It is important to note that most of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the book's subject matters & those detailed in my review overwhelming. I suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters that contain reflections physical violence against a child, bigotry, intergenerational trauma, & others.

Smooth as the silverback scale, memories groove themselves into our person. As life progresses the human brain must triage through substantial material, archives the likes of which it may choose to forget entirely. In some cases, this approach is deemed beneficial. Prosperous are they whose psyche is unmoored by the Nothing, a pure, dense, darkness, that consumes its prey, intimately. In other cases, memories live on in a person in a nearly overwhelming fashion. Proud are they whose psyche is abound by riches of a life fully lived.

My own experiences with memory lanes, corner stores, melodies, sights, & smells, led me to the stoop of the author who wrote this book. With a vivid & timid lime green background, drawing the eye to a row of marching children, this book encourages the niggling voice within to be met with its best match & ideal companion.  I would be speaking in untruths if I said I was not a bit apprehensive about requesting access to this book.

Memories of childhood & the adventurous longing of a coy group of youth make for difficult writing material in stories directed towards adult readers. I have often found authors to have forgotten the experiences of their youth when attempting to craft a young character authentically. Although we have not all lived the same life, there are facets of development which are nearly identical, which is why they are markers set for us all.

Perhaps some readers do not mind coming upon the young character without any semblance of grace or grasp of the real world. They might even forgive the author for presenting their characters as near shadows of a Peter who has been carved out of a shallow-pooled stone.

It is my opinion that encouraging this approach in the literary world does a disservice to all. As generations divide us & our perception of society, & of ourselves, transforms, we do well to remember where we came from & to acknowledge that others are coming from somewhere too.

In essence, this is a story about a group of cousins who wander the family property in search of one another. Their arrival to their aunt’s house was done with excitement, there was to be a birthday party. The afternoon ahead of them would be one of comfort—the familiar television set, the snacks, the porch, the adult chatter—the children knew they would have time to enjoy themselves before they were told to pack up & head home.

What they did not anticipate was the turn of events that led to decades of distance. Quaintly, the afternoon of wandering the woods also resulted in their older cousin being found unresponsive in the creek behind their aunt’s house. Their young lives, once opened at the edges thanks to the narration of the adults they trusted, became the cautionary tale of goodness being snubbed out early & cruelty prevailing, once again.

As noted earlier, this book gave me pause. I wanted to trust that the author had a good head on their shoulders & might present the story with earnest dedication. I was pleasantly surprised. Whereas my hopes for a story of childhood adventure had parameters set by my own youthful galivanting, Bamford held her cards close to heart, scattering them, soiled with the knowledge she knew the reader would have of concepts encountered in the mature adult world.

The narrator of the tale does not identify themselves. At times I wondered if it would be worth my time to build an image of them in my mind or to list out which child belonged to which adult. By the second chapter, I knew this was not added value; the narrator speaks to the reader from the future.

Like us, they have the benefit of time & experience when recalling the fateful wanderings the group undertook. This certainly added some depth to the otherwise simple story. I do not mean this in any negative way, in fact, the story’s simplicity works to its greater benefit as the reader, no matter their age, will find the flow evocative & insightful, without needing to gleam any rotund dialogue or preposterously complex scene descriptors.

The narrator remained, for me, an invisible figure. Their participation in the retelling of this story did not seem to arise from a need but rather that they were sharing this time in their life as they needed to let it go. As readers work their way through the plot, they will come upon soothingly mature sentences that highlight the narrator’s desire to work through this sequence or to attempt to unriddle what has burdened their memories, all these years.

I will certainly not begrudge the narrator for needing to unburden themselves. Their need to do so resulted in the well-thought-out story that is described on the page. However, the method by which the narrator transcribes their experiences did leave me to ponder. Who was the reader meant to be in this situation?

The narrator does not necessarily address the reader in a familiar way, nor does the story venture in the format of a written account. I am not of the belief that the narrator is speaking to a mental health professional or a colleague, or even that they are writing a farewell note or an entry in a personal journal.

I wonder about the reader’s role in this story as it allows me to reflect on the narrator’s motivation in telling it. Does the narrator feel remorse for their participation in the events that led to their cousin nearly drowning? Does the narrator wish to revisit these events in an attempt to make sense of the adventurous ravings of their childhood mind?

These questions are not answered & for some readers, this will not pose an issue. The uncertainty behind the necessity of getting this story on to the page was not felt in any negative way, rather, the reader will be a welcomed audience for the narrator, regardless of who they are when they show up.

