There is a quest in this novel, a mystery to solve, rooted in parallels and counterparts. It involves the slow unravelling of memories, the unwrapping of secrets and a journey which is more than a family trip to Anglesey but involves a search for truth and the essence of self.
An intriguing story that raises questions in the reader’s mind from the start. Why is the family going on this holiday in response to an apparent whim and obsession on Michael’s part? Why do his childhood memories of playing with Olwen seem so symbolic? What is the significance of the dolls, of Droody Hill, the holes that appear in the land around the church and seem to be leading to ‘some lower region of death’? There are no easy, straightforward answers to these and other questions. They are for the reader to puzzle out.
An aspect of Under Druids’ Hill that I found both tantalising and captivating is the depiction of the family, the psychology of their contradictory personalities and relationships. Sandra, the mother, sets out on the trip determined to be agreeable and go along with her husband’s need to revive and explore his childhood, but she refers to the holiday as a ‘crisis’ and longs for meaningful conversations and more of her husband’s attention. She seems bewildered at times and at a loss to understand or relate to her small daughter.
Charlotte, this daughter, insists on being known as Tottie. Described as ‘a mixture of the fetching and the peculiar’ she is a mass of contradictions – precocious and demanding but also clear-sighted, perceptive and ‘responsive to beauty.’ Michael is ‘in awe’ of his daughter as if she’s ‘a refugee from a country one had barely heard of.’
Being a parent doesn’t seem to come easily to Michael. Fatherhood is a role he feels obliged to play with determination. After a day at the beach, we are told that ‘he had enjoyed playing families.’ He has such hopes for this holiday, this chance to re-encounter Olwen, the little girl whose friendship had seemed magical. ‘I was unbelievably happy that summer,’ he says when questioned by his wife. ‘And it was all because I was Olwen’s friend, her best friend.’
Olwen, for Michael, ‘stood at the gate of that summer’. The memory of the brief time was ‘set in amber. It glowed and hadn’t tarnished since the moment he boarded the train back to London.’ If Tottie could meet the adult Olwen, he thinks, she too could experience the magic, the ‘transfiguring’ and ‘the indefinable sense of rightness’.
The novel’s title ‘Under Druids’ Hill’ creates its own atmosphere of mystery and things that are hidden. Reputed to be the last stand of the Druids against the Romans it enhances the sense of unease and the lost. The dolls do the same, adding a tone that is sinister and, if not evil, at least of disquiet. Pamela and Belinda are Tottie’s dolls, like puppets they often speak for her, are ‘a piece of her personality’, present critical assessments of characters and events. Tottie herself is glad when she can have ‘a respite from the dolls. She hated their cold fixity at times.’ Paralleled with this unpleasant pair is Olwen’s doll ‘Scraggy Aggy’, an ancient rag doll dressed in tear-stained grey fabric and with large glass eyes on the ends of wires.
Symbolic and bizarre amid a book of strangeness and a search for ‘Welsh magic’ which might have a redemptive power. During the summer of Olwen, Michael felt himself ‘adored,’ was as ‘near as possible to be in a state of grace.’ The unhappiness of a disordered childhood home was always there for Michael but ‘in that period of grace, he had never heard anyone speak of divorce.’ For the adult Michael it all becomes centred on Tottie. The place he had found could be, for her, ‘a place where grace was possible.’
The narrative has an unexpected, ambiguous ending but I won’t say any more. Under Druids’ Hill is a remarkable book with much to explore and consider.
Mandy Pannett 11th March 2026
