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Σε αυτό το τόσο ιδιόμορφο μυθιστόρημα, σε πρώτο επίπεδο έχουμε να κάνουμε με την πιο πεζή καθημερινότητα: συνηθισμένες ζωές, συνηθισμένοι άνθρωποι, η μικροαστική, πληκτική ρουτίνα. Και, σε δεύτερο επίπεδο, έχουμε ένα φαντασιακό και ονειρικό αφήγημα όπου οι γυναίκες κλαίνε με αιμάτινα δάκρυα, όπου τα παιδιά γίνονται κουρούνες και πετούν μακριά, όπου οι γυναίκες μεταμορφώνουν τον επιπόλαιο άντρα τους σε σαλιγκάρι.
177 pages
First published January 1, 1996
About the author
Marie NDiaye
62 books514 followersMarie NDiaye was born in Pithiviers, France, in 1967; spent her childhood with her French mother (her father was Senegalese); and studied linguistics at the Sorbonne. She started writing when she was twelve or thirteen years old and was only eighteen when her first work was published. In 2001 she was awarded the prestigious Prix Femina literary prize for her novel Rosie Carpe, and in 2009, she won the Prix Goncourt for Three Strong Women.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 730 reviews
May 29, 2026
Shortlisted for the International Booker Prize 2026 Book 6/6
Book 8/13 of the Longlist
Novel translated from French by Jordan Stump and audiobook narrated by Virginia Grainger
What can I say? I am a sucker for a well written odd book, even if it makes no sense.
First time I saw that the novel was shortlisted, I said that I will only try it if it wins. I DNF-ed Three Strong Women, which is the author’s most famous novel. I had no hope I would like this one instead, especially since it had an extremely low rating for Goodreads, just under 3. Last week I saw my friend Vlad giving it 4* and I decided to give the audiobook a go.
After 10 minutes of listening, I thought, it’s not terrible. After 1 hour I was hooked. I whole heartedly enjoyed this strange little story about an average witch and her talented daughters. A story about odd family relationships, freedom, motherhood and social norms. Or maybe about none of it. As another reviewer wrote, it is a novel about vibes. So, you either vibe with it, or you don’t. There is no resolution, many plot points go nowhere, some make no sense. None withstanding, I really liked it. 4*.
Book 8/13 of the Longlist
Novel translated from French by Jordan Stump and audiobook narrated by Virginia Grainger
What can I say? I am a sucker for a well written odd book, even if it makes no sense.
First time I saw that the novel was shortlisted, I said that I will only try it if it wins. I DNF-ed Three Strong Women, which is the author’s most famous novel. I had no hope I would like this one instead, especially since it had an extremely low rating for Goodreads, just under 3. Last week I saw my friend Vlad giving it 4* and I decided to give the audiobook a go.
After 10 minutes of listening, I thought, it’s not terrible. After 1 hour I was hooked. I whole heartedly enjoyed this strange little story about an average witch and her talented daughters. A story about odd family relationships, freedom, motherhood and social norms. Or maybe about none of it. As another reviewer wrote, it is a novel about vibes. So, you either vibe with it, or you don’t. There is no resolution, many plot points go nowhere, some make no sense. None withstanding, I really liked it. 4*.
April 24, 2026
Shortlisted for the International Booker Prize 2026
This short novel starts with an interesting set up: An average housewife has two children, her marriage is not particularly happy (her parents also have a marital crisis), nothing much happens in her life - except that she's, you know: A witch. NDiaye works with the opposition of the normal, the average, with the supernatural. But even the supernatural layer of the world is not fair: For some reason, the magical powers of the two daughters are much stronger than the abilities of their mother.
This is an opaque, fable-like story with dreamlike sequences, meditating on family dynamics and motherhood and feminism and privilege, and it's all so elusive that I couldn't bring myself to care about any of the characters or the themes. I also find it somewhat tragic that a novel gets nominated for an international prize honoring translated literature 30 years after its initial publication while the world is raging with war and hate - sure, there are good arguments for timeless literature, and books don't have to serve a concrete purpose, but while reading this I couldn't keep myself from wondering whether this is really the type of tale I should care about in the year 2026, whether this is what people who hardly pick up translations should read because the International Booker highlights it.
