Every summer from the Gilded Age’s peak to the dawn of the Jazz Age, titans of industry from New York State and beyond would abscond from the oppressive heat of their urban posts in favor of a natural respite: the Adirondacks.
It’s surprising to think that the 9,100 square miles of wilderness up to six hours from New York City that make up the Adirondack mountain region would’ve been anything but daunting to the wealthy urbanites that came to populate them. But when the (“born manipulator”) VP of Union Pacific Railroad, Thomas Clark Durant, installed rail lines to take travelers from the urban centers of the state to the mountains, the area began to appeal. When his son, William West Durant, a passionate architect, began building elaborate lakeside properties (there are 3,000 lakes and ponds in the region) using locally-sourced materials, the cosmopolitan financiers came in droves.
These properties were called “Adirondack Great Camps,” which Visit Adirondacks describes as “as synonymous to the Gilded Age as Carnegie and Rockefeller.” Camps were typically built by locals and made up of one waterfront main house with a cluster of additional guesthouses to accommodate spillover.
The Adirondacks is no longer what it once was to high-falutin city-dwellers, what with the prevalence (and relative convenience) of the Catskills, the Hamptons, and rural Connecticut. Now, most of these great camps are (varying degrees of) luxury hotels. But the fascination with these families who made week-long journeys (yes, the train could take that long) from the city into the wilderness) and the danger and majesty of the endless woods (50% of which are state-owned by the Forest Preserve, hence the region’s “forever wild” slogan) has hardly faded.
In fact, in the last decade, the flames have been stoked, thanks to everything from the “old money aesthetic” trend (though, as Brenda Richardson brilliantly writes, these camps were “of a time and place when old money was new”) to the continued prominence of Adirondack native and Americana Queen Lana del Rey continuing to peddle the promise of a hazy, girly American Dream. The “lore,” as they’d say on TikTok, makes for rich literary material. And while a number of authors have attempted to tackle the excesses of the Gilded Age and “great” families in recent years, none have done it quite like Liz Moore, who has written what I’m boldly declaring the book of the summer™️: The God of the Woods.
Two caveats: one, I have a personal interest in the Adirondacks. There’s been Adirondack land in my family since the 1860s, though we were hardly titans of industry. I learned, from a booklet my grandfather and his cousin wrote on the history of the family, that our ancestors were Scottish stone-cutters (meaning they made gravestones) living in Brooklyn. One day, a man asked that they cut graves for him and his wife. However, he was deep in gambling debt, and didn’t have money to pay them upfront. Afraid of the ramifications should his wife discover his debt, he offered up a plot of unused land in the Adirondacks (his better half wasn’t privy to its existence) as payment instead. We took it. It’s on a river, not a lake, and it’s hardly a great camp (I’m not being humble, trust me), but I’ve been immersed in the beauty and history of the region for my whole life as a result. Plus, it’s a damn good family story.
Second: the reason I know about The God of the Woods is actually because of the cover. I follow Riverhead Books on Instagram (excellent imprint, they published Brit Bennet’s books which is how I came across them). This spring, they posted a giveaway featuring a book with a stunning cover. In order to win an ARC (Advance Reader’s Copy, Holy Grail for book bloggers), you needed to follow Liz Moore, and comment on the post. I dutifully followed Liz, and then I believe I commented something along the lines of “I have no idea what this book is about but I love the cover.” I didn’t win—if you can believe it—but I did keep following Liz, which meant I was hit with images of and hype about the book at consistent touchpoints for months.
So, last week, when I found myself at SFO on the other side of my vacation, with only a productivity book (need to write something about my delusional vacation book-packing strategy, perhaps with a licensed therapist commenting…) to keep me company on the flight home, I made a beeline for the airport’s bookstore in favor of something more absorbing. I was with a friend who I often trade book reccs with—she’d effusively recommended All Fours, so I was planning to give that a try. Sadly, it wasn’t stocked in the store, but The God of the Woods was. It was at this point that I finally did decide to see what the book had to say beyond the cover.
The basic plot: the Van Laar family come from a prestigious, Albany-based banking family that has descended upon their Adirondack Great Camp every summer since they purchased it from a local logging family in the late 1700s. The book opens in the year 1975, and the land has since been split: half of it remains a stately, lakeside family home, complete with a boathouse, and (out-of-use) slaughterhouse. The other half of their land has been transformed into a camp-camp: a co-ed sleepaway camp called Camp Emerson, which the Van Laars appointed a local family, the Hewitts, to oversee.
We find out on the story’s first page that Barbara Van Laar, who typically spends her summers on the private half of the land, has convinced her parents to let her enroll in the sleep-away camp. And on that same page, we find out that Barbara has gone missing from her bunk. Not long after, we flash back to 1961, and learn that Barbara’s older brother, Peter III (known as “Bear”) also went missing, albeit under different circumstances, the year before she was born.
