Wildwood by Colin Meloy

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Why wouldn’t I pant after this new middle grade fantasy? The synopsis had echoes of Labyrinth, illustrated by the same artist of The Mysterious Benedict Society, and written by The Decembrists’ Colin Meloy. Plus, the Impassable Wilderness. Just the idea of it conjures images of exciting adventures.

Prue McKeel’s life is ordinary. At least until her baby brother is abducted by a murder of crows. And then things get really weird.

You see, on every map of Portland, Oregon, there is a big splotch of green on the edge of the city labeled “I.W.” This stands for “Impassable Wilderness.” No one’s ever gone in—or at least returned to tell of it.

And this is where the crows take her brother.

So begins an adventure that will take Prue and her friend Curtis deep into the Impassable Wilderness. There they uncover a secret world in the midst of violent upheaval, a world full of warring creatures, peaceable mystics, and powerful figures with the darkest intentions. And what begins as a rescue mission becomes something much bigger as the two friends find themselves entwined in a struggle for the very freedom of this wilderness.

A wilderness the locals call Wildwood.

Wildwood by Colin Meloy can best be summed up as a love letter to Oregon with strong overtones of Narnia and some classic fairy tale tropes. I’ve only been to Portland once, having driven for 13 hours straight from California. The ride is a beautiful one, as the highway is at all times surrounded by lush, green forests. If there was indeed a magical Impassable Wilderness bordering Portland, I would not be surprised at all. I’m not sure if Meloy grew up in the area or has lived there long enough to develop a love for it, but either way, woven throughout Wildwood is a series of subtle homages to the Northwest, indicating a deep fondness and intimate knowledge of its natural wonders.

"As long as Prue could remember, every map she had ever sen of Portland and the surrounding countryside had been blotted with a large, dark green patch in the center, stretching like a growth of moss from the northwest corner to the southwest, and alabeled with the mysterious initials 'I.W.' She hadn't thought to ask about it until one night, before Mac was born... Her dad had brought home a new atlas and they were lying in the recliner together, leafing through the pages and tracing their fingers over boundary lines and sounding out the exotic place-names of far-flung countries. When they arrived at a map of Oregon, Prue pointed to the small, inset map of Portland on the page and asked the question that had always confounded her: 'What's I.W.?'

"'Nothing honey,' had been her father's reply...'There are places in the world where people just don't end up living. Maybe it's too cold or there are too many trees or the mountains are too steep to climb. But whatever the reason, no one has thought to build a road there and without roads, there are no houses and without houses, no cities...It stands for "Impassable Wilderness." And that's just what it is.'"

Wildwood has many imaginative touches – human-like animals who can speak, a majestic Owl King who leads the Avian inhabitants of the wilderness, the wise Mystics, a deadly Ivy that once awakened hungers for the blood of an Outsider.

Prue, as the brave and clever heroine, is the kind of girl I would love to have been best friends with when I was a kid. She has admirable pluck that would make you want to follow her into the wilderness and back.

Curtis, her friend who insists on helping Prue find her baby brother, begins the story as a loyal sidekick but almost takes over the story with heroic adventures of his own.

Like most villains, the Dowager Governess is probably the most fascinating creature in Wildwood. She is depicted in such a way that at times she commanded my reluctant admiration and sympathy. Brendan, the King of the Bandits, is Peter Pan all grown up – wild and lawless but a good guy.

Despite these elements, there’s something missing from Wildwood. It was hard to put my finger on it, as separately, all the fantastical details of Wildwood’s world, the plot, and the characters seem to indicate the makings of a new children’s classic. Something I might have read over and over again as a kid and even dreamt about, as I have with some of my favorite fantasy books. Yet these details together lack that elusive quality which would make Wildwood something I can envision as a beloved childhood book. I think it has to do with resonance.

And unlike Narnia, Wildwood is not a place I feel like visiting again. I pondered this fact; was it because I’m reading it through an adult’s eyes? I’d have to say no, because I’ve read other middle grade fantasy books within the past year, in fact, featuring magical lands even scarier than Wildwood, which left me intrigued rather than indifferent. A book that comes to mind is Tyger, Tyger by Kersten Hamilton, with a similar plot line of a young woman braving the land of the goblins to find her father. That world resonated with me; Wildwood did not. It might have to do with the fact that Wildwood's inhabitants and most of its rules don’t appear to be that different from the Outside. It aappears that Wildwood might be a political satire on some level.

There are some dark twists to the story, which is not immune to the deaths of “good” characters. One scene in particular, which involves Prue and her brother’s parents, frankly left me shocked and skeptical. It preys upon children’s secret fears of abandonment, which happens in many stories, but the way the supposedly loving parents reacted was was jarringly out of character. At first I thought it might have been a scene that Prue imagined and so I thought it was cleverly done; however, it turned to be real within the story. If any parent acted the way they did, no child would ever want to return them. They’d prefer to stay put in the wilderness.

Meloy appears to be commenting on parenthood here, juxtaposing the Dowager Governess’ obsessive love for her dead son with Prue’s parents’ desperation for a child of their own, going to extreme lengths to have one. The former is imbued with tragedy and lends the villainess some complexity and sympathy, while the latter is out of whack. I’ve complained before about absent parents in kids books and YA but this seems just as unbelievable – even in a fantasy novel.





Thank you to the Amazon Vine Program for providing a copy for me to review!