A Pocketful of Crows

  ‘'I have no name. The travelling folk have neither name, nor master. When I die, no stone will be laid. No flowers will be scattered. When I die, I will become a thousand creatures: beetles, worms. And so I shall travel on, for ever, till the End of the Worlds. This is the fate of the travelling folk. We would not have it otherwise.''
When Love comes, it comes uninvited, unnoticed, silently. It asks no one's permission, it falls like thunder, it strikes like an earthquake. And if we are fortunate, we might have a chance to survive and tell the tale. When a girl of the Travelling Folk of the mountains, the forests and the moors falls in love with a human, she walks straight into the trap we call ‘'Love''. It will soon become certain that her heart will break for humans are treacherous and vile. And then, the long path of Revenge must be followed.
‘'Today I am a nightingale at your bedroom window. My song is sweeter than honey, and yet you do not hear me. Instead, you sit in your chamber and read from a book bound in red leather, and sometimes you sigh and look outside, but you cannot see me, nor do you know how eagerly I watch you from my stony perch.''
Instead of tiring you (as I am, surely), you will allow me to share two paragraphs that brought me to tears...
‘'Ι shall bing my love with the cry of a snowy owl in the darkness. I shall bind him with nightshade, and the collarbone of a moon hare. I shall bind him in a sheet made from stars and thistledown, and sleep with him for a thousand years, until the seas are nothing but sand, and the mountains are nothing but ocean.''
‘'But I shall never be as you are. When I have my freedom back, I shall travel into the air. I shall become a thousand seeds of dandelion and firewood, of ragwort and of thistle, alder and yew. And I shall take root wherever I fall, in your gardens and on your graves. And if you cut me, I shall grow and multiply a thousand fold.''
A beautiful tale of love, determination and revenge. The tireless effort of a unique girl to find herself and understand the world of Old and the world of the humans, linked forever in their beauty and turbulence. A tale for the Hunter's Moon and the beginning of darkness, for the Wolf Moon and its cold, for the Crow Moon, magical and unpredictable, for the Milk Moon of serenity, peace and growth. A fable for All Hallows' Eve and the spirits that still walk, for St Lucy's gift of Light and Hope, for Christmastide, for St Brigid's offerings and St Mark's night of omens.
A tale for the ones who loved and the ones who were betrayed. For those who dare.
‘'Cast not a clout until May be out, for on that day, I shall dance on your grave, and soar like a lark above you. On that day, you shall know my name, which is known only to the dead. And on that day, I shall be free, and the sky will ring with my laughter.''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/
 

4.5 Rounded to 5

“Mary Mack, Mary Mack,
All in blood, and all in black
Bring me what my soul doth lack,
Merry mad, mad Mary.”

I haven't read this author before and I can't wait to read more. This is a beautifully dark tale of the cycle of life and death and how it intertwines.

With such lyrical writing it felt like being in a dream. Witches and Fae. Betrayal and revenge. Curses and Vindication.

This couldn't have been a more perfect Spooktober read.

Beautiful, ethereal, otherworldly. A stunning read, with wonderful illustrations.