Þuríður Jónsdóttir has grown up praying to the old gods and watching her father and brother practise rune magic.
But now, a witch-hunting craze is sweeping across the land of ice and fire, fuelled by the Protestant Reformation. Unlike elsewhere in Europe, those condemned as witches here are not women, but men of learning. And when Þuríður’s father and brother are accused of witchcraft and condemned to burn at the stake, she is helpless to save them.
As Lutheran Pastor Jón Magnússon's accusing gaze turns to Þuríður herself, the first woman to be called ‘witch’, he will find that she is no ordinary woman.
She is prepared to fight back. But at what cost?
And in an age of fear and persecution, whose side will the community take? Who will fight for justice?
Set against a backdrop of sweeping religious and social change, They Can’t Burn Us All is a feminist retelling of Iceland’s notorious Kirkjuból witch trials.
Cathryn is a Sunday Times bestselling ghostwriter and journalist, with a prolific career writing celebrity, inspirational, true crime, addiction and nostalgia titles. A Poisoner's Tale, published by Transworld/Penguin Random House on July 11th, 2024, is her first foray into historical fiction. When not writing, Cathryn can be found braving the waves off the south coast or restoring her glorious Victorian wreck with her son Leonardo and cat Gingey.
There are many novels covering the wide spread witch trials across Europe in this period and the role of religion but this one stands out to me for several reasons.
Firstly witch trials in Iceland were predominantly of educated men accused of sorcery so this book starts from the perspective that women can’t be witches, because they are too weak. We see a society where women go from being entirely safe from accusations of witchcraft, to one women being overwhelmingly persecuted based on the ravings of one man. This change comes as a complete shock to the community, but as the reader with knowledge of witch trials in the period it’s heartbreaking to know what is coming.
Secondly the decision to make the main character mute following the trauma of losing her mother was a really clever way to highlight how little voice women had during this time.
Finally, I wrote my dissertation (more than 20 years ago) on the role of the Althing in Icelandic saga and I’ve visited Thingvellir, so a witch trial book set in Iceland, with a pivotal moment taking place at the assembly really added to the atmosphere for me.
What this book has in common with other stories of witch trials is the resilience and solidarity of women, and the harsh truth that those in power (usually men) can make the most outlandish claims, even bordering on impossible, and not enough people will stand up to them.
This is excellent historical fiction which absolutely adds to the genre.
2.75⭐️ I know it’s a random rating but it doesn’t make a 3⭐️for me.
Hate having to do this but I’m being honest in saying I was so underwhelmed by this book. I love a historical book based on real events surrounding witch trials but I just felt this was lacking - a lot! I really didn’t feel like it got going until last hour of audio and I thought this was going to be so much more . Had to put it aside for a week and come back to it incase it was me but I didn’t feel any more connected or immersed .
Dark, atmospheric and haunting, They Can't Burn Us All immerses you in the gritty realities of 17th century Iceland. At its heart, it's a story of female oppression, misogyny and, ultimately, empowerment.
After a young mute woman's father and brother are burned at the stake for witchcraft, it still isn't enough for the local priest. Convinced she too is guilty of sorcery, he becomes relentless in his pursuit of "justice", no matter the cost.
This is a true slow-burn novel, but once it finds its rhythm, it's impossible to put down. Kemp's attention to detail is remarkable. From the Icelandic vocabulary to the rituals, beliefs and culture of the time, it's clear an incredible amount of research has gone into bringing this world to life. It's one of those rare works of historical fiction that leaves you feeling like you've learned something, while also making you incredibly grateful to be living in the 21st century.
The persecution, torment and obsession of one man to upend an entire community and shatter the life of a young woman already burdened by grief. Having lost her mother, she has become mute, and I couldn't help but see this as a powerful metaphor for how little voice, agency and power women were afforded during this period.
The final 30% completely hooked me, keeping me reading well into the night. Female rage, resilience and empowerment are all I'll say... and that ending? Completely satisfying.
A beautifully written piece of historical fiction with an immersive atmosphere, compelling characters and a story that lingers long after the final page. If you're looking for a dark, evocative read to kick off autumn, I'd highly recommend picking this one up.
Thank you to Bantam books for the proof copy in return for my honest review.
Inspired by real people and real events from the Icelandic witch trials, this book completely transported me to another time and place. Cathryn Kemp’s writing is beautiful, richly atmospheric and so immersive that Iceland itself really became a character.
If you loved The Witches of Vardø by Anya Bergman or The Last Witch by C.J. Cooke then I suspect you’ll love this too. It has that same haunting atmosphere, the same themes of fear, superstition and injustice and a cast of wonderfully strong female characters. While this is still an emotional and graphic read at times, I found it more hopeful and ultimately more uplifting.
One of the things I found most fascinating was that the Icelandic witch trials initially centred around educated men accused of sorcery rather than women. Watching that shift over the course of the story gave the novel such a unique perspective.
Þuríður Jónsdóttir was such a compelling protagonist. After the trauma of losing her mother she is unable to speak and I thought this was such a clever way of highlighting the powerlessness of those accused of witchcraft. Her silence somehow made her an even more powerful character and I was completely invested in her journey.
