I’m trying to expand my horizons and Camilla Sten’s acclaimed thriller The Lost Village (translated by Alexandra Fleming) has hit the American shores. And my right big toe because I managed to drop The Lost Village on my bare foot when putting library books away. Yes, I could wear shoes inside like the spouse suggests but I can’t stand wearing shoes or even slippers if I don’t have to inside. So, my toes are going to be casualties at times. Luckily The Lost Village isn’t a door stop of a book.
Now about The Lost Village as a book not a demonic toe smashing object. This is said with respect. The Lost Village recalls the scariest bits of John Saul. Yes, I know I’m confessing to being a John Saul reader and he doesn’t get tons of respect, but the man had a way with describing religious fervor that struck home. And dark lost places. The titular lost village of Silvertjarn is creepy ruin of a town filled with crumbling houses and dark secrets only you don’t need to wait roughly a hundred years, only about sixty for those dark secrets to be revealed. Tons of creepy stuff though. Creepy stuff good even if I managed to figure out a particular plot twist before our flashback narrator Elsa. But hey Elsa is going through A LOT, so she is forgiven.
Of course, being me, the modern timeline with filmmaker Alice (Elsa’s great-granddaughter) and her tiny independent documentary crew had the harder time holding my interest then the flashbacks with Elsa and that might be because my brain kept trying to figure out how to pronounce Tone between bouts of wanting to smack Alice and Emmy. Gee, I really have a thing for wanting to smack characters, don’t I? Come on, Alice is so evasive and Emmy from Alice’s perspective in the beginning is not a great person.
I didn’t dislike everything about the modern timeline. I liked the details of producing the documentary right down to wanting to kick yourself for not filming certain things. I’ve had those thoughts about my Instagram and I’m not trying to solve a mystery involving an entire ghost town. And the former claims adjuster in me shrieked when a rented van went boom. You do not want to handle a damage claim with a rental vehicle. They are nightmares. Maybe not the nightmares of Silvertjarn but nightmares all the same.
As much as I was caught up with the town’s descent in the flashbacks partly because I was imaging a John Carpenter adaptation, The Lost Village almost lost me completely with the resolution to a mystery. I’m willing to stretch my disbelief and roll with things, including other books that could have benefited with radical slashing and an editor smacking the author’s hands with a ruler when the author goes on a tangent, hello beloved horror writer of my misguided youth, but one reveal had me lifting an eyebrow like a damn Aaron Spelling villainess and finding the reveal totally unbelievable under the circumstances. I’m sorry but really? With the time frame? I would love to know if Camilla Sten’s editors had similar thoughts. And I was just getting to not want to smack Alice anymore too. Pity.
But again, maybe I’m not understanding something in the plot or the translation to English left some key crucial detail not quite crystal clear. The Lost Village is an interesting book, and it would make a terrific Netflix or Hulu limited series. And I will always have the creepy bits even if they don’t quite emotionally scar me like a good solid Laird Barron tale. Camilla Sten is one to watch.
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