The most delightful horror story I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading, with one of the fiercest, bravest and most genuine elderly ladies to ever grace a fictional dimension of existence. You, Sodergren, had me already at the opening lines, of which I am convinced will win the “Best opening lines of the century”-award when that one eventually comes around. Yes, when I read that “Muriel Margaret McAuley was eighty-four years old the first time she saw a man turned inside-out by a sea monster”, my heart skipped a beat, and I knew I’d love it, that I’d hold on and never let go.

Just like Muriel.

The blurb would tell you that she was born in Witchaven, a Scottish fishing village, and that she “intends to die there”. It would also tell you that “an overseas property developer threatens to evict the residents from their homes and raze Witchaven to the ground”. But embedded between those lines, you see, is the heartwarming and heart wrenching story of the villagers, the purity of simple living and harmony with nature.

And covered in all that gut and blood and gore is a story about greed, ambition and desperation.

That kind of story is classic, with a message so simple, yet so powerful.

Sure, rich people love money above all else and they do whatever they can to get more of it, common decency and human lives be damned. They just walk right up to you and smack you in the face with the fact that “laws don’t apply to the rich” (12). But Muriel is powerful too. She’s not afraid to fight back and say that “men like that – rich men, with no morals – did whatever it took to get ahead. They lied and cheated their way to the top, treading all over the little people beneath them without a care”, and then, with sad eyes, she sees the consequences of that behavior to the world around her and concludes that “A man with no respect for nature was the worst type of man.” And as such, “she would never understand someone who could walk through Witchaven and not feel their heart sing”. (32-33)

This message is carried on throughout the whole story, and I’d say that it’s one of the better characteristics of the book as well as its weakest feature. The fight against greed, against the “unnatural sounds” of capitalism, its invasion of privacy and encroachment on nature makes me invested in Witchhaven and Muriel, makes we want to fight for her, with her, makes me engrossed in the story. But the rich and the greedy are all basic caricatures here, fueled by judgmental views about them, devoid of any nuance, any sympathy and redeeming qualities. Had the rest of the story not been so rich with romance and passionately aggrandized with gore and otherworldly violence, I’d eventually grow tired of it, but I never did, because Muriel is the embodiment of longing and sweet memories, of having something to fight for, of finding a reason to live.

Indeed, let’s not forget that she’s old. And old age is most likely just a distant, vague, illusory state of being far into the future to many of us. But we might even fear it too. A lot. Thanks to Sodergren, though, and thanks to Muriel, I’m convinced that, when the time comes, I can decide to be so much more than my weakening body, that I can dare to venture beyond my physical age. As long as I have my memories, my willpower, my love, I can still live a meaningful life and fulfill new dreams and, as one other reviewer said, “trick American capitalists into my bathtub to feed my blobby friend” anytime I want!