I also absolutely loved the sense of women standing together. The friendships, loyalty and unwavering defiance were my favourite parts of the book. Halladóra Einarsdóttir was another standout character for me and alongside Þuríður she embodied everything I love about female-led historical fiction. Their courage, resilience and determination had me inwardly cheering for them. They both had so much spirit and are unforgettable characters for me.
I will say that I found the Icelandic names and pronunciations a little difficult to get to grips with at first and it took me a while to settle into the story. However, there is a really helpful pronunciation guide at the beginning of the book and once I’d found my feet I was completely immersed. It is absolutely worth persevering because this story is so rewarding.
I simply can’t recommend this highly enough.
Thank you to Penguin Books UK and NetGalley for the ARC. All views are my own
A brilliant historical fiction book focusing on 17th century Icelandic witch trials and burnings. Our main character is the daughter and sister to sorcerer father and son duo. They claim to help their neighbours with positive spells but have recently cursed a priest whose daughter wanted to be in a relationship with the younger sorcerer but was forbidden. This priest looks to hunt down the people responsible for the curse and when the men are dead and the nightmares continue he turns his attention to the young woman…
An incredibly well researched historical fiction narrative with some really interesting facts, such as only men were initially hunted as sorcerers in Iceland and not women like in the rest of the world. This is a female revenge focus and really shows the variety of responsibilities women had and how they used herbs, spells and old wisdom for things like childbirth. The start is quite slow and overall this is more of a slow read but the reader is rewarded by strong characters, and incredible and atmospheric setting and just a pretty good story grounded in reality.
It was an enjoyable, interesting and atmospheric read that I definitely recommend to historical fiction lovers!
They Can't Burn Us All is a feminist retelling of the Icelandic Kirkjuból witch trial, focused on the story of Þuríður Jónsdóttir and her family. I feel like I learned so much from this book about historic Icelandic culture and this piece of their history. The story stands apart from other witch trial retellings, as in Kirkjuból, mostly men were accused of witchcraft, whilst the rest of Europe persecuted women.
This felt like quite a fast paced book, in the best way possible. I really enjoyed the authors writing style, creating a vivid setting and atmosphere. The storytelling was in no way sugar coated and conveyed the brutality of the witch trials and all they entailed, which I really appreciated.
I really liked Þuríður as a main character, she is strong, defiant and compassionate. I loved her growth as a character. The sisterhood between the women in this story was a highlight for me, and I adored the relationship between Þuríður and her best friends, especially.
Overall, a really interesting and different witch trial retelling!!
This is one of the best historical fiction books I’ve read in sometime. It’s a brilliantly told story from beginning right to end about the witch trials in Iceland. What is particularly interesting is that they originally focused on men before the fear was transferred to women. This book is set against the dramatic landscape of Iceland helping create a foreboding and powerful atmosphere of fear, and suspicion. I think I went through quite a few emotions whilst reading this book, mostly of anger and sadness. Firstly, anger at how people could so easily blame others for their misfortune whilst taking no responsibility but also a great sadness that in most cases that there was no known explanation and people only had their strong beliefs to understand and explain the World. A definite must read for fans of historical fiction.
I really wanted to love this one. Iceland, witchcraft, historical fiction and the Icelandic witch trials sounded like exactly my kind of book, but unfortunately, They Can’t Burn Us All just didn’t work for me.
I found this very slow to read, and I felt the pacing was really off. There were so many events that could have been focused on more and used as stepping stones for the rest of the plot, but instead they were skimmed over. Meanwhile, there were huge sections of the book where very little seemed to happen, with a lot of time spent sitting around farmsteads and pontificating about things. I was honestly bored at points and found myself forcing myself to keep reading.
The writing itself is good. It’s very descriptive, and there were certain paragraphs, particularly those describing the landscape and birds in flight, that were genuinely beautiful. You can also tell that Cathryn Kemp has done an enormous amount of research into Iceland at this time, the culture, religion and the witch trials, and I found the historical background fascinating.
But ultimately, I felt like the book was missing its heart and soul.
I felt like so much research had gone into the book that the research itself sometimes became more important than the story. It felt like the author had done so much work researching Iceland and the witch trials that she forgot she was writing her own story. I wanted to feel something. I wanted to feel angry at certain points. I wanted to feel sad. I wanted to feel the enormity of what was happening. Instead, I often felt like I was just bobbing along through the story, watching events happen without ever being emotionally swept up in them.
I also struggled to understand exactly what the story was trying to say. I thought the fact that Iceland’s witch trials were so different from those in many other parts of Europe, with men making up the majority of those accused and executed, would give this a really interesting and distinctive angle. But then having a female protagonist accused of witchcraft left me wondering what the purpose of that distinction was. I couldn’t quite figure out what this story was trying to do differently from the many other witch trial stories I’ve read.
The early storyline involving her father and brother being accused of witchcraft also felt like it could have been so much more emotionally engaging, but I never felt that it was explored as deeply as it could have been. There were also several decisions made by the main character that left me thinking, why would you do that? I think some of those choices might have made more sense if I’d felt a stronger emotional attachment between her and the other characters, but unfortunately, I didn’t.
I also didn’t find the decision to make the main character not speak as powerful as I think it was intended to be. For me, it didn’t give her more depth; if anything, I sometimes found it harder to connect with her because there wasn’t enough emotional depth elsewhere to compensate for her lack of dialogue.
