The wax child

Ravn (My Work) draws on the true story of a 17th-century Danish noblewoman beheaded for witchcraft, in this masterful blend of history and horror. It's narrated by an omniscient wax doll made by Christenze Kruckow, a 30-something virgin who lives at Nakkebølle Manor in Funen, Denmark. By 1615, the mistress of the manor, Anne Bille, has given birth to 15 babies, all of whom were stillborn or died shortly after birth. When Anne accuses Christenze of witchcraft, she flees to the city of Aalborg. There, she's instantly attracted to a stranger named Maren Kneppis, and they kiss. Maren then invites Christenze to a series of all-night "carding fests," during which several women gather to spin wool and talk about their troubles. They also use Christenze's doll to cast spells on others, until they're caught by one of the husbands and Christenze is again accused of witchcraft, along with the other women. From here, Ravn's depiction of the draconian criminal justice system is gripping and well researched, from the bloodthirsty king whose lieutenant serves the arrest warrants to the procedures of Aalborg's provincial court. The main event, though, is the spectacularly demented doll, who channels a mysterious rebellious power inspired by Christenze and her cohort and by their grisly fate. Or, as the doll puts it in describing the hush that fell over the courtroom at the thought of the convicted Maren being burned at the stake: "It retained as yet a generative force that could be harnessed and put to use." This devilishly subversive feminist anthem is one of a kind. (Sept.)

A woman is hounded by accusations of witchcraft through 16th-century Denmark in this historically based novella. "I am a child shaped in beeswax," is how the narrator of this breathtaking short novel introduces itself. The narrator means this literally--it is a wax child, only "the size of a human forearm." Its beloved maker, who it misses with a "bottomless, shaft-like longing," is an impoverished Danish noblewoman named Christenze Kruckow, who lives in the luckless household of Anne Bille. Embittered by an unbelievable series of miscarriages or stillbirths, Anne accuses Christenze of witchcraft, the punishment for which is a gruesome death. Christenze flees to the larger town of Aalborg, taking the wax child with her. In Aalborg, Christenze, who never married, joins a lively society of women who gossip, sing, and repeat the folk lessons they have learned from their mothers as they perform the grueling labor of their lives. The wax child, who is present at many of these gatherings in the guise of a child's toy, reports both the women's talk and the feelings that seethe behind it--Christenze's attraction to the "effervescent" Maren; the claustrophobic resentment of foolish Elisabeth, whose husband, the pastor Klyne, abuses her; the proud independence of the one-eyed widow Dorte; the cunning spirit of Apelone. Yet, in spite of the small protection afforded by her noble birth, the label of "witch" is not so quick to fall away from a woman content to live on her own. Spurred by the witch-hunting mania of King Christian IV and fanned by accusations from the malignant Klyne, Christenze is again accused of witchcraft and is thrown into the dungeons, along with Maren, Dorte, and Apelone, to await trial. Throughout it all, the wax child--who narrates from the distant future, the past, and the brutal present of the novella all at once--spins its own spellbinding tale of loss and longing as the true story of Christenze Kruckow weaves through language that makes what happened to her, and to so many other women like her, pulse with a clarity more real than fact. A magnificent book. A true masterpiece of both substance and style. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.