Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery by Brom was a highly appropriate addition to my October reading.
Newly widowed in 17th century New England, Abitha attempts to keep the farm running by herself, something the members of the Puritan community she lives in are not entirely sure is what a Godly woman would do. If only they knew about the things her mother, a “cunning woman”, taught her, they would be even more horrified.
Nearby, something has awoken in the darkest of shadows. He can’t recall who, or what, he is. Is he a devil, as some would have him believe? But then why does he feel such joy using his powers for healing and nurturing?
Abitha and Slewfoot become friends who help one another find their way, even when that way includes bloody retribution.
This book, which includes several pages of the author’s own artwork, is a perfect choice for spooky season reading!
October days were hot, but when the sun set, autumn announced itself with a nip in the air, its smell piney and crisp with the promise of change.
I was expecting a horror novel, but this is a romance novel. Not only was I taken aback by this fact, the romance relied on my biggest pet peeve of the genre–almost all of the romantic tension was due to a lack of communication. If the characters had one simple conversation, the first entire half of this story would not have been necessary. And then once they finally have that conversation, there is another miscommunication to keep it going. The other portion of romantic tension is introduced by the fact that he and she are from different classes and parents would never approve of them being together.
The supernatural vampires account for maybe 20% of this story. Additionally, it uses the comparison of foreigners greedy to suck people dry of their land and cattle to another kind of vampire. Part of Tejas has joined the U.S., but the Anglos want more, and the Mexican government isn’t standing by its people, so the rancheros have to defend themselves against this threat.
What this novel does well is develop a strong sense of setting. The reader feels immersed in the chaparral, hears the night creatures come alive after dusk, smells the rosemary used by the curanderos in their folk healing. The author does a good job bringing 19th century Mexico to life for us. And I did really like what she did with her beastlike vampires. But beyond that, I just felt very annoyed with all of the totally avoidable romantic angst.
I enjoyed The Hacienda by this author much more, but while that was a horror novel featuring a romance, this is a romance novel featuring a horror element, and not what I thought it would be. It’s still very possible I would be willing to read more from this author, though, depending on what she brings next.
Did “The Witch’s Heart” break you into one thousand glittering pieces and you loved every moment of your shattering? Do you crave a Viking fix now that “The Last Kingdom” TV series is over? Do you believe a woman’s worth is independent from any men with whom she is associated? Do you appreciate trans representation in your reading? Does the idea of witches battling it out physically, magically, and psychically sound exciting to you?
Well then please come on over to one of my favorite books of 2023, “The Weaver and the Witch Queen!”
With a degree in history that focused on Vikings, Gornichec is a scholar of Norse mythology and Icelandic sagas. Using her studies for inspiration, this book is her version of the origin story of the actual historical figure of Gunnhild, Mother of Kings, from tenth century Norway. It’s historical fantasy, granting the story’s seeresses actual magical powers.
The story revolves around a blood oath three young girls take to swear themselves to always look out for one another. When one of them is captured and sold to slavers years later, the other two will do whatever is in their power to rescue her. This turns out to entail ensuring the assistance of King Eirik, named successor to the king of all of Norway. Eirik has his band of formidable supporters, all loyal to their king despite the shames of his own past, because they have had the opportunity to see what kind of person he truly is.
There is romance in this story, including an enemies-to-lovers arc. But the focus is the women learning to employ their unique skill sets in the name if rescuing their sworn sister, even if it means taking on multiple kings and sorceresses who stand in their way. It didn’t hit me as hard emotionally as the author’s debut novel did, but I was rapt, and definitely laughed out loud at some of the banter.
I realize we have a few months left in the year, but I have little doubt this book will wind up on my top ten list for 2023!
The magical adventure begun in The Bear and the Nightingale continues as brave Vasya, now a young woman, is forced to choose between marriage or life in a convent and instead flees her home—but soon finds herself called upon to help defend the city of Moscow when it comes under siege.
Orphaned and cast out as a witch by her village, Vasya’s options are few: resign herself to life in a convent, or allow her older sister to make her a match with a Moscovite prince. Both doom her to life in a tower, cut off from the vast world she longs to explore. So instead she chooses adventure, disguising herself as a boy and riding her horse into the woods. When a battle with some bandits who have been terrorizing the countryside earns her the admiration of the Grand Prince of Moscow, she must carefully guard the secret of her gender to remain in his good graces—even as she realizes his kingdom is under threat from mysterious forces only she will be able to stop.
When I read the first book in the Winternight trilogy, I found it to be a good dark fantasy story based on fun and interesting bits of Russian folklore. It was exciting, it was spooky at times. Vasya was a great heroine who was easy to root for.
Book 2, in comparison, was a bit of a letdown for me.
