Liz Moore’s literary mystery is set in 1975 at a prestigious summer camp in the Adirondacks. This place requires coed campers (aged eight through teens) to participate in a minimally supervised survival exercise. They are placed in small groups, given scant supplies, then are sent into the deep forest overnight to fend for themselves. The last instructions they hear are, “Do not get in touch unless someone is dying.”

What possibly could go wrong?

            In this case, the campers capture and roast a squirrel for supper. Prior to the gruesome dinner, a stabbing wound occurs. Within a few hours, the situation becomes bad enough to legitimately call for help.

            This camp attracts bad luck. Soon after the squirrel supper and knife wound debacle, back at the cabin, a camper goes missing. Not any camper, but 13-year-old Barbara Van Laar, rebellious daughter of Peter and Alice Van Laar, fabulously wealthy owners of Camp Emerson (named for Ralph Waldo).  Furthermore, the Van Laar’s 8-year-old son had disappeared from the campground fourteen years before.

            Despite the Van Laars being blessed with vast generational wealth, the family is not one to envy: two missing children, a least one unhappy marriage, one grumpy grandfather, a person with serious addiction issues, and a collection of family secrets that figuratively and literally destroy lives.

            The first Peter Van Laars founded the camp decades before. He intended to welcome children of all backgrounds, giving them an appreciation for nature and teaching them outdoor survival skills. By the time Peter III (father of Barbara and Bear) becomes director of the camp, most attendees are from rich, well-connected families. Workers from town manage the camp. Since area factories shut down, these folks depend on camp work to survive, barely scraping by.

Each summer, Peter III and Alice leave their mansion in Albany, New York to live on grounds in large house which Peter I named, Self-Reliance. Of course, the current inhabitants are anything but self-reliant. In fact, the ill-paid townies perform all the menial labor and are expected rally at a moment’s notice to do additional work.

            A prominent theme in this book is the ongoing tension between the elite flatlanders and the downtrodden townies. We readers learn that no matter who commits the crime and no matter how irrational the logic, the townspeople are the first to be blamed. For the most part, law enforcement is complicit in this process, letting the imperious ruling class off the hook and detaining and blaming poor folks based on little or no evidence.

            Another theme in the book is sexism/chauvinism, both of which are prevalent in 1961 and sadly still in 1975. The Van Laars family treats Alice like a complete idiot, barely concealing their contempt. When disturbing events occur, they lie to her, over medicate her, and hide her away.

Another example of sexism is how everyone treats, twenty-six-year-old Judyta Luptack, the first female investigator in the state of New York. Despite her achievements and multiple awards, Judyta contends with disrespectful, condescending treatment from all but one of her colleagues. They dismiss her suggestions, take credit for her successes, and consign her to meaningless tasks. Her family provides zero support, her own brother mocking her on a regular basis. However, Judyta is my hero. Throughout the investigation, Judyta resists the braindead allegiance her law enforcement superiors have pledged to the Van Laar family.

            The God of the Woods is well-worth reading, however, the structure of this book is daunting. Moore told her tale via several points of view, which required me frequently required me to re-read prior sections in order to figure out what was happening. Also, she switched between two time periods, Bear’s disappearance in 1961, and Barbara’s disappearance in 1975, and not necessarily in chronological order. Along the way, Moore tosses the reader barrels of red herrings, which is great, but also muddies the water.

            I’m not complaining. Only a skilled writer could pull off this complex structure. Moore does so masterfully. However, I recommend creating a character/event chart from the start. I did not and regret it. By mid-novel, when I became fully oriented in space and time, I flew through the pages, eager to see what would happen next.

            Moore made me care about each of her point of view characters. I especially loved Judyta, the moral compass of this story. Despite the lack of support and even ridicule from colleagues and strong pressure to blame a townie, any townie, Judyta stayed true to her goal—to find the culprit or culprits.

            Remember those red herrings I mentioned? They worked. The conclusion of this whodunnit surprised me, which I love. Moore came up with an ending I hadn’t anticipated. Yet, the resolution made sense considering the clues Moore had snuck into the story. This was a good tale, well told. Moore delivers an excellent depiction of class struggle, sexism, the destructive nature of generational secrets, and how one lowly person can make a difference.

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Interested in reading more book reviews? Check out:  The Caretaker, Time of the Child, and Without You Here.