I don't think so.
This short novel starts with an interesting set up: An average housewife has two children, her marriage is not particularly happy (her parents also have a marital crisis), nothing much happens in her life - except that she's, you know: A witch. NDiaye works with the opposition of the normal, the average, with the supernatural. But even the supernatural layer of the world is not fair: For some reason, the magical powers of the two daughters are much stronger than the abilities of their mother.
This is an opaque, fable-like story with dreamlike sequences, meditating on family dynamics and motherhood and feminism and privilege, and it's all so elusive that I couldn't bring myself to care about any of the characters or the themes. I also find it somewhat tragic that a novel gets nominated for an international prize honoring translated literature 30 years after its initial publication while the world is raging with war and hate - sure, there are good arguments for timeless literature, and books don't have to serve a concrete purpose, but while reading this I couldn't keep myself from wondering whether this is really the type of tale I should care about in the year 2026, whether this is what people who hardly pick up translations should read because the International Booker highlights it.
I don't think so.
May 19, 2026
The Witch is a beautifully written novella which explores motherhood, freedom from family, and familiar ties. There are several relationships explored, and how the separation of parents impacts their children, regardless of age. Many characters are unsettled and dissatisfied with where they are in life. The novella explores the impact and consequences of the decisions made by the characters as they try to escape and redefine their lives.
The lines blur between what is real and what is an illusion. There were several scenes that were open to interpretation. One scene reminded me of The Garden of Abdul Gasazi , one of my favorite picture books by Chris Van Allsburg. I was hoping for a bit more and felt the novella had a rather quick, open ended conclusion. Overall, glad I read The Witch and will read the author’s other works.
The lines blur between what is real and what is an illusion. There were several scenes that were open to interpretation. One scene reminded me of The Garden of Abdul Gasazi , one of my favorite picture books by Chris Van Allsburg. I was hoping for a bit more and felt the novella had a rather quick, open ended conclusion. Overall, glad I read The Witch and will read the author’s other works.
June 10, 2026
5 "oblique, evasive, sharp" stars !!!
Ms. NDiaye is one of my most favorite authors and this is my fourth novel by her. All of them including this one garner an amazing five stars !!
Three Strong Women 2016 Silver Award Winner (published in 2009)
My Heart Hemmed In 2019 Silver Award Winner (published in 2007)
Self-Portrait in Green 2024 Fifth Favorite Read (published in 2005)
This book was recently translated into English (from the French) and made the shortlist for the Booker Prize (neither here nor there as far as I am concerned) but was originally published in 1996.
Ms. NDiaye is able to create in a very short novel something that few authors are able to do with any skill or authenticity. In this novel she surgically makes observations on the state of womanhood in France of the 1990s. She does this with immense clarity, astuteness and unsentimentally. We see the foibles, the vulnerabilities, the pettiness, the constraints, and the evils of the female gender. Not with judgement but not with compassion either. Simply is ! Simply is ! The menfolk do not care to understand nor empathize but are reactive in ego driven and childish ways ignoring moods, simmering hostilities and intuitive nuances. Women at war with themselves, their men and each other....
In this early novel Ms. NDiaye achieves this through surreal absurdities, dark yet poignant humor, supernatural explorations of the feminine and this combines to create a suburban feminist psychological horror of the highest caliber.
Ms. NDiaye you certainly are a sorceress and I fuckin adore what you write ! Gimme more, gimme more.....
Ms. NDiaye is one of my most favorite authors and this is my fourth novel by her. All of them including this one garner an amazing five stars !!
Three Strong Women 2016 Silver Award Winner (published in 2009)
My Heart Hemmed In 2019 Silver Award Winner (published in 2007)
Self-Portrait in Green 2024 Fifth Favorite Read (published in 2005)
This book was recently translated into English (from the French) and made the shortlist for the Booker Prize (neither here nor there as far as I am concerned) but was originally published in 1996.
