Griffin Bjerke-Clarke’s He Who Would Walk the Earth is a haunting and poetic debut that unfolds like a myth half-remembered, both spare and rich in meaning. At its core is Felix Babimoosay—a man adrift in a decaying world, burdened by forgetfulness, and chased by shadows from a past he cannot recall. With a name that feels chosen yet uncertain, Felix stumbles forward through desolate plains and strange towns, dogged not just by thirst and danger, but by a slow resurrection of memory.

This novel is not interested in linear storytelling or easy exposition. Instead, it weaves a dreamlike narrative, steeped in Métis oral tradition, that pulses with atmosphere and symbolic depth. As Felix encounters a city of talking crows and a town soured by corruption, Bjerke-Clarke taps into allegorical layers of colonial trauma, personal reckoning, and the elusiveness of identity.

The tone is quiet, almost meditative, but never dull. Echoing the existential fatigue of Waiting for Godot, Felix’s journey feels like a post-apocalyptic western without gunfire—a slow reckoning with past wrongs and internal emptiness. There is horror here too, not in sudden shocks but in the unsettling quietude of isolation and the distorted landscapes of memory and loss.

What sets He Who Would Walk the Earth apart is its refusal to separate personal healing from collective action. Felix’s growth hinges not on regaining his past, but on forging connection and understanding through collaboration. In doing so, Bjerke-Clarke offers a subtly radical take on agency—not as power over others, but as responsibility shared with others.

Verdict:
He Who Would Walk the Earth is a lyrical, disquieting meditation on identity and redemption, wrapped in the shell of a quiet dystopia. It reads like a folktale set loose in the ruins of the world, marking Griffin Bjerke-Clarke as a bold and thoughtful new literary voice.

EArc provided courtesy of NetGalley

Beautiful fablelike quality to the writing, which did admittedly take me a minute to get used to as the style and narrative nature was so far removed from what I am used to. Very much enjoyed learning with Felix over the course of the novel and feel it to be very relevant today and the manner in which the narrative unfolds meant that I, as the reader, felt as if I grew with him.

3.75 Stars

He Who Would Walk the Earth blends western with a subtly dystopian setting. The atmosphere reminded me a bit of In the Distance by Hernan Diaz, a lone boy walking the dry plains, but He who would walk the is more eerie, more fast-paced, more reminiscent of something post-apocalyptic rather than historic. Griffin Bjerke-Clarke has crafted a compelling story in a short book and a main character (Felix Babimoosay) that intrigued me from the very first pages. For me, this was a "don't judge the book by its cover", cause what's inside the pages was much more intriguing to me than the cover. Very interested to see what Griffin writes next!

Thanks to Columbia University Press | Roseway Publishing and Netgalley for this ARC of 'He Who Would Walk the Earth' by Griffin Bjerke-Clarke.

This really is not an easy read but what an extremely interesting work of art Griffin Bjerke-Clarke has created.

The blurb comparison to Beckett's 'Waiting for Godot' is apt. We don't really know where or when this is set though the description and the clues in the narrative suggest it's post-apocalyptic, certainly dystopian. We don't really know who these characters are, which is apt since the main character with the fabulous and plucked-from-air name of 'Felix Babimoosay' doesn't really know who he is either.

Felix is wandering through this blasted landscape and time, displaying impressive physical stamina, encountering people and places who are either helping or hindering him, again, hard to tell and possibly learning more about himself and his situation as he progresses.

It also reminded me in tone and the impression it left on me of 'The Unconsoled' by Kazuo Ishiguro. Just a whole world that is *almost* recognizable to us, populated by people with or without a past, we don't really know, and - for me - terribly unsettling. I read that book over 20 years ago and although I don't think I enjoyed it, per se, I have never forgotten it nor the impression it left on me.

Another book it reminded me of in its dry, dystopian setting, mysterious setting, and unsettling nature is the classic 'A Canticle for Leibowitz' by Walter M. Miller Jr.

I applaud the mind that birthed this story and characters and Columbia University Press for publishing it.