The Hounding by Xenobe Purvis Review

The Crucible meets The Virgin Suicides in this haunting debut about five sisters in a small village in eighteenth century England whose neighbors are convinced they’re turning into dogs.
 

Even before the rumors about the Mansfield girls begin, Little Nettlebed is a village steeped in the uncanny, from strange creatures that wash up on the riverbed to portentous ravens gathering on the roofs of people about to die. But when the villagers start to hear barking, and one claims to see the Mansfield sisters transform before his very eyes, the allegations spark fascination and fear like nothing has before.
 

The truth is that though the inhabitants of Little Nettlebed have never much liked the Mansfield girls—a little odd, think some; a little high on themselves, perhaps—they’ve always had plenty to say about them. As the rotating perspectives of five villagers quickly make clear, now is no exception. Even if local belief in witchcraft is waning, an aversion to difference is as widespread as ever, and these conflicting narratives all point to the same ultimate conclusion: something isn’t right in Little Nettlebed, and the sisters will be the ones to pay for it.
 

As relevant today as any time before, The Hounding celebrates the wild breaks from convention we’re all sometimes pulled toward, and wonders if, in a world like this one, it isn’t safer to be a dog than an unusual young girl.

An abstract exploration around perception and traditional gender roles of young women, Xenobe Purvis’s debut novel the Hounding is an atmospheric story that feels like a grounded and historical fairy tale expanded into a full length book. Featuring a free-flowing 3rd person multiple POV presentation and effective use of unreliable narration, the Hounding is an interesting read conducive to bookclub/literary discussions due to its clever plotting and open-ended nature. While I felt the book’s overall trajectory could’ve been developed further and its abruptly occurring just when it felt like it was hitting its stride, this book is nonetheless an interesting read that matches the unsettling feel and tone of its cover well.

“Girls—normal human girls—people could contend with; they were weak and small. And dogs too could be trained. But girls who became dogs, or who let the world believe they were dogs, were either powerful or mad: both monstrous possibilities.”

Set in the fictional rural village of Little Nettlebed in an unspecified but clearly historic age, the Hounding follows various residents, their impressions, and thoughts about five sisters referred to as the Mansfield girls. Having lost both parents and living with their ailing grandfather who is going blind, the girls are described as being of the utmost unusual; free-spirited, aloof, headstrong, and all other traits that go against the image of respectable girls. Presented through the eyes of five different characters who have various opinions and experiences with the girls, the book follows a particularly hot summer in which the local river dries, tensions rise, and several individuals believe to have seen the Mansfield girls transform into dangerous and violent dogs. While the premise sounds a bit kooky and I will admit to having picked up the book to read based on its quirky blurb, Purvis pitches the story with utmost seriousness.

While the book has a loose story that follows the villagers’ growing suspicions of the girls and their hidden canine affinities, the plot is rather abstract and is instead used to frame the various themes discussed. While the most prominent theme is misogyny introduced in the very first chapter via the local drunk and vile ferryman Peter, the book has other themes including the limitations and subservience of women via traditional gender roles, the influence and potential harm of religion, alcoholism, and role model/family figures or lack of for those of impressionable ages. The five different perspectives encompass characters young and old, conservative or open-minded, local and transient, each of these different traits coloring their view of what is happening in the village. Consisting entirely of hearsay, preconceived bias, or even physical limitations (Joseph’s blindness both figuratively and literally towards his granddaughters), these different perspectives are the most interesting element of the story. Given their conflicting accounts and the book’s open-ended conclusion, the Hounding has a story that is one that makes for a great book club or high school reading assignment due to a variety of interpretations of what has happened or what caused the unusual circumstances. In addition to its interpretive nature, Purvis’s prose is also quite literary and atmospheric; unsettling and chilly without feeling forced or cliched. While the characters are severely flawed by design and some are meant to be disliked by the reader, they are thoughtfully presented and have diverse narratives.

While the Hounding is an interesting read from a literary standpoint, I personally found it to be a bit underwhelming and underdeveloped than it could’ve been. Although the book has a sparse plot that doesn’t necessarily need to be lengthy to be effective, I felt that its 240 pages were too limiting to fully develop and explore its various topics in depth. While the discussions around the girls’ transformation into dogs is adequately covered, other elements including the destructive nature of alcoholism, religious fervor, and the lack of parental guidance were compelling topics somewhat skimmed over. Posing as the figure of restrained reason, Temperance’s mental descent at the end of the book felt like it left her story unfinished and almost felt like unnecessary shock value rather than an important narrative choice. The older working brother of a pair of siblings, Robin’s reflections on his brother’s growing independence and impressionable thoughts felt like great material that ultimately felt too short and rushed. The book introduces interesting and unsettling traditions such as pregnant women assigned to carry the coffin of those who die in childbirth, but the story doesn’t do much with these concepts apart from making the point that established practices and culture can be twisted and macabre. And overall, although the book is meant to have a slow, foreboding, and thoughtful pacing, the book hits its climax and just sort of ends just when it feels like the different pieces are finally coming together. It’s by no means a poor ending and in fact is quite successful at spurring discussions online around its conclusion and takeaway messages, but I felt its ending could’ve benefited from another few chapters or going further with the town’s distrust of the girls. Additionally, while the character writing presented is effective, it’s also limited in terms of development and depth. Each different character perspective has a clear sense of morality, psyche, and bias that is a bit black and white. And while the girls are not meant to be main characters and are merely the narrative focus of the book, each Mansfield girl seemingly only has one distinguishing quality which feels simplistic.

Thematically rich, grounded yet lyrical, and just a little quirky to match its unusual premise and eye-catching book cover, the Hounding is a good read that’s easy to follow and analyze. While its themes are highly relevant in the current political and societal environment despite being set hundreds of years ago, the thematic exploration stays at a surface level depth, and the overall reading experience is rather simplistic. This is a book worth reading and is a great choice for bookclub or group discussion, the lack of complexity and nuance holds it back from being a genre standout. That said, for those looking for a book that explores judgement, mob mentality, and rumors spreading in a conservative small town, the Hounding is an accessible choice and one that can easily be completed in an afternoon or two.