For this, I am thankful. Bamford’s approach to sharing this story felt authentic, genuine, & well-articulated. Sometimes, sentiments of dread were sprinkled on the periphery of what was being said, whereas other times, the adult mind of the author sheltered the reader from the truth, so that they too might be spared the sorrow of reality.

Walking alongside the children as they spoke to their parents & listened to them converse amongst each other reminded me greatly of moments in my own youth. From a tertiary perspective, the inclusion of the reflections & ruminations shared by the adults added intimate insight to the story. None of the parents, aunts or uncles, could be classified as bad people. Their own childhood experiences with a parent who was wrapped up in her dreams as they unravelled, will encourage readers to remember the duplexity of each situation as presented in this book.

On occasion, I wondered how naïve the adults were being. The children were trying to tell them than someone was wrong, but they didn’t listen. Instead of wondering where their children had disappeared to, as might transpire in the mind of a parent who lives near the city, a busy road, or is in an unusual place, the adults in this story did not question the movements of the cousins. In fact, this was primarily because of the location. Having come together to celebrate a birthday at a house that neighbour’s the adults’ childhood home, they had no real need to fear.

This brings me to the crux of the story. The narrator describes the politics of the group, the sentiments that festered in each of their hearts as they grew hungry & eager to return home, & the guilt they felt when it became apparent that they had forgotten those whom they were supposed to find.

As the story goes, the children are faced with situations that brought them joy—the candy bars on the freeway—& moments that left them curious & perturbed—the woman living in their parents’ childhood home. These sequences may raise questions in the throat of the reader that they will come to find are not to be answered for no one is listening for their reply.

Who is the woman in the house & why has her family been photographed there for generations? Why did their grandmother commit suicide with her dogs in toe? Why has the manuscript been kept all these years? What happened at the creek?

In my adult mind there are many possible answers to these, & many other, questions. The narrator has these same questions too. In attempting to bring clarity to the events that took their breath away, the narrator incorporates elements of premeditation, foreshadowing, & revelations of futuristic occurrences. These do, in fact, allow the reader to wander closer to the truth, without touching its silky spine. However, the complexities of these events remain curious to the reader as the narrator endeavours to close off their memories, for good.

When the oldest cousin is found face-down in the creek, the children begin to posit the events that caused his drowning. Once a child with prospects unmatched, the young boy committed, what was surely, a hate crime—some form of bigotry, racism, or something of the like—towards another child at his “special school” & was subsequently expelled. This young child had all the brightness the sun could offer yet, something in him struggled to be set free.

The reader might believe that he meant to break his sister’s arm, or they might decide that, at the preteen stage of life, any such accident might happen to anyone. In that same breath, the reader might wonder whether the boy’s younger sister might have pushed him into the creek, or whether she might have taunted him into stumbling through the current.

What the reader must come to terms with is that no one will understand what has taken place because the events took place in the past & are being recalled via the memories of a person who was a young child; a person who could not fully grasp the proximity of cruelty, death, & torment, in the body of someone they loved & admired.

My opinions on the matter fall rather short. While reading, I was caught up by the fact that this boy would be hospitalized & rely on machinery to keep him alive, while his brain suffered the consequences of a sustained lack of oxygen.

As I write this review, I look back, over my shoulder to the outdoor greenery that I tumbled through; the leaves, tall autumnal trees, & the fence yonder, which kept us cocooned in the backyard of my grandparent’s house. Yet to the side & back over the other, the yards opened to us & we could just as easily wander into the lot of a tortured soul, a stranger, or into the mouth of a snare. We did none of those things because we knew it was not safe.

I marvel at the child who knows no fear, whose world is grand & bright, & open to their every dream & wandering whim. The children in this story were not ignorant to the complicated existence of adults but they wandered onward still, through darkened trees, into the roadway & the house of a stranger. They opened the stable doors, & walked behind great horse hooves, back over to the body of water that took their kin to a world from which he will never return.

Ultimately, what makes this story so beautifully enrapturing is its ability to act as a testament to the untold great wonders of the blooming world. The children’s adventure that afternoon broke open the seal that decided their fate.

Successfully wading the waters of confusing childhood memories, Bamford welcomes readers to wave the white flag at their younger selves, presenting the sullen & soiled past to the mirrored, calculated, version of themselves.

The narrator grieves the innocuous existence of the person they once were. One that saw the green grass as home to foot races, magnificent & heroic battles, hiding & seeking, building & emboldening the spirit of the person they hoped to become.

