I have long been an admirer of Sarah Moss's work and this short compelling novel does nothing to alter that opinion. The story of Silvie's 'holiday' at a reconstructed Iron Age camp is told in an understated but compelling style, and the underlying themes of patriarchy and domestic violence are handled subtly. Highly recommended.

The blurb reeled me in. It’s tough luck if your Dad is a re-enactment nut for how Iron Age people lived, but Sylvie’s (Sulevia) Dad is something far worse. A cruel bully and tyrant whom Sylvie and her mother are terrified of. A “practical archaeology” field trip gone beyond hunting/gathering/foraging. The “Ghost Wall” only makes a brief appearance in the last third of the book and does not really add to the story.
It is a small book, but it probably should have been a short story.

2.5

There just wasn't enough tension in this book for me.
You could see where it was building up to... there were mentions of abuse,threats of temper and actual violence... but as a whole the story led me nowhere.

Sarah Moss is consistently brilliant - this is no exception. Silvie is spending the summer with her parents, an archaeology professor and his students on a "living archaeology" experimental camp. Her father is controlling, abusive and obsessed with a mythical pure Britain of the past. There's a real sense of the claustrophic nature of his control,. and how he and the professor become obsessed with the ideas and sweep almost everyone along with them - the ending was both a relief and a sense of there must be more, it can't be over! Would be excellent for reading groups and would highly recommend.

When I started reading Ghost Wall, the forthcoming novel from Sarah Moss about a group of people setting up camp close to Hadrian’s Wall as an exercise in experiential archaeology, I surmised from the demeanour of Silvie, its protagonist (and narrator), she was far younger than her actual age. I took her to be a precocious eleven, possibly twelve-year-old, only to discover after reading for some time she was in fact seventeen. The reason for my misjudgement was partly her father, Bill’s behaviour towards her, since he treated her like a little girl, but also because she complied with his every wish in a most un-teenage-like way.

Bill Hampton is a bus driver from Burnley with an all consuming interest in the lives of Ancient Britons and an enormous grudge against those he perceives as belonging to a higher or more educated class than his own. His depth of knowledge about living off the land has gained him a reputation among academics as being a handy amateur to have on call, and has led to him being invited, along his wife and daughter, to spend a short period living in a remote, authentically recreated Iron-Age village in Northumberland.

The family share the experience with Professor (“call me Jim”) Slade and the students responsible for building the village and making the scratchy tunics and crude moccasins they now must wear. Silvie is immediately attracted to the only female student in the group, a confident, prepossessing individual called Molly, who seeks to educate (some might say ‘lead astray’) her slightly younger friend.

At Bill’s insistence, Silvie (short for Sulevia) and her mum, Alison, move with him into a great open-plan roundhouse, sleeping on lumpy handmade bunks, while the others – much to his chagrin – opt to pitch their waterproof tents around the place. Bill is a stickler for authenticity and detests anything that reminds him of the modern world. His list of dislikes also include women’s “undies”, footling about “like an old woman” and female sanitary products (which, he says, women managed “well enough without back in the day”). It is probably an understatement to suggest that women in general make Bill feel queasy.

It becomes apparent fairly early in the novel that Bill is both bigot and bully, though he skilfully conceals the results of the rough treatment he deals out to his wife and daughter from others in the camp. Alison tells Silvie her father can’t help his behaviour, that he’s always had a bad temper, and advises her to simply do as he says. She certainly tries to keep him happy, but she’s a bright young woman and forgets herself by “answering him back” (i.e., makes perfectly sensible comments and suggestions).

As Bill’s conduct becomes ever more obsessional and domineering, Molly begins to see that all is not well with the Hampton’s. Then events come to a head when a re-enactment of a sacrificial ritual is taken too far.
In her Acknowledgements, Sarah Moss reveals that the genesis of this story came firstly from participating in a Northumbrian residency to celebrate the Hexham Literary Festival, and then from the ‘Scotland’s People’ exhibition in the National Museum of Scotland, where she spent time with “the possessions and bodies of Iron and Bronze Age residents of the borderlands.”

