Brunt Boggart by David Greygoose is enchanting. I’ll be saying more about it, but I think that the first and last word on the subject needs to be its ability to enchant.
With a Folkum-style penchant for nomenclature and grammar, Greygoose creates a village, a people, and a thick atmosphere that surrounds you like a fog. Much like Dr Seuss’ works’ made-up words give child-readers a sense of phonics and onomatopoeia; Brunt Boggart convincingly makes up names and pluralisations and a thoroughly Anglo-European folksy tradition that never truly was, all to give a sense of verisimilitude that every spec. fic. writer is after. He achieves more though – much like Seuss’ readers – readers of Boggart learn lessons in construction (especially writer-readers like myself).
While there is an overarching plot to the here-and-there stories, it does not tread on the toes of the true star of the ‘tapestry of tales’, the moralities, the wonderment, the sheer immersion – the Story of it all. In a much less literal sense…
I do have to say that while the boys of the village are named cool things like ‘Larkspittle’, and ‘Crossdogs’, his girls have to settle for the My Little Pony-esque ‘Dawnflower’, ‘Moonpetal’, and the like. They make up for it by being strong characters however, and not by merely taking up masculine roles. His characters, while many, are given time to breathe when the story calls for it, and are listed rapidly, like an indeterminate swarm when the story is heady.
If at times twee, Greygoose’s writing more than makes up for it by being at all times beguiling. Brunt Boggart is enchanting.