Thank you to NetGalley, Random House UK, & Krystelle Bamford for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!

An offbeat, charming read. Following a group of cousins on a strange quest to find the youngest after they wander off at a family gathering. An escape into the mind of a gaggle of children, ignored by adults bickering over family matters. Full of interesting observations and grafted onto the piecemeal construction of a family history as told by children, filtered through their parents’ stories overheard. Good to read in a few sittings, and though not totally plot-driven, with a good momentum and enough weirdness to keep me intrigued.

Short, unsettling and unforgettable.

I read this in one sitting last night and have thought about it at least five times today… it's a haunter.

It’s magnificently dreamlike and atmospheric with its narrative casually guiding you by the hand as the children explore the woods in search of their little cousin - you're never quite sure about what’s going on because you only hear fragments of the adults’ conversations. You're torn between the children and the adults throughout.

Gaps are filled by short ‘intermezzos’, where we get glimpses of the past and a slight grasp of characters only mentioned in passing in the present.

I've preordered a copy because this will be a great summer read.

Adored adored adored. Every sentence of this book was like poetry, and it was so filled with atmosphere it felt almost hypnotised by it. The writing is stunning and the ‘story’ of an afternoon in a group of cousins in childhood is just stunningly told.

It was an interesting read. Very different. A little confusing at times, and not at all what I was expecting. But very different and very original.

An eerie triumph of voice and atmosphere, this is hard to write about because it is nebulous and ill-defined, but that’s kind of the point - it’s the wide-eyed wonder of a childhood day spent outdoors exploring somewhere new you’re not really supposed to be. It has a magical realism vibe, where things aren’t necessarily logical but make emotional sense, with an ominous undertow bubbling away.

Spooky, strange debut told from the perspective of a group of cousins, 2 of which go missing at a family party. I found the plot itself to be slippery and hard to follow but really enjoyed the themes of generational storytelling and mythmaking, as well as the really dark sense of family psychology. A little like The Virgin Suicides except you struggle understand your parents, rather than the girls next door.

Hard to describe without actually describing the plot. Strange slightly fever dream of a book that captures that sort of innocent, timeless wanderings and sense making of children. It took me a while to get into it I’m honest because the style of writing can be difficult to follow (I think this is intentional).
I did enjoy it though and it was a very short read if you want something to pass a winter evening!
Thank you to netgalley for the copy!

I'll admit this story ended up being weirder than what I was hoping for, and now I'm not sure I liked it.
I did like the cousins dynamics among themselves, and how they see the adults in their lives, their interpretation of those adults - especially Frankie.
But it lacked something for me. I think this book is too short to have so many characters. Most of the time I completely forgot there were that many cousins on their 'adventure'. Except for the narrator and 2 other kids, they all read identical to one another.
Also, the writing style didn't appeal to me that much.
Not bad, in my opinion. Just not my favourite.
I wanna thank NetGalley and the publisher for gently providing me with a free eARC of this novel.

I really didn’t know what to make of this book. I enjoyed reading it and it was well written - a masterclass in scene setting and creating an uneasy vibe throughout. There’s an almost oppressive feeling woven through the book which doesn’t come to a head until the very end when summing up the fate of the characters.

The book is reminiscent of childhood, where you’re constantly vying for adult attention but mainly just left to your own devices. The parents and aunts/uncles are mostly a mystery, except the weird and wonderful Frankie. The book reflects the odd and complicated relationships within families well. Overall a pleasant if not disconcerting read!

Goodreads shows this book with a hideous reddish cover which, although I know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, cheapens the book, while the green cover shown on Storygraph and Netgalley is a better reflection of the little gem that this book was.

It's a very short book, I am not even sure it even counts as a novella at 112 pages, but it's tense, mysterious, touching. We follow a group of children, cousins attending the birthday of kind Aunt Frankie who devoted herself to caring for her cruel elderly mother, as the adults around them ignore their worries that little Abi has gone missing. The children all decide to go and look for her together in the woods around Frankie's house, when Travis, twelve, also goes missing.

It's hard to explain but I found that the book really makes you feel what it can mean to be a child, with everything being a bit magical and a bit scary. The atmosphere felt gothic at times, and it was beautifully written and just easy to get absorbed into. I haven't looked up Krystelle Bamford yet but I hope she has other books out.

Free ARC sent by Netgalley.

