The Fabled Earth by Kimberly Brock

The Georgia coast has long been a fertile ground for Southern Gothic tales, with its sprawling marshes, antebellum ruins, and whispers of long-buried secrets. Kimberly Brock’s latest novel, “The Fabled Earth,” attempts to tap into this rich vein of storytelling, weaving together multiple timelines and perspectives centered around the mysterious Cumberland Island. While Brock’s ambition is admirable, the execution often falls short, leaving readers adrift in a sea of muddled plotlines and underdeveloped characters.

A Tangled Web of Time

Brock structures her narrative around two primary timelines:

• 1932: A fateful summer gathering at Plum Orchard, one of the Carnegie family’s opulent mansions on Cumberland Island.
• 1959: The aftermath of those events, as three women grapple with the island’s lingering mysteries.

This dual timeline approach has become almost de rigueur in historical fiction, but Brock struggles to make it work effectively. The 1932 sections, focusing primarily on aspiring artist Cleo Woodbine, often feel more like prologue than a fully realized story. We’re told of grand parties, forbidden romances, and tragic accidents, but rarely do we get to experience these events with the vibrancy they deserve.

The 1959 timeline, which should be the meat of the novel, suffers from a lack of focus. Brock introduces us to:

• Frances Flood: A folklorist seeking answers about her mother’s past
• Audrey Howell: A young widow running an inn and dabbling in spirit photography
• An older Cleo Woodbine: Now a reclusive painter living on a tiny island

While each of these women has potential for an interesting story, Brock never quite manages to make their individual journeys feel cohesive or equally compelling.

Ghosts, Myths, and Missed Opportunities

One of the novel’s central conceits is the power of storytelling and local folklore. Brock peppers the narrative with references to various myths and legends, from the siren-like Lorelei to the mysterious disappearance of the Roanoke Colony. While these elements add color, they often feel more like window dressing than integral parts of the plot.

The supernatural elements, which should be a driving force in a Southern Gothic tale, are frustratingly underdeveloped. Audrey’s spirit photography subplot, which could have been genuinely creepy, is resolved with a whimper. The various “ghosts” that seem to haunt Cleo are more metaphorical than literal, robbing the story of potential tension.

A Sense of Place, Lost and Found

Where Brock does excel is in her evocative descriptions of Cumberland Island itself. The lush maritime forests, crumbling mansions, and wild horses create a vivid backdrop for the story. Passages like this shine:

“The air smelled of Spartina grass, clean and fresh, briny as the sea.

Cleo tried to imagine the people who lived there while the driver, a Negro boy, carried her single suitcase around the truck to a door beneath the grand portico.”

Unfortunately, this strong sense of place isn’t enough to overcome the novel’s structural weaknesses. The pacing often drags, particularly in the middle sections where the various plotlines seem to meander without clear direction.

Characters Adrift

Perhaps the biggest disappointment in “The Fabled Earth” is its cast of characters. While Brock clearly aims for complexity, many of her protagonists come across as thinly sketched or frustratingly passive.

Cleo Woodbine: A Portrait Half-Finished

Cleo, ostensibly the heart of the story, remains oddly opaque throughout. Her motivations in the 1932 timeline—her desperation to impress the wealthy Carnegies and her ill-fated romance with Ellis Piedmont—feel more like plot devices than genuine character development. In the 1959 sections, she’s reduced to a near-caricature of the “mysterious island recluse.”

Frances and Audrey: Missed Connections

The modern-day protagonists fare little better. Frances’s quest to uncover her mother’s secrets should be compelling, but it often gets lost in the shuffle of competing storylines. Audrey, despite having one of the more intriguing premises (a widow exploring spirit photography), remains frustratingly passive for much of the novel.

Supporting Cast: Ghosts of Potential

The supporting characters are a mixed bag. Some, like the enigmatic Tate Walker or the troubled Morrie Johnston, hint at deeper stories that are never fully explored. Others, particularly the various young men in the 1932 sections, blur together into an indistinct mass of privilege and entitlement.

Themes Adrift on the Tide

Brock touches on several weighty themes throughout “The Fabled Earth,” including:

• The power (and danger) of storytelling
• The lingering effects of generational trauma
• The clash between tradition and progress in the American South

While these are all rich veins to mine, the novel never quite manages to dig deep enough into any of them. The exploration of racial tensions in 1959 Georgia, for example, feels superficial at best and problematic at worst.

A Style Searching for Substance

Brock’s prose can be lyrical at times, particularly in her descriptions of the natural world. However, the writing often veers into purple prose, with overwrought metaphors and clunky dialogue bogging down the narrative. Consider this passage:

“Cleo believed in that instant that for all it was cursed, glory had given her two terrible gifts: all the time in the world and, finally, the choice to stop it. She’d believed it was the most power anyone could hold.”

While aiming for profundity, lines like this often come across as needlessly obtuse.

The Verdict: A Promising Premise, Adrift at Sea

“The Fabled Earth” is a novel that reaches for greatness but ultimately falls short. Brock’s ambition is clear, but the execution is muddled. The dual timeline structure, which should create a rich tapestry of interconnected stories, instead leaves both past and present feeling underdeveloped.

Characters that could have been fascinating remain frustratingly opaque, their motivations often unclear or inconsistent. The supernatural elements, which should be a driving force in a Southern Gothic tale, are more whisper than scream.

That’s not to say the novel is without merit. Brock’s evocative descriptions of Cumberland Island create a vivid sense of place, and there are moments of genuine emotion scattered throughout. However, these bright spots are not enough to overcome the book’s structural and narrative weaknesses.

Who Might Enjoy This Book?

Despite its flaws, “The Fabled Earth” may appeal to:

• Readers with a deep interest in Georgia coastal history
• Fans of slow-burn, atmospheric Southern fiction
• Those who enjoy novels that blur the lines between past and present

Comparable Reads

For those intrigued by the premise but left wanting more, consider these alternatives:

• “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” by John Berendt (for a non-fiction exploration of Georgia’s coastal mysteries)
• “The House on Tradd Street” by Karen White (for a more satisfying blend of Southern history and supernatural elements)
• “The Lost Book of Eleanor Dare” by Kimberly Brock herself (which many readers found to be a stronger outing)

Final Thoughts: A Fable Without a Moral

In the end, “The Fabled Earth” feels like a collection of intriguing ideas that never quite coalesce into a satisfying whole. Like the shifting sands of Cumberland Island itself, the story slips through your fingers just when you think you’ve grasped it.

Brock is clearly a talented writer with a deep love for the region and its history. However, this novel would have benefited from a tighter focus and more rigorous editing. As it stands, “The Fabled Earth” is a bit like its titular island—beautiful to look at, but treacherous to navigate.