The final 20% did pick up considerably, and I was much more invested towards the end. However, I actually think that section could have been stretched out more. There was so much groundwork laid earlier in the book that I wanted a much more heightened payoff, and I think concentrating more on those final events could have made the ending far more powerful.
Reading the author’s note at the end also made me appreciate the inspiration behind the story more. It is very loosely based on a real-life event in Iceland, and I think the historical events themselves are fascinating. I just wish I’d felt more of their emotional weight within the story.
I think there are definitely people who will read this and absolutely love it. The atmospheric writing, Icelandic setting and historical research will appeal to a lot of readers. But I read a lot of witchy and historical fiction, and I’ve read books that, for me, have captured the emotional reality and horror of the witch trials much more effectively.
For me, this was beautifully researched and sometimes beautifully written, but ultimately it felt boring and hollow at the same time. I never quite found the heart of the story, and I couldn’t figure out exactly what it was trying to say.
Thank you Bantam Books for the early copy for review!
My gosh what a book!
Cathryn Kemp has outdone herself with the amount of research she put into this book. It was so well written and I was SO invested in the story of Þuríður Jónsdóttir at the centre of the Icelandic witch-hunting craze ruled by the Protestant Reformation. She watched helpless as her father and brother are burned at the stake - in a time when there were only male sorcerers. Unlike elsewhere in Europe, those condemned as witches here are not women, but men of learning. Women couldn’t perform magic.. Or could they? She is safe until they decide to come for her too..
This feminist retelling of Iceland’s notorious Kirkjuból witch trials was everything I wanted from this book and more. The setting of Iceland in the 1600s was so vivid and brought to life by Cathryn’s atmospheric writing. I truly felt that I was living in the dark times as Þuríður was. At times I was so frustrated and the way the priest and witch hunter treated Þuríður was absolutely diabolical. Despite being mute she show such great strength.
This strength also shines through a lot of the female characters in this book and I loved them all.
You will love this if you enjoy: 🔥 books about witches & witch trials 🖤 historical setting 🔥 Icelandic folklore 🖤 atmospheric writing 🔥 well-researched books
What a marvellous read! This is not your average witch-hunt story. In this story, based on the Icelandic witch trials of which I’d never heard before reading this book, it’s educated men who are being accused of witchcraft and killed. This is something I’ve never seen before in a witch-hunt story and I really appreciated this aspect of it. The historical aspect of the story was really interesting and I appreciated the author notes that helped me to better understand it. The story was rich and beautifully descriptive, and as my first impression of Kemp’s work I have to say that I’m truly impressed! For me, there were parts of the story that were a little repetitive and the language was something I struggled to remember and get my head around, it took a while to get used to it all, but other than that I really enjoyed this book! I would highly recommend this for anyone who wants a unique witch-hunt story and lovers of historical fiction.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with a free arc in exchange for an honest review.
“I have no fear of begging for help. I have no pride that will stop me asking people, then asking again. If anyone can do this it is I. Yet, I feel if. The unspoken thought. The silent accusation.
My father and brother are guilty, and everyone knows it.”
a historical feminist retelling? count me in.
gritty, dark and atmospheric, they can’t burn us all is a dark tale of Iceland’s most famous witch trial, and a stunning example of how strong and fierce a force women can be when they stand together, rather than in opposition.
The story telling forces you into another place and time, aided through rich description and immersive prose. i thoroughly, thoroughly, enjoyed the raven chapters, removing us from the human and into the natural world as a character of its own which too was plagued by the darkness of iceland at the time.
feelings of rage and injustice were all the more exemplified through the centralisation of being voiceless; of having something to say and just not being able to get it out. they can’t burn us all focuses on the silent, the wrongly accused, the oppressed, and brings them to the forefront in such a way, you cannot help but fizz at the injustice of it all centuries later.
the epilogue !!!!!!!!!!! enough said.
if you’re ready to put down the summer reads and turn to the dark, i strongly recommend they can’t burn us all, even more so if you want something to sink your teeth into and really feel the rage.
"Set against a backdrop of sweeping religious and social change, this is a story of the most famous witch trial in Iceland – where one woman stands up to the patriarchal forces against her."
Thanks to NetGalley and Bantam for the advanced copy of this title in return for an honest review.
***Contains Slight Spoilers***
I LOVED Cathryn's book, A Poisoner's Tale, and so I've been keeping an eye out for her follow-up.
I've read quite a number of witch-related historical books so there is a lot of competition. Although this looks at the witch trials from a male perspective, men accused of witchcraft, which gives it a whole new viewpoint which I found fascinating. I didn't realise that men were ever accused of witchcraft but in Iceland apparently it was quite normal.
It's based on the Kirkjuból witch trials, which I had never heard of and which sent me down a googling black hole.
Our main character of Þuríður (Thuridur) is mute which was an interesting choice. I can't find any information about her in detail, so I can't say if this was true or something Cathryn decided to do. And I'm a little on the fence. On one hand I do get the logic behind it, it puts this weird amount of power on this woman in a time where women were subservient. But on the other hand, I really struggled with it. I felt that without her voice, she wasn't a deep enough character to invest in and so I was missing that connection.