Moss’s slender novel, which I devoured in one sitting, is menacing and brutal, but also filled with yearning, sensuality and hope. It has much to say about female affinity and friendship.

<I><blockquote>Because they are men, I thought, because they're in charge, because there will be consequences if you don't. I didn't see how she could not know that.</I></blockquote>
A short, almost impressionist piece of writing in which Moss swirls together strands about gender, class, prejudicial nationalism and a kind of atavistic mentality that foreground both the use and abuse of power.

The writing is subtle and loaded, the tension rising with the heat and the increasing violence as rabbits are skinned for food, their heads boiled for the construction of the menacing ghost wall.

The lord-of-the-flies-alike ending is both flagged from the start but also not quite believable - and leaves us a little stranded as the piece ends abruptly.

Nevertheless, the control in the writing is striking, and Moss has created a nicely complicated relationship in that between Sylvie and her father: her memories of their closeness when she was a child, the security of holding his hand, offering both a stark contrast and key to their present tension.

Best read in a single sitting, this is a stark and powerful pieces of writing alive to small movements, moments of complicity and rebellions, and the consequences that ensue.

This is a tense page turner with a very well handled sense of building menance. The control of women by men down the ages seems especially relevant at the moment.

Ghost Wall is intriguing yet ultimately unsatisfying, skilfully setting up an air of mystery about the motivations of a group recreating how early Britons would have lived in the Northumbrian countryside. The prologue is powerful, but for me nothing after matches it. The sense of abusive power in a family is clear but not interestingly played out.
I was relieved it was short, I suspect I wouldn’t have read to the end otherwise.

I read this book in one sitting, breathless, completely terrified. The novel accomplishes much in its shortness and feels utterly real and very, very unnerving. I could feel the blazing sun, taste the unsweetened gruel and hear the ritual drums drifting through the trees. And even though I mostly identified with Molly, I could feel Silvie's terror at the thought of disobeying her father like it was my own. The dangerous mix of racism, nationalism, misogyny and unrestrained patriarchal power that lies at the heart of this book is, sadly, more than familiar in this day and age, but at least Sarah Moss, in her ending, gives us a small hope that it can be overcome.

Teenaged Silvie and her parents join a group of university students and their professor for some experiential archaeology on the wild Northumberland moors. They plan to recreate the day-to-day living conditions of the people who were there in ancient times - hunting and gathering to survive, but also becoming interested in old beliefs and rituals. Of them all, Silvie’s father is the most invested in ‘keeping it real’ and bullies his wife and daughter into complying with his ideas of how it would have been. The group soon starts to divide along gender lines, the women weaving, gathering and cooking, the men beating drums and wielding knives. Sarah Moss has done a great job with this story - on the one hand giving a snapshot of how a society creates imbalances amongst its members, dominance and fundamentalism, on the other a very intimate story of an unhappy family and a young girl straining to grow up and away from it. I have long been a fan of her writing, how she evokes a beautiful but threatening landscape and atmosphere, and this very short novel is a perfect showcase for her skills.

I loved this book. And almost finished it in one sitting! So much to enjoy in such a short book. Underlying the story is one of family abuse which is deeply unnerving.

A tricky book to review for me. I had the feeling throughout that I was the only one at the party who hadn't been given the memo of what was going on. I'd read the blurb and premise but overall, I just couldn't get into it. Everything was a bit too vague for me from the setting (Northumberland but could be anywhere) and the motivations of the characters. The writing is poetic but got really dark and uncomfortable at times. It's a short read but I felt lost in that forest and as there's no speech marks nor timeline as such, I felt even more adrift. This was probably the whole point of the novel and it's just me. The premise was interesting and the relationships which develop and fester throughout are fascinating and nicely drawn. I might try this one again later on. Once I read a few reviews and get the memo for the party .

Sulevia, named after the ancient Celtic goddess, is spending the summer on an archaeological project in the wilds of Northumberland to recreate Bronze Age life. Her father is an amateur history nut and her mother seems willing to go along with the project.

