Book Round-Up: Cozy Witchy Edition

Thornyhold by Mary Stewart: Just about the gentlest possible story you could imagine about witches in a small English village. As with most of Stewart's romantic suspense novels, the protagonist is an orphan looking for a purpose. In this story, she inherits a cottage from her witchy aunt and finds among her neighbors a busybody who seems to have powers of her own and a handsome widower with an adorable son.

 The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna: Just about the coziest story you could read about witches in a small English village, complete with magical potions, adorable moppets (three daughters this time), a goofy dog, and a sweet romance. As one would expect from a modern romance, the magic is a much bigger deal than in Stewart's novel and the characters are dealing with not just a growing attraction but their own past trauma. It was lovely, and I look forward to Mandanna's other novels.

 Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones: Just about ... eh, I guess third time's not the charm. While waiting for some holds to come in at the library, and having just watched Miyazaki's adaptation of Howl, I decided to re-read it. Some day I have to get the sequels.

 Cackle by Rachel Harrison: Every once in a while I feel like my understanding of a book is vastly different from others’, or at least of those who are active online. Cackle is often described as a cozy, witchy, feminist novel, and it is that, but there is serious psychological horror underlying it. “It’s about female friendships, and not needing a man to have a fulfilling life!” It is, but it is also about how friendships can be just as toxic as romantic relationships. “It’s about empowerment and discovering your authentic self!” But Annie’s empowerment comes at the expense of a whole lot of people. The life Annie ultimately chooses – carefree, living day to day, enjoying nature and beauty and good food – seems like a dream to anyone mired in the daily grind, but it is ultimately a superficial life, lacking in meaningful connection or purpose of any kind. Annie finds herself but loses her humanity, and to me that is a horror.

Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

This was a fun little project, although not quite done. The cross stitch design is Oddpothecary by Noctiflora Designs, from the Just Cross Stitch Halloween issue from 2024. I did redesign two of them, changing bat wing to wool and frog bones to toes to better fit the quotation from MacBeth.

Meanwhile, A Somerset Halloween featured a cute project from Patty Thurlby, using altered Altoid tins to hold fun little Halloween treats. The tins were supposed to be covered in gold leaf, but that was a fiasco -- neither my local craft store nor Michaels had real gold leaf, so I used a fake version from the latter. I then tried applying it with double-sided tape, tacky glue, and the glue recommended for gold foil, but each failed in a different way 🙄. I eventually painted the lids in black and the rest in a metallic copper. I backed the cross stitch with heavy-duty fusible interfacing and trimmed them (I should have made a template first), then glued them to the lids. I then glued a bit of yarn around the edges of the fabric. Maybe I'll add a second cord around the top. Or dimensional paint; that could be cute.

 

The insides of the tins are unaltered; I want to decoupage some spooky paper images, but my paper craft stuff is stored away at the moment. I shredded bits of yarn for the wool and found a package of eye cabochons for the eyes, but  I haven't yet come up with a thing to be the frog toes.

It's not quite the look I was envisioning, but overall I'm pleased.

Book Round-Up

 Paladin's Hope by T. Kingfisher: The third in T. Kingfisher's Saints of Steel series. I am loving the world she has created: the gods, wonder workers, gnoles, and lawyers.

Artificial Condition by Martha Wells: I think I loved this one even more than the first. ART is a great addition, and it's fun to see Murderbot acquire friends and allies despite its best efforts.

Say You'll Remember Me by Abby Jiménez: I enjoyed this well enough, and appreciated that the central conflict came from the characters' circumstances rather than a misunderstanding or three. This novel is apparently heavier than her others (it's my first Jiménez book), but I thought it was handled sensitively.

Proto: How One Ancient Language Went Global by Laura Spinney: this book about the development and spread of the Proto-Indo European language and its descendants would make an excellent companion to Who We Are and How We Got Here -- both argue that the evidence increasingly supports the idea that humans have always been migratory, sharing genes, technology, and language for the betterment of humanity, despite what certain politicians would claim.

Seduction Theory by Emily Adrian: I'm a sucker for academic satires, and this novel, purporting to be a master's thesis that dissects the marriage and infidelities of its star professors, fit the bill. At one point one of the professors, teaching a course in writing, mentions the need to strip out the conceits of a story to see what is left. At the core of this novel is the complicated portrait of a particular marriage, and a person on the outside looking in.

Quick Jewelry Hits

A colleague at work has one of those gemstone initial necklaces that are so popular. I have a strand of tiny gemstone rondelles and assorted gold charms. The result:

Have you heard of fordite beads? Pretty amazing what gets made from paint scraps. I got a strand (not cheap) and used some of them to make hoop earrings, adding tassels I had lying around. Because these beads are not actually made from glass or stone (although they look it), they are lightweight to wear.

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Humblebeads had a cute tutorial for a bird bracelet using wirework techniques. The copper wire I used for the links wasn't the right gauge, so I may remake it in the future.

I was finally able to get some large freshwater pearls with large holes, which allows me to use cords and techniques I otherwise couldn't (pearls are usually drilled with tiny holes to accommodate only silk thread). First up is a stretch bracelet, inspired by some bracelets Candie Cooper made.

Finally, I remade a wire-wrapped ring I made decades ago that was fun and pretty but too uncomfortable for me to wear. After cutting it apart I glued the central flower bead with its two glass bead toppers to a ring black -- much easier to wear. The cluster of beads and charms that dangled from the old ring became the center of a simple necklace, to which I added a few more beads and charms. 

