Scan barcode
A review by lancakes
The Witches of New York by Ami McKay
5.0
Fucking loved it. I've been a fan of Amy McKay's since I read The Birthing House for a gender themes in literature class like 8 years ago, such a big fan in fact that when I saw The Virgin Cure at a book store I bought it without even reading the cover flap, and the same is true of this book: I saw the author's name and grabbed it, knowing I'd love it. Biggest issue right off the bat is that there seems to be no people of colour (possibly the guy that watches over the obelisk?) anywhere, which is patent misrepresentation as this book is set in New York. Pepper in some Irish or Poles or Italians at the very least; there's a million ghosts of those done dirty floating about the city and not one of them wasn't white? Impossible. Moving on: this book is not quite a sequel to The Virgin Cure, but Moth is a main character in The Witches of New York (as one of the titular witches). I found Moth's, or, rather, Adelaide's as she goes by in this tome, character development to be not fully fleshed out. There's a synopsis of her earlier life, but it doesn't sufficiently explain what's driving her. Similarly, the only other bone I have to pick with this book really, is Beatrice's back story is very lame. I realise this book is already hella long, but the extent of her time before moving to New York is basically summarised as "she lived a pretty normal life in a pretty normal place, her parents died which was kinda sad, she moved in with an aunt who was pretty chill". Definitely adequate considering how much she develops in the novel, but I guess that sort of story telling is a pet peeve of mine. Beatrice becomes pretry extraordinary pretty quickly, and I would have loved more insight into how this girl grew up: how did her parents' death affect her, she was probably a bit of an odd kid so what was she like in school, and, most importantly to me, how did Aunt Lydia raise her? A spinster/single adult woman in the 1880s adopting her niece and raising her to be independent/self sufficient, I feel like that's a story worth at least a few anecdotal references.
... okay one more issue: I felt like Adelaide and Brody's romance was a little weird, because it was set up with a lot of POV repressed Victorian flirty feelings, and then it was confirmed through other characters' observations of subtle signs of couple dom. I think I would have liked the love story to be a little better established/more centered to make it feel a little less weird when ***spoiler*** they all move in with Dr Brody at the end. As it was it felt a little too tidy.
With those few sticking points out of the way, of course I was going to love this book. The Victorians were hella weird, and I gobble up their nasty occultist nonsense every time. I've also recently realised that I'll devour any book that has a witchy shop in it: I think my biggest dream job is to have something like the Tea and Sympathy shop: a safe, welcoming place where women/witches can congregate, share knowlege, ask for help, take and receive care, mobilise and drink tea. McKay makes her feminism very clear throughout the book, and in the author's note, and I appreciate this. The Witches in this book are essentially powerful women that the state, the church, powerful men, would rather they weren't around kicking up a fuss. This book also centres disenfranchised women and girls in a way that eschews pity: prostitutes and beggars are just as important and possess as much agency as a lesbian reporter, a rich lady who's lost her son, the ghosts of hotel maids, and as the main characters: a young woman, and two older spinsters, one with a visible disability. None of these characters' "deficiencies", that is aspects of themselves that would have made them less than in the eyes of Victorian and modern society, are played for sympathy.
Hopefully there's a sequel in the works, because there was definitely big shit set up and unfulfilled by the end of the book. Obviously Gideon and the weird body collectors have potential for further exploration, but I'd also love to see more about the Women's Asylum.
I could write disjointed thoughts about this forever, but I'll leave it at this: I go to books about witches because I like stories about women who aren't victims (meaning they're the heroes of their own stories), who express their agency and commune with other women. This was for a lot of history essentially what made a woman a witch. Amy McKay shares that perspective with me, and so I desperately love her tale of feminist imaginary.
... okay one more issue: I felt like Adelaide and Brody's romance was a little weird, because it was set up with a lot of POV repressed Victorian flirty feelings, and then it was confirmed through other characters' observations of subtle signs of couple dom. I think I would have liked the love story to be a little better established/more centered to make it feel a little less weird when ***spoiler*** they all move in with Dr Brody at the end. As it was it felt a little too tidy.
With those few sticking points out of the way, of course I was going to love this book. The Victorians were hella weird, and I gobble up their nasty occultist nonsense every time. I've also recently realised that I'll devour any book that has a witchy shop in it: I think my biggest dream job is to have something like the Tea and Sympathy shop: a safe, welcoming place where women/witches can congregate, share knowlege, ask for help, take and receive care, mobilise and drink tea. McKay makes her feminism very clear throughout the book, and in the author's note, and I appreciate this. The Witches in this book are essentially powerful women that the state, the church, powerful men, would rather they weren't around kicking up a fuss. This book also centres disenfranchised women and girls in a way that eschews pity: prostitutes and beggars are just as important and possess as much agency as a lesbian reporter, a rich lady who's lost her son, the ghosts of hotel maids, and as the main characters: a young woman, and two older spinsters, one with a visible disability. None of these characters' "deficiencies", that is aspects of themselves that would have made them less than in the eyes of Victorian and modern society, are played for sympathy.
Hopefully there's a sequel in the works, because there was definitely big shit set up and unfulfilled by the end of the book. Obviously Gideon and the weird body collectors have potential for further exploration, but I'd also love to see more about the Women's Asylum.
I could write disjointed thoughts about this forever, but I'll leave it at this: I go to books about witches because I like stories about women who aren't victims (meaning they're the heroes of their own stories), who express their agency and commune with other women. This was for a lot of history essentially what made a woman a witch. Amy McKay shares that perspective with me, and so I desperately love her tale of feminist imaginary.