81 books like The Witch

As well as the fears of godly states, early modern villagers had their own fears.

This book shows ‘witches’ being created in a process of everyday village rivalries between neighbours. Two villagers quarrel; either or both of them may utter insults, threats, or curses. You witch! You will regret this! May the Devil drag your soul through hell! And so on.

Insults (even ‘You witch!’) were relatively harmless, but threats and curses could get you into trouble. If your opponent then experienced some misfortune, neighbours might explain this as your curse taking effect.

This was particularly likely if you were female: people feared men’s physical violence, but they feared women’s curses. This book brings early modern villages to life.

No one does a better job of explaining the links between witchcraft accusations and fears over fertility than Roper.

Her ability to connect witches’ stereotypical activities—murder, cannibalism, sex with the Devil, and so on—with the demographic and subsistence crises of early modern Germany is remarkable.

She is an incredibly sensitive reader of primary sources.

Although most historical societies have believed in witches of some kind, the great witch-hunt was unique to early modern Europe.

This formidable but brilliant book explains how European intellectuals, in the age of the Reformation and Counter-Reformation, created an interpretation of witches as conspirators with the Devil – a spirit of terrifying power. The book has over 800 pages, but there are handy introductions to each of its five sections. Start by reading all these introductions, and then explore the rest of the book bit by bit.

My favourite section, ‘Politics’, shows how witch-hunting was linked with the doctrine of the divine right of kings. You should obey the king because he has been appointed directly by God – and the king can demonstrate his godliness by punishing God’s enemies, including witches.

The deepest level of witchcraft and magical experience is psychological.

Most executed witches are unlikely to have carried out the practices of which they were accused – certainly not attendance at the sabbat, and not usually deliberate magical harm. But magical practitioners offered a wide range of mostly positive services: healing, finding lost and stolen goods, and love magic.

Edward Bever’s book is densely-written, often quoting from medical sources, but worth persevering with: it opens up a realm of magical action and experience. My favourite chapters deal with how beneficial magic was perceived to have worked, but there is darker material too – including intentional curses.

This book is gripping. From the first sentence I was hooked as the autistic heroine showed me what life is like when no one understands you. When no one thinks like you. And when almost everyone underestimates you. I have learned so much from this book and am grateful for it. I love Addie. I love how empathetic she is as she campaigns for a memorial for the accused witches executed by her village centuries earlier. And I love her passion for sharks and her desire for them to live free and natural lives. I am certain that she would not visit aquariums because she knows how cruel captivity is. She is a bright, brave soul and I highly recommend that you read her story.

Anne Bishop weaves European myth and historical witch-hunting into a fantastical tale of Fae, Witches, and those without magic. All three books in this series are unputdownable. So real is the imagery and the variety of characters, each with their own blend of magic and relationship to the natural world, that no matter how dark the tale gets, I can’t stop reading. 

Tir Alainn blends the natural, spiritual and physical world of myth into a grassroots world with characters that live and die for what they believe. With a strong moral core to the story, the richness of myth brings the inhabitants of Tir Alainn to life. An enchanting dark fantasy trilogy that is a must-read.  

I love stories that are based on legends, myths, and folklore. This one is the latter.

Took is the first book that opened my mind to folklore of witches and witchcraft. If finding a cabin in the woods with bones and artifacts inside didn’t bring chills down my spine, then the mysterious storyline that followed definitely did. The suspense of the book kept my mind captive till the very end!

Isn’t it wonderful when you pick up the right book at the right time? That’s exactly how I felt about this book.

I inhaled this novel, reading it in just a few sittings over two days. I loved how the three female protagonists were linked through time by their connection to Weyward Cottage and their exceptional connection to nature.

This novel moves effortlessly between points of view in 1619, 1942, and 2019. Hart ties the three women’s stories together beautifully at the end, making this read as satisfying as a perfect cup of tea on a cold winter’s day.

Stories can be dangerous. People who love storytelling are fascinated by Newfoundland, where isolation nourished a rich oral culture (in a distinct English dialect).

Barbara Rieti introduces many colourful Newfoundlanders and the stories they have to tell – but not about long-ago times. These stories are about witches who live among us, or who are dead but well-remembered.

You can imagine how dangerous it might be to be called a witch, even with witch-burning gone out of fashion. (In its place, people cast spells to give witches the burning pain of bladder infections.) But “witches” could also use their reputations to get things they needed.

The author is very scholarly and does not believe there is any real witchcraft or magic behind these stories – but some of them left me wondering!

Different stylistically than the other books on the list, The Witch of Eye is a collection of lyric essays about those accused of witchcraft. In its pages, we meet Lisbet Nypan of Norway, who cured patients using a “ritual of salt” only to be put on trial in the late 1600s, and the German midwife Walpurga Hausmannin, who allegedly coupled with the devil in the clothes of the neighborhood corn farmer. The sentences are dense and hypnotic, transporting readers into fields and courtrooms. One essay begins by describing the language of magic: “You begin a spell with an invocation like Hear me or I beseech you or Oh friend or Listen.” Let yourself be drawn in.