Cathryn has such an ability to put you in a time and space. I know little about Iceland, and even less about 1600s Iceland, but everything was given so much care and attention and focus that you're practically in this world yourself.
Iceland has been made into a character of itself. The harsh, raw environment is so atmospheric and makes everything feel so claustrophobic and eerie.
It is a bit topsy turvy when it comes to pacing. It starts off with a bang and the ending is good, and there are moments where it really kicks off, but then you get really slow passages. I don't mind a mixture of slow and fast bits, that's what makes a novel enjoyable. But I found some scenes particularly slow, and I found myself occasionally losing focus.
I didn't enjoy it as much as The Poisoner's Tale. That's not to say I didn't enjoy it, I did, it's got everything I wanted - great research, inventive plot, full of atmosphere and a sense of space and time. She's a fabulous author, I can't argue with that. But I can't quite put my finger on it, but it didn't have that same spark.
Having said that, I finished it in a matter of hours, as compelled by the story as I was.
Overall, it is still a wonderful book. Cathryn is a fantastic storyteller. Her historical research is to worthy of admiration. The sense of space and time and environment and atmosphere is second to none, and she's given us a completely different viewpoint of a rather overdone plot, but I felt the pacing needed tidying up and a bit more character to develop to make it as good as A Poisoner's Tale, but I still highly recommend it for fans of historical fiction.
This book pulled me straight into 17th-century Iceland, into the harsh life of a small settlement where cold winters loom over every household. It’s intensely atmospheric, threaded with Icelandic words and the texture of daily life, and it feels seriously researched without ever turning dry.
The premise is instantly gripping. Inspired by the witch hunts on mainland Europe, a witch-hunting craze takes hold. Þuríður Jónsdóttir grows up with the old gods and close to rune magic, watching her father and brother practise it. When the two men are accused of witchcraft and condemned to burn, and the local pastor Jón Magnússon’s accusing gaze turns to Þuríður, she fights back.
What is needed to convince a community to temporarily abandon their civilized ways, to cast out one of their own to die? The novel shows the paranoia of the witch trials, how every qualm and streak of bad luck in a harsh life will be attributed to a scapegoat once one is available.
I really appreciated how this novel shows the mechanics of gender and power:
“As a woman I am expected to dim my light, to walk in this world of men at their command and do their bidding. This is why I am standing here. Because I refused.”
Þuríður is denied knowledge and authority because she’s a woman, even as her father uses her hair and blood in his spellwork. She has real power of her own, but the men around her are oblivious to it. Watching Þuríður refuse this power dynamic, and insist on being heard, is one of the great satisfactions of this book.
This novel is also a love letter to women standing strong together. Kemp writes women’s relationships with so much care: friends, sisters, mothers and daughters looking out for each other without question. Their sisterhood becomes both a shelter and a force:
“We stand together against those who would crush us for who we are, for being women who dare to think for themselves.”
Kemp wrote the pastor's wife as one of the other pov characters. Her relation to Þuríður and the sisterhood is such an interesting point in the book, and can be read as commentary on Christianity as a patriarchal religion.
The pacing is another highlight. A lot of ground is covered, but the story never feels rushed. I devoured it in just a few days. It adds an extra chill to know this is based on true events. The Kirkjuból witch trial occurred in 1656, and Þuríður Jónsdóttir, Jón Magnússon and their families were real people in that place and time.
They Can’t Burn Us All is a gripping, inspiring story about a very dark page in history, and a fierce reminder of what women are capable of when we decide to stand together.
Thanks to the author, Bantam Books UK and NetGalley for the opportunity to read an advance copy of They Can’t Burn Us All in exchange for an honest review.
From the very beginning you are accompanied by the train of thought that although the title suggests they can’t burn them all, you know that they can, will and certainly try to over and over again. It’s the kind of resignation a woman or a girl sits with when you realise that the boot is always hovering somewhere over your neck in allegedly more progressive countries and just sits at various angles and depths in others. Same story no matter what era in history.
As the weaponry of witchcraft accusations evolves from country to country it’s interesting to note how the patriarchal system realises that to put the predominant burden of blame on the men, in this case the men are only ones deemed worthy of learning the skills or reading and writing and of course wielding the power of magic, causes an error in their calculation. That miscalculation being the eradication of men, unless of course it suits the narrative – landgrab, moneygrab, powergrab and often the elimination of rivals – becomes a costly one and one less likely to succeed. Enter the women and girls stage left.
It’s much easier to create a powerbase of oppression, subjucation and control with fear and intimidation if you have a righteous cause and of course someone to blame. It’s far easier to blame the people in society most likely to be skilled at using nature, plants, empathy and common sense to heal and help others. Soothing salve? Witchcraft!
Þuríður Jónsdóttir has already experienced the swift change in perception. One day her family is revered sometimes feared, then with a little push they become targets of a witchhunt. It’s not a far stretch to realise that she might become the next on the list of targets. In fact her lack of voice since her mother’s death might make people view her with more suspicion.
I was intrigued by my reaction to her trauma induced silence. Her inability to say her thoughts out loud, whilst we can read them, was frustrating. Tell them! Shout! Scream your outrage and anger! And then I realised the inability to speak becomes a physical and psychological representation of every single victim who was unfortunate to fall foul of these religious zealots, powerhungry egomaniacs and of course the willing enablers, the bloodthirsty crowds.
