January '26 Book Pick: The God of the Woods
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January always feels like a pause—a chance to step away from the noise and sink into a story that asks you to listen closely. I find myself reaching for books that are atmospheric, introspective, and a little unsettling in the best way. The God of the Woods fits that mood perfectly—making it an especially fitting choice for our January Book Pick.
A Story Shaped by What’s Unsaid
It’s August 1975 when a camp counselor discovers an empty bunk. Thirteen-year-old Barbara Van Laar has vanished into the surrounding woods.
What immediately hooked me is that this disappearance doesn’t exist in isolation. Barbara is the daughter of the family who owns the camp—the family with money, power, and influence over the entire region. And even more unsettling? This isn’t the first time a Van Laar child has disappeared. Fourteen years earlier, her brother vanished and was never found.
From the start, there’s this quiet dread hanging over the story. You feel it in the trees, in the camp routines, in the way everyone seems to know more than they’re saying. As the search unfolds, the novel becomes less about what happened and more about who gets protected, who gets blamed, and whose voices are ignored.
Why The God of the Woods Is Worth the Read
What really stayed with me about this book is the atmosphere—it’s not loud or showy, but it’s constant. The woods feel present on every page, almost like another character, holding memories and secrets that no one quite knows how to name. Even in the quieter moments, there’s this underlying sense of unease, as if something important has already happened and the story is slowly circling its way back to it.
I also appreciated how patient this story is. It doesn’t rush to explain itself or rely on shock for impact. Instead, it lets tension build through small details, shifting perspectives, and emotional weight. When truths begin to surface, they land heavily—not because they’re dramatic, but because they feel painfully believable.
What moved me most, though, is how clearly the novel explores power and silence. The divide between the Van Laar family and the surrounding community feels deeply ingrained, shaping what people are willing to say, what they’re afraid to admit, and what gets buried instead. No one is entirely innocent here, and no one is entirely beyond empathy. Every character feels shaped by the choices they’ve made—or avoided—and watching those choices ripple outward over years is what makes this story linger.
This isn’t a book you race through. It’s one you sit with, think about, and maybe even revisit in your mind once it’s over.
About the author
Liz Moore is the author of the New York Times bestsellers The God of the Woods and Long Bright River, as well as the acclaimed novels Heft and The Unseen World. A winner of the Rome Prize in Literature, she lives in Philadelphia.
Find more about Liz ON HER WEBSITE
Book Club Discussion Questions
- How did the setting make you feel while reading this book? Were there moments when the woods felt comforting, threatening, or quietly watchful to you?
- This story unfolds slowly and deliberately. Did that pace work for you, or did you find yourself wanting answers sooner? How did your feelings about the pacing change as the book went on?
- Barbara’s disappearance echoes her brother’s earlier vanishing. How did knowing this history affect the way you read the present-day mystery?
- Many characters carry guilt, fear, or unspoken truths. Was there a character you found yourself unexpectedly empathizing with—even when you didn’t fully agree with their choices?
- The divide between the Van Laar family and the surrounding community is subtle but constant. Where did you most clearly feel the weight of power, privilege, or silence in the story?
- Were there moments when you felt frustrated by what characters didn’t say or do? Did those silences feel realistic to you?
- This book asks us to sit with uncertainty. How comfortable are you, as a reader, with ambiguity—and did this story challenge or reinforce that?
- Did any particular scene or small detail stay with you after you finished reading? Something you keep thinking about, even if it seemed minor at the time?
- How did this book make you reflect on memory—what gets remembered, what gets rewritten, and what gets buried?
- If you could ask one character a single honest question after the story ends, who would it be—and what would you ask?
- Did this feel more like a mystery, a family drama, or a social commentary to you? Or something else entirely?
- How did you feel when you reached the end—satisfied, unsettled, reflective, or wanting more answers?
- Is this a book you think will stay with you? If so, why—and if not, what held it at a distance for you?
- Would you recommend this book to a friend? If yes, how would you describe it emotionally rather than by plot?
- If this book had a “quiet message” beneath the mystery, what do you think it was?
Find More Details about The God of the Woods on the Book Page
Reading The God of the Woods feels like stepping into a quiet place where everything unsaid begins to matter. It invites you to slow down, listen closely, and sit with the weight of memory, silence, and truth. This isn’t a book you rush through; it asks you to reflect on whose stories get told, which ones are buried, and why. And long after you finish, it stays with you, like the echo of footsteps in the woods.
