70s in an eerie place called The Loney in Morecambe Bay, a forsaken piece of English coastline which serves as an annual retreat of atonement and reaffirmation of faith for the protagonist’s orthodox Catholic family. It is described by the protagonist (Hanny) as “that strange nowhere between the Wyre and the Lune where Hanny and I went every Easter time with Mummer, Father, Mr and Mrs Belderboss and Father Wilfred, the parish priest”.

The haunting and macabre description of the landscape lends an ominous tone to the story, reminiscent of the works of Edgar Allen Poe where the thrills are subtly doled out and presented with great economy and clarity. The writer’s eye for detail is excellent when it comes to descriptions of the coastline and the menacing weather, “A sudden mist, a mumble of thunder over the sea, the wind scurrying along the beach with its crop of old bones and litter, was sometimes all it took to make you feel as though something was about to happen”. Hurley explained why he chose this place as a setting for his novel, “They are certainly beautiful in many ways but there’s a presence too — a sense of imminent menace or dormant power lying just under the sand and the water”. To his credit, he brilliantly manages to convey that perpetual element of underlying impending doom.

The book opens in the present with the discovery of the body of a child that turns up after a landslide on Coldbarrow. This compels the protagonist, Smith, to revisit two focal points in his adolescence — his time as an altar boy and his final retreat to the house in the Mooring. This pilgrimage is instigated annually by Esther as the latest of many attempts to seek divine intervention to cure his younger son Hanny’s mutism and mental disability. Both these events are interwoven in the narrative and tied up with the discovery of the body at Coldbarrow, the details of which are only disclosed at the end.

Andrew Michael Hurley’s eerie novel is an impressive debut

Esther, who is referred to as Mummer, is a dominating, assertive, religious woman for whom faith has more to do with following a ritualistic dogma than with spirituality. She resorts to petty competitions with Miss Bunce, the church’s housekeeper, as she is the only person who was closer to Father Wilfred than her in matters of faith. Esther is near-obsessed with the goal of curing Hanny, at any cost. It has been their tradition to annually visit The Loney with the aged Father Wilfred under whose tyrannical eye Smith served as an altar boy. Father Wilfred is a rigid, orthodox priest who believes that suffering is the core essence of faith. Mummer is a staunch believer in this stringent tenet, which we later find out also sheds light on the underlying dubious nature of their faiths. “The worse the torment, the more God was able to make Himself known, Mummer said, invoking the same branch of esoteric mathematics Father Wilfred used in his sermons to explain why the world was full of war and murder — a formula by which cruelty could be shown to be inversely proportionate to mercy.”

Father Wilfred meets with an untimely death, the details of which are shrouded in mystery with rumours rife that he died a faithless, miserable old man by committing suicide.

His replacement is the jolly Irishman, Father Bernard, who serves as the antithesis of the unyielding Father Wilfred. Compassionate and perceptive, soon after his appointment he is asked to lead the trip to Mooring. He seems to be at sea initially when handling their peculiar convention but soon gains insight into their tenuous belief and ethos, becoming adept at dealing with them by pandering to their fragile egos, specially Esther’s, while getting his own way. Smith observes, “A line of dominos, spinning plates, a house of cards. Pick a cliché. He had realised what I’d known about Mummer for a long time — that if one thing gave way, if one ritual was missed or a method abridged for convenience, then her faith would collapse and shatter.” Needless to say, Esther does not approve of the relatively unorthodox Father Wilfred and treats him condescendingly.

Adding to the mystery is a trio of a man, woman and a teenage girl who have taken refuge in a bleak house named Thessaly. Strange local men send out thinly veiled threats to Smith and Hanny to stay out of Thessaly while creepy effigies are found in the middle of the woods and a hidden quarantine room is discovered in the house with sinister looking jars and witch-bottles. Hurley employs several devices like omens, hints of the supernatural, inexplicable elements at work, and the metonymy of gloom and horror through nature which effectively infuses his narrative with eerie uneasiness.

The pace of the novel is uneven, and picks up in the latter part of the book, when revelations are made. Still, one is left feeling that many important questions were left unanswered and the writer’s decision to leave the fates of key characters ambiguous will polarize readers. Inexplicable, peculiar episodes are scattered throughout the narrative, duping the reader into believing they are key plot devices. For instance, what was the significance of the rifle discovered at the house in the beginning? What was the actual nature of Miss Bunce’s guilt?

What is commendable is Hurley’s grasp of the human psyche — all the characters are etched out in depth, and one gets an insight into what motivates their odd behaviour.

The Loney is a strong, impressive debut, largely owing to the haunting beauty of the narrative and the arresting descriptions.

The reviewer is a Karachi-based freelance writer.

The Loney
(NOVEL)
By Andrew Michael Hurley
John Murray, London
ISBN: 978-1473619852
368pp.