I really enjoyed the read. I would happily cast a spell or two after reading this, and despite what the title says it would be better to remember that they will happily try to burn us all if they are given the opportunity.
I was rather excited to see this book in the library, and the Book does not disappoint in its retelling of a story about witchcraft in Iceland in the 17th century. The fact that it’s based on a true story of free men being burned for witchcraft in 1654 in Trekyllisvik , Iceland is quite scary and I think that’s why I found this such an emotional read in places. The book being set in Iceland, I found to be very atmospheric with the descriptions of the cold temperatures and the surrounding areas of where the characters live. I also enjoyed reading about the Icelandic folklore of witchcraft and I could see how the author had used it as part of her inspiration for the story and I liked that a lot. It felt very religious in the persecution of the one family and especially the daughter and the paranoia that went along with it which was quite similar to what happened in Salem and I think that the author dwell on that was a good thing because it made it a much more a motive and at times worrying read. It’s a Reed that I have found upsetting at times , the burning of to the main characters was quite brutally described and I really felt it and I must admit I had tears at the thought of what they were going through, but also what the daughter was going through watching her family be burned like that, but what was worse was that they had to build their own pyre before they were put up there to die. I found the ending rather surprising and I don’t know why I didn’t expect it. I guess a little bit of naivety on my part but also because I trusted the main character and I felt like they had her innocence portrayed too well. I will be trying to find a previous Book by this offer, and it’s called A Poisoner’s Tale as I want to see what her other fiction book like out of curiosity. I have recommended this book to 2 friends already because I know that they will like this in advance from the minute I saw the book cover and with the plot of the book. I just felt that it was perfect for those two as well. It is one I recommend for anybody that likes books about witchcraft, witchcraft trials and also historical reads because I think the author gets all three tied up really well into the story.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Thank you to @bantambooksuk for sending me this gorgeous early copy 🧡.
A re-telling of Iceland’s notorious Kirkjuból witch trials.
“I am the daughter of sorcerers, but as I am only a woman no one here suspects me.”
•••••
I’m captivated with stories about witches, folklore and the supernatural. Stories based around witch trails and this era fascinate me and, at the same time, anger me. The fact this book is based on true events makes it even more eye-opening and deeply affecting.
Set during the Kirkjuból witch trials of the 1650’s-1660’s in Iceland, where accusations of witchcraft resulted in horrendous executions. One of the most unusual aspects of these trials were that mainly men were accused. This was because magical practice was associated with literacy and written knowledge. Of course, women weren’t intelligent enough to be witches 🙄.
This story was intriguing and compelling. It was anger inducing. It was immersive and it was beautifully written.
This was a quietly powerful story that brought into focus the injustices people endured at that time. Puriðer was an unforgettable protagonist. Her vulnerability and resilience were palpable and it was impossible not to root for her as she faces loss and encounters some despicable characters. Her journey was both heartbreaking and inspiring as she faced adversity and extreme hardship.
The pace builds slowly and organically, without demanding your attention with dramatic twists, but it still left a lasting impression with the characters and the emotional weight of their journey.
A story of survival, family, sisterhood, and courage, this was a captivating read. Expect to feel a range of emotions (mainly anger) when reading this book. The slow, deliberate build up makes the final chapters all the more impactful.
Side Note: The level of research into this book is immense. Cathryn has produced a beautifully written story with great sensitivity, while never shying away from the brutal realities of the time.
If this topic is something that you feel passionate about, I highly recommend this novel 🔥.
Witch hunts are a topic that, understandably, fascinate and enthral many of us. There are the most famous cases – Pendle and Salem, for instance – but they have happened all over the world. This book explores the history of witch trials in Iceland, and blends fact and fiction together to tell a compelling tale of female empowerment and justice.
Unlike the rest of Europe, Icelandic witch trials were initially targetting men, before turning to women. I didn’t know much about Icelandic history – both cultural and political – before going into this book, and I found it fascinating and eye-opening. This was long before Iceland became an independent country, and Nordic beliefs are still very central to Icelandic culture, and so we see the push and pull of different religions and cultures at play.
Our main character is Þuríður, and when we meet her at the start of the book she is living with her father and brothers. As the story goes on, however, we see her both literally and figuratively find her voice, as she builds stronger connections with the women in her life. It was incredibly powerful as the women of the town banded together, even those who you least expected it from. There is a subtle but very important difference between girl power and feminism, and this book embraced both of them wholeheartedly.
This is an excellent addition to any historical fiction shelf, and a must-read for anyone who enjoys books set around the witch trials, or in this time period. Not only is this a well-written, powerful feminist tale, but it also shines a light on a specific moment of history that is often overlooked.
Thank you to the author, the publisher and Netgalley for my gifted copy in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts are my own!
Inspired by the real Kirkjuból witch trials, one of the most notorious in Icelandic history. What made me pick this up in the first place: unlike most witch trial history, the ones accused in Iceland were educated men, not women. That flip alone had me sold.
Kemp's writing is dark, gritty, and graphic at times, but poetic enough that the brutality actually lands harder. Iceland practically becomes its own character here.
