What do you think?
Rate this book


496 pages, Hardcover
First published March 31, 2026
“ The things he’s come to prize in this place are not, mostly, the ones he moved here in search of. The beauty is all there and more, but he was also picturing simplicity and peace, maybe even innocence, none of which showed up in any noticeable quantity. Instead he’s found the intricate webs, constructed over centuries, that bind people to one another, to their land, and to their past. He’s under no illusion that these bindings are simple or innocent, either. They’ve sliced people to the bone, scourged them out of town, choked them to death. But alongside all that, they’ve held the place together, steadfast in the face of time, dark happenings, rifts, attacks, and sieges.”
“Ardnakelty is too small to allow for much stratification; if you want company, you hang out with anyone who doesn’t drive you crazy, and probably some people who do.”
“Ardnakelty has no time for Guards. The townland will run its own investigation, spreading unseen below the official inquiry like ancient trailways underlie the brash modern roads; it’ll reach its own conclusions, and deal out its own justice. Whatever those conclusions are, they won’t meet Lena’s standards. They’ll be based almost entirely on whether and where it suits this place to assign blame. The decision will be made gradually, collectively, via multiple intertwined algorithms complex enough to blow a computer to smithereens. Rachel herself will barely even factor into the equation.”
“One of the most talented crime writers alive.” — The Washington Post
“Cal likes this time of year. Autumn is when Ardnakelty comes into its own. Its summers and winters are half-assed by Cal’s standards, but autumn is meant for nuance and there this place is expert, layering the air with the smells of earth and wet leaves, shading the land with every subtlety of green and gold, coding its weather hints in the slightest twist of breeze or shift of cloud.”
“He likes the thought of the house moving and changing through the seasons the same way the land does, responding to his attentions and flourishing under his hands.”
“The night is still, with faint shifting patches of moonlight amid broken cloud. The cold reaching him through the glass has a new arrogance. The change is subtle, but Cal has been here long enough to read the place’s shorthand: winter is coming in. Some morning soon, he’ll open the door for Rip and find the fields white with frost. Outwintering cattle will breathe big, sweet-scented puffs of fog; farmers, wrapped up warm, will start their plowing: Noreen will plaster her shop in an explosion of Santas and elves and tinsel. Later the ewes will be housed for early lambing, the winter wheat that lay dormant under the cold will unfurl its first green from the soil, and spring will rise all over again.”