Dyrwolf by Kat Kinney
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
There is a beautifully odd and rather unique feeling one may get from the opening chapters of Dyrwolf. It is a sense of decontextualization that arises from a stunning timelessness. It is told in first person perspective, frankly a risky move in my books but one that really pays off in this case, as the narrative inherits a quality of oral tradition and mythology, as if you are listening to a tale told by an elder. The setting, character, and technology spring to life in an unspecified time and place somewhere in the north. It could be Alaska or Canada or Sweden. It might be present day or it could be set a hundred or many thousands of years ago. We connect with the character on an instinctive level. We begin to identify with self as an archetype. There is the promise of a proving ceremony. It is a coming of age, a testing. It resonates with Joseph Campell’s concept of “the hero’s journey”. There are simple tools, bows, flint. We connect with our own ancient past and the survival skills that still lie latent deep within us. The character can readily identify and differentiate between species of similar flora and fauna, and she understands why this is a critical skill. She possesses a deep connection to measure that we long for. She knows her place in the world.
The following chapters move into more specifics of setting, but continue to be quite captivating. The prose remains for the most part highly stylized and only a few times did I feel that perhaps it was a bit over the top. The character gets into some substantial trouble which gets deeper and deeper, continuing to draw the reader in.
I highly recommend this book for fans of the Hunger Games and Twilight (specifically New Moon), and even if you don’t like that type of thing, this book stands on its own merits as an exceptionally well-written work that I could happily recommend to any reader.
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