Anna North's fourth novel, Bog Queen, presents an ambitious and braided narrative that attempts to bridge millennia, connecting a modern forensic expert with the ancient fate of a teenage druid. The story, published by W&N, has memorable moments but struggles to fully convince in its evocation of time and place.
A Trio of Unlikely Narrators
The novel opens with a highly unusual perspective: the collective voice of a moss colony. North prefaces this by noting that a colony of moss does not actually speak, imagine, or narrate, but if it could, this is the story it might tell. This botanical chorus is joined by two human voices. The first is Agnes, an American forensic pathology expert on a post-doctoral fellowship in Manchester in 2018. The second is an unnamed Iron Age teenage girl, a druid from her village, who recounts her journey towards a Roman town with her brother Aesu and friend Crab.
The plot's modern catalyst is the discovery of a body in a peat bog near a town called Ludlow, a discovery that deliberately shadows the real-life 1984 finding of Lindow Man in a bog near Wilmslow. Agnes, socially awkward but brilliant in her field, is summoned to the site. Her expertise allows her to instantly discern that the body is approximately 2,000 years old and, crucially, that the young woman survived for weeks after sustaining severe injuries.
Strengths and Stumbles in Storytelling
The novel's greatest strength lies in Agnes's profound connection to the physicality of bodies, both living and dead. North skilfully portrays a character who can read movement and stillness with an acuity she lacks when interpreting voices and faces. Agnes's dedication to this single ancient life sets her apart from the other parties who descend on the bog, including environmentalists, archaeologists, and a woman searching for a relative's remains.
However, the world-building presents significant hurdles. North invents a 'Ludlow' that is a depressed, post-industrial town near Manchester, a stark contrast to the actual historic market town in the Welsh Marches. This geographical and historical mash-up feels unconvincing, failing to capture the specificities of either real location. Conversely, the American sections of Agnes's backstory are rendered with far more solidity.
An Iron Age World Through a Modern Lens
North vividly constructs the material world of the Iron Age druid, paying close attention to bodily experiences of light, landscape, and textiles. A scene where the druid encounters the goods and power of the Roman Empire is particularly striking. For readers without deep knowledge of the period, these sections may prove comfortably immersive.
Yet, from an archaeological standpoint, several elements feel anachronistic or simplified. These include the imposition of distinctly modern shame around pre-marital pregnancy and theories about bog body preservation that don't fully align with widespread evidence. The narrative voice of the ancient girl, while engaging, often feels more reflective of 21st-century American sensibilities than a truly alien prehistoric worldview.
The moss colony's narration, intended to explore non-human consciousness amidst environmental crisis, largely falls into the trap of anthropomorphism. Despite its introductory disclaimer, it often reads as a projection of human eco-anxiety rather than a genuinely alien perspective.
In conclusion, Bog Queen is an uneven novel with flashes of beautiful strangeness and a compelling central forensic thread. While it ambitiously seeks to intertwine ecology, archaeology, and personal history, its imagination and research occasionally don't reach far enough to overcome its unconvincing settings and modernised ancient voices. The novel is available from Guardian Bookshop for £18.99.
