The Witching Tide, her first novel, was inspired by the events of the East Anglian witch hunt of 1645-7 and is dedicated to the more than 100 innocent women who lost their lives. The thing seemed to quiver; she felt air moving around her as though people—women—were brushing past; she could hear rustling skirts, felt the touch of hands on her face.

The Witching Tide by Margaret Meyer | Goodreads The Witching Tide by Margaret Meyer | Goodreads

I got a job here at the Museum of London, a social history museum, and eventually met a colleague who eventually became my husband. Mam had taught how a left eye was the witching eye, able to see things not readily visible but present nonetheless. Among the few cherished keepsakes she has from her mother is a small wax doll—a poppet—which acts as a talisman and comfort and, ultimately, source of mystical power for the beleaguered Martha. Thank you to NetGalley and Scribner for providing me with an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review. Village life in the 1640s and the sensory details of the natural world experienced by Martha are particular strengths in this beautifully crafted novel.

Though Margaret had heard of the ‘witchfinder general’ Matthew Hopkins, she hadn’t realised that women in East Anglia in the 17th century were recruited to seek out witches among themselves, in their own community.

The Witching Tide by Margaret Meyer | Waterstones The Witching Tide by Margaret Meyer | Waterstones

It’s a reminder that men held all the power and when things go wrong, it’s women that bear the pain. Even though this book is full of despair and shows the deep, dark ugliness that can lie inside the human heart, it’s so impeccably crafted and beautifully written that I couldn’t stop reading it.

Kingsolver’s ferocious indictment of the pharmaceutical industry, angrily stated by a local girl who has become a nurse, is in the best Dickensian tradition, and Demon gives a harrowing account of his descent into addiction with his beloved Dori (as naïve as Dickens’ Dora in her own screwed-up way). Complicating matters is the fact she’s hiding a dangerous secret that if discovered will seal her fate. Perceived blame for the vagaries of nature and illness – the coughing sickness that can’t be cured, dead hens, stillborn or disfigured babies, cows with ‘the bloat,’ winter storms, tragedies at sea – become a cause for female suspicion, leading to betrayal even among the best of friends. Her body felt cold and partly vacant, as if her own solid self had been nudged aside to make room for something other—a force, a spirit.