Ms. NDiaye is able to create in a very short novel something that few authors are able to do with any skill or authenticity. In this novel she surgically makes observations on the state of womanhood in France of the 1990s. She does this with immense clarity, astuteness and unsentimentally. We see the foibles, the vulnerabilities, the pettiness, the constraints, and the evils of the female gender. Not with judgement but not with compassion either. Simply is ! Simply is ! The menfolk do not care to understand nor empathize but are reactive in ego driven and childish ways ignoring moods, simmering hostilities and intuitive nuances. Women at war with themselves, their men and each other....
In this early novel Ms. NDiaye achieves this through surreal absurdities, dark yet poignant humor, supernatural explorations of the feminine and this combines to create a suburban feminist psychological horror of the highest caliber.
Ms. NDiaye you certainly are a sorceress and I fuckin adore what you write ! Gimme more, gimme more.....
April 24, 2026
This one was a little disappointing. I liked the idea of magic as a symbol for female potential that is deliberately underused, and the way women keep themselves small to the point of self-erasure in order to be loved. Yet in reality I felt nothing reading this book. Maybe I just didn’t get it but it felt weird just for the sake of being weird and I missed a deeper layer
April 11, 2026
I went into The Witch by Marie NDiaye expecting something sharp—an eerie, layered look at motherhood, inheritance, and power passed from one generation to the next.
That’s not what this is.
The premise is there: a mother, Lucie, meant to pass on witchcraft to her daughters—who are supposedly even more powerful. But the “witchcraft” barely shows up in any meaningful way. Instead, the story stays grounded in the mundane: a failing marriage, emotional distance, unresolved family ties. And that could’ve worked… if it actually went somewhere.
It doesn’t.
Lucie feels detached from everything—her daughters, her husband, even the more surreal moments unfolding around her. And that emotional flatness carries through the entire book. The daughters, Maud and Lise, feel underdeveloped. Their indifference never fully makes sense. Same with Pierrot’s hostility, Lucie’s passive acceptance of his disappearance, and Isabelle’s strange presence in the background. Nothing quite clicks.
There are flashes of something unsettling—something strange and promising—but they pass too quickly, like the book refuses to lean into its own idea.
What frustrated me most is that this should have been about inherited power—how it grows, mutates, maybe even becomes dangerous over time. Instead, it all lands in places that feel oddly small and uneventful.
The tone feels undecided. Is it eerie? Satirical? Emotional? It never commits.
End result: a story with a strong concept that never fully forms. It just drifts.
A disappointment—because there was something here worth exploring. It just never got there.
That’s not what this is.
The premise is there: a mother, Lucie, meant to pass on witchcraft to her daughters—who are supposedly even more powerful. But the “witchcraft” barely shows up in any meaningful way. Instead, the story stays grounded in the mundane: a failing marriage, emotional distance, unresolved family ties. And that could’ve worked… if it actually went somewhere.
It doesn’t.
Lucie feels detached from everything—her daughters, her husband, even the more surreal moments unfolding around her. And that emotional flatness carries through the entire book. The daughters, Maud and Lise, feel underdeveloped. Their indifference never fully makes sense. Same with Pierrot’s hostility, Lucie’s passive acceptance of his disappearance, and Isabelle’s strange presence in the background. Nothing quite clicks.
There are flashes of something unsettling—something strange and promising—but they pass too quickly, like the book refuses to lean into its own idea.
What frustrated me most is that this should have been about inherited power—how it grows, mutates, maybe even becomes dangerous over time. Instead, it all lands in places that feel oddly small and uneventful.
The tone feels undecided. Is it eerie? Satirical? Emotional? It never commits.
End result: a story with a strong concept that never fully forms. It just drifts.
A disappointment—because there was something here worth exploring. It just never got there.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Shortlisted for the 2026 International Booker Prize
I found myself wordlessly pleading with my daughters not to abandon me, but their elusive, morose stares showed me they’d already gone off to a place where, with the slim resources of my labored talent, I could never go.
