Moss expertly captures the hinterland of being an older teen who is not yet an adult, splicing Silvie’s encounters with shame, curiosity, desire and fear ... There is a spring-taut tension embedded in the pages, which is built up slowly by a number of means. Moss dispenses not just with speech indicators, but runs all the dialogue into regular sentences. It’s both breathless and indistinguishable from the other text ... The novel gradually narrows its focus, and the ending becomes a bottleneck from which character and reader feel they can’t escape ... Moss’s brevity is admirable, her language pristine. This story lingers, leaving its own ghosts, but with important lessons for the future of idealising the past.
The British writer Sarah Moss’s new novel, Ghost Wall... compresses large and urgent themes—the dangers of nostalgic nationalism, the abuse of women and children, what is lost and gained when humans stop living in thrall to the natural world—into a short, sharp tale of suspense ... I read Ghost Wall in one gulp in the middle of the night. It was a worthy match for 3 a.m. disquiet, a book that evoked existential dread, but contained it, beautifully, like a shipwreck in a bottle.
... a compact, riveting book ... Moss immerses us in the pleasures of nascent sexuality and adolescent independence ... Moss is not much interested in giving Silvie and her rebellious tendencies room to breathe. This is a novel about being constrained, even trapped.
... short yet haunting ... [The story] becomes a pagan nightmare heading toward Heart of Darkness proportions ... Peppered with such exquisite lines... Ghost Wall isn't merely a timely topical novel, but rather a timeless work of art.
[Ghost Wall's] author, Sarah Moss, possesses the rare light touch when it comes to melding the uncanny with social commentary ... Moss vividly renders the natural world here, coaxing readers into experiencing everything from stepping on a pebble in thin moccasins to being sucked into a bog ... Ghost Wall is such a weird and distinctive story: It could be labeled a supernatural tale, a coming-of-age chronicle, even a timely meditation on the various meanings of walls themselves. All this, packed into a beautifully written story of 130 pages. No wonder I read it twice within one week.
There are flesh-creeping moments, but Moss resists making [the father] a mere ogre of sadistic patriarchy ... It’s writing that, along with vivid responses to the natural world and acute alertness to class, regional and sexual tensions, recalls the early fiction of DH Lawrence. It brings enriching complexity to this tale of escalating menace.
Ghost Wall, a slim but meaty book, is like nothing I have read before; its creepy atmosphere has stayed with me all summer ... Moss combines exquisite nature writing, original characters and a cracking thriller plot to make a wonderful literary curiosity. It deserves to pull her out of the bog of underappreciation and on to the prize podiums.
Ghost Wall, Sarah Moss’s sixth novel, is further proof that she’s one of our very best contemporary novelists ... At a mere 160 pages, Ghost Wall may look unassuming, but it’s testament to Moss’s notable talents that within these she’s able to address the huge topics of misogynistic brutality and violence, gender inequality and class warfare, not to mention the lessons of history. But never at the expense of what’s a gripping narrative ... Ghost Wall is full of uncomfortable truths about the modern world ... It’s an intoxicating concoction; inventive, intelligent, and like no other author’s work.
While imbued with Moss’s characteristic elegance, insight and deep sense of place, [Ghost Wall] packs a bigger punch than her other novels: at just 149 pages, it’s a short, sharp shock of a book that closes around you like a vice as you read it. Her earlier work considered the small dramas of daily lives in expansive, almost languorous detail. This story is tauter and tenser: plot driven, time limited and entirely out of the ordinary ... The real virtue of this novel resides in Moss’s ability to carry us with her: to lead us step by hot and grubby step to a shattering conclusion that in the reading feels not overblown or gratuitous but grotesquely plausible ... Ghost Wall is a burnished gem of a book, brief and brilliant, and with it Moss’s star is firmly in the ascendant.
The story builds to a primitive ritual teasingly foreshadowed in the opening pages that lays bare Sylvie’s vulnerability and oppression at the hands of her father. Tackling issues such as misogyny and class divides, Moss... packs a lot into her brief but powerful narrative.
... exquisite ... Ghost Wall, [Moss'] sixth in nine years, is her best novel yet, a slim book that can be read in an hour or two, but which leaves deep and lingering traces. At a time in which we are thinking more closely than ever about questions of nationalism and tradition, about walls and what they signify, this is an important novel that wears its timeliness lightly.
Sarah Moss’s concise, claustrophobic sixth novel concerns the perils of family life ... Moss is very good at building empathy for Silvie through visceral, close-grained descriptions of nature ... A sinister feeling hangs over Ghost Wall from the first chapter, where we witness a teenage girl sacrificed to a bog by her family, probably on the same spot in Northumbria, many centuries ago.
The story is exquisitely written; the characters are perfectly drawn and pop off the page into my head ... But what makes [the book] great is that Sarah Moss leads us onto the muddy, bloodstained road that Folk Horror normally follows, and then finds side paths and valleys and hills that take us in very different directions ... This, ultimately, is where Ghost Wall becomes a triumph. By committing to her early-90’s setting, and placing very real and tactile scenes of abuse against long digression on the landscape and the Bog People, Moss points out the ways that abusive patterns have been leveraged against women for most of Western Civilization ... To say much more would be too spoilery, but I will say that the book rewarded my initial discomfort by telling a deep and, in the end, riveting story.
Moss’... unusual premise allows her to explore issues of class, sexuality, capitalism, and xenophobia in fewer than 150 pages. Her decision to use unformatted dialogue, without punctuation or paragraph breaks, can be frustrating and works against the plot’s natural suspense, but it also shows Silvie’s panic, confusion, and longing as strangers get too close. One can’t help but wonder if there is a post-Brexit cautionary tale flowing not too far below the surface here. A thorny, thoroughly original novel about human beings’ capacity for violence.
Moss... delivers a powerful and unsettling novel about an Iron Age reenactment that steadily morphs into something sinister ... The novel’s highlight is Silvie, a perfectly calibrated consciousness that is energetic and lonely and prone to sharp and memorable observations ... This is a haunting, astonishing novel.