Harvest Home
by
Thomas Tryon
1973
Horror, Thriller, Folk Horror, Fiction
Harvest Home
Sometimes extreme horror, with bodies splayed, hung, drawn and quartered, gore fantastique and sensory overload, feels superb until it starts to go wrong and you become desensitized. Give too much too soon and there's nowhere left to turn, hold back too much and risk boring an audience that moves on to more immediately ingratiating material, it's a tough balance.
The sedate pace of Harvest Home isn't for the impatient reader looking for action, a story told from an artist's perspective analyzing village life and scenarios while preparing them for canvas - a cleverly detailed way of telling a story, building atmosphere and giving characters more depth.
It starts with a small family leaving the city for a new life in the country, horses, furrowing plows, traditions, barn dances, corn, more corn, and chapters and chapters of scene setting and buildup written in exquisite prose.
"The light in cities is flatter, grayer, less defined. In the country it was quite different, an evocation of all the glowing light I had ever wanted to record, like some rare golden elixir that had been poured over the hills and fields."
There's an inherent beauty to the writing, mellow summers, corn ripening and maturing, carefully listening to it actually growing, ears popping and alive, bursting to eventually become decorative shocks, the yellow bird singing every morning to celebrate love and life, the wonderful neighbors with a cure for every ailment or blight, the feeling of peace and tranquility at escaping the push and shove of city life, the hustle and bustle - drawing you into permanent peace - how can anything go wrong with the perfect home and family life?
Something's not quite right though, pieces fitting higgledy-piggledy together, sums not quite adding up, odd and inconsistent community behavior.
The perspective of Ned, an artist, means storytelling is always in reach of what's going on without feeling implausible or farfetched, a bit like a detective story with natural snooping and stealth.
A cleverly told tale with gradual and tense buildup, intentionally stalling through daily country mundanity, then scurrying forward to find out what's really going on in the village of Cornwall Coombe.
Thomas Tryon does a brilliant job of making you feel cozy and comfortable, sat by the fire toasting marshmallows then subtly pulling the rug, emphasizing we live in a messed up and imperceptibly corrupt society, each person protecting their own interests while outwardly giving their best.
Sinister and cynical, paying off while delving in to appreciate the thoughtful planning and creation instead of just churning out the words.
The sort of book that benefits from rereads to better understand why people behave the way they do - each time you think Ned gets the upper hand he seems more confused.
A masterwork of subtle tension, maybe not for everyone and too drawn out for some, showcasing how to write horror with slow reveals, careful planning and tantalizing breadcrumbs.
There's also a strong feminist empowerment aspect that feels modern, relevant and frightening.
No-one is more powerful than the foundations they live on, the soil, the Earth, the Mother we rely on.
Are you local? An outsider? We all feel like this from time to time, torn, like we don't quite belong, only welcome under certain conditions. Make yourself at home, get comfortable, explore, but not too far - some things are best left alone - try not to understand the blueprints maybe - respect the secrets of others and enjoy the inner workings of your own complex existence.
Life is a tricky patchwork - meddle with the underlying fabric and prepare to accept the consequences.
And next time someone offers you a good luck charm made out of 'tannis root' (think Rosemary's Baby) maybe tolerate the strange odor and leave it be?
It's a good life after all if you don't nose around too much!
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