Þuríður was such a good protagonist. She's complicated, and not easily likeable in that flat, palatable sense, but I was fully invested from the moment her father and brother get accused. After losing her mother as a child, she chooses to stay mute, and over time simply forgets how to speak. The fascinating part is that she considers her silence an act of defiance, and as a reader, you can feel its power. The decision to have a mute protagonist is also quite brilliant, and sadly poetic, since it mimics how little control the accused actually had against superstition-fed paranoia. I also loved her inner monologues, since they gave real insight into her mind given how little dialogue she actually has.
The women standing together throughout was probably my favorite part of the whole book. The friendships, the loyalty, and the quiet defiance between them made for some of the strongest moments. Watching her navigate a world slowly turning on her, knowing she could be next, kept me genuinely tense the whole way through.
If you loved The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave (also a 5-star read for me this year), you're going to feel right at home. It has the same isolated, haunting atmosphere, and the same real history sitting under the fiction.
I highly recommend this if atmospheric, dark historical fiction with real teeth is your thing!
Set during the real events of the notorious Kirkjuból witch trials, this story is realistic and hard hitting. Unlike the rest of Europe, in Iceland it was traditionally men who were accused of witchcraft - women were not seen as intelligent enough and incapable of performing magic.
When Þuríður Jónsdóttir's father and brother are accused of Witchcraft by a priest belonging to the burgeoning Protestant Reformation, she is helpless and can do very little to try and save them. But at first she has very little fear for her own life - after all, as a mute woman, she is beyond suspicion. But this immunity does not last, and soon Þuríður is fighting for her own life in the wake of the accusations levelled against her. Will she be able to overcome the power of the Protestant Church and prove her innocence in time to save her own life? If indeed, she is innocent...
As someone who is fascinated by the 'witch fever' that swept Europe from the late 15th century to the late 17th century, when I was lucky enough to win a proof copy of this book I was thrilled. They Can't Burn Us All is an incredibly researched dive into this horrific period of Iceland's history. Þuríður is a wonderfully balanced protagonist, she is both vulnerable and devious, and I was drawn to her from the beginning. Her story is heartbreaking but inspiring - her strength in the face of insurmountable odds is incredible.
The story covers so much more than the witch trials though - themes of sisterhood, survival and feminine rage run through the narrative and make this an unforgettable read. Cathryn Kemp has written an incredible story that took me right back to 1656 Iceland in an beautifully written and immersive retelling of the trials from a female perspective. I loved it! Readers should definitely check trigger warning before picking this up though.
Thank you so much Cathryn for the gifted proof copy and creating such a compelling story of this terrible period of time.
They Can’t Burn Us All by Cathryn Kemp is a dark, atmospheric and compelling story of persecution, survival, and revenge, inspired by the notorious Kirkjuból witch trials of 17th-century Iceland.
In 1655, eighteen year old Þuríður Jónsdóttir, lives in the Westfjords, with her father and brother- seid-menn, sorcerers who worship the old gods and practice rune magic to bestow fear or favour. When their arrogance draws the attention of fanatical Lutheran pastor Jón Magnússon, who believes himself to be tormented by evil forces, the men are accused of witchcraft under the new laws of the Danish King and condemned to burn.
As a woman in Iceland, Þuríður is traditionally exempt from the accusations levelled against her family, but as Magnússon’s bedevilment continues even after her father and brother have burned, he turns his attention to the mute young woman, whose white hair, pale skin, and ice blue eyes have always made some of her neighbours uneasy.
Kemp does an excellent job of seamlessly combining historical detail and imagination in They Can’t Burn Us All. Exploring themes of faith, family, oppression, empowerment, and resilience, there’s no shortage of cruelty, injustice and grief in this story, but there are also instances of courage, compassion, and love.
I was intrigued to learn that unlike other countries, men were the targets of witch hunts in Iceland as women were historically not considered capable of performing sorcery due to a lack of education and ability. It’s interesting though that the men who were targeted were done so for many of the same reasons women were elsewhere- to control non-conformists, to curry favour, and to settle personal scores.
Þuríður is a sympathetic protagonist. She displays dignity, determination, and strength, despite being rendered mute following the trauma of losing her mother when she was eight, and enduring poor treatment by her father and brother in the aftermath. Þuríður’s lack of voice is a powerful element of the novel, and plays beautifully into her journey.
Magnússon’s campaign against Þuríður is not unexpectedly infuriating, as is the behaviour of those who betray her for their own fickle reasons. I was glad of the warmth and support amongst Þuríður’s closest friends, and heartened by the courage of the women who spoke up for her.
They Can’t Burn Us All progresses at a measured pace but it’s imbued by increasing tension that peaks during the last quarter of the novel. It was the last few lines of the epilogue that made me gasp with surprise though.
I appreciated Kemp’s inclusion of a glossary to aid in a smoother reading experience, though I still couldn’t figure out how Þuriður should sound so I entered it into Google translate to hear it spoken, and would recommend the same.
Beautifully written, with strong characterisation and vivid description, They Can’t Burn Us All is an immersive and memorable work of historical fiction.
They Can’t Burn Us All is a searing, atmospheric tale inspired by the true horrors of the Kirkjuból witch trials in 17th century Iceland. It’s more than history, it’s a living story about justice, about otherness, about judgement — and it was utterly spellbinding.
