If you’re already familiar with Pam Grossman's evocative writing through her essays and articles, her illuminated manifesto What Is A Witch, or perhaps even from her artful blog posts, then you are no stranger to the beat and the pulse of her words, and how they sing with a wonderful rhythm in your blood. The lyrical language with which she crafts her assorted observations and myriad musings have a profoundly poetic, incantatory quality that you can’t just passively read without also, in a heady, personal way, simultaneously experiencing. They’re a song, a chant, a spell; you feel them, and they move you. ” There is a line between witchcraft and wordsmithery,” she notes, and later references the poem “Spelling”, by Margaret Atwood: “A word after a word after a word is power–” and I believe there is no more powerful word on contemporary witchcraft that those that Pam shares within Waking The Witch.
Early in, I’m struck by her words of inclusivity. It makes me a little sad to note that sometimes (it seems to me, at least) our various alt-communities can seem anything but inclusive. Do you ever notice that the weirdos, the strangelings, the outcasts, and outsiders–those friends and familiars on the fringe–can sometimes be the most vicious gatekeepers? I love how Pam makes her opinion clear that whether your interest is heartfelt or cheeky, budding or established, your beliefs and practices public or private—the witch is an elastic archetype accessible to all, and we might call ourselves witch for manifold reasons.
The word “witch”, she further elucidates, represents “a means of identifying how I carry myself through the world and the kind of energetic current that I wish to be a conduit for.”
“At any given time I am a feminist; someone who celebrates freedom and will fight against injustice using every tool at her disposal; a person who values intuition and self-expression; a kindred spirit with those who favor the unconventional, the uncanny, the underground. I am a woman who dares speak her mind and display the full gamut of human emotion–behavior that is still met by society with judgement or disdain.”
From the current state of my copy of Waking The Witch, you’d think it had undergone the fabled test of the 7 Wonders and come out the other side scrappier, scarred, and deeply changed for the experience. Never have I underlined with such feverish intensity, dog-eared with so much unreserved enthusiasm, and highlighted with cackling, demented glee. Contained within these pages was a fascinating exploration brimming with nuanced insights of witches in history, politics, cinema, literature, and the arts–and which will surely remain a perpetual font of inspiration and sagacity that I will no doubt revisit again and again. I didn’t want to forget a single word. (And trust me, this book has been forever marked in such a way to ensure that I will not!)
From chapters encompassing the awkward, rebellious magic of the Teen Witch, to the old-timey Girls Gone Wild idea that witches were thought to be horned-up, power-hungry consorts of Satan, all kissing his butthole and eating dead baby parts and whatnot; the cruel brutality of witch hunts which arose from that foolishness, to how those collective perceptions and experiences shaped the notion of witches and witchcraft over time–when I initially remarked that I devoured this book, that was no exaggeration. Waking The Witch serves up a boundless buffet of brilliance and I greedily consumed every course.