I’ve always been on the lookout for something to get me into graphic novels. I loved manga as a teen, but for some reason even the most revered of graphic novels have never done anything for me. My latest attempt was Through the Woods by Emily Carroll; a collection of horror stories highly recommended by Patrick Rothfuss and widely proclaimed to be very scary.
The stories were chilling, I’ll happily admit. But unfortunately they felt more like ghost stories told around a moonlit sleepover with eleven-year-olds holding torches up to their faces. The stories didn’t serve much of a purpose except to be creepy. There was no “moral of the story”, there were no resolutions or any way to link the stories together. Except that each story sort of features the woods. The same woods? We’ll never know.
It is a gorgeous edition though, the illustrations and even the fonts were something I quite enjoyed.
Worth your time? Hard to say. I read this book in half an hour and I don’t see myself picking it up again. Was it an enjoyable half hour? Certainly. But it was a half hour I could have spent reading something that really did something for me.