I was rather hesitant to read this much-acclaimed novel—apprehensive, even. Despite all the good things I had heard of it, my last Ava Reid read—Juniper and Thorn—was disappointing enough to make me a skeptic. So, when I started this book, it was with a fair amount of prejudice. However, in my opinion, a book that overcomes prejudices and changes a heart on the offensive is far more to praise than any other. This is what happened with me and A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid.
A Study in Drowning is the story of Effy Sayre, a first-year architecture student at a university that doesn’t allow women to pursue most subjects including the one she studies. Although Effy’s true ambition was to study literature, since it is the most prestigious course and won’t allow women, she settles for second best. Miserable in her architecture classes, besieged by the careless misogyny and harassment of her world, Effy stumbles upon a call for architectural designs for her favorite author’s estate—Hiraeth Manor. Effy has idolized this author, Emrys Myrrdin, and his works all her life; especially his novel Angharad which is a fairytale-like story about a young girl who is captured by the cruel Fairy King and how she survives against him. So, of course, she submits a design of her own and it gets selected. The rest of the novel follows Effy at Hiraeth Manor, as she gets entangled deeper and deeper within its mysteries and its inhabitants—Emrys’ peculiarly glassy-eyed son, his widowed wife who is never to be seen, and an insufferable literature student who is there to research of Myrrdin’s life and works.
As is usual with Reid’s novels, A Study in Drowning deals with themes of sexual abuse and assault, for which prospective readers might want to look up trigger warnings.
The first thing that struck me about this book was the incredible atmospheric storytelling. The entire narrative has a fairytale-esque tone which when paired with the impeccable atmosphere makes for a truly enjoyable read. That alone would have endeared me to this book—the descriptions of the seaside Bottom Hundred locale where Hiraeth Manor is perched, how much the fear of the sea and local folklore affects the mood of the people, are beautifully done. It honestly felt like I was there and could feel the misty grey air on my face.
But that is not all this book has to offer: there is romance, there is mystery, and there are supernatural shenanigans afoot. Although, in my opinion, the romance is a subplot, it is charming and heartwarming. And despite the actual supernatural shenanigans, the story makes it clear that they are merely a vessel for the main themes and the reader can choose to believe it or not. You can choose to believe in the Fairy King as a real threat or see him as an archetype that is populated by every predatory and charismatic older man. This skillful blending of the real and the fairytale so that elements of the latter form a palimpsest over the former is the true brilliance of this story.
Above all, this novel is a love letter to stories—beloved ones, ones that are silenced or forgotten, and ones that need to be spoken aloud. It is about how the literary tradition has typically drowned (metaphorically speaking) and objectified the voices it took inspiration from. Through it all, runs the constant theme of drowning that is explored from every angle in this narrative—in the fear of literal drowning that the locals of the Bottom Hundred have, the feeling of drowning that Effy feels (mirrored in Angharad) within herself as a victim of sexual assault and childhood trauma, among others—quite literally, a study in drowning honed to perfection.
My singular complaint from this book is that it leans heavily towards telling rather than showing towards the end when the mystery is explained. This can work in favor of this particular story since the whole theme is about silenced voices and how they need to tell their stories—but it may also have been improved if Effy had pieced together bits of the mystery beforehand and then the final reveal was at the end instead of explaining the whole thing in the end. But that’s just my personal opinion. The twists are fairly predictable but that does not deter from the enjoyment of reading the book—rather it enhances it. It is kind of the point that you anticipate the ending.
I would highly recommend it to fans of dark fairytales, those who are interested in fae and faerie lore in stories, and those who love stories about stories and fangirling. For fans of The Starless Sea, Fangirl, Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries, and Folk of the Air series, this is a new recommendation that is sure to be a favorite.
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