Immediately, this story captures the reader and pulls them back through time and across continents (well, if you’re not in 17th century Iceland when you read it, of course) with a vivid, descriptive style that not only sets the frigid, isolated scene but the historical tensions, the violence towards so-called witches and the deeply rooted bias and hatred within society.
Names and places use Icelandic spelling, and the book starts with a brief but informative guide as to how to pronounce them should you want to — personally, I’ll always love when a book stays true to itself and doesn’t over-anglicise itself for no good reason so I’m here for it.
Our main character, Þuríður, is a beautiful incarnation of feminine experience. She sits firmly on the line of female pride and rage, of celebrating the beauty of women and the wrath of women scorned. She starts quietly, her voice quietened by the world, but as the persecution begins and she begins to connect with the women around her, she becomes an absolute force to be reckoned with that had me under a spell. Þuríður takes most of the narration, occasionally jumping to other characters in the cast so we can see just how deep the roots are, and understand the darkness over the town.
The narration at times felt overly formal, with large sections that felt rather slow, or meandered on detail that while well-written, didn’t add to the story so pulled me out of the brilliant immersion that had been set up. Regardless of the pacing that won't be for everyone, this was still a beautiful historical piece that is absolutely worth the read.
I always start these reviews off by saying that I'm really not a huge historical fiction reader - but apart from the fact I've loved every one I've read - I will never turn down a book about witches.
I don't know what it is, but I'm totally fascinated by this topic and can't get enough of these books.
I spotted this cover and title and just knew that this was a book for me!
Now, having read quite a few that were set in Great Britain, I was really excited to see that this book takes us on a journey a little further north, to Westfjords, Iceland.
We're in the same era - around 1655 - still with the Protestant Reformation as a catalyst, but this time, it's not women being hunted, but men!
We follow, purídur (forgive that spelling and definitely the pronunciation in my head throughout - despite the initial note) and her family as pastor Jón sets his sights on both her father and brother and condemns them to be burnt at the stake - but when she tries to intervene, she becomes the first woman to be named a witch too.
This was a dark and fascinating read which had everything you'd expect from this genre, difficult to read in places, but so compelling that I was completely gripped from start to finish.
Split into four parts and with fairly short chapters, the pacing was perfect and although the chapters sometimes jumped dates and pov's, this was easy to navigate throughout.
The characters were well drawn and I loved our main characters energy and loyalty which really balances out the darker elements.
The setting was wonderful and the descriptions transported me right there into the story.
The atmosphere was set immediately and it was easy to become immersed and invested for the duration.
My first read by this author but definitely one I'd read again.
Cathryn Kemp’s They Can’t Burn Us All is, at its heart, a tale about women standing together. The loyalty and unwavering defiance the women show one another turns what could have been a bleak story into something genuinely uplifting and satisfying.
Set in the 1600s, the novel follows the European witch trials as they reach Iceland, and the devastating impact this has on the small community of Kirkjuból.
Our protagonist, Þuríður (pronounced Thoo-ri-thoor), is the only daughter of Jón Jónsson, a renowned sorcerer who finds himself in conflict with the local priest. Convinced that black magic is behind his failing health, the priest becomes hell-bent on punishing the entire family, and calls for the Witchfinder General.
Þuríður, who lost her ability to speak after the trauma of her mother’s death, works as the local midwife. When her father and brother are convicted of sorcery, suspicion turns to her too, driven by an obsession with women as witches that had crossed over from Scotland, something unheard of in Iceland until now. Her inability to defend herself in words made for a genuinely compelling read, one I couldn’t put down.
It’s a graphic and emotional story in places, but I found the ending wonderfully empowering and hopeful.
What really elevates the book, though, is the worldbuilding and research behind it. Inspired by real people and real events from the Icelandic witch trials, Kemp’s writing is beautiful and richly atmospheric. Þuríður’s visceral connection to her homeland feels utterly tangible, and speaks to a strength women have carried across centuries.
Thank you to @cathryn_kemp and @bantambooksuk for an advanced, gifted copy of You Can’t Burn Us All, available now.
Unable to speak since her mother’s traumatic death, Þuríður Jónsdóttir communicates with facial expressions and hand gestures. Those that take the time to understand her, see depth; those that see the surface feel threatened. One such person is the local pastor, Jón Magnússon who holds her father and brother responsible for cursing him as witch fever invades Iceland, the pastor’s persecution leads to them being burnt as witches. What is taken for witchcraft is actually tradition and old lore, so called white magic, used for good not evil. Brought up with this tradition, Þuríður Jónsdóttir helps women in childbirth, which in this newly febrile atmosphere leaves her open to accusations of witchcraft when a mother dies and the child lives. Þuríður Jónsdóttir is trapped in a twisted circle, where superstition and accusation are enough to change minds and point fingers; but with a deadly price to pay. This is an atmospheric read where the raw harshness of the Icelandic scenery is a character in its’ own right. I was left impressed by the sheer resilience required to survive in this isolated land of ice and biting winds, where fish is relied upon for everything from food to clothing (fish skin boots) and lighting (fish oil!) I did not know in Iceland, men were considered witches and up to a point, women considered above suspicion. This is a dark book of struggle, polarised belief, and injustice. However, the end is uplifting and one cant help but be left with the impression that if things were left up to women, the world would be a saner place. A stunning read, in every sense of the word, and not to be missed.
