A Challenging, Fierce Novel: Once There Were Wolves by Charlotte McConaghy
I struggled a little at the start of this book. I wasn’t immediately sure where the story was taking me or how I was meant to read it. But once I figured out its rhythm, I was completely hooked.
What unfolded was a fierce, layered story that tackles climate change, violence against women, morality, grief, guilt, and the complexity of people and societies, all through a narrative unapologetically tied to the natural world. I was especially taken with how the wolves were integrated into the story. They were described with respect, without romanticizing them, and with real emotional resonance.
At a talk last week, a speaker asked for more climate fiction that is hopeful and realistic, rather than dystopian. That’s what I found in Once There Were Wolves. It has quickly become one of my go-to recommendations.
Reading it as a writer, that initial discomfort became one of the most interesting things to pay attention to.
When a Book Asks the Reader to Lean In
This is not a novel that holds your hand in the opening chapters.
The structure, the voice, and the emotional weight require attention. As a reader, I felt challenged and sometimes confused. The story assumes you’re willing to stay alert and curious.
Once I found my footing, the experience became deeply absorbing. I bow my head to the writer and to the editor as I’m not sure I would have been that brave.
Writer takeaway:
You can ask a lot of your reader, but you have to reward their effort. Confusion can be a feature, not a flaw, if clarity eventually arrives.
Letting Nature Carry the Story
Nature isn’t just present in this book; it’s essential.
The wolves, the forests, the rewilding project, the physical labor of conservation—all of it shapes the emotional and moral landscape of the novel. The natural world isn’t symbolic wallpaper; it’s an active force that influences decisions, conflict, and identity.
What impressed me most was how seamlessly this works. The environmental themes never feel bolted on. They are inseparable from the characters’ inner lives.
Writer takeaway:
If your story is rooted in a place or ecosystem, let it matter. Setting can do emotional and thematic work—not just provide scenery.
Writing About Climate Change Without Preaching
Climate change is central to this story, but it’s never abstract. And there are no lectures.
Instead of arguments, we get consequences. Instead of statistics, we get lived experience. And it’s not one-sided; we see the issue from multiple angles. This is very freeing as a reader. The novel trusts us to connect the dots without being told what to think.
This restraint is part of what makes the book so powerful.
Writer takeaway:
Big issues land best when they emerge naturally from character, action, and consequence. Trust the story to carry the message.
Refusing the Comfort of Resolution
One of the hardest—and strongest—parts of this novel is how it handles violence against women.
Nothing here is sensationalized or simplified. The harm is real, ongoing, and often systemic rather than isolated. Just like in real life, there are no easy villains, no clean answers, and no simple justice.
It felt very honest.
Writer takeaway:
You don’t need neat resolutions to write a morally coherent story. You need consistency, courage, and respect for the weight of the subject matter.
Letting Relationships Stay Uncomfortable
The relationship between Inti and Aggie is intense, intimate, and unsettling in places.
It blurs boundaries and resists easy categorization. Whether readers love or struggle with this dynamic often comes down to taste—but there’s no denying its emotional force.
The twin bond becomes both anchor and fracture point in the story.
Writer takeaway:
Relationships don’t have to be healthy to be compelling. Complexity often lives in discomfort.
So, Would I Recommend It?
Yes (will I ever say no?). Very much so.
Once There Were Wolves is challenging, emotionally demanding, and unapologetically serious. It’s also beautifully written, morally complex, and deeply engaged with the world it depicts.
More than anything, it’s a reminder that stories can hold big questions without offering easy comfort—and that sometimes, being challenged as a reader is part of the gift.
For writers, it’s an excellent example of how to weave theme, setting, and character into a single, coherent emotional experience.
This is a book that asks you to lean in.
And once you do, it doesn’t let go easily.