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.

Early-nineteenth-century Ireland is a world of superstition, poverty, and survival, a world that narrator Caroline Lennon describes in her strong Irish brogue. Nora finds herself caring for her 4-year-old grandchild, Michael, who doesn't speak or walk. She's helped by Mary, a young woman hired to work in the house and care for Michael, and Nance, a wise woman and a pagan who knows herbs and perhaps the ways of the good people. Lennon shifts from short phrases for the narrative, which is often a little stiff, to fluidly read the dialogue. The story unwinds slowly, forcing listeners to pay attention to the subtle details interspersed with quick glimpses of the good people, the elves, and other creatures of that place of which folktales are told. M.B.K. � AudioFile 2018, Portland, Maine