'A heady, exhilarating, compact tale that seems as old as the Catalan mountains and as fresh as a newly plucked chicken... Solà beautifully aligns past and present... Exuding a kind of alt-magical realism, the novel refuses to distinguish between bewitcher and bewitched: this is its triumph'
Financial Times
'I read the book twice in quick succession and every time I opened it, I found something to savour. The prose has the demonic excess of a Hieronymus Bosch painting... Solà's serious attention to the nonhuman makes most contemporary realist literary fiction feel narrow and timid, wilfully deaf to the other forms of life with which all human drama is interdependent'
Guardian
'Forged from the deepest and truest stories about the perversity of the body, the sheer drama of the natural world, and the vengeful side of the divine. A fecund and daring book'
- Catherine Lacey,
'Irene Solà is unlike any other writer - she storms her own path, setting fire to all our preconceived notions of what a novel can do while she goes. I adored this book'
- Daisy Johnson,
'Irene Solà's masterful new novel is an incendiary exploration of bodies and memory... This is writing which revels in fecundity in all its forms. To say it depicts nature red in tooth and claw is understatement writ large... A highly literary novel... Solà's book celebrates the tradition of storytelling in a manner which is both ancient and artful. Mara Faye Lethem's translation never takes you out of what's happening on the page... Solà's imagery is beyond arresting - it burns itself into your retina as you read'
The Skinny
'Solà first distinguished herself with the equally enchanting When I Sing Mountains Dance, and her fascination with folklore returns to create another novel as beautiful as it is wicked and often filthy'
Big Issue