I requested this because I thought it sounded creepy, and it's true there is a sense of dread while reading. I can see why people like this, but the writing style didn't work for me.

Thanks to Netgalley and the publishers for the ARC

In short this one is strange, weird and tense. It’s the story of a group of cousins at a party who go in search of something they’ve seen in the woods, and one of the group who goes of one their own. I actually really enjoyed it, you never quite know what’s going on, just that something dark and strange is lurking and has the power to make everything go wrong. It’s quirky and funny, and written in a way that takes you along for the ride. It’s a nice short one and completely different which makes it all the more enjoyable.

I loved this book for a lot of reasons, first and foremost, the narrator, our protagonist, is absolutely fantastic. Coming from the point of view of a child is a difficult thing to get right but Bamford nailed it. The narration is childlike in the sense that the scares are bubbling away and building up through what they're seeing and feeling and hearing, but in the next breath they're telling you about a great candy bar they had been obsessed with. Either that or they're making some flippant remark about a member of the family. It keeps true to the mindset of a child, painting the memory in such a light that it becomes unreliable in its horror. The foreboding of the 'bad thing' is so excellent, only mentioned briefly and then we continue on the journey with them. I loved the way I was on edge, I felt like the environment was built so perfectly for a horror, it's subtle and effective.

In the same vein, there is nostalgia sprinkled throughout this book which everyone can relate to, putting you more in the story and embedded, invested even, in what is going to happen. The family dynamics are engaging and real - again, excellently done.

Overall, this book is a 5 star for me, the pace is fast and the writing is engaging. A great read for someone who likes horror but not the gore, if you want to be spooked out, read this.

Zip zip zip.

The plot of ‘Idle Grounds’ is tricky to summarise as it’s not obvious what’s going on. The novel is set during a family party on a Summer’s afternoon when the parents are preoccupied with one another and the unsupervised cousins play outside in a ramshackle large garden. The narrator is now an adult looking back at this pivotal childhood event and also speculating about how their grandmother Beezy met her end before she was born. She’s inclined to let her attention wander resulting in several ‘intermission’ chapters that break up the narrative. The reader gets the impression from her unusual turns of phrase that the narrator is trying a bit too hard to seem literary and that adds a layer of humour to the account.
I was simultaneously intrigued and bemused by this strange book - it helps that it’s not very long. It reminded me of those songs about childhood from the psychedelic era that convey menace as well as nostalgia. A very real sense of threat is lurking even though we don’t know what it actually is!

The main storyline in this debut novel by poet Krystelle Bamford is set over one hot June day, in the 80s, in rural New England. A group of young cousins have gathered, with their respective families, for a birthday party at the house of their unmarried aunt Frankie. Left to their own devices, the children explore the house and, from the window of an upstairs bathroom, spot something eerie and undefined, prowling in the grounds of the property. Three-year-old Abi runs down and promptly disappears. For the rest of the day, the children, led by eldest cousin – twelve-year old Travis – explore the house and its surroundings, looking for Abi but, by the end of the day, discovering more than they bargained for.

This type of novel – in which a now-adult narrator looks back to a defining event in childhood/youth – has become a genre in itself. It takes an original writer to make such a story stand out, and Bamford fits the bill.

What, I felt, makes this slim novel memorable is the idiosyncratic voice of the unnamed narrator. It combines within it the wide-eyed wonder of the child who experienced the day’s events, and the more-knowing style of an adult who, perhaps, is trying too hard to sound like a “literary author”. The result is a narration which is at times eerie and unsettling, surrounded by a magical aura (we never learn what exactly the children were seeing from the bathroom window – probably a figment of their fertile imagination) and, at others, darkly humorous in an offbeat way. The narrator, for instance, has a knack for convoluted metaphors and irrelevant digressions, but then surprises us with passages of poetic intensity.

Bamford also keeps a tight control over the plot. As the day unfolds and things come to a head, there are several flashbacks and flashforwards which allow the readers to slowly piece together the dark history of this eccentric family, dominated by the matriarchal figure of Grandma “Beezy” and her mysterious demise. Thus the novel achieves a double-climax – one happens on the day of the main storyline, but it coincides with our discovery of what actually happened to Beezy. It’s all very clever and well-crafted, turning a now-common trope into a memorable debut.

4.5*

https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2024/08/idle-grounds-by-krystelle-bamford.html

I was initially interested in the plot and subject of this book, but unfortunately found the writing to be incredibly hard to get through! It felt a little clunky and the characters were over written and hard to understand and root for. Not for me.