Not to excessively toot my own horn, but I read a lot of nonfiction about the Salem Witch Trials. You could say it's my Roman Empire, and has been since I was pretty little—since way before a genealogy project revealed that the subject of this book is my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother. I like to think that the fact that this dark little period of history that fascinated me so much as a child, right up to this day, is evidence of some sort of supernatural connection between me and the ancestor I didn't even know about until I was an adult. More likely it was just another example of little kids loving creepy things. (Or maybe it's both)
Anyway: there were definitely parts of this book that bored me a little, simply because they weren't telling me anything I didn't already know. (This is where the "I'm not tooting my own horn, I swear" part comes in.) However, one thing that's extremely cool about this book is how laser focusing in on just one player on the dark and deadly stage that was the witch trials is that you go a lot deeper into them than most accounts, with a number of players and moving parts to contend with, simply can't. I felt like I was right there in the trial room with my ancestor, which is no small feat, given that most records of the actual trials—not the examinations that preceded them—have been famously lost to time. Gagnon clearly did exhaustive research, gleaning information when and where he could, mostly in the form of legal records from the late seventeenth century (the Puritans were a famously litigious people). And it was really, really extremely cool to see all the ways in which Rebecca Nurse is a standout of the witch trials: one of the first to be accused who wasn't considered an outsider, vulnerable for being on the fringes of society; the only person tried to initially receive a not guilty verdict (which Chief Justice Stoughton made the jury reconsider—another reason I'll never set foot in Stoughton, Massachusetts); and the person with the most impressive familial legacy of clearing her name and keeping her story alive.
I've lived in Massachusetts full-time for almost three years now. I spend a lot of time in Salem, because it's only an hour away and, again, this is my Roman Empire. But I've spent embarrassingly little time in Danvers, and have never actually made it to her homestead there, and now, I want to REALLY really badly.
Also, not for nothing, but this woman has a whole-ass POEM dedicated to her, with some absolutely banger lines in it. There really wasn't a better title for this book than "A Salem Witch"?