Modern Gothic Tale of Witches & Werewolves Needs Less Words, More Bite -- (Review of Atlas of Unknowable Things)

The cut-throat, “publish-or-perish” world of academia. 

Ancient manuscripts. 

An historian with a secret side quest.

An ex-bestie turned bitter rival.

A tiny, elite college, nestled high in the stunning peaks of the Rocky Mountains... where winter is always coming.

These are the bones of McCormick Templeman’s gothic-leaning thriller, Atlas of Unknowable Things.

 

 

Ever since Robin Quain and her best friend, a fellow historian, fell out, it seems like nothing’s been going right.

Her beloved dog crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

Her boyfriend unceremoniously dumped her.

And, she hasn't experienced a breakthrough in her dissertation—arguing the European witch hunts were as much about getting rid of powerful women as eradicating suspected practitioners of witchcraft—leaving her PhD more pipe dream than reality.

Until, that is, she runs across a letter mentioning correspondence between Joan of Arc and the infamous French knight, Gilles de Rais, which sparks new avenues of exploration.

A pharmacological connection... how the ancient witch hysteria might play out in modern times... and other mythical creatures.

When her research unearths a witch-adjacent, recent case—a young woman horrifically mauled by what locals believe was a werewolf—in the Rocky Mountains, she feels a flicker of hope.

After stumbling on tiny, private Hildegard College—renowned for its botanical gardens and vast collection of archaic manuscripts (including, importantly, pharmacopoeias)... situated only a few miles from the attack... and welcoming to visiting academics—she hatches a plan.

Secure a residency at Hildegard to study the manuscripts by day, and search for clues about the werewolf tale after-hours.

Once Robin is actually at Hildegard, though, she discovers it isn’t what she expected.

The handful of faculty staying on over the winter break are friendly enough, but also a little... weird.

The professor whose research might’ve answered some of Robin’s questions has been missing for several months... yet none of the faculty seem particularly worried.

She’s woken by strange sounds in the middle of the night, and sees lights flickering through the forest and across the frigid lake... a lake she’s been warned is off-limits.

Also, cryptic messages keep popping up, but only Robin is receiving them.

What starts out as frustration—being thwarted at every turn—soon becomes fear, as the campus—and the dense, dark forest surrounding it, high in the snowy mountains—begin feeling more like a trap she can’t escape.

 

 

Atlas of Unknowable Things absolutely wasn't what I thought it was going to be.

First, the positives...

Templeman has crafted a dense, twisty tale, here—which sounds promising, on the surface.

It pulls from many different areas of thought; by turns delving into the occult, mythical lore, religion, and botanical knowledge... all connected, at least somewhat, by their historical significances. 

Throughout, the story has strong modern-gothic undertones, maintaining a sense of dread. Uncertainty and doubt. Panic. Eventually, even the fear of going insane.

The setting for all of this was unexpected. Normally, this tale—firmly rooted in history—would take place in far-off European mountains... not the Rockies (so, kudos for the location).

Now for the not-so-goods...

My biggest quibble with Atlas of Unknowable Things is its density—there are a lot of (well-researched) scientific and mystical tidbits woven throughout. Too many, really.

There are also, as I said, a lot of Big Ideas swirling about. While I appreciate that research should begin with multiple ideas, until one can narrow the focus, it isn't exactly scintillating to read something that feels like part of that process.

Unfortunately, the combination of all those larger ideas and minute details slow things down to a snail’s pace. 

[Full disclosure, I actually wound up skimming numerous passages, just so I could get back to some action. Or human interaction. Anything interesting, really.]

On the whole, Atlas is a unique tale... but only earns a qualified recommendation, from me. 

If you prefer more action and dialog (and a little more focus) in your wintry reads, chances are you’d find this one a real slog.

But, if you crave a deep, dark, classic gothic tome, full of contemplation, atmospheric pauses, and silences—and are unbothered by long, intellectual deep-dives—this could be a worthy candidate for your TBR list.

~GlamKitty