The enchanting fairy tale woven from seaweed, sea, sand and selkies by Flora Kennedy was a pleasure to read.
Sibilant alliteration throughout the prose carries the reader along on waves lapping the shores of the Hebridean islands, reminding this reader of Ring of Bright Water.
The Wild Folk is the kind of book that almost reviews itself: the reviewer cannot really add anything except an admonition to buy it.
“He’d slither through the seaweed, its flowing, feeling, fingers of fronds fondling and tangling and he would point to the place he was going to land himself, always a different place, with a bony pale white finger at the end of his lanky arm and I would race over to that spot of his choosing and wait and watch. Me on the grounded shore. Lachie in the flowing water. Separated.”
Lachie and Lorna, Lorna and Lachie. Islanders. This is their story. They form a very insular, inseparable pair, until Lorna grows up and joins the world of the others. It is a story of formal education vs. the lessons of the sea; of adults vs. children; dying in hospitals vs. dying on the island. It is a story of secrets: dangerous secrets and tender secrets.