The Witch (2026) is Jordan Stump's translation of Marie NDiaye's La Sorcière (1996).
This is the 7th novel by Ndiaye which I've read, all in Stump's translation (see below), a wonderful author who I discovered via their first longlisting for the International Booker in 2016.
The novel is narrated by Lucie and opens with her initiating her two pubsecent 12yo twin daughters into a particular matrilineal gift of divination:
They learned quickly, both at the same speed. After eleven months the first tears of blood dripped down their cheeks on the same day, and— as I loudly enthused to conceal my emotion at this immutable proof that Maud and Lise had gained the power to see the future and the past, the latest in a whole parade of variously talented ancestresses, the oldest and perhaps the most gifted to date being my own mother— my daughters, as if already bored with it, calmly wiped their cheeks with a tissue and sighed in gladness that they’d finally come to the end of the lessons.
“No offense, Mama, but really, it’s all just so lame,” said Maud, and that was their only comment upon joining the ageless procession of occult- powered women.
But while Lucie's powers are rather feeble, allowing her to see "trivalities, nothing more", her daughters, already ruthlessly efficient in most aspects of their lives, quickly surpass her.
Meanwhile her husband, who sells timeshares across the world at a luxurious garden-club is clearly increasingly unhappy with their marriage, rather over-infatuated with one of his customers who comes to visit after he's left his own wife - this an example of the wonderfully constructed sentences that are a feature of the prose:
All through the subsequent dinner, as I realized ever more clearly that there was nothing about this man that wasn’t perfectly ordinary, and that Pierrot must meet busloads of pleasant, mannerly little men just like him at the Garden- Club, Monsieur Matin went on inspiring in my husband, and then even in Maud and Lise, such an excited, respectful curiosity that I soon understood it was leaving his wife and his child that had made Monsieur Matin a hero for my husband, who would otherwise never have looked twice at anyone so mundane.
The story, despite its commendable brevity, also features one of Lucie's neighbours, Isabelle (both ambitious for, and contemptuous of, her son); Pierrot's mother and Lucie's teenage sister-in-law; and Lucie's own parents - her mother whose powers are much stronger than hers, and her father, her parents having split up after many years of marriage.
Towards the novel's end and abandoned by her husband and her daughters, who have literally taken flight, Lucie ends up working in an academy created by Isabelle, although oddly one where she realises 'I make a better professional fake than a real witch'. Another excuse for me to showcase two sublime sentences:
Cutting each other off, desperate to be heard, dismissively mocking the others’ tales, the teachers whispered loudly as they stretched their tendinous necks over the table, holding out their long, skinny faces on which foundation made greasy beige masks that contrasted with the pallor of their napes, and in furious, hard, frantic voices recounted their harrowing poverty, fortunately behind them for now, their relentless, violent husbands gone off who knows where (and good riddance), their children in foster homes, whom they haven’t heard from, whom they nebulously vowed to take back some day, whom they’d given extraordinary, recherché names reminiscent, I thought, of the names people give puppies or kittens. And while this exchange of frantic monologues was going on at the teachers’ table, the students, on the other side of the dining hall, were calmly discussing the lessons dispensed by those same hard- luck teachers (Technique of Fervent Meditation, Therapy by Subliminal Herbs, Astral Voyages Without Turbulence, Climbing the Silver Thread), all the while voraciously downing their steamed vegetables and various grains, which seemed to do wonders for them, to contribute to the beautiful pinkness of their very taut skin, the luxuriant health of their negligently coiffed hair, while the teachers seemed more shrunken and hollowed with every mouthful, choking it down with no attempt to hide their repugnance, missing only one thing from their past, they said, meat, of which many dreamt at night and admitted that its absence was torture.
The Witch had, for me, a more playful tone that some of Ndiaye's work, almost Anne Serre style. But underneath the humour of the text, there are various serious themes at work, including that of marginality; social and familial relationships, including between genders; economic equality and inheritance; and, hinted at but not explicit, Lucie's ethnicity.
