The legend of the dark witch is an ancient myth that has been passed down through generations. According to the legend, there was once a powerful witch who lived deep in the heart of the forest. She was known for her dark powers and her ability to control the elements. The dark witch was feared by all who heard her name. It was said that she could summon storms and unleash bolts of lightning with a mere flick of her wrist. Many believed that she had made a pact with the dark forces of magic, giving her an unfathomable amount of power.
The books take us back to earlier times of crisis and blame – the Reformation, the English civil war, Puritan New England. My new novel The Wheelwright’s Daughter was inspired by a landslip in 1571 that tore down part of Marcle Ridge in rural Herefordshire. It became famous; it’s still called The Wonder on OS maps. In 1586, William Camden wrote that the hill roused itself up as if out of a deep sleep and moved, roaring, for three days together. What a figure, I thought, for the terrifying dislocations of the Reformation. How might it have been understood, how might people have looked for a scapegoat? Writing in the Brexit era, with looming climate catastrophe and the rise of populism, the parallels with contemporary Britain were inescapable.
Kicked out of her home, Prunella finds her way with the help of friendly monsters in the lands beyond her village, and is whisked away on an eye-opening adventure. When Garlic wakes up with an extra finger, she finds out that she is transforming from Veggie person into a human an anxiety-inducing experience only soothed through a new journey and deep friendships.
Many believed that she had made a pact with the dark forces of magic, giving her an unfathomable amount of power. People who dared to cross the witch's path often met a terrible fate. She would cast curses upon them, turning them into stone or causing them to go mad.
Top 10 books about witch-hunts
‘I t is easy to blame the dark,” Sylvia Plath writes in Witch Burning. Stories of witch-hunts show us how the dark is given a name; they talk to us about anxiety and belief and our hunger for scapegoats. All those pious fantasies of women suckling their familiars! Witch-hunts are just a metaphor now, we hope, but we’re drawn to them as much as we ever were.
The White House witch-finder might like to tweet that he’s the hunted, but in reality it’s the marginal, the outspoken, those who lack a voice or upset their neighbours who get pursued. Those least responsible become most at fault: the wanton, the widow, the shrew. Because most of all, witch-hunts have been about controlling women’s sexuality and their tongues. When “one reads of a witch being ducked, of a woman possessed by devils, of a wise woman selling herbs”, Virginia Woolf wrote in A Room of One’s Own, “I think we are on the track of a lost novelist, a suppressed poet”. Women writers, in particular, are recovering these voices.
The books take us back to earlier times of crisis and blame – the Reformation, the English civil war, Puritan New England. My new novel The Wheelwright’s Daughter was inspired by a landslip in 1571 that tore down part of Marcle Ridge in rural Herefordshire. It became famous; it’s still called The Wonder on OS maps. In 1586, William Camden wrote that the hill roused itself up as if out of a deep sleep and moved, roaring, for three days together. What a figure, I thought, for the terrifying dislocations of the Reformation. How might it have been understood, how might people have looked for a scapegoat? Writing in the Brexit era, with looming climate catastrophe and the rise of populism, the parallels with contemporary Britain were inescapable.
The books and stories below variously, wonderfully, follow the threads of the witch-hunt.
1. The Discoverie of Witches by Reginald Scot (1584)
“Truelie I denie not that there are witches,” Scot insists in his Epistle to the Readers, before spending 560 pages doing just that. He meticulously piles up the arguments of the witch-mongers and knocks them down; charmers, soothsayers, alchemists, conjurors and occultists aren’t in hock to the devil, he says, they are charlatans. Shakespeare drew on Scot for Puck in A Midsummer’s Night Dream and the witches in Macbeth. King James I had the book burned. I couldn’t resist giving Scot a walk-on part in my book.
2. The Daylight Gate by Jeanette Winterson
The Pendle witch trials of 1612 led to the deaths of 12 people, including the enigmatic Alice Nutter. My Lancashire grandmother liked to say that we were descended from her but she told a lot of tales. Winterson’s defiant Alice made me wish it was true. The book bristles with magic – there are talking heads, raining teeth and deals with the devil, but there is also a fierce analysis of power and its abuses. Winterson’s stark, poetic prose ensures this stays with you long after you’ve finished reading.
Circe Invidiosa (1892) by JW Waterhouse. Photograph: Alamy
3. Circe by Madeline Miller
I thought I knew the story of the witch who turned Odysseus’s men into pigs, but Miller’s magnificent novel gives Circe her own epic. A daughter of the sun, she is banished to Aiaia where, part-god, part-herbalist, she teaches herself magic. She needs it, for it’s not only men who threaten: the gods, too, can be witch-hunters. The writing shimmers and figures including Daedalus and Odysseus are threaded beautifully into Circe’s story as she learns not only sorcery but love, and what it might mean to be mortal.
4. The Faerie Queen by Edmund Spenser
In Book II, Canto XII, Sir Guyon valiantly hunts down the witch Acrasia in the “Bowre of Blisse”. Acrasia is wily; she stupefies men with sex and turns them into pigs, but her bower is all music, all delight. “Gather the Rose of love whilest yet is time,” a minstrel sings - and all the birds echo his song. Nevertheless, Acrasia gets tied up and Sir Guyon trashes her bower. What keeps me coming back to Spenser’s Elizabethan masterpiece, in all its archaic lushness, is its ambivalence – it lingers wistfully over the garden it condemns.
