Fire Burn, Cauldron Bubble What If Witches Had Feminist Troubles?

Once upon a time, a young woman in Virginia pitched a book to a publisher. The pitch went like this: “Suffragettes but witches.” Three words and The Once and Future Witches was conceived. It’s a gem about three sisters in an alternate American history where three witches jump on board the women’s movement and turn it into a witches’ movement — because they believe in both.

But it’s also an example of writing that steps to the beat of a different drum.

For the past year, I’ve been disappointed by a lot of books. I read one a week, and contemporary novels often feel like they start out at a gallop and end at a dead stop. The book I just finished demonstrated perfectly that writers can break lots of rules and still create a story that doesn’t disappoint. Now, I’m going to begin emphasizing that in my coaching sessions.

The Once and Future Witches grabbed me and held on with a perfect storm of alternate history, mythology, and fairy tales tightly entwined in women’s rights and empowerment.

I loved the women in those pages — flawed and multi-dimensional, strong, smart, and resourceful. A story not too big, not too small — just exactly what I was pining for. Fun. Something to ponder.

In interviews, Harrow says she focuses always on the importance of storytelling and on stories as a means of escape. She intentionally plays with conventions, characters, and alternative history. She sprinkles the book with unique retells of fairy tales I know well, spinning the female characters as though they were strong feminists instead of persecuted princesses.

She put a series of historical realities into a cocktail shaker and poured them out with a revisionist twist. The Salem witch trials play out parallel to the Triangle Shirtwaist factory tragedy and blend seamlessly into the suffrage movement. It struck me as fun and purposeful; Harrow holds a master’s in history.

I love seeing a skilled writer bend and break the rules. Writing coaches carp at burgeoning writers, “Show, don’t tell.” Well, let me tell you, relying heavily on narrative as opposed to showing worked for me — I got swept up as if I were talking to a woman friend relating a gripping tale. Yep, it’s a fulsome narrative, but it kept me in Harrow’s world, and I didn’t want to leave.

Words are my playthings. I’ve been a writer forever, and I want to be Paul Simon or Don McLean in my next life so I can experience what it is like to always find the perfect word, the perfectly executed context. I saw the same talent in Harrow. She pleased me by being judicious with nicely tight writing that moves ever forward — her prose is elegant, silky, effortless. That’s why Witches lingers in my head though I finished it days ago.

A good witchy tale always appeals to me — magic delights me, and fantasy puts me in another universe. But the best thing a writer can do is weave me a story that makes me think outside my comfort zone and shows me something I hadn’t thought of. After reading this one, I’m thinking about what kind of novel I might write — and I do not often write fiction.

We’re not talking about a perfect book here. There are small hiccups that simply underline the authenticity of the writing. Once in a while, for example, her people fall into stereotypes (like some typical male character flaws) so the story can flow in the intended direction.

My reading experience was all over the map. Cliche, I know, but I laughed out loud (my husband kept glancing over at me to see what was so funny). I shed a tear or two and also found myself angry and irritated. The people and situations I was reading meshed perfectly with my life experiences but were different enough to keep me engaged.

I’m old; I grew up in the ’60s, and the Women’s Movement was huge for me. Feminism is/was not a hip thing to talk about; it is the only sane way to run a planet. Is there any reason equal rights should not extend to all humans?

As I read, it kept occurring to me that feminism and women’s rights have been a contention for centuries and may always be. I feel like Harrow gets that, and I feel connected to her because we both care. Deeply. But Harrow’s book isn’t just about witches or feminism. It’s about all women.

It’s about how we help each other and how we hinder each other. It’s about the challenges we face. When I finished the witches’ story, I felt more hopeful than I have in some time. This author is a young woman — she could easily wrap herself in her kids, her husband, her suburban life and sail through. But unlike some of her peers, she made me wonder about how we could right some evergreen wrongs. I felt a personal connection. For me, that is what a great book forges.

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