The setting and atmosphere in this book were just as great as they were in its predecessor. The members of Russian folklore continue to make enchanting appearances across the snowy landscape and politics of a medieval Russian winter. We have spirits both helpful and mischievous, mystical horses, warnings imparted by vengeful ghosts, and a sorcerer who has found a way to cheat Death.
On the other hand, the biggest disappointment here was the character of Vasya. Her development in this installment is more of a regression. She tries to experience a freedom not readily available to women in her time, but winds up almost dying several times in the attempt, and being saved time and again by the male potential love interest. Why can she not save herself just once, after being such a strong character with a great sense of agency in book 1?
Speaking of love, I found the romance aspects in this story lukewarm at best. An unconventional, clever country girl labeled a witch and a frost-demon? I could ship that so hard! But their encounters here are rather lacking in any sort of exciting tension. As this is Young Adult historical fiction I certainly wasn’t expecting smut, but the romance is missing much of a spark at all.
There was still enough for me to enjoy in this book that I plan on reading the next in the trilogy, but I will keep my fingers crossed that Vasya’s character arc improves, and the romance heats up (I’m hoping that’s not too much to ask of the winter king!)
“He came out of nothingness, took form, was loved, was always bound to return to nothingness.
Only I did not think it would be so soon.
Or that he would precede us.
Two passing temporarinesses developed feelings for one another.
Two puffs of smoke became mutually fond.
I mistook him for a solidity, and now must pay.”
This book was truly something amazing! Not your average read, but rather something to be experienced.
Be warned: the format of this book definitely took some getting used to. A multitude of narrators pitch in to tell the story, often for just one line at a time before switching to the next character. Interspersed within this structure are lines from Abraham Lincoln biographies and actual correspondence by his contemporaries. At the beginning I did ask myself, “Can I get past the unusual style?” The answer was very quickly revealed to be a yes, and I am so glad for it!
At the core of the story: when President Lincoln’s son Willie dies of typhoid fever he finds himself in the bardo, a place where according to Tibetan tradition we go after dying but before moving on to the next life. The colorful cast of characters young Willie encounters here all have their own reasons for not wanting to let go of the lives they knew (revenge, unfulfilled desires, etc). Many of them deny the truth of their condition even to themselves, instead choosing to believe that what they are experiencing is akin to an illness. The distasteful things they leave each night to rise up and move about are simply their “sick-forms”, left in isolation in “sick boxes” as a form of treatment. These characters offer up much absurdity and hilarity in equal measure.
William Wallace Lincoln
Oak Hill Cemetery, the book’s setting – I don’t know why these captions won’t show up aligned in the center…
Histories report that the elder Lincoln went for a prolonged visit in the dead of night to the cemetery where his son was temporarily interred in a borrowed tomb. This story takes place over the course of that night. Though the way the story is told is so very amusing at times, it contains many moments that can be sad or touching, but also hopeful moments.
“All over now. He is either in joy or nothingness.
(So why grieve?
The worst of it, for him, is over.)
Because I loved him so and am in the habit of loving him and that love must take the form of fussing and worrying and doing.
Only there is nothing left to do.”
Besides what he felt over the loss of his child, this book also takes a look at what Lincoln may have thought about the war his country was embroiled in while he was at its helm, and those who blamed him for the deaths of so many American soldiers on both sides. There is no shortage of good lines on the subject of grief here. A few I appreciated:
“Everything nonsense now. Those mourners came up. Hands extended. Sons intact. Wearing on their faces enforced sadness-masks to hide any sign of their happiness, which-which went on. They could not hide how alive they yet were with it, with the happiness at the potential of their still-living sons. Until lately I was one of them. Strolling whistling through the slaughterhouse, averting my eyes from the carnage, able to laugh and dream and hope because it had not yet happened to me.
To us.
Trap. Horrible trap. At one’s birth it is sprung. Some last day must arrive. When you will need to get out of this body. Bad enough. Then we a bring baby here. The terms of the trap are compounded. That baby must also depart. All pleasures should be tainted by that knowledge. But hopeful dear us, we forget.”
And one last bit about the nation that may offer a bit of hope:
“Across the sea fat kings watched and were gleeful, that something begun so well had now gone off the rails (as down South similar kings watched) and if it went off the rails, so went the whole kit, forever, and if someone ever thought to start it up again, it would be said (and said truly): The rabble cannot manage itself.
Well, the rabble could. The rabble would.”
The icing on the cake: it turns out this author teaches at Syracuse University. I hail from Syracuse myself, and the hospital I work at is basically across the street from the University. I stop at the local Starbucks every morning on my way in to work, and now I wonder if maybe I’ll cross paths with him there someday 🙂
Jessica Crawford 