5. Religion and the Decline of Magic by Keith Thomas
Thomas shows how belief in magic and witchcraft were woven into the way people made sense of the world in the 16th and 17th centuries. The voices of ordinary people ring out from almost every page: Ursula Clarke in 1667 hoping William Metcalfe would “waste like the dew against the sun”; Lodowick Muggleton declaring that issuing curses “did him more good than if a man had given him 40 shillings”. At 800 pages, this is a bible of a book: dip in and in again – it’s worth it.
6. The Witchfinder’s Sister by Beth Underdown
“Once, I scarcely believed in the devil,” Alice Hopkins begins, before widowhood forces her to go and live with her brother Matthew Hopkins, who is collecting names. We follow Alice’s attempts not only to document but to fathom her brother’s cruelty. “Turn over the stone,” she says, “and find another history, struggling to escape.” We need more of these histories.
‘A warning of tyranny on the way’ … Samantha Colley as Abigail Williams in the Old Vic’s 2014 production of The Crucible. Photograph: Tristram Kenton/The Guardian
7. The Crucible by Arthur Miller
No list of witch-hunt books would be complete without Miller’s play. Through the story of the Salem witch trials of 1692-93, the play indicts 1950s McCarthyism – and Trump, and Farage, and … When the play is suddenly a hit somewhere, Miller observed, it’s “a warning of tyranny on the way or a reminder of tyranny just past”. Read or watched, the visceral clarity of Miller’s writing lingers like a catch in the breath, abolishing any reassuring sense that witch-hunts happened then, not now.
8. Lois the Witch by Elizabeth Gaskell
When orphan Lois Barclay lands in New England in 1691 she finds the ground as unsteady as the water. And well she might. Gaskell shows us a community in terrified opposition to its native forests and people. I love the way she refuses to condescend or simply condemn – she puts the reader in the middle of the panic, feeling it spread. The novella has been overshadowed by Gaskell’s novels, but it’s a small, bright gem.
9. I, Tituba, Black Witch of Salem by Maryse Condé
Tituba, the “black” witch convicted in the Salem trials (she was in fact probably Arawak) tells her own story: a life that began when her mother was raped on a slave ship called Christ the King. Tituba is flawed and passionate; the Puritans denounce her, but we see her as a witch on her own terms, rejecting America: “A vast, cruel land where the spirits only beget evil!”
Yee, Reimena. My Aunt Is a Monster . illus. by author. Random House Graphic. 2022. ISBN 9780593125465.
Gr 4-8–When Safia, who is blind, moves in with an aunt she’s never met, she doesn’t expect to find out that her ex-adventurer aunt Lady Whimsy has been cursed to live as a blue, horned monster. Thus begins the grandest adventure of all as Safia embarks on a mission to derail her aunt’s archnemesis. Vibrant illustrations and lots of full-page spreads make this a whimsical, immersive romp.
Villages would be left in ruins as the witch unleashed her wrath upon them. But there were some who saw the witch not as an evil entity, but as a misunderstood soul. They believed that her powers could be used for good if harnessed in the right way. These individuals sought to learn from the dark witch, hoping to unlock the secrets of her incredible abilities. One such person was a young girl named Elena. She had heard tales of the dark witch and, instead of being filled with fear, felt an inexplicable connection to the powerful sorceress. Determined to uncover the truth behind the legend, Elena set off on a journey into the heart of the forest. As Elena ventured deeper into the woods, she encountered many challenges and obstacles. But her determination never waivered. Finally, after days of searching, Elena found herself face to face with the dark witch. To her surprise, the witch did not attack or cast curses upon Elena. Instead, she saw something in the young girl that she had not seen in anyone else before. She saw potential. The dark witch took Elena under her wing, teaching her the ways of dark magic. But unlike others who sought to use their powers for destruction, Elena vowed to use her newfound abilities to protect and heal. As the years went by, Elena became a respected witch in her own right. She used her powers to bring harmony and balance to the world around her, proving that darkness does not always equate to evil. The legend of the dark witch lives on as a reminder that power can be used for both good and evil. It teaches us that it is not the abilities we possess, but how we choose to use them that truly defines us..
Reviews for "The Dark Witch's Brew: Potions and Elixirs for Every Occasion"
1. Daniel - 2/5 stars - I found "Legend of the Dark Witch" to be extremely unimpressive. The graphics were lackluster and the gameplay felt repetitive and uninspired. The story was also incredibly cliché and unengaging. Overall, I was just bored throughout my time with the game and wouldn't recommend it to anyone looking for a fun and exciting gaming experience.
2. Emily - 1/5 stars - I was highly disappointed with "Legend of the Dark Witch." The controls were clunky and unresponsive, making it frustrating to play. Additionally, the level design was confusing and difficult to navigate, taking away from the overall enjoyment of the game. The lack of a compelling story or interesting characters also left me feeling indifferent towards the game. Overall, I wouldn't waste my time or money on this title.
3. Ryan - 2/5 stars - I had high hopes for "Legend of the Dark Witch," but it fell short in a lot of areas for me. The gameplay mechanics were too simple and repetitive, offering little depth or variety. The bosses were also underwhelming and lacked any real challenge. The visuals were average at best and didn't do much to enhance the overall experience. I was left feeling underwhelmed and bored after playing the game, and I wouldn't recommend it to anyone looking for an engaging gaming experience.