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“I trust a man who golfs less than a man who pays for sex.”

Vines upon a tree. Cairns, Far North Queensland. April 2021.

The Bass Rock by Evie Wyld

I had high hopes for this one at starting, but I was more than a little underwhelmed. Between time jumps and shifting narrative perspective, I found myself confused throughout.

While I understand and appreciate the central tenet of the novel is an exploration of the horrors that men visit upon women (and occasionally other men), the unremitting bleakness does wear the reader down. Flitting across three interlinked timeframes, I found the one farthest back - of witchcraft in early-modern Scotland - a bridge too far, disorienting and distracting to the central story arc.

Wyld's exploration of the dysfunctional male psyche that brings about misogyny and the terrible crimes committed upon women (and, again, upon other men) does not trouble me as it seems to have other male reviewers. Alas, I want to see a little more depth to the characterisation of these men, lest we fall into the trap that the "bad guys" are simply that, with very little to be learned beyond the obvious.

While many of the female characters in the book are drawn in rich, complex strokes, the men come across as one-dimensional and overly simplified. Their motivations lack the depth and subtlety that might help get further to the crux of the issues at hand. Without this, it feels more like a futile scream into the void.

Perhaps that is what the book is intended to be. If so, I guess that it did not quite land for me.

⭐ ⭐ 1/2

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