We read The Dark is Rising this month, or rather some of us did. I couldn’t fit it in, what with re-reading Pamela Dean’s Tam Lin and listening to She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chen. Perhaps book club reads should take priority, but I suspect I would have made more of an effort if I’d wanted to. I like The Dark is Rising, and I know it’s a much better book than Over Sea, Under Stone; that it’s wonderfully atmospheric and haunting, intense and exciting, but I’m just not in love with it. This has something to do with Will Stanton who is a nice boy, but just not my favourite as I find him too bland and unobjectionable. Jane is arguably just as boring, but she is the one whom I love, so I will definitely be re-reading Greenwitch, September’s book.

I did not choose to make time for The Dark is Rising, but I did spare a thought for Herne the Hunter. When I first read the book, the wild hunt made a strong impression on me. I suspect it was the first time I encountered anything as mysterious and frightening in English folklore. When I lived in England in the 90s, I was disappointed to find that no one I met (then) had heard of him, but in the early 90s, I was delighted that Herne was a key character in ITV’s Robin of Sherwood. Alas, the show has not aged well and the mysterious, mystical Herne now just looks like a man taking the piss in a deer costume. (One of my flatmates in Eastbourne came from Herne Bay, but to my great disappointment, the town was not named after the antlered man, but merely refers to a neighbouring village and its geographical placement, herne or hyrne meaning corner in Old English.)