The Good People

July 24, 2017
Faith, folk-knowledge, and fear coalesce in remote 19th-century Ireland in this second novel from Kent (Burial Rites). When her daughter and husband die amid what the community considers dark omens—unmoving birds, mysterious lights, a raging storm—Nóra Leahy dreads a future of backbreaking work in order to pay her rent and care for her four-year-old grandson Micheál. Once hale and healthy, the boy was delivered to Nóra’s doorstep after the sudden death of his mother mute, unable to walk, and starving. Bitter gossip at the well and by the hearth questions how Nóra’s luck soured so quickly, why the valley cows’ milk is drying up, and why none of the townspeople ever see the ailing boy. Rumors and dark signs weigh on Nóra until she seeks help outside of her comfort zone: old Nance Roche’s knowledge of the Good People—the fairies. But the old hermit’s cures of nettle, nightshade, and foxglove bring nearly as much risk as reward. Defying the valley’s newly appointed priest, Nance, Nóra, and her young housemaid, Mary Clifford, set out to determine whether Micheál is a boy or the fairy changeling the valley fears him to be. Though rife with description, backstory, and a surfeit of gossip, the book’s pervasive sense of foreboding and clear narrative arcs keep the tale immersive. Kent leads the reader on a rocky, disquieting journey to the misty crossroads of Irish folk beliefs past and future.

August 25, 2016
Nóra Leahy has suffered great misfortune. It is 1825 in the far west of Ireland, and her beloved husband has just died, most ominously, at a crossroads, only a few months after their daughter’s death. Nóra is left to care for her grandson, Micheál, but the thriving toddler she last saw is now a four-year-old who has lost the use of his legs, cannot speak and is given to uncontrollable screaming. She engages a young girl, Mary, to help, but as Micheál’s problems continue, she turns to local handy woman Nance for advice, for she is convinced that he is not her grandson, but a changeling—a fairy left in place of the boy. As winter closes in on the community, misfortunes multiply, and the villagers, encouraged by their new priest, start to grow suspicious of Nance and her old ways. And when none of Nance’s remedies drive the fairy out, she must resort to more powerful, more dangerous cures. Hannah Kent’s much-anticipated second novel is a thoroughly atmospheric and involving read with beautifully turned descriptions that show off Kent’s craft, although the difficulty of rendering the Irish cadence without resorting to cliché is sometimes evident in the dialogue. Where it most satisfies is in the depiction of grief and faith, at a time when being a good Christian did not preclude a deep belief in older ways of seeing the world. Readers eager to see how Kent has followed up her bestselling debut Burial Rites should not find themselves disappointed. Lindy Jones is a senior buyer and bookseller at Abbey’s Bookshop in Sydney