So Sylvie (as she calls herself) finds herself finds herself in a field, sleeping in a tent, foraging for food and wearing scratchy tunics. She’s not happy, but she’s also not rebelling. Her family seem to be the only genuine volunteers on the project; the others – the professor and his undergraduate students – are there because the university requires it. While Sylvie’s father demands absolute adherence to authenticity, the others are rather more open to persuasion. After all, the Bronze Age people made up for their lack of modern technology through proficiency in what they did have; and who could swear that the Bronze Age communities did not have mod cons?

The story that unfolds is one of the relationship between Sylvie and her domineering father, determined to impose a value system from a bygone age on his family. Sylvie’s father demands fidelity even when the Professor is advocating a more flexible approach. And where the community does not comply with his vision, there is a price to be paid.

The story is written as an English nationalist hearkening back to a bygone age when Britons were free and pure. But there are obvious parallels with extreme adherents to world religions, demanding that the rest of the world fit in with their anachronistic belief systems. The family’s reluctance to challenge the force of the father – their willingness to embrace the privations in order to give themselves the illusion of free choice – is surely more about the modern world than it was ever about Celtic Britain. The temptations of the Seven Eleven – ice creams and hot pies – are the temptations of the West trying to seduce the faithful away from the path of virtue.

Ghost Wall is a short, very readable novel that grows in intensity with every page. Yes, the metaphors are there front and centre, but they do not take away from the very human dynamic between Sylvie, her mother and her father – three complex characters who do not neatly fit into predictable stereotypes.

This novel may be slim, but it packs a real punch. ‘Ghost Wall’ may evoke impressions of an atmospheric, spooky tale, but it’s an unflinching portrait of the oppression wrought by an abusive parent (even when the surface of the abuse is barely scratched). The evocation of the landscape only adds to the tense claustrophobia.

Silvie and her parents join an archaeology professor and three of his students on a field trip to Northumberland. The trip is an experiment in "experiential archaeology" in the sense that its participants try to recreate and re-enact the living conditions of the Iron Age tribes which inhabited these remote areas. The professor's intentions are innocent enough, at least at the outset - a mixture of academic curiosity and a "Boys' Own" thirst for adventure which he seems to share with his students. Silvie's dad, on the other hand, has darker motives. We soon learn that he has supremacist fantasies about "Ancient Britons", whom he considers a pure, home-grown race, untainted by foreign influences. He idolises their way of life which, albeit nasty, brutish and short, is for him a test of manly mettle. And he has a morbid fascination with the Bog People, probably Iron Age victims of human sacrifice.

At first the group dynamics make the novel feel like an episode of "Celebrity Survivors" as we feel the increasing friction between the disparate characters. However, things take a turn for the sinister when the men decide to build a "ghost wall" - a wooden barricade topped by animal skulls which the ancients apparently used as a means of psychological warfare against invading hordes.

Ghost Wall is a slender novella which packs a punch. The narrative element is tautly controlled. There's a constant sense of dread, of violence simmering beneath the surface. These leads to a terrifying climax, in which the novel skirts the folk horror genre to chilling effect.

More importantly, however, the work is a timely indictment of patriarchal and racist prejudices which, though distinct, often fuel each other. It also seems to suggest that even monsters have redeeming features which endear them to their own victims, whilst seemingly innocent persons can commit grave acts when they give in to atavistic instincts. Perhaps what make this novel so disturbing is that these horrors are all too real.