The Watermark by Sam Mills

 Mills's The Watermark is billed as a "quirky, literary love story" but it's a lot weirder and less romantic than that would imply. Rachel and Jaime are two Brits who are captured by a famous author (Augustus Fate) who forces them to drink a magical tea that keeps them trapped inside one of his novels; he's decided that having real people as his characters makes his writing better. In an attempt to escape the author's clutches, the pair flee into other novels hoping to find a way back into the real world.

So it's obviously metafiction, and it brings to mind both Jasper Fforde's delightful series and literary works like Miguel de Unamuno's Nieblas (Mist in English), where the main character gets into an argument with Unamuno himself (see also the romance novel Hero Worship, where the heroine finds herself in a historical novel and decides she can improve the story). The mechanism by which Jaime and Rachel are able to travel from book to book doesn't make complete sense, but that's not really the point; it rarely is in metafiction.

Instead, Mills is focused on the way stories, and art in general, can be controlled -- manipulated, commodified, and politicized. From the Fate's manuscript, a Victorian novel where tradition, religion, and capitalism are used to tightly control people's behavior, the duo move into a fictional novel written by another of Fate's victims; he promises to let the characters do what they want, but they run up against the limits of that when a world is not fully thought-out. From there it's a dismal novel about the tension between communism and fascism, two systems notoriously averse to artistic and literary freedom. A later section takes place in a quasi-dystopian future, where widespread use of robots with artificial intelligence forces humans to wrestle with who can make art and what its purpose is.

In a novel about stories and control there are, unsurprisingly, numerous references to the idea of the author as God (Fate's name is a little too on the nose), an attitude Jaime, a fervent atheist, especially latches onto. This, of course, ignores the fundamental Christian concept of free will -- God rather famously lets us do what we want (hence the Problem of Evil), which is the opposite of how Fate behaves as he tries to bend Jaime and Rachel to his will. But despite the references to God as author and Fate himself (that name!), not much time is spent on the influence of the supposed authors of these novels within novels. Instead it's more about breaking free of the stories we tell ourselves that can limit and even trap us.

This isn't the only concern of the narrative. With Rachel in particular Mills illustrates the way stories can also be an escape, and how that can be its own trap. When the novel opens, Rachel is struggling with grief, artistic block, and depression, and is not sure she wants to keep going. The idea of being in someone else's story and ceding control is deeply tempting, and it puts her in conflict with Jaime, who is desperate to get back to the real world. Complicating matters is the fact that there is no way for them to predict who remembers what every time they enter another story. One of the lovely parts of this book, then, is watching Rachel find purpose and meaning over the course of her journey.  

When they finally escape for good, it's into the Covid pandemic. Coming to in the midst of a bewildering lockdown environment adds a dreamlike quality that causes them to wonder if they really did escape. The novel ends on a somewhat melancholy note -- they've escaped, but the future is uncertain. It's not a traditional "happily ever after," but their love and their commitment to life is strong. Not everything worked about this novel, but I liked a lot of it, and I will be looking at more of Mills's writing.

CoDex 1962 by Sjón

Sjón's post-modern novel is comprised of three novels he wrote over twenty years: Thine Eyes Did See My Substance ( a love story but not really), Iceland's Thousand Years (a mystery but not really), and I'm a Sleeping Door (science fiction but not really). All three are narrated by Jósef Loewe and purport to be his autobiography, but in the tradition of Tristam Shandy, he is not even born until the end of the second part. Instead, the bulk of the narrative is focused on his father's trials as a Jew who escapes Nazi Germany and settles as a refugee in Iceland. 

The story itself is a metafictional narrative that plays with storytelling, weaving together folktales, history, Biblical stories, and fragmented accounts. And like a lot of metafiction, it's about the stories we tell ourselves to make sense of our lives and the world around us. Maybe Jósef is the child of a desperate woman so mired in grief and alcohol she has lost track of where she's been or who she's been with. Or maybe he is a golem, lovingly sculpted from clay by his father and mother and brought to life with the word "truth" and the seal from a gold ring. 

Just as the bones of a patient afflicted with Stone Man Syndrome react to blows by swiftly forming a new layer of bone tissue over the site, so Jósef's mind wove a story every time he encountered a painful thought or memory.

Images and ideas recur throughout and characters are connected in surprising ways. Iceland is a small nation, but this is also a story being told to a listener. These elements, and the frequent interruptions from the listener, remind us of the unreliability of the narrative -- not to distance us from the characters,  but to remind us that there is a storyteller behind the story.

Parts -- especially during the section that takes place in Germany -- can be quite vulgar and upsetting, and in that way it reminded me of Gunter Grass's The Tin Drum, but this book is far more humane. Despite the prevalence of evils like anti-semitism, greed, and violence, characters display kindness towards each other and a determination to make the best of what they have. The novel ends on a melancholy note, but also the recognition that whatever else is lost, the stories live on.

All stories have their origins long before humans discovered a means of storing them somewhere other than in their memories, and so it doesn't matter if books are worn out by reading, if the print-run is lost at sea, if they're pulped so other books can be printed, or burned down to the last copy. The vitality contained in their loose ends and red herrings ... is so potent that if it escapes into the head of a single reader it will be activated, like a curse or a blessing that can follow the same family for generations. And with every retelling and garbling, misunderstanding and conflation, mankind's world of and and stories expands.

 

Hoop Art

 Inspired by Nichole Vogelsinger's work, I made this:

I had a lot of fun picking different threads, stitches, and beads for all the elements. It's the second hoop I've made inspired by her work, and I will be doing more.