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Ritual, Horror, and Grief
In the Mountain’s Shadow follows an old woman who ventures into the unforgiving wilderness, where she navigates starvation, isolation, trauma, and violence, encountering both animalistic kindness in a wolf and horrifying brutality in other humans. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
The inspiration for In the Mountain’s Shadow came from many places. I was influenced by Japanese tales of ubasute, in which the elderly were allegedly left to die in the mountains; a haunting mythos that speaks to how societies often discard those they no longer find useful.
Most importantly, though, Park’s story is rooted, for me, in the image of the old witch in the woods – not as a villain, but as someone forged by abandonment, survival, and memory.
This blend of ritual, horror, and grief felt like something that needed to be written.
What are some things that you find interesting about the human condition that you think make for great fiction?
Humans are endlessly fascinating…because of our capacity for reason, belief, and perseverance; because of how often those things contradict each other. We can convince ourselves of almost anything, sometimes to survive, sometimes to justify, sometimes just because we need meaning.
But what I find most remarkable is our need to tell stories. Sometimes we do it to connect, sometimes to escape, and sometimes for no real reason at all…the endlessly complex impulse to create. That instinct, that emotional transmission through narrative, is what makes fiction so powerful. The written word allows us to explore what it means to be alive in a way that’s both intimate and limitless.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
I was drawn to the absence of older women as central figures in fiction—especially as active agents of violence, resilience, or transformation. I wanted to explore the idea of the “female monster” and how societal neglect often shapes that archetype.
What is the next story that you’re writing, and when will it be published?
I’ve got two in the works right now, and I’m hoping to publish sometime next year. One is a story about invading aliens and the way we experience otherness—how we react to what doesn’t belong, and what that says about us. The other is a story that explores the dangers of falling in love when identity, memory, and desire are unstable.
I tend to write more than one at a time, it helps give me a much-needed break from some of the darker material I tend to gravitate toward; it also allows me the freedom to break through genre and write whatever I feel like, whether that’s sci-fi, horror, or something quieter.
My other two published works include Razorblade, a dystopian western about the consequences of taking what doesn’t belong to you, and Fragmentations, a short story collection that plays with form and iterates on the puzzle of the human condition.
Author Links: GoodReads | Website | Amazon
In the Mountain’s Shadow
Isabella Falconeri’s In the Mountain’s Shadow is a raw and unrelenting tale of a grandmother’s survival in a post-collapse world stripped of kindness, certainty, and comfort. The story follows Park, an old woman who sacrifices everything to give her remaining family a chance at life. She ventures into the unforgiving wilderness, slowly transforming from a desperate exile into a formidable, self-sufficient survivor. Over the years, Park navigates starvation, isolation, trauma, and violence, encountering both animalistic kindness in a wolf and horrifying brutality in other humans. The novel is told in stark, evocative prose that drags you through the mud, snow, and blood with its protagonist.
I didn’t expect to feel so personally connected to Park, but her voice stayed with me after the story ended. Falconeri’s writing is brutal, but there’s also a surprising grace to it. Sentences don’t linger on the poetic, but every word carries weight. The pacing is unflinching. You’re never coddled as a reader. Themes like dignity in ruin, the desperation of hunger, and the hollow shape of grief are explored with honesty that sometimes borders on painful. It’s not just Park’s physical suffering that hit me. It’s the quiet moments: her silent talks with a wolf named Ripple, the way she touches the bullet in her shoulder like a worry stone, the reverence she shows a stranger’s grave.
That said, there were moments I had to put the book down and walk away. Not because it was badly written, but because it was emotionally relentless. There are scenes of violence, especially involving the intruder known only as the Deserter, that made me feel dread. Yet, Falconeri never writes for shock. Even the darkest scenes serve a purpose in shaping Park’s evolution. She doesn’t ask for pity. She claws forward. She adapts. I admired the way the book doesn’t try to force redemption or healing. Not everything can be fixed. Some things can only be endured. Still, I found myself holding my breath, waiting for just one moment of softness. And when it came, in the form of a small act, a brief connection, it meant everything.
This book is heavy. There’s grief, cannibalism, cruelty, and survival stripped to its bones. But if you want a story that grabs you by the gut and drags you somewhere real, if you want to feel deeply and question what you’d do when everything else is gone, In the Mountain’s Shadow delivers. I’d recommend this to readers who appreciate stories like The Road by Cormac McCarthy or Room by Emma Donoghue.
Pages: 63 | ASIN : B0F6W4NMDL
LITERARY TITAN 