You may be familiar with those colourful historical re-enactment days put on by devotees of a certain time or place – perhaps the English Civil War, or the American War of Independence, or maybe life in a medieval village. In ‘Ghost Wall’ Sarah Moss tells the story of historical enthusiasm taken much further. Teenager Silvie (an abbreviation of Sulevia, the Northumbrian goddess of springs and pools), named out of her father’s passion for Ancient British life – a lifestyle that particularly appeals to the brute in him - finds herself camping out ‘Ancient style’ with her bullying father and subservient mother who have joined Professor Slade and three archaeology undergraduates. (Her father is recognised as a self-taught expert on the period.)
Soon it is clear that Silvie and her mother live in terror of their father/husband. He is cruel in every way possible, viewing women as chattels, scorning his daughter’s opinions and despising his wife. A successful day is a day when he hasn’t been annoyed by them and those days rarely happen. Over the course of the novel, verbal abuse aside, Silvie’s mother is bruised by his rough handling whilst Silvie is whipped savagely because she is caught bathing in a stream. Abuse in their household is clearly commonplace. The only person to seriously question his behaviour is Molly, one of the three students, and she is the person in whom Silvie confides when the full horror of her father’s re-enactment plans are revealed.
This is a wonderful novel. Sarah Moss creates really credible characters. It is very moving to read of the ways in which Silvie tries to stay true to her curious, sociable self, whilst gradually being ground down by her very scary and manipulative father. Equally we feel sympathy for Alison, his wife, whose daily mission it is not to be ‘annoying’. She has become nothing more than a servant shadow and it’s very easy to understand why. Silvie’s father is a monster. Whilst there are hints at why he may be such a sadistic megalomaniac – his wife’s excuse is that he is frustrated by his lack of formal education - it’s clear that his nationalistic fervour and misogynistic ways are unchallenged in his household, creating a toxic blend of fear and hopelessness.
‘Ghost Wall’ reminds us that perfectly intelligent and capable people can be worn down by abuse to become a shadow of their former selves. In tandem with this central theme, Sarah Moss also weaves in details about Ancient Britain very vividly and powerfully. The opening scene allows us to appreciate just how pitiless some of their rituals were and the narrative throughout reminds us that the uncivilised does not lurk too far beneath the surface now. But it is not all darkness. Molly has learnt from her mother that it’s important to stand up to injustice and prejudice and she will not be cowed. This is a novel most apt for the times in which we live.
My thanks to NetGalley and Granta Publications for a copy of this book in exchange for a fair review.

The setting of this novel is breathtaking. Moss successfully captures the feel of the Northumberland wood - heat, water, pain - until the landscape is more of a presence in the book than some of the actual characters. The relationships are sketched out beautifully too: the slow unfurling thread between Molly and Sylvie is shown rather than told, as are Sylvie's complex relationships with her abusive father and depressed, apathetic mother.

Unfortunately, the book falls flat in a couple of areas. We're promised a 'terrifying climax' with a bog girl in 'terrifying proximity'; said bog girl is hinted at in the prologue and never mentioned again, while the so-called climax appears suddenly 90% of the way through, making it too much out of left field to mesh organically with the story arc as a whole. It also requires a bit too much suspension of disbelief for my liking. Most of the characters could do with a lot more fleshing out, as well.

On the whole a 3-star read; while tension and drama are a bit lacking, relationships and the location are superbly tackled.

Ghost Wall is a subtle and unnerving novel about a girl forced into a summer of experimental archeology by her abusive father. Sylvie is seventeen and is spending her summer at a recreated Iron Age camp in Northumbria, as her father—who is obsessed with recreating the hardship of Iron Age life—works with an archeology professor and some students to live like people might have in the past. Sylvie and her mother live in the shadow of her father and his anger and rules, but in the heat of the summer and the bare landscape near Hadrian's Wall, his beliefs might be turned into something else, something inspired by the bog girls who were forced into sacrifice many years ago.

This is a short novel that creates a strange and tense atmosphere through description and detail. Sylvie's life is depicted through her perspective of the events at the camp and how she knows about foraging and survival, in contrast to the three students who are on the trip. Moss weaves in tensions around misogyny and class to the narrative, which is centred around abuse by those closest to you. At the same time, it is about Sylvie being aware that there is more to life that what her father is trying to force her to be, hints of coming of age with the backdrop of an unusual and difficult childhood.

Ghost Wall is a compact novel that tells a small story featuring a small cast of characters staying in a camp in the wilderness. It also spans many hundreds of years, telling a story of force and coercion that hasn't changed much. Its structure—short and descriptive with a sudden conclusion—might not appeal to everyone, but this is one for people who are interested in trying to know the past, but also depict a more modern day experience in fiction.