This review contains spoilers and mention of sexual assault. I received a free review copy of this book from the publisher.
The first I heard of Widdershins was a photograph posted by Rima, bookstagram's @pardonmywritings, back in October. On seeing her gorgeous photo, the word 'widdershins' emblazoned across a book cover where before I had only encountered it secreted within the pages of Wicca handbooks, I immediately begged Impress Books to send me a copy, too. My excitement only increased when the book arrived, beautifully packaged in brown paper with an actual herbal sprig, and a little card about May blossom. Put simply, Widdershins appealed to my inner witch.
The novel tells the story of two seventeenth-century people whose lives seem to run in opposite directions, until at last they clash together in the midst of terrible events: the Newcastle witch trials, which really did occur in 1650. John Sharpe is a boy raised by the midwife who delivered him, but who turns against women on the most misogynistic terms possible, growing up to become a spiteful witch hunter along the lines of Matthew Hopkins, self-styled 'witchfinder general' of Essex. (You may have read about Hopkins in The Witchfinder's Sister by Beth Underdown!).
His opposite number is Jane Chandler, an ordinary enough young woman, whose mother works as a healer and midwife. As you can imagine, that gets them into trouble eventually. John and Jane narrate alternate chapters of the novel, and I must admit to infinitely preferring Jane's chapters. Perhaps this isn't surprising, given that Jane is a pleasant and innocent girl, with a crush on a local lad and knowledge of plants and herbs - whereas John rapidly grows up to be a foul-minded chauvinist, convinced by his abusive father that Dora murdered his mother.
Content aside, I actually think that Jane's chapters were just better written. Helen Steadman's knowledge of herbal lore, seasonal plants, and natural remedies is obviously first-rate, and she writes beautifully about Jane's relationship with the natural world. The reader gets a real sense of the local community's relationship with nature, from the tough harvests they face to the raucous midsummer festivities, and what they eat and preserve during each season. It inspired me to find out more about this fascinating lore myself.
'And finally, the produce from the astringent white months, when the sap fell in the trees and turned leaves brown, when nature went within herself, and we endured the time of bitter barks, hardened stalks and withered husks.' - Helen Steadman, Widdershins p.61
John, on the other hand, is a pretty revolting character to read. His inner thoughts are a veritable tirade against all things female, from their behaviour to their biology. John's chapters felt a little self-consciously historical: he seemed very aware of the complexities of his own misogyny, in a way I'm not sure men were at the time (and some are definitely still unaware!). I did like a particular part in church, when John processes his thoughts about women; weighing them against his uncle's vile sermonising: 'Uncle's words troubled me when I held them up against the memory of my mother. He couldn't mean my mother, who was his own sister. He must mean other women - unworthy women...If I held his words up against unworthy women like Kirstie Slater, then they seemed more fitting.' Unpleasant, but John's characterisation shows how easily the twisted logic behind witch-hunting (and modern day misogyny) could develop.
But on the subject of unpleasant men, there is a lot of sexual assault in this book, some of it quite graphic. This is probably, sadly, very accurate, and likely unavoidable when writing about 'witch prickers' - who used pointed metal implements as well as their bare hands to test the accused's body. Whilst most witch trials saw the inclusion of at least a few men, the majority of accused witches were women, and it's not hard to imagine what they suffered at the literal hands of these self-appointed hunters. Steadman doesn't shy away from this sort of thing in John's personal life, either: the chapter which chronicles his attempts to get his wife pregnant is pretty excruciating, filled with ramming, forcing, shoving, and other unpalatable imagery. I had mixed thoughts about this; at times it seemed unnecessary and too graphic, John's language so filled with sexist bile it almost became funny ('''I'll leave your body to its God-given business of cossetting my child towards its birth'' was a particular chestnut on p.111). On the other hand, I found the one consensual sex scene to be really sweet and well-written.
In terms of structure, one thing I would have liked was dates at the top of chapters! As stated I preferred reading about Jane, whose story felt more compelling, realistic, and peppered with fascinating details about the natural world. I found that the ending of this book came quite quickly: after a lot of build-up, the climactic meeting between Jane and John happened very close to the final page. There were also some threads of plot which were hinted at but not followed up, such as Jane's parentage, but perhaps that's just me wanting everything tied up neatly. I was utterly shocked by a very late plot twist, but it's such a spoiler that I shall say no more!
And in case you leave this novel worried about witch prickers getting their comeuppance, as I did, this is what ChronicleLive (linked above) had to say about the one in Newcastle: 'His false accusations finally caught up with him and he was executed after confessing that 220 women had met their deaths because of his fake accusations. He beseeched forgiveness - but was killed anyway.'
My rating: 2.5 stars