The Wild Dead: Ups the ante in a satisfying way

The Wild Dead by Carrie Vaughn

Carrie Vaughn continues the fascinating post-apocalyptic BANNERLESS SAGA in The Wild Dead (2018), the first sequel to her Philip K. Dick Award-winning novel Bannerless. Murders are, thankfully, few and far between along the Coast Road, so it’s been about a year since Enid of Haven has needed to put on her metaphorical deerstalker cap. This time, she and her painfully inexperienced new partner, Teeg, are in the remote southern settlement of Desolata to mediate a dispute over a pre-Fall house: the house’s “owner” refuses to admit that his family’s cherished home is dangerously dilapidated, while it seems that nearly everyone else in Desolata wants to tear it down with their bare hands.

Enid is the right investigator for this job: she’s pragmatic and immediately recognizes the danger posed by the mildewed and rotting house, but she also respects the deep emotional ties between Erik, the home’s caretaker, and what the house symbolizes to him. The conflict at hand is obviously about more than just a physical structure — it’s about sentimentality and nostalgia versus practicality and safety, themes which have become a gentle refrain throughout this series as people remark, over and over again, how badly they want the world to return to its pre-Fall safety and bounty.

However, what should have been an easy-peasy first case for Enid and Teeg is quickly complicated when the mutilated body of a young woman, unaffiliated with Desolata, is discovered in the bordering marsh. Against the wishes of the townsfolk and the protestations of her partner, Enid launches an investigation into the woman’s death, quickly uncovering a viper’s nest of secrets, decades-old grudges, and tension between Desolata and the nearby conclave of wild folk. Torn between her strict ethics and her yearning to hurry home for the birth of her household’s first baby, Enid must decide which is more important to her: her duty to the truth or satisfying her personal desires.

Since Bannerless, Enid’s become a little infamous along the Coast Road — people who tend to be suspicious of investigators are that much more wary of her presence, while others think they can avoid suspicion by currying her favor. And in The Wild Dead, being on the outskirts of the Coast Road in a settlement that is heavily populated by loners and outcasts, accompanied by an immature, impetuous partner who has his own strong opinions about the mysterious young woman’s death, only compounds Enid’s existing feelings of isolation. Her commitment to solving the murder results in Enid taking some serious risks, even putting her life in danger, which is admirable behavior for an investigator, but more than a little stressful for the reader. It’s still too early in the series for there to be any assumptions about Enid’s guaranteed success or invulnerability in any endeavor.

When exploring the dichotomy between Desolata and the wild folk, Vaughn is scrupulous about maintaining the humanity of each group, which I really appreciated. It would have been so easy for her to make callous judgements about people who don’t want to live within the established borders of society, but she never does. In fact, the people who come off as overall less peaceful and cooperative are the inhabitants of Desolata, though there are plenty of kind and compassionate individuals mixed into their numbers.

What sets the BANNERLESS SAGA apart from most other post-apocalyptic novels and series, for me, is Vaughn’s insistence that most of the people Enid comes across are generally good, even though Enid — in her official capacity of investigator — often has the misfortune of seeing them in their worst moments. It’s the way in which Vaughn balances those ideas that makes The Wild Dead compelling, and which makes this series a true pleasure to read. Highly recommended.