Review: The Brides of High Hill by Nghi Vo

The Brides of High Hill is the fifth novella in Nghi Vo's Single Hills Cycle, and continues in the footprints of the last two instalments by making the nonbinary cleric Chih its protagonist. This structure is a departure from the first two novellas where Chih’s mission to collect stories serves as a framing device for other characters’ journeys. This latest episode includes virtually no recounting of stories to be stored in the archives of Chih's monastery; instead, Chih is a bewitched witness to triumphant revanchism, watching history unfold before their eyes.

There are some fun themes in this little story. Echoing literature from across cultures and centuries, financial pressures push a young woman into marriage with a much older, domineering man. Recalling works like Jane Eyre, a mad and sometimes violent family member is hidden away in the stately residence of the would-be husband (also as in Jane Eyre, a pining soul finds themselves sketching the likeness of the one they miss). There are the plot beats of many Victorian novels: etiquette questions, servant whisperings, immoral lords, negligent parents, and a curious and plucky young woman who deserves better than enslavement in marriage. Like many novels of that era (say, Middlemarch), the setting features political tensions in the background, with family drama taking the center stage.

However, the central twist didn't land for me because the novella never builds enough unease to prepare for it. The tone of the first three-quarters of the novel is sort of a low-stakes, Cozy Fantasy twist on 18-19th century literature — rather than Jane Eyre’s impassioned internal monologues, we have George R.R. Martin-style descriptions of lavish banquets. I therefore expected the climax to revolve around a family drama, resolved through emotional openness and understanding.

But then comes the reveal: the Pham family Chih accompanied are not who they seem. They are actually foxes who have enchanted Chih and intend to reclaim their former territory. Discovering that you are surrounded by monsters and can no longer trust your own memories should be terrifying. But in Vo’s cozy castle explorations, there were no increasingly eerie signs to heighten suspense — like the mysterious laughs and strange servant behavior in Jane Eyre. Nor did the narration convey that Chih was under an enchantment. An offhand comment about a teapot’s style being out of character for the Pham clan did not pique my curiosity enough to make its transformation into Chih’s companion, Almost Brilliant, feel earned. In fact, I felt rather chided as a reader, for not questioning why the story started in medias res or why Almost Brilliant was absent (recalling the end of the last story, I assumed Almost Brilliant remained on maternity leave). The plot and setting showed potential, but needed more horror woven in with the coziness.