Girl in Ice is a lot of things: a psychological suspense novel, a linguistic thriller and a scientific puzzle. The more Sigrid communicates, through words and drawings, the more perplexing her story. Can she in fact be a survivor from the distant past? Why hasn’t Wyatt—gravely ill and desperate to make a significant discovery in his remaining days—publicized her existence? And could any of this have something to do with the death of Val’s brother? Ms. Ferencik describes the Arctic topography with a poet’s awe, and some of her set-pieces—the procession of a huge herd of caribou, an Arctic dive gone badly awry—are breathtaking. But it’s the enchanting Sigrid, and her growing attachment to Val, whom she calls 'Bahl,' who makes this book such a singular sensation. A reader may ignore any number of 'hey, wait a minute' plot implausibilities for another burst of gleeful Sigrid-speak: 'Joy! Bahl, Sigrid, safe, night, magic, warm.'
This literary speculative fiction thriller not only tackles issues of language and first-contact colonialism, as well as climate change and what we’re doing to the planet, but also what it means to overcome your greatest fears in order to do the right thing. At its heart is the little girl that Val and the staff of the Arctic Circle outpost are trying to get through to, though more than one person has their own ulterior motives for learning how to communicate with her and discovering the truth behind her unusual circumstances. The mysteries are many-layered and intriguing as Val navigates a forbidding landscape of bleak cold and low survivability in order to protect her young charge, while unearthing the dark truths lurking in the heart of the place that claimed her brother’s life and could, if she isn’t careful, claim hers as well.
The most alarming discovery...will feature some images that readers, myself included, will not soon forget ... a novel of secrets. It is also an allegory for what human beings are doing to the natural world and the terrifying possibility that Mother Nature might one day strike back in unpredictable ways. All in all, this is a memorable and literally chilling read.
Readers looking to enjoy the fuzzy familiarity of this defrosting-enigma gambit will need to pay a predictable price for it when wading through Girl in Ice, unfortunately: they get the human popsicles, yes, but they also get prose that reads like it was defrosted from freshman writing student’s most purple cast-offs ... Readers looking to enjoy the fuzzy familiarity of this defrosting-enigma gambit will need to pay a predictable price for it when wading through Girl in Ice, unfortunately: they get the human popsicles, yes, but they also get prose that reads like it was defrosted from freshman writing student’s most purple cast-offs ... Too much of this kind of bilge will make almost any reader want to fade into the cerulean depths, but Val’s the stubborn type, particularly once she finally starts to suspect that she might have accidentally accepted an invitation to join the Red Skull and his not-at-all-psycopathic henchperson in an icebound wasteland far from reliable cell service. By the time she’s up to her shinbones in ice eels, she’ll be fighting for her life—and readers who can suppress the occasional giggle will doubtless be enjoying themselves.
The story evokes a palpable sense of foreboding and becomes increasingly ominous as it highlights the power of nature—and of human emotion. Original, intense, powerful, disturbing, and utterly mesmerizing, this one, which evokes Peter Høeg’s Smilla’s Sense of Snow, will stay with readers long after they’ve finished the book.
... [an] exemplary thriller ... Val’s moving struggles to communicate with the girl alternate with her investigation into Andy’s death, which she suspects was a homicide. Trenchant details about catastrophic climate change bolster a creative plot featuring authentic characters, particularly the anxious, flawed Val. Ferencik outdoes Michael Crichton in the convincing way she mixes emotion and science.
Belief is a problem all through this book—the elements made up to serve the plot rest on a foundation of real climate science, linguistics, and cultural history but still don't manage to be convincing. The five characters—Val, Wyatt, a nasty cook, and a pair of married marine scientists—are also less than lifelike. Saddled with mental health issues and bad manners, their interactions range from rude to abusive except for the married couple, who are so in love it's nauseating. You really wouldn't want to be stuck in a room with these people, which poor Val is much of the time, and now someone has stolen her anxiety meds and hidden the booze! ... Tense, claustrophobic, and a bit hard to swallow.