I’d had History of Wolves on my TBR for around two years, and I lost count of the number of times I *almost* picked it up but then put it down in favour of others. I think too many average reviews of it kept putting me off, and I feel guilty to be adding my own to that pile...
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But the annoying thing is, this book had the potential to be five stars! I adored Fridlund’s writing; it has that slow, dream-like quality that never fails to mesmerise me, and her descriptions of the backwoods of Minnesota were breathtakingly beautiful. Linda was a bit of a grey protagonist; she both draws sympathy and keeps the reader at arms length with some of her unsettling thoughts and actions.
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Much of the book details Linda’s interactions with a family who moves in across the lake from her, at from the beginning you know something isn’t right. I felt that if Fridlund had just stuck to this storyline, delved deeper into the mindsets and motivations of the parents, Patra and Leo, and their actions regarding their son Paul, then I would have been utterly captivated. An intense character study would have blown me away.
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But instead, we keep getting sidetracked by reminders that Linda’s parents were once part of a commune and may not be her parents at all, an interesting enough idea but not one that’s fully explored or developed. And then there’s the pedophile teacher storyline which I honestly think adds nothing to the book. Not a thing. Every time it came up I would just sigh inwardly because there was no rhyme or reason to it - at least none that I could discern.
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Overall, a beautifully written book that doesn’t quite manage to merge its plot lines into a cohesive text. But the family storyline and the writing were enough to make me not regret picking it up, though I’d recommend it with caution.