Gollancz, £8.99, ISBN 978-1-4732-0545-1
Fantasy, 2014 (Reissue)
I hope you aren’t expecting some deep, literary review of the Mythago Wood by the late Robert Holdstock. This book is held in such high esteem that it has become one of those things that one need to profess to love and having seen the light because of it, or be viewed as a credibility-free poseur that doesn’t know good fantasy if it stole one’s precious ring and threw it into a volcano.
Sadly, I’m not good at pretending that much.
I first read this book a few years after it first came out in 1984. At that time, there wasn’t an Internet for me to order it off an online bookstore, and I had to depend on the whim and mercy at the local bookstore to read anything. As luck would have it, I chanced upon it in the university library, became intrigued by the lovely cover and back cover synopsis, and checked out to book.
Given that I grew up in a rustic neighborhood that had long been urbanized, I always had a love for nature. Note that love for and actually frolicking in nature are two different things, and these days, you can’t pay me to camp in the woods for even a night unless I still have access to the Internet and other joys of modern technology. Anyway, back to this thing: I fell in love with the concept of Ryhope Wood. Yes, the wood in question is called that and not the title of the story.
The concept is that Ryhope Wood is a demiplane, to use tabletop RPG lingo, one that may seem finite from the outside, but once you step inside, it’s a far larger and dangerous place. In these woods are the mythago, which is short for myth imago. These are idealized creatures of myths and legends, drawn from the memories of human minds in the area surrounding the woods, and given that this story is set in Herefordshire, the mythago are created from familiar legends of that area. King Arthur, Herne the Hunter, et cetera—given “proper” names, of course, because remember, this is art, not pulp fantasy.
Central to this story is the mythago Guiwenneth. After all, she will be the central figure of a love triangle of sorts that also feature the two Huxley brothers, Christian and Stephen.
Stephen returns home to Oak Lodge after serving in the army, and with World War 2 over, he finally can’t delay his homecoming any longer. He is a familiar character: he walked away from their emotionally abusive father when he was younger, but in doing so, he left his brother Christian to face their father all alone and clean up the mess Stephen left behind. Now that he’s back. our protagonist most charmingly treats Christian with derisive indifference, ignoring Christian’s efforts to explain the mysteries of the mythago Guiwenneth, whom the latter had fallen in love with, and even acting like Christian’s eventual disappearance is only worthy of a shrug.
Wait, why am I supposed to want this fellow as the protagonist again?
When Stephen finally starts seeing the mythago creatures around the place, then he starts showing some curiosity. Naturally, when he meets Guiwenneth, he thinks little about trying to get into her funky-smelling undergarments. Christian said he’s in love with this thing? Oh whatever, he’s not the center of the universe, Stephen is, so that brother can sod off as Stephen’s pee-pee is homing right in to that happy place.
No, really, I’m supposed to root for this guy?
Also, why again am I suppose to care for his relationship with Guiwenneth? There is a language barrier between them early on, so it’s not like they have some emotional connection at any level. In fact, Stephen actually thinks highly of Guiwenneth, beyond her looks, only after she starts bathing and adopting good old English manners. Before that, he’s all, hot but eh, not English enough for him okay. Maybe she has some hidden depths that only emerge in later books for all I know, but in this one, she is strictly that sad stereotypical female character that exists only to be the protagonist’s love interest and damsel in distress, with nary any personality aside from supposedly being hot and definitely always in trouble one way or the other.
On the other hand, even after rereading this thing years later, I find myself still falling again for the concept for Ryhope Wood. This story is basically one long exposition from start to finish, as our hero gets lectured pretty much all the time about the mysterious woods and the creatures within. When it’s not other characters delivering the exposition reel, then it’s time for excerpts from the journals of Stephen’s father. Sure, Stephen is running after Guiwenneth now and then, but for the most part, this whole thing is a long lecture, kind of like those Lord of the Rings books only this time it starts in the woods instead of the shire, and instead of hobbits we have smelly magical things that cannot survive for long should they leave the woods.
I love the concept, the premise, and the escapism offered by Ryhope Wood, so I don’t mind the exposition. I find the mythology and the mythago to be far more interesting that Stephen and his yawn-inducing adventure, actually. However, I suspect some readers, especially that aren’t as enamored of the vicarious possibilities of the setting, may find this one a dry read.
It also helps that Mr Holdstock’s prose is absolutely gorgeous here, a joy to read because the syllables of the words in every sentence, when read in my mind, can come together to make some lovely music in the head, so to speak. I love the very act of reading this story, even if I didn’t particularly care for the story, if I am making sense here.
All in all, I don’t regret revisiting Mythago Wood, but I am also reminded of why, all those years ago, I never followed up on the entries that come after it. Mr Holdstock has created a wonderful, fantastical setting with lots of intriguing possibilities and bold ideas, but I am never invested in the characters enough to want to follow them on their subsequent adventures.
To contrast with another story set in a fantastical natural rustic setting, I love Kenneth Grahame’s Wind in the Willows to pieces, even those parts that are too out there for some folks, and it breaks my heart still that the stories have ended and I can’t further follow the adventures of Moley, Ratty, Toady, and friends. Of course, when the Internet came to be and I learned of the painful history of the author and his son that inspired these stories, I couldn’t bring myself to read that, but that’s more on me than the work itself.
Anyway, what I was trying to say before I got derailed by the tragedy of the Grahame family is that Mythago Wood will always have a place in my heart because of the premise, setting, and ingenuity that went into the crafting of this story, but if only I had been enamored of Stephen and his smelly girlfriend like I had been of Toady and friends, really. Then, perhaps, I would live the setting and travel with Stephen on further adventures into Ryhope Wood.
As it is, one trip is enough for me to experience all I’ve ever wanted out of it, and I’m more than happy to wave goodbye and leave without a glance behind when I close the book.
