The Witch Elm is the seventh novel by Tana French and though it features Dublin and a dead body, it's her first break from the Dublin Murder Squad series. Published in 2018, French replaces the inner workings of a homicide investigation with the inner workings of a law-abiding citizen, perhaps, a man in the wrong place at the wrong time or maybe something more sinister. French's confidence as a storyteller has expanded with each novel but I grew terribly bored with this departure, not nearly committed to the page length or drawn out remembrances as the author.
The story is the first-person account of Toby Hennessy, a twenty-eight-year-old public relations hotshot employed by an art gallery in Dublin. Toby has coasted on good looks, charisma and what he thinks of as "luck." After five years with the gallery, Toby has his sights set on greater rewards, possibly a house for him and his devoted girlfriend Melissa, an antique store owner. Toby's dark journey begins at work, looking the other way when he discovers an exhibition promoting the work of street artists is a scheme by the gallery manager to sell his own paintings. Nearly fired by his boss, Toby celebrates by getting ossified with his two best mates, Sean and Declan.
Bumbling home rather than going to Melissa, Toby falls asleep with his windows open. He awakens to confront two burglars and ends up in the hospital with a skull fracture and injuries to his brain. Discharged after two weeks, tasks like walking, articulating certain words or accessing certain memories prove burdensome. He treats his anxiety with Xanax and keeps indoors. Toby ultimately accepts an offer to watch after his paternal Uncle Hugo, a genealogist suffering from inoperable brain cancer and running out the clock at "Ivy House," the secluded family mansion Toby has always considered home.
The garden had the same look of low-level unkemptness as the front of the house, but that wasn't new. For a city garden it's enormous, well over a hundred feet long. It's lined along the side walls with oak trees and silver birches and wych elms, behind the rear laneway by back of an old school or factory or something--adapted into a hip apartment block during the Celtic Tiger--five or six stories high; all that towering height gives the place a secret, sunken feel. Gran was the gardener; in her time the garden was artfully, delicately crafted till it felt like somewhere out of a fairy tale, slyly revealing its delights one by one as you earned them, look, behind this tree, crocuses! and over here, hidden under the rosemary bush, wild strawberries, all for you! She died when I was thirteen, less than a year after my grandfather, and since Hugo has loosened the reins a lot ("Not just laziness," he told me once, smiling out the kitchen window at the summer confusion of growth, "I prefer it running wild a bit. I don't mean dandelions, they're just thugs, but I like getting a glimpse of its true colors.") Gradually plants had strayed and tangled, long tendrils of ivy and jasmine trailing from the wall of the house, tumult of green leaves on the unpruned trees and seed-heads poking up among the long grass; the garden had lost its enchanted air and taken on a different quality, remote and self-possessed, archeological. Mostly I felt that I had liked it better before, but that day I was grateful for the new version; I was in no mood for whimsical charm.
With Melissa moving in to Ivy House with her boyfriend while he recuperates, Toby completely blanks that Sunday is family dinner day. Among the many people his girlfriend is introduced to are Toby's cousins Susanna and Leon, as close to siblings as only-child Toby has known. Susanna, a brainy, socially conscious type in high school, went through a wayward, wild phase before settling down with a husband and two kids. Leon, an acutely sensitive homosexual who was bullied quite a bit in high school, doubts that his cousin has the will to stick out a potentially tough scene with their uncle, though Susanna assures Toby that rather than a nurse, what they need is someone to keep watch over Hugo.
Initially, while Melissa is at work, Toby and Hugo have Ivy House to themselves. This changes when Susanna's six-year-old tyrant Zach is out playing around the witch elm, which has a massive hole in its center. The boy discovers a human skull inside the tree. Gardai determine it to be real and the garden is soon filled with medical examiners in white jumpsuits. No one in the family has any notion of who the skull might belong to but Toby feels intimidated by the presence of Detective Rafferty, unable to answer simple questions as confidently or sharply as he once did.
A skeleton is recovered from the tree and dental records reveal the remains belong to Dominic Ganly, a classmate of Toby's and his cousins who disappeared fifteen years ago, presumed a suicide in the sea. Toby has no helpful memories of Dominic, who he remembers as an okay guy who hung around their social circle and sometimes, the Ivy House. Yet the questions Rafferty pose to Toby unsettle him. How the spare key to the garden gate went missing and when. Whether Toby used to wear a red sweatshirt missing its cord, a garrote recovered inside the witch elm being the murder weapon. Hugo's health or mood or both gradually worsen due to the investigation.
It wasn't just Hugo. Around him, Melissa was her usual happy self (and even now he never turned on her, with her his voice was always gentle, to the point where I actually found myself getting absurdly jealous); but when my family came over she went quiet, smiling in a corner with watchful eyes. Even when it was just the two of us, there was a subtle penumbra of withdrawal to her. I knew something was bothering her, and I did try to draw it out of her, a couple of times, maybe not as hard as I might have; I wasn't really in the right form for complex emotional negotiations myself. I was still hitting the Xanax every night and now occasionally during the day, which at this point made it hard to be sure whether my array of resurfacing fuckups--brain fog, smelling disinfectant and blood at improbable moments, a bunch of other predictable stuff way too tedious to go into--was cause or effect, although obviously I had a hard time going for the optimsitic view. Hugo and Melissa pretended not to notice. The three of us maneuvered carefully around one another, as though there was something hidden somewhere in the house (landmine, suicide vest) that at the wrong footfall might blow us all to smithereens.
The Witch Elm has a good deal of momentum early. Whether she's detailing the machinations of a hip art exhibit or the pub banter of three mates or a burglary, Tana French knows her passage through the worlds she's describing. Ivy House is not necessarily a place with dark menace around every corner but she establishes it wonderfully. The dialogue is sharp. The intrigue is passable; I wanted to know where the skeleton came from. My favorite of French's novels Faithful Place dealt with flushing a killer out among family and while nowhere near as suspenseful, this one also presents childhood memories or family dinners as being loaded with booby traps.
My first complaint is how long this is, which is another way of saying that the story got boring. Toby theorizes that his burglary and the body in the tree could be related and that a conspirator is out to frame him, but other than experiencing anxiety, no one is placed in physical danger. The book is low stakes: if Toby is responsible for the body in the tree, he's a bad human being, or if he's not responsible, he's a tragic one. 54 of the 509 pages are devoted to a confession, which is entirely too much ink for a conversation between three characters. I skimmed or quickly read the last third of the novel.
French's prose is sharply detailed, vibrant and at times witty, but with The Witch Elm, I never felt the urge to update my Goodreads status with any of it, which is usually a sign that I'm not really connecting with the world of a book or the point of view of its characters. I've worked with plenty of guys like Toby Hennessy and his character is a familiar one in noir movies or crime fiction that I've enjoyed. I would've preferred a novella or short story from French here, perhaps one with a little more venom or passion to it. Her novels tend to be thick with the fog of unreliable memory covering up trap doors but even that degree of danger felt absent without the Dublin Murder Squad on the case.
Length: 195,658 words