Barrowbeck is a place where the past lingers like a fog, where ancient forces clash with modernity, and where the boundaries between reality and the supernatural blur. Hurley’s evocative prose draws the reader into this eerie world, where every corner hides a secret and every shadow conceals a mystery. The collection of stories weaves together a tapestry of folklore, history, and human drama, creating a rich and immersive reading experience.
Ultimately, Barrowbeck is more than just a setting – it is a character in its own right, a malevolent presence that exerts its influence over the lives of those who dwell within its borders. As the stories unfold, we see how the village shapes and reshapes the fates of its inhabitants, drawing them inexorably towards their destinies, whether they be tragic or triumphant.
With Barrowbeck, Andrew Michael Hurley has crafted a masterful exploration of the power of place, the persistence of the past, and the eternal struggle between light and darkness. It is a haunting, atmospheric work that will linger in the reader’s mind long after the final page is turned.
Y ahí radica el problema, pues si hay una falla que se puede encontrar en Barrowbeck, radica en una sobredependencia en los tropos que ya reconocemos: los mini-hombres de mimbre, el “Maestro” que recompensa la recolección ilícita de frutas con una estancia en el infierno, el extraño personal del B&B compuesto por unas hermanas gemelas muy extrañas. El horror folclórico, nacido en la década analógica y ardiente de los años 70, es en esencia un género nostálgico: tendemos a sentirnos seguros vagando por sus bosques, incluso cuando no deberíamos. Los peligros aquí a veces están demasiado claramente señalizados como para representar una amenaza genuina.