What happens when the land that sustained your family for generations suddenly stops keeping its end of the bargain? In The Bog Wife, Kay Chronister drops us into the eerie isolation of rural West Virginia, where five estranged siblings are forced to confront not just each other but the decaying legacy of their ancestral covenant. The Haddesleys have always served the cranberry bog, and in return, the bog has given them what they need—until now.

This novel is southern gothic by way of eco-horror, rich with decaying settings, creeping dread, and characters who make you want to shout at the page. And I mean that literally: there are moments when you’ll be begging Wenna, the middle child trying to break free, to just Google something already. But that’s part of the tension. These characters have been so deeply insulated from the outside world that the obvious often eludes them. Their sense of what is normal, what is allowed, what is true, has been shaped entirely by what they’ve been taught to believe—and by what they’ve been carefully kept from knowing.
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