Booksology Hello, dear reader! Do you like what you read here at Omnivorous? Do you like reading fun but insightful takes on all things pop culture? Do you like supporting indie writers? If so, then please consider becoming a subscriber and get the newsletter delivered straight to your inbox. There are a number of paid options, but you can also sign up for free! Every little bit helps. Thanks for reading and now, on with the show!
Warning: Full spoilers for the book follow.
Given my own turn toward Appalachia in my fiction, it’s probably unsurprising that I’d be hungry to start reading more of it, particularly in fantasy and horror. After all, as anyone who has ever been to or lived in the region knows, there’s a deep and sometimes frightening power in those hills and hollers, a deep-rooted menace that tends to be hostile to outsiders or to those who would destroy the region for their own gain. You can rip all the coal out of the mountains that you want, but those mountains will eventually strike back.
My latest foray into Appalachian fiction is Linda H. Codega’s Motheater, which is a book I just happened to stumble upon (amazing how often that happens to me, isn’t it?) The novel wastes no time in plunging us directly into its world, as main character Bennie, a Black woman, stumbles upon a body in a local stream. As it turns out, this mysterious figure is a witch from the 19th century, trapped in the roots of the mountain by her own father. Now that she’s free, however, she has to do everything in her power to keep the vengeful mountain from devouring the town to which she was once dedicated. Bennie finds herself drawn into this existential battle, even as she starts to lose her heart to the strange witch from the mountain. Codega deftly weaves past and present together as Motheater and Bennie race to put the former’s memory back together so she can have the power and the fortitude to defeat the powers of the earth itself.
As this summary makes clear, this is a book all about dark magics, old roots, and the horrors of both the past and the present of Appalachia. These are characters that you can understand, even if you don’t always find their actions particularly likable or particularly defensible. This is especially true of Motheater–or Esther, as she’s known in the past–who is a creature of great power but also great pride. While we obviously don’t begrudge her hostility toward the forces of industry poised to despoil almost every mile of Appalachian land, we can also see how her pride and her prickly nature make it difficult even for her allies to stay loyal to her or help her for any length of time.
This is particularly true in the parts of the book in which we learn about her past, how she was the daughter of a snake-handling preacher, how she set herself against the industrial forces invading her territory and, most sinisterly of all, how she bound her dear friend Jasper to a tree. In other words, we learn that Motheater can be quite ruthless when it suits her, driven by her own moral code to do what she thinks is right, no matter who might get injured in the process. She’s also the type of person who cannot admit defeat, even when it’s staring her right in the face.
Then again, what is a Neighbor, a witch, supposed to do when faced with a village that views her with mingled awe and fear? What can one do when faced with forces so vast they seem unstoppable except by the most desperate measures imaginable? Motheater is the type of story that reminds you not just of the region’s troubled and exploited past but also points toward the struggles of the future. Anyone who has ever spent time in the mountains of Appalachia–particularly in my home state of West Virginia–can see quite clearly the damage that industry has wrought, the scars left behind by generations of exploitation at the hands of those who see the region as their own personal playground.
I love works of dark fantasy that manage to keep the horror and the fantastical elements in a delicate balance, and in this regard Motheater does not disappoint. I particularly loved the way Codega portrays the magic used by Motheater, a power that is drawn from the land and often requires a blood sacrifice in order to work. I’m not sure just how much of this is based in actual folklore, but such is Codega’s commitment that I’m willing to roll with it.
And, of course, there’s also the whole sapphic romance part of it. Bennie is either bi or pan and, given just how powerful Motheater is, it’s not that surprising that she finds herself drawn into the other woman’s orbit. It’s also refreshing to see a Black woman in Appalachia and, while Bennie herself is from a different region of Virginia, there are enough references to folk of color in her adopted town to make it clear that there’s a pretty substantial population of them there. Given the extent to which BIPOC have been consistently marginalized in Appalachian narratives, it feels quietly revolutionary to have one as one of the two main characters, and the fact that she’s queer in the bargain makes it even more special.
In the end, Motheater suggests that there is no salvation for Appalachia without a great deal of sacrifice, and it also poses an even more pressing question, one that constantly lurks in the background of Bennie and Motheater’s attempts to save the town of Kiron from the looming destruction from the mountain itself. Are such places worth saving, when they have mortgaged their souls and their homes and their bodies to the avaricious maw and blatant evil of industry? For that matter, what do you do when the very spirit of the land itself seems to rise up against you? I love novels that make you think, and Motheater certainly did that!
Suffice it to say, then, that I really loved Motheater. It’s the kind of book that really grabs hold of you, immerses you in its world, and leaves you feeling both satisfied and wanting more. What’s more, it really has a firm grasp of the history and struggles of Appalachia and how those things continue to impact how things unfold in the present. If you’ve ever been to the region, you’ll know the past is never very far away. In some ways, it’s not even past.
Motheater made me fall in love with my home region all over again, and I highly recommend it to anyone who loves Appalachia as much as I do.
