“This childhood nightmare never went away…” In 1971, four boys walked into a jungle. Only three came back alive. They blamed what happened on a mythical monster, but no-one believed them. Forty years later, the truth is finally coming out…
Journalist, Nate Mason, is one of the survivors.
Haunted by memories he doesn’t fully understand, he returns to the
Caribbean island of St. Lucia to unravel the tragic events of his
childhood. Back then, as the son of a diplomat, Nate was part of an
elite social circle. This included the island’s “royal family”, the De
Villiers, who owned a decaying mansion deep in the jungle, staffed by
the descendants of slaves. It was here, during a weekend of whispered
childhood secrets and dares, that Nate’s innocence was torn apart.
But
Nate’s not the only one obsessed with the demons in his past. Within
hours of arriving back on the island, he becomes convinced he’s being
followed. But even though he soon realizes he’s risking his sanity as
well as his life, he can’t stop himself from searching for the answers
he came here to find. Can childhood nightmares haunt you for the rest of
your life? How much do you need to believe in a monster for it to
become real?
The Clearing is a dark and atmospheric psychological
thriller, full of intrigue, terror and superstition, which examines our
deep fear of the unknown.
Guest post on the setting of The Clearing by the author Dan Newman (Thank you Dan!):
The Clearing is a novel set in St. Lucia, but it was the St. Lucia of the
1970s. Back then it was a somewhat
different island; sure, the geography is the same today, but back then the place was different. The island had yet to be properly discovered
by tourism. There was a clutch of hotels
offering Caribbean luxury, but they were wide open and somehow innocent. You could walk right in; no security, no
wristbands. The guests were a well healed
and exclusive set; there were no package deals, no all-inclusive tours.
And further out of town, down the coast and in the
interior, the island was still making its living much way it always had –
growing crops for export on expansive plantations that seemed not to have
changed for generations. The plantation
where much of the novel is set, Ti Fenwe, is a real place, although the name
has been changed. In 1976 the estate was
busy producing copra, sugar cane, bananas and, importantly for the novel,
nutmeg. Today, that same estate still
grows crops, but now you can now visit and see the place in action. You can have a wonderful lunch of locally
grown produce and enjoy the old house itself.
It looks quite lovely now, having been restored to its former
glory.
But back in 1976, it was much different.
With no tourists to impress, the main house served only to
be functional, and in fact most of it had fallen into disrepair. It was weathered heavily and under constant
attack from the encroaching forest. It
felt abandoned, and as an eleven or twelve year old kid, it seemed to me to be
somehow quietly desperate, mournful, like an old person left at the side of the
road to die. And it reached out to you
in that same way.
In the novel, the house is significant, and in my own real
life experiences, it was a place of both refuge and fear. Only one room had a lock on the door, and
during the night something ran through the attic, scattering the drying nutmeg,
and terrifying me and my friends. We
felt thankful for the locks (there were three, and that bothered me even back
then), but while the locks kept whatever was upstairs out, they also kept us in.
The room itself is seared into my memory, as were the
multiple locks and the fact that it held a small armoury as well; a few
shotguns and a small pistol. The owner
was relaxed but attentive – what I’d call situationally
aware today. The room was a
defendable position, and I remember realizing that - after the last of the
three locks were turned and we were sealed in for the night.
And it was quite a night.
One day I’ll write down the other
things that happened, but for now I hope you enjoy the parts that made it into The Clearing.
Thank you, Becca, for letting me stop by!
ReplyDeleteDan.