The story that follows is a deeply ambitious literary thriller. Moore turns out a twisty plot (my jaw dropped at times) without veering into nonsensical territory or leaving a single loose thread—trust me, I ALWAYS CHECK. It’s also well-written, which is by no means a guarantee for the genre (I say this as a bonafide thriller lover)! And, though you’ll never be bored, it’s not pure plot: Moore explores everything from family dynamics to the class structures of vacation towns to the history of the region to sexuality, serial killers, and beyond. It’s 500+ pages that fly by. If you’re interested in good summer stories, love a thriller, want a medium-brow page-turner to get lost in, or are simply intrigued by the cover, I implore you to GO FOR IT. You won’t regret it.
In the spirit of the story…
Though there’s not much fashion writing within The God of the Woods, the story made me think about the aesthetics of the Adirondacks. These days, they’re not a particularly fashionable place (disagree? defend yourself!), but let’s say we were taking a vacation during the time the book took place.
What would one wear for a party at the Van Laars (not that we’d want to go but hypothetically)? What would the appropriate sweater be for an early evening boat ride? What about for a hike, should you dare to venture into the woods?
For a party, and I mean ONLY for a party, you can wear a shirtdress. The Adirondacks is not a region where people dress up (at least not now). However, there are certain occasions (a picturesque birthday party, an evening family reunion, etc) that may call for something a bit nicer.
A shirtdress is the perfect way to indicate you’ve made an effort without actually trying too hard. I like a crisp, classic white; I have one from Maud Helene, a brand which appears to be defunct, which is a shame, because the dress is fab. You can always trust Matteau for quality, and this dress captures the brand’s “timeless simplicity” ethos well. If you’re after something a bit more exciting, I do love this from Cara Cara.
For the afternoon, from post-swim to sundown, you’ll need a sweater. One of the best things about spending time upstate in the summer is how cold it gets at night. And I’d be hard-pressed to find a more visually alluring and generally iconic sweater than the fisherman sweater (Aran sweater, to my Irish readers). Also, anyone who heeded my advice and read Everybody Rise will know that the fisherman sweater plays an iconic role in an Adirondack-based scene of that book.
It’s surprisingly hard to find a good one online. I love L.L. Bean’s fisherman sweater collection, especially because they have lighter-weight cotton-blend (sacrilege, I know—they’re supposed to be 100% wool—but let’s be practical) options, but they’re always sold out. This one, from the Irish store, looks perfectly traditional, if a bit heavy for a summer evening. And this vintage option looks pretty much perfect.
& for sport, a waxed work jacket. Obviously, if you go on a hike in the Adirondacks, you’re going to be geared up. But let’s discuss what you throw on afterwards for a quick jaunt to the farm store in town. A work/chore jacket, bien sûr! I have a perfect (and sadly no longer available) work jacket from Emma Rothkopf, but I’ve become enamored with a new-to-me brand called Frizmworks for outdoor gear, though it’s not an actual outdoors brand, so TBD on efficacy. Very into this jacket for aesthetic purposes if nothing else.
Further travels…
If you’re intrigued by the Adirondacks and looking for a summer trip, there are ways to recreate that Great Camp experience for yourself (minus the vertical monopolies). My friend Sophia, who owns a bespoke travel planning company called Ahl Collective, recommended The Point in an article we collaborated on about winter getaways a few years back—but it’s great in the summer, too.
Those looking for a luxury trip that oozes East Coast glamour will be charmed by The Point, an old Rockefeller camp in the Adirondacks converted into an incredible lodge. The property is small but offers all the lakeside winter activities you could ask for – snowshoeing, cross country skiing, (frozen) lake games, and bonfires..the dining experience is unmatched; outstanding food, personalizing locations (customer BBQ lunch over a wood fire in a cabin in the forest, anyone? Dinner for two on the frozen lake? Dessert and gluhwein by the fire? They’ve got it all). Plus, on Wednesdays and Saturdays, they do communal black-tie dinners featuring 7-10 courses and an outstanding wine pairing.
If you’re after something a bit more budget-friendly, there’s also the nearby Lake Placid Lodge.
Read The God of the Woods, got your fisherman sweater, booked into The Point, and still want more? You can lose a few good hours perusing the “spooky stories” section of the r/Adirondacks thread on reddit.
For further reading on the Gilded Age, I loved the final two-thirds of Trust (and it won the Pulitzer Prize and was longlisted for the Booker Prize), but a lot of my friends hated it…and while The Paper Palace takes place in Massachusetts, not the ADKs, it’s a similarly structured summertime story.
Curious as to how we already have a new “book of the summer,” when I bestowed that crown upon Gabriel Smith’s Brat last week? WELL, people change (still love Brat)…I’m reading All Fours now, so stay tuned to see whether it unseats this one.
Au revoir & happy trails.