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A review by carl_oak
Mere by Danielle Giles
4.0
Publication date: 02/04/2025
Mere is an accomplished atmospheric debut novel by Danielle Giles. With lyrical writing, she imbues a sense of creeping foreboding and entrapment transporting the reader to an isolated convent surrounded by marshlands and ice-cold water and less than 200 souls. The novel explores themes of faith, superstition, manipulation, sexuality and politics, narrated in lyrical prose, revealing a unique new voice in English literature. Giles has innate talent in blending historical fiction and folklore elements, creating a compelling narrative with superb imagery that makes you feel the dampness of the mere and looming presence of an ancient power. “I feel no evil in it. No good either. It is vast and old and slow.”
Giles excels at character development, with each character having their own distinctive voice - a literary accomplishment. Abbess Sigeburg is a stoic, controlling woman who will "strangle you with scripture and punishment and insist that you thank her." Wulfrun, a mysterious woman who arrives at the convent under difficult circumstances, her past shadowed by pain and betrayal. Hilda, the four-decade-old infirmarian, is deeply absorbed in the convent’s life carrying for the ill but still keeps a sharp, observant mind and tongue. I could go on and on with the list of well-written characters, but as previously said, Giles' characterisation is superb. Her prose is rich and immersive, balancing historical detail with an almost fairy-tale quality.
Mere is a story about women navigating the confines of a convent at the borders under the looming presence of the mere. Despite the convent’s strict religious structure, older, darker beliefs simmer beneath the surface. The presence of the mere, its mythology, and the fear it instils create a sense of unease. The whispers of curses, omens, and unnatural forces blur the lines between folklore and reality playing an essential part in the story. Early, on the way of the abbess' return from Gipeswick with a small company of travelers and food rations for the winter, a kid is lost near the mere, and the sisters are quick to assign supernatural blame: "The other sisters say that a devil has woken in the marsh, taken the boy for his own." setting ablaze a series of events contributing to the mass hysteria soon to be unleashed.
Giles’ prose is vivid and immersive, seamlessly weaving folklore into Christian tradition. “I know better than to tell him otherwise, though from what I have seen the water-elf disease pales the nails and dampens the eyes, none of which afflicts Oswy. And so I gather together the needed herbs, mixing them with ale and holy water and singing over them a charm.” The dialogue is sharp, the characterisation layered and the themes deeply resonant. While some readers may find the pacing slow, it serves the purpose of creating tension and danger. The novel explores the power dynamics between the sisters—with a caveat. Giles also questions how faith is weaponised, how suffering is framed as divine will, and how people in power use faith to manipulate. The convent’s hierarchy is a constant source of tension, with alliances and rivalries shaping the fate of the sisters. ”She is a little serpent who thinks I do not mark her poison.”
The novel is also unflinching in its portrayal of sexual desire - and some Christians may find it blasphemous even. The relationship between Hilda and Wulfrun is charged, sensual, and depicted with powerful language. "When I slide my face between her thighs and taste her sour-sweet cunt, I feel as if I would not care if they heard us all the way in Gipeswic." Giles does not shy away from rawness, and these moments of intimacy stand in stark contrast to the rigid, punishing atmosphere of the convent. Toward the end, secrets unravel and long-held resentments come to a final climax igniting a fiery rebellion. The final part is brutal, gripping and utterly satisfying, if eerie and subtle. It will require a moment of reflection to grasp the full meaning of this incredible novel.
Mere is a stunning, evocative novel that lingers long after the final page. It is a novel of power, faith, and manipulation told with exquisite prose and an unflinching eye for historical and emotional truth. Highly recommended for readers who appreciate historical fiction blended with folklore and queer representation.
Disclaimer: Thank you, Pan MacMillan and Danielle Giles for this ARC in exchange for my honest opinion.
"I lift no weapon, but kill more than the bravest warrior.
I live on women’s tongues and in men’s minds. I am a spilt pot, a razed city.
I am light as air, heavy as stone. No leechbook has cures for me, nor heroes swords against me."
Mere is an accomplished atmospheric debut novel by Danielle Giles. With lyrical writing, she imbues a sense of creeping foreboding and entrapment transporting the reader to an isolated convent surrounded by marshlands and ice-cold water and less than 200 souls. The novel explores themes of faith, superstition, manipulation, sexuality and politics, narrated in lyrical prose, revealing a unique new voice in English literature. Giles has innate talent in blending historical fiction and folklore elements, creating a compelling narrative with superb imagery that makes you feel the dampness of the mere and looming presence of an ancient power. “I feel no evil in it. No good either. It is vast and old and slow.”
Giles excels at character development, with each character having their own distinctive voice - a literary accomplishment. Abbess Sigeburg is a stoic, controlling woman who will "strangle you with scripture and punishment and insist that you thank her." Wulfrun, a mysterious woman who arrives at the convent under difficult circumstances, her past shadowed by pain and betrayal. Hilda, the four-decade-old infirmarian, is deeply absorbed in the convent’s life carrying for the ill but still keeps a sharp, observant mind and tongue. I could go on and on with the list of well-written characters, but as previously said, Giles' characterisation is superb. Her prose is rich and immersive, balancing historical detail with an almost fairy-tale quality.
Mere is a story about women navigating the confines of a convent at the borders under the looming presence of the mere. Despite the convent’s strict religious structure, older, darker beliefs simmer beneath the surface. The presence of the mere, its mythology, and the fear it instils create a sense of unease. The whispers of curses, omens, and unnatural forces blur the lines between folklore and reality playing an essential part in the story. Early, on the way of the abbess' return from Gipeswick with a small company of travelers and food rations for the winter, a kid is lost near the mere, and the sisters are quick to assign supernatural blame: "The other sisters say that a devil has woken in the marsh, taken the boy for his own." setting ablaze a series of events contributing to the mass hysteria soon to be unleashed.
Giles’ prose is vivid and immersive, seamlessly weaving folklore into Christian tradition. “I know better than to tell him otherwise, though from what I have seen the water-elf disease pales the nails and dampens the eyes, none of which afflicts Oswy. And so I gather together the needed herbs, mixing them with ale and holy water and singing over them a charm.” The dialogue is sharp, the characterisation layered and the themes deeply resonant. While some readers may find the pacing slow, it serves the purpose of creating tension and danger. The novel explores the power dynamics between the sisters—with a caveat. Giles also questions how faith is weaponised, how suffering is framed as divine will, and how people in power use faith to manipulate. The convent’s hierarchy is a constant source of tension, with alliances and rivalries shaping the fate of the sisters. ”She is a little serpent who thinks I do not mark her poison.”
The novel is also unflinching in its portrayal of sexual desire - and some Christians may find it blasphemous even. The relationship between Hilda and Wulfrun is charged, sensual, and depicted with powerful language. "When I slide my face between her thighs and taste her sour-sweet cunt, I feel as if I would not care if they heard us all the way in Gipeswic." Giles does not shy away from rawness, and these moments of intimacy stand in stark contrast to the rigid, punishing atmosphere of the convent. Toward the end, secrets unravel and long-held resentments come to a final climax igniting a fiery rebellion. The final part is brutal, gripping and utterly satisfying, if eerie and subtle. It will require a moment of reflection to grasp the full meaning of this incredible novel.
Mere is a stunning, evocative novel that lingers long after the final page. It is a novel of power, faith, and manipulation told with exquisite prose and an unflinching eye for historical and emotional truth. Highly recommended for readers who appreciate historical fiction blended with folklore and queer representation.
Disclaimer: Thank you, Pan MacMillan and Danielle Giles for this ARC in exchange for my honest opinion.