A misty seashore, a scented pine forest, or a foggy woodland river. Any of these set the tone for mystery and suspense. But why do they trigger our primal urge to venture off into the wild, while simultaneously putting us on high alert for danger?
Empirical evidence argues that it’s not just a matter of preference, but in fact humans are hard-wired to seek the rugged unknown. You can test this theory on yourself. Answer questions in the quiz below, then read on to find out why crime stories in feral settings are a classic pairing, like wind and rain.
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Quiz
You have been gifted a free getaway weekend. You can choose a city escape or a natural setting, such as a beach or a mountain cabin. Which do you choose?
City: 1 Flip a coin: 2 Nature: 3
You’re hiking a remote trail and notice indications that there’s something dead beyond that big pine to your left. Do you investigate, or do you quicken your pace for the trail exit?
Fast exit: 1 Ignore: 2 Investigate: 3
You’re walking a tidal estuary, a briny breeze cooling the trail, and you pause to rest on a stump. You notice a whooping crane stalking blue crab among the sedge. In fact, there’s an entire flock. Do you veg out on your device, snap a photo and move on, or do you hang back in silence and watch the cranes?
Veg out: 1 Photo and go: 2 Stay and watch: 3
Total up the points from your answers, then find your tier using the key below:
Key
8-9: Heart of the wild
5-7: Mildly wild
3-4: Keep the bugs, I’m going home
Where are you on the wild scale? There’s no right or wrong tier. Now consider the following Kiviat themes, and notice how you feel:
Kiviat Themes
- Refuge
- Transition
- Maze
- Sex
- Beauty
- Danger
- Decay
After scanning the above list, do you feel you’ve moved to a different tier on the wild scale?
If the Kiviat Themes bring a vague sense of intrigue, you’re not alone. They are a sampling of identified themes from a 2021 study published in Science Direct that examined wild settings in novels. Researcher Erik Kiviat found natural spaces resonate with readers in a dual pattern: attraction and danger. Notice how the themes create a whole that could either describe a wetland preserve or a snapshot of human culture.
I live in a wooded area with abundant wildlife, including endangered species. Wild is my comfort zone. Once, back in New York City, I auditioned for a hosting spot on a book-themed TV show. After several rounds of taping, I made it to a final callback.
Then one of the producers made inappropriate advances. I dodged him and withdrew from the running, but it didn’t stop there. He already had my phone number and home address from when I’d filled out paperwork at the studio. This was long before the #MeToo movement.
I recall an ongoing dread that felt like physical illness. I wanted to hide. But not under the blankets, and not in my car. I longed for a forest escape to run a deer trail until I was breathless. But I lived in a city, and I felt trapped. Lucky for me, I have family in Vermont, and I took time off to stay with them. I spent every day of the next few weeks losing myself in the Breadloaf Wilderness with my dog Maggie. It struck me how I felt more fortified in a forest maze than in my own home.
I have since begun using a wheelchair and now go for walks in the woods only from within the theatre of my mind. The TV producer incident played in my psyche when I was writing This Town Won’t Tell. My novel centers around a roadhouse waitress who feels powerless against the corrupt figureheads in her snowy mountain town. Sometimes when people think they have power over you, they reveal their hidden darkness.
I started the first draft during a ghastly combination heat wave and drought, when I was longing for cooler weather. To escape, I self-medicated with chocolate mint ice cream and cold weather novels. I read and reread dark tales set in snowy locations—Ruth Ware’s One by One, Stephen King’s The Shining, and an assortment of Nordic noirs.
Below are some excellent suspense novels overflowing with Kiviat themes that both take you on a wild escape and sharpen your wits for survival.
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Amy Pease, Northwoods
Amy Pease, Wildwood
One thing I adore about this atmospheric series is the loving care Pease bestows on the north Wisconsin wilderness surrounding Shaky Lake. The secluded woods are a refuge, but also a source of isolation for repeating character Eli, a former Milwaukee homicide detective who struggles with a drinking problem and PTSD.
You can read these babies in order or as standalones.
Jacquie Walters, Turn Off the Light
This horror novel doesn’t just draw you into the natural serenity of the Chesapeake Bay; it pays homage to the flora growing in the nearby landscape of shoreline and marshes. A seventeenth-century Virginia healer explores botany as a way to treat the sick—and pays dearly for it—while a present-day single mom coping with her father’s end-of-life decline is called by echoes from the past.
Lucy Clarke, The Surf House
Clarke brings sophistication to Mother Nature’s temperament with prose like, “storming walls of water shouldering into the bay, feeling for reef and then cracking open in perfect, peeling lines.” Don’t let the hypnotic setting fool you, though, because her storytelling flies past all the pretty-making to a fast-paced thriller. You’ll grow deeply concerned in Chapter One, and you will be gasping for breath by Chapter Two.
A fashion model shooting on location in Morocco gets fed up and sheds her guaranteed future—with immediate consequences that end in murder. Implicated in the crime and trapped in a foreign land, she slips away to hide with strangers at the Surf House, an idyllic surfing commune atop the sea cliffs of Morocco.
Rhodi Hawk, This Town Won’t Tell
My own novel, set in a lush mountain town, follows a roadhouse waitress trying to give her daughter a good life despite a meager bank account and a paucity of social skills. During a late season blizzard, she makes a huge mistake when she breaks into her ex’s house, gets caught, and is blackmailed into a ring of crime.
The town of Suspicion is my invention; however, the Kootenai wilderness of northwest Montana is quite real: craggy ranges, crystal rivers, and waterfalls in casual abundance.
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