I am a sucker for tales of small communities beset by shadowy occult influence, particularly those that blend real esotericism with fictional worlds and people. There’s a trick to it, though, and it’s not just about the atmospheric power of the occult imagery and lore. The community, the people on whom the darkness is preying, has to feel lived-in, real, strange, and singular even before the magic and the terror set in.

Shannon Morgan‘s latest novel, A Penance for Crows, gets that right from the opening pages. Set on a secluded Irish island and told from the perspective of an outsider who’s learned to coexist with a theocratic community, it’s immediately immersive, which helps make it one of those books fans of folk and occult horror absolutely shouldn’t miss.

Grizela is a painter, living in relative seclusion in a cottage on the island of Beanna Dubh. She moved here from Scotland long ago, sells her paintings under pseudonyms, and in general kind of likes that the rest of the islanders see her as an oddball at best and a bad influence at worst. She spends her days painting, reading, and mentoring local girls Nessa, Una, Enya, and Maeve, hoping that they’ll one day find freedom beyond the island.

Beanna Dubh, you see, is tightly controlled by the Catholic Church, particularly the aging Father Murphy, who runs the local parish and keeps a tight grip on the reins of the community.

So when one of Father Murphy’s underlings turns up dead on Beanna Dubh’s shores, it sends ripples of terror through the community. Grizela, as the person who finds the body, is the subject of particular suspicion, and the local superstitions about the flocks of crows who live on the island and supposedly warn of impending doom flare up all over again. A mystery is afoot, one marked by ancient sigils and strange happenings, and if Grizela doesn’t solve it, it just might consume her.

What jumped out at me first about this book is how good Morgan is at balancing initial jolts of exposition with atmospheric worldbuilding and, of course, sound character work. Grizela is inherently fascinating, an outsider who nevertheless has spent enough time on the island to know it in and out. She’s up on all the gossip, knows where the chief tension lies, and sees paths to deeper connections through fellow misfits and expats. Or at least…she thinks she does.

Morgan does not waste a moment in diving straight into the plot, knocking Grizela back on her heels and leaving her scrambling for answers as the town moves closer and closer to something like a full-blown Satanic panic. This leaves her looking for footholds, whether they lay in the past or the present, and sets up very clear avenues of antagonism for characters like Father Murphy. It’s all beautifully arranged, and the ways of the island people – from their own peculiar way of greeting each other to the significance of local landmarks – stand out with a vividness that recalls folk horror classics like The Wicker Man.

This careful arrangement of story elements emerges so Morgan can spend the back half of the book not just upsetting the balance of life on Beanna Dubh, but blurring it, giving it depth and shade like a painter might blend colors. Grizela’s present starts to echo her past, sending her into corners of her mind she’d rather not go.

The line between what seems like accidental deaths and superstitions of diabolical influence practically disappears, as it no longer seems to matter whether the Devil is afoot or it just feels like he is. The church, the town’s protective and guiding influence, takes on more shades of malevolence, and even though they feel predictable, they fit right in to the larger tapestry.

The result is a book that delivers folk horror in the classic sense, calling to mind the novels of Dennis Wheatley and Thomas Tryon as well as films like Blood on Satan’s Claw and Witchfinder General, with an added sense of timelessness that really sings. If I have any major complaint, it’s that the pieces of evidence building to a solution start to get a little too convenient at times, losing some of the book’s well-earned ambiguity on its course toward explaining everything that’s happened.

That’s more personal preference than a question of good craft, however. If you love folk horror, occult horror, or just atmospheric, Gothic chills mixed with old, dark magic, you will love A Penance for Crows.

A Penance for Crows is out now wherever books are sold.