Publishers Weekly
10/09/2023
Griffith follows up Hild with a transportive second volume inspired by the life of St. Hilda of Whitby (614–680), known for advising kings as an abbess and portrayed here as a canny royal leader and fierce warrior in the years before she’s recruited by the church. In the first installment, Hild was a precocious child; now, in 632, she’s 18 and recently wed to her half brother Cian Boldcloak, with whom she’s tasked to protect the highland of Elmet for their king and uncle Edwin, in whose court Hild was raised. Their lives are dictated by the constant threat of war, and by the end of the first act, Cian is killed in battle. Along with descriptions of bloody violence, Griffith colors in the customs and language of early medieval England (“Tide turns as æfen turns to niht,” a ship captain tells an impatient Hild while she’s on her way to a diplomatic mission in Colud). Though accounts of Hild’s vengeful battles drag on a bit too long, there’s no shortage of visceral prose (as Hild mounts her mare, Griffith writes: “She felt herself swell, blood coursing rich and thick in her veins, and her heart rose like a great bubble”). Admirers of the first bookwill not be disappointed. Agent: Stephanie Cabot, Susanna Lea Assoc. (Oct.)
From the Publisher
Redemptive, absorbing, and deeply satisfying.”
—Constance Grady, Vox
“[A] masterpiece of immersion . . . Menewood is everything Hild was in terms of prose craft, depth of research and immensity of feeling. . . Menewood doesn’t feel like a sequel so much as the same book, the same life, spooling a little farther along its path. While I hope not to have to wait another 10 years for another volume, I trust that it would be worth it."
—Amal El-Mohtar, The New York Times Book Review
"Menewood is marvelous. Hild is an epic hero living through extraordinary times yet through her, Nicola Griffith helps us bear witness to our own time and our place within it. I wanted to read for a thousand pages."
—Kelly Link, MacArthur Fellow and Pulitzer-nominated author of The Book of Love
"A wondrous piece of storytelling—mesmerizing and full of heart. Absolutely phenomenal!"
—Lucy Holland, bestselling author of Sistersong and Song of the Huntress
“If Hild showed us that close observation and inference could be mistaken for magic and vision, Menewood convinces us that the magic is embedded in history itself.”
—Gary K. Wolfe, Locus
"Griffith has published only a handful of novels, but each of them has been in some way extraordinary. She writers with a clarity of expression, precision, and force that few writers of my experience can equal ... There are lines and paragraphs that will haunt me for years. Griffith has an incredible talent . . . I deeply admire this book."
—Liz Bourke, Reactor Magazine
"Menewood manages to somehow surpass its beloved predecessor with its rich seventh century British setting, epic scope, and the sheer beauty of Griffith's language."
—Autostraddle
"Menewood is a searing depiction of a world at war, and the ferocious and complicated woman at the center of it."
—Maria Dahvana Headley, author of The Mere Wife and Beowulf: A New Translation
"Griffith follows up Hild with a transportive second volume."
—Publishers Weekly
"[U]nexpected and beautiful. . . Menewood is an even more stunning sequel . . . You leave somewhat dazed and dazzled . . . beauty and crystal clarity makes it an incredibly immersive world to inhabit. It is a book about a strange, singular woman, and her view on the world around her, and it is a marvel."
—Roseanna Pendlebury, Nerds of a Feather
"A propulsive and detailed revenge story. . . the pages turn almost of themselves. This is a magnificent book."
—Catherine Rockwood, Strange Horizons
"Menewood is an absolute triumph. Hild is truly a hero for all women, here and now."
—Carolyne Larrington, Professor of Medieval European Literature at the University of Oxford
"Menewood is a brilliant novel as well as a craft class in world-building, Griffith's novel is so fully realized that we feel as if she had been there."
—Amanda Cockrell, Historical Novel Review
"Lush, textured—another gem of a book."
—Misha Grifka Wander, Ancillary Review
Kirkus Reviews
2023-07-15
Griffith picks up Hild's story where her eponymous 2013 novel left off.
When last we saw Hild, she had just been made the Lady of Elmet. She and her new husband (and half brother), Cian Boldcloak, are responsible for holding southern Northumbre for her uncle Edwin, the king. The 7th century was a tumultuous time in Britain. Regional rulers like Edwin clashed as they sought to control the whole island and Christian priests vied with old gods. Hild survived a perilous childhood by making a reputation as a seer and, later, by becoming a fierce warrior. What she wants isn’t power; it’s a safe home for those she loves and those in her care. She knows that war is coming, and leading her people through it will require foresight, cunning, and terrible sacrifice. As she did in Hild, Griffith offers a richly textured vision of life in early-medieval Britain. She takes incredible care in the language she uses, avoiding modern metaphors and generally choosing words of Germanic or Celtic origin over Latinate words. She also dots her text with terms straight from Old English, which has the wonderfully paradoxical effect of pulling the reader into Hild’s universe while reminding us that this place is, for us, strange and ultimately irrecoverable. And there are moments of exquisite poetry throughout the text, particularly in descriptions of the natural world. Where this book falters is in its length, its pace, and a list of characters that will be unmanageable for most readers. For example, the first quarter of the book—almost 200 pages—describes the lead-up to a war between Edwin and rival kings. The political machinations are not easy to follow; nor are they, ultimately, very enlightening. Most of the conversations among Hild, Edwin, and other powerful players are about what they don’t know and, given that the text seldom strays from Hild’s point of view, the reader receives no insights that she doesn’t have. There’s also a tremendous amount of repetition. The word “seax”—a type of knife—occurs 92 times in this novel and, in most instances, Hild is grasping hers or adjusting hers or drawing attention to hers because she feels uneasy or wishes to assert her power. And every time she does it, she becomes more of a figure from pantomime than a real and singular woman.
Overlong and slow-paced, but compelling despite its flaws.
