Reviews

No, we don't always root for the good guys, but the ones we do root for tend to eventually become the good guys in our minds. That's human. We also love to be able to game the system, cheat the establishment, be the underdog who wins. That's also human.

The lovable scoundrels are at the heart of the stories we love. Thieves, assassins, spies, the whole 'Ocean's 11' gang, and, of course, the ultimate scoundrel-hero - Robin Hood. The one who takes from the rich to give to the poor; the one who fools the Establishment (the stupid greedy Sheriff); the one who gets the dream girl.

"When he is in the greenwood, he tells her, he can feel its heartbeat. It throbs, he says, although not quite like the human heart. Slower, deeper, moving the leaves and bark of every tree, holding firm against the wind and the rain and the journeys of the sun and stars. He has felt that heartbeat engulf him, felt his own heart slowing, settling into the steady rhythm of the trees, as the birds laugh above him.

He says it is not a place he can ever leave for long. He tries to pass it off as a joke, but she is not sure whether or not she believes him."

But the legend of the lovable scoundrel-hero comes with the price.

Because there are other people involved; those who appear to exist just to fill the less important bits of the story - or so it seems until you stop to think.

It initially surprised me that my go-to book about the Middle Ages, Ian Mortimer's [b:The Time Traveller's Guide to Medieval England: A Handbook for Visitors to the Fourteenth Century|4936457|The Time Traveller's Guide to Medieval England A Handbook for Visitors to the Fourteenth Century|Ian Mortimer|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1328167619s/4936457.jpg|5002120] mentions the legend of Robin Hood in the section "Organized Crime". But hey, it makes perfect sense. Because, once you get past the rose-tinted glasses of the folk legend, it's precisely what the Merry Men were - a robbers gang, laying in wait for easy money, with consequences of these robberies extending well beyond the happy drunk tales by the fire.

In the Greenwood by Mari Ness uses precisely that - the dark underside of a legend, the ugly reality beneath the pretty story, the uncomfortable sensation of pulling off the rosy glasses. In a very short story, Ness manages to sneak in disturbing and sinister undertones that can be unsettling and uncomfortable and yet make for an unexpectedly memorable read - or at least it was for me.

“Why do you follow him?” she finds herself asking, not knowing why.

He looks at her. He is about to give her some simple answer, some quote from one of the songs, but something in her face stops him. “Because he is the spirit of the trees. The green man. Wasn’t born like that, but the wood has taken him, and now he is taking the wood. And a man—a spirit—like that, I must follow.”

Can you guess midway through where this story is headed? Yes. It's not particularly sophisticated and should not blindside you. What it does instead is build an unsettling anticipation of the inevitable turn of events, which is not that easy to do in such a short amount of time.

I liked this story quite a bit; it managed to leave an impression despite the short ten minutes it took me to read it.

These Tor.com shorts are proving to be quite enjoyable - and again I feel indebted to karen whose review (yet again!) pointed me to this story. Thanks!