Lute

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Hang on.” Hugh whirls around, pointing past the man to his small speedboat, tied up next to the launch. “You’ve got your boat.” John won’t rat them out for camping without a permit. He’s not the type. Sure enough, he just smiles. “Lady Treadway here’s looking for her son. Seen anybody of the seven-year-old persuasion wandering—?”

Lute excels in its quieter moments. It is, ultimately, a story about Nina and her choices. As such, a great deal of the ‘conflict’ is introspective, as Nina contemplates her own past, and the journey she’s taken. The horror, such as it is, feels almost gaudy by comparison. The action scenes are mostly minimised, which is probably for the best. The overall vibe of Lute is folkloric, as befitting a woman’s search for belonging on a timeless isle. Everybody’s so cavalier here. Nothing bad could possibly happen on Lute, don’t you know, except for that one day. It’s illogical. But I play along, as ever, waving gratefully to Brian before we continue on. A man steps into view, and a silent sob of relief drops out of me. What did I think it was, a ghost? The man pats Charlie on the shoulder before rising to greet me. I’m about to shout, “Thank you,” when I realize it’s Matthew Clare.John Ashford,” not just “John.” Sally uses his full name because on an island with a population of less than two hundred, there are somehow seven Johns to differentiate between. Five of them have been off fighting for the past four years, but John Ashford remains John Ashford, and ancient John Jones is still John Jones. You’d think new parents would get it together among themselves to vary the names they give their babies, but that’s not the way of things here, and if I’ve learned anything in the past seven years on Lute, it’s that “the way of things” likes to stay put. Even in wartime. Everywhere around us, life’s been upended, but here, it’s only seemed to shift. All that said: my quibbles with Lute are minor, and pale in the face of its strengths. Lute brings to life the experience of ostracism and the feeling of being an outsider. It is ‘horror’ in that it plays on one of our greatest anxieties: the sense of feeling unwelcome, and not knowing where (or if) one might ever belong.

For me, the best parts of Lute were those focused on the characters and how they deal with everything that’s happening, their tangled relationships and the imminent sense of danger that threatens to ruin them. The bloody finale did not disappoint, and the build-up was worth the wait. Tess and Lila called themselves The Fearless Fords in their childhood, dreaming of daring international adventures together, but the sisters have barely spoken for years. Presented now with a grand adventure and a puzzle that will require all their wits, the two women face a choice. Will they follow the clues fast enough to win the ultimate prize? Or will they prove clever enough to change the game entirely? Thorne’s subversion of folk horror tropes and focus on small, intimate beats make for a gripping reading experience recommended for fans of Midsommar and Jennie Melamed’s Gather the Daughters.” – Publishers WeeklyMy voice dwindles, sensing no one’s listening to it. Hugh stares past me at the village, his brown eyes utterly dulled. Then he starts walking, off the road, into the heath, away from home. The man has snow-blond hair and chalk-white teeth. Before he even speaks, I start trying to figure out what country he’s from. I’m sure I saw them go off together.” She wipes her hands on her trousers. “Do you want me to have a look around?”

When Hugh’s attempts to get his family off the island fail in every possible way, the family hunkers down to prepare for what’s to come. Nina isn’t sure what to expect, but as her friends keep reminding her, she will soon understand, once the Day is over. I lean forward to peer at him. The mistiness in his expression has been replaced by stone-still certainty. He’s caught the island’s superstition, hasn’t he? Somebody’s been filling his head with nonsense. Matthew, maybe, or one of the village kids. The grove, the only wild collection of trees on Lute, too small to even call it a wood, but once inside, it may as well be a forest. Lute and its inhabitants are blessed, year after year, with good weather, good health, and good fortune. They live a happy, superior life, untouched by the war that rages all around them. So it’s only fair that every seven years, on the day of the tithe, the island’s gift is honored.I wonder if things are still the same in Florida. Strip malls extending their reach like concrete kudzu, theme parks whirling, playgrounds flash-drying in the summer sun. I feel a little pain behind one eye at the thought of my childhood home, flat and glaring, and then blink it away as I reach for my daughter. Nina Treadway is new to The Day. A Florida girl by birth, she became a Lady through her marriage to Lord Treadway, whose family has long protected the island. Nina's heard about The Day, of course. Heard about the horrific tragedies, the lives lost, but she doesn't believe in it. It's all superstitious nonsense. Stories told to keep newcomers at bay and youngsters in line.

I wilt a little watching them go, like a child who hasn’t been invited to the party, but that’s not strictly fair. Just the other day, two of “the mums,” Wendy and Jenny, asked if I was coming with the kids to Sunnan now that the decision had been made to send them away. When I said we were leaving too, for our anniversary, they looked more disappointed than I’d expected. It matters which country. Finland surrendered to the Russo-American armies a month after the war began, the first big domino to fall. He’s just a person, middle-aged, weary, but there’s something striking about him here. He looks like he belongs in the grove. King of the Wood. Part of the genius of Lute is seeing how this close-knit community reacts to unavoidable tragedy. We see characters experiencing all stages of grief, culminating with the acceptance of their fate as they understand the necessity of honoring their bargain with the island. In its own perverse way, this tragic day of sacrifice both tears apart and brings together this ancient community. I drive the thought away now and think of the northern tip of the island, the cell tower and barrow. That area isn’t all that dangerous, just eerie.

Construction Zoo

Every seven years, on the longest day, the day of the summer solstice, the island of Lute takes seven people. They die. It’s not necessarily a gruesome death – or even a painful one. Often it’s an accident. But the island, or the spirits that dwell within, choose who will pay that piper among those present on the island on The Day.