Or: How I survived reading this Survival Trip of a novel
Let me start by saying this: I wanted to love The God of the Woods. It had all the right ingredients — a missing girl, family secrets, and a mysterious camp in the Adirondacks. But with more timelines than a Marvel movie, reading this book felt less like a leisurely hike and more like getting lost in the woods without a map.
This novel jumps between multiple perspectives and decades, and while that works for me in some stories, here it left me disoriented. Maybe I was just extra tired this spring break (which, let’s be honest, should be renamed “I'm In Recovery”), but I found myself skipping around to follow specific timelines just to stay grounded. I kept getting lost and craved a trail marker or two.
The timeline I did enjoy was Judyta’s. Finally, a character who was smart, strong, and made it through life’s messiness with some backbone. She was flawed, yes, but real - a woman who said “no” when it counted, and one who didn’t crumble when life got complicated.
On the flip side, we have Alice. Oh, Alice. For the love of all things holy...Alice needs to get her act together. Grow up, for heaven's sake. I found her character infuriating. I know she was struggling with grief and addiction, but her choices felt weak and destructive — and I just couldn’t find compassion for someone who caused her own child’s death and still seemed to wade through life like a damp paper towel. Maybe that’s harsh, but I’ve never been one for sugarcoating.
Now, I will say this for Liz Moore: she wrote complex characters. People who were selfish, broken, and sometimes even redeemable — especially in the way gender roles were explored. Judyta’s path as one of the first female state troopers, standing firm against tradition including her own family's, was satisfying to read. Women in this book start off silenced, serving men’s narratives, but by the end, several are writing their own.
The camp kids were interesting too. Barbara and Tracy’s friendship — two misfits clinging to each other in a world that doesn’t quite see them — was a quiet gem. Tracy reminded me of myself when I was young, always struggling with something to say at the right time to say it. Barbara in particular was a character I wanted more of. She’s not the good daughter, but she’s the one who sticks with you.
As for the mystery? I had my theories (didn’t we all?), but I wasn’t totally blindsided by the reveals. I guessed Bear might have met a tragic end at the hands of family, but I didn’t expect Alice to be directly responsible — though, again, I can't say I was shocked. Disappointed, maybe, but not shocked.
The novel’s themes of inheritance and second chances do come full circle by the end. The rich, powerful Van Laars finally face consequences, the Stoddards get closure, and a few key characters break free from their old lives. But for every satisfying turn, there were moments that dragged or felt uneven.
And let’s talk about the woods. The epigraph from Woodswoman nails it: danger and beauty coexisting. This setting — haunting, isolating, and sometimes oddly peaceful — is the true backbone of the novel. It’s the stage for secrets, transformations, and some very eerie disappearances. Just don’t ask me to go camping anytime soon. My idea of "roughing it" is bad hotel coffee and no Wi-Fi.
In the end, I didn’t love The God of the Woods, but I didn’t hate it either. It’s a story about choices, consequences, and survival — not just in the wilderness, but in the lives we build for ourselves. I may not be a god of the woods, but I survived this novel. Barely.
If you like layered mysteries, slow burns, and a tangle of timelines — go for it. But bring snacks, a timeline tracker, and maybe a glass of wine for when Alice shows up on the page.