They Can't Burn Us All is a compulsively readable feminist retelling of Iceland's Kirkjuból witch trials. The story follows Þuríður Jónsdóttir, who has spent her whole childhood watching her father and brother conduct magic and pray to the old gods. In Iceland, it is believed women cannot be witches - only men of learning- so when Þuríður's father and brother are accused of witchcraft, she can do nothing to help them. But then Þuríður herself is accused; she knows she will do everything she can to fight back, but at what cost?
I always find historical retellings about witch trials really fascinating, and this one is no different. Beautifully told and richly researched, this story really came alive in Kemp's writing. I have read a number of books about witch trials in the UK, but I think this is my first about Iceland, so I was so fascinated that only men could be accused of witchcraft. This story really brings another perspective to the witch trials and showcases the horrifying reality of that time period.
This story is dark and haunting, but there is also a focus on the strength and resilience of the female characters. Þuríður is a really brilliant protagonist; she has spoken since the death of her mother, and I thought it was fascinating to see her able to convey so much without saying a word. The story is full of tension and unease, and while this is my first book from Cathryn Kemp, it absolutely won't be my last.
They Can't Burn Us All is a thought-provoking and atmospheric historical fiction retelling, and if you're a fan of books like The King's Witches by Kate Foster or The Witches of Vardo by Anya Bergman, this is one you will absolutely love.
I was immediately intrigued by the unique perspective on the Icelandic witch trials and found myself completely immersed in the story. Unlike many witch trial novels, this one highlights how educated men were initially accused of sorcery in Iceland before suspicion eventually shifted toward women. Þuríður was a fascinating protagonist, and I really appreciated how her trauma induced mutism reflected the lack of voice and power women had during this time. Her strength and resilience grew throughout the story, and I especially loved the way the women supported and stood up for one another. The Icelandic setting was beautifully atmospheric, with the harsh landscape, folklore, religious tensions, and historical details bringing the period vividly to life. It was clear how much research went into the story, and I enjoyed learning more about a part of history I knew very little about. Some sections felt a little slow for me, but the story gradually built tension and became much more gripping toward the end. The final chapters were especially powerful and gave the story an emotional and satisfying conclusion. Overall, this was a haunting, thought provoking, and beautifully written piece of historical fiction that stayed with me after I finished it. I would definitely recommend it to anyone who enjoys atmospheric historical fiction, witch trials, and stories centered on female resilience and solidarity! Thanks to Cathryn Kemp, Random House UK, Transworld Publishers and NetGalley for this ARC.
It is 1655. In Iceland, Þuríður Jónsdóttir comes from a long line of sorcerers. A line that is cruelly shortened when her brother and father are burned for practising magic. The priest and witchfinder soon turn their attention on Þuríður herself, only to learn that she is no ordinary woman.
𝕎𝕙𝕪 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤: 🔥 Female empowerment in a time of oppression ❄️ Immersive descriptions of 17th century Iceland 🔥 Based on true events ❄️ Historical fiction laced with magical realism 🔥 Resilience and solidarity amongst women ❄️ Haunting and atmospheric settings
𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤: There are plenty of historical novels that cover the witch hunts in Europe. Where this one stood apart was in the history of the hunts in Iceland: typically, men were tried as witches not women. The book started with the stance women can't be witches, and as that changed the author captured the shockwaves that rippled through the community as other women realised they were no longer safe. Another really interesting feature was telling the story in part through Þuríður, who was mute, and in part through those after her - the priest, his wife and the witch finder. The shifting perspectives gave a really rounded narrative, while Þuríður's muteness illustrated how little power women had - or were thought to have. I really enjoyed this. It stood apart from other books of the same genre, taught me something, and will stay with me.
Thanks to the publisher for sending this out in exchange for an impartial review
They Cant Burn Us All by Cathryn Kempis a haunting, atmospheric work of historical fiction that vividly reimagines the Kirkjuból witch trials in 17th-century Iceland.
What makes this a 4.5-star read is Kemp’s ability to flip the typical witch-hunt narrative on its head. In this setting, it is the educated men of learning who are targeted and burned, while the protagonist, Þuríður Jónsdóttir, finds herself fighting back against a tide of religious persecution.
What I Loved:Immersive Setting: The "land of ice and fire" is practically a character itself. You can feel the biting cold and the claustrophobic tension of a community caught between old rune magic and the strict new Protestant Reformation.Feminist Perspective: Þuríður is a compelling lead—resilient and defiant in a world determined to silence her. Watching her navigate the dangerous gaze of Pastor Jón Magnússon is incredibly tense.
Historical Detail: The research shines through, grounding the more mystical elements in a very real, terrifying historical reality.The Half-Star Deduction:The middle section occasionally slows down as it builds the political and religious backdrop. While essential for the world-building, it briefly dipped in pace before the high-stakes finale.
Overall, it’s a powerful story of resilience and shared strength. If you enjoyed the atmospheric dread of The Mercies or The Witches of Vardo, this is an absolute must-read.