The Bedlam Stacks by Natasha Pulley: A review

Having recently finished reading N.K. Jemisin's Broken Earth trilogy which featured stone humanoid creatures called stone eaters, I was well-prepared to meet Natasha Pulley's Peruvian markayuq, humanoid creatures that give every appearance of being stone statues. Gradually it becomes apparent that the markayuq are actually capable of movement and that they are guardians of a sacred forest. They are treated like Christian saints by the villagers in the area where they exist. The villagers bring offerings to them and pray to them. But all of this is far along into the story told in The Bedlam Stacks. The beginning is something else altogether.

It is 1859 when we meet Merrick Tremayne on the family estate in Cornwall. He is - or has recently been - an employee (actually a smuggler) of the East Indian Company until he was caught in the middle of the Opium Wars in a battle near Canton where his leg was injured so badly that he almost lost it. Now, he's back home with his brother, Charles, on the sprawling, crumbling estate called Heligan. He's able to walk with the aid of a cane, but he is far from recovered.

Strange things are happening at Heligan. A tree explodes, setting off small fires, and a stone statue that overlooks Merrick's and Charles' father's grave appears to move. When Merrick mentions the moving statue, Charles threatens to have him committed to an asylum, where their mother is already in residence.

The estate is virtually bankrupt and Charles, insisting that Merrick must earn his way, secures a post for him as a parson in a nearby village. It appears that he may have no choice but to accept, until his old employer comes to the rescue with a scheme to send him to Peru to secure cuttings from the cinchona trees from which quinine is made. There is a serious outbreak of malaria in India and quinine is desperately needed.

Merrick initially turns down the assignment with the response that he is physically unfit for such a trip, but then his old friends Clem and Minna Markham show up to persuade him. Clem will lead the expedition and all that will be required of Merrick is to get the cuttings and deliver them safely to India. Easy peasy, as my kids used to say.

Most of the action in the book takes place in Peru in a village called New Bethlehem or Bedlam to which Merrick has a familial connection. His father and grandfather had been there before him.

The Bedlam Stacks are actually volcanic obsidian formations around which the village is built. The priest of the village is named Raphael and he is charged with guiding the Markham/Tremayne expedition. Curiously, there is a salt line barrier between the village and the nearby forest and everyone is forbidden from crossing that line. Anyone who does cross it will be killed, as several previous expeditions have learned to their sorrow. The one person who is able to freely cross the line and return safely is Raphael.

Raphael is an interesting character, probably my favorite. The growing friendship between him and Merrick is one of the most compelling plot lines in the story. It becomes particularly important when Markham proves himself to be an overweening jerk. But I mustn't give too much away...

This is a book that is hard to categorize. It is part historical fiction, but has elements of a thriller and of science fiction or fantasy; however, at its heart it is the story of a unique friendship. The book starts slowly and the parts that take place in Cornwall are a bit confusing at first, but once we arrive in Peru, the action quickly picks up speed. The prose is beautiful and the descriptions of landscape make the reader feel as though she is there. All in all, a fascinating read.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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