Thanks to the publisher via Netgalley for the ARC
Interesting English language take on the original novel: here
Bibliography of works I've read
I also include others works in English translation which I've not got to in italics, all translated by Stump unless otherwise shown.
En famille (1991) / Among Family by Heather Doyal (1997)
Un temps de saison (1994) / That Time of Year (2020): my review
La Sorcière (1996) / The Witch (2026): my review
Rosie Carpe (2001) / Rosie Carpe by Tamsin Black (2004)
Tous mes amis, nouvelles (2004) / All My Friends (2013)
Autoportrait en vert (2005) / Self Portrait in Green (2021): my review
Mon cœur a l'etroit (2007) / My Heart Hemmed In (2009): my review
Trois femmes puissantes (2009) / Three Strong Women by John Fletcher (2013) [non-fiction]
Ladivine (2013) / Ladivine (2016): my review
La Cheffe, roman d'une cuisinière (2016) / The Cheffe (2019): my review
La vengeance m’appartient (2022) / Vengeance Is Mine (2023): my review
Booker judges' citation
‘Lucie, a long-suffering housewife, inducts her daughters into a secret practice passed down by the women in her family: witchcraft. As the two girls begin to explore their new powers, Lucie’s husband disappears, upsetting the balance of their stifling, suburban life. The language in this novel – and in Jordan Stump’s translation – is exquisite: sentences twist and transform in unexpected ways. Each character is observed with icy precision. Through Lucie’s daughters – with their nonchalant acceptance of the immense power they’re beginning to wield – the nuances of motherhood are brought into sharp focus. The Witch is pure magic.’
I found myself wordlessly pleading with my daughters not to abandon me, but their elusive, morose stares showed me they’d already gone off to a place where, with the slim resources of my labored talent, I could never go.
The Witch (2026) is Jordan Stump's translation of Marie NDiaye's La Sorcière (1996).
This is the 7th novel by Ndiaye which I've read, all in Stump's translation (see below), a wonderful author who I discovered via their first longlisting for the International Booker in 2016.
The novel is narrated by Lucie and opens with her initiating her two pubsecent 12yo twin daughters into a particular matrilineal gift of divination:
They learned quickly, both at the same speed. After eleven months the first tears of blood dripped down their cheeks on the same day, and— as I loudly enthused to conceal my emotion at this immutable proof that Maud and Lise had gained the power to see the future and the past, the latest in a whole parade of variously talented ancestresses, the oldest and perhaps the most gifted to date being my own mother— my daughters, as if already bored with it, calmly wiped their cheeks with a tissue and sighed in gladness that they’d finally come to the end of the lessons.
“No offense, Mama, but really, it’s all just so lame,” said Maud, and that was their only comment upon joining the ageless procession of occult- powered women.
But while Lucie's powers are rather feeble, allowing her to see "trivalities, nothing more", her daughters, already ruthlessly efficient in most aspects of their lives, quickly surpass her.
Meanwhile her husband, who sells timeshares across the world at a luxurious garden-club is clearly increasingly unhappy with their marriage, rather over-infatuated with one of his customers who comes to visit after he's left his own wife - this an example of the wonderfully constructed sentences that are a feature of the prose:
All through the subsequent dinner, as I realized ever more clearly that there was nothing about this man that wasn’t perfectly ordinary, and that Pierrot must meet busloads of pleasant, mannerly little men just like him at the Garden- Club, Monsieur Matin went on inspiring in my husband, and then even in Maud and Lise, such an excited, respectful curiosity that I soon understood it was leaving his wife and his child that had made Monsieur Matin a hero for my husband, who would otherwise never have looked twice at anyone so mundane.
The story, despite its commendable brevity, also features one of Lucie's neighbours, Isabelle (both ambitious for, and contemptuous of, her son); Pierrot's mother and Lucie's teenage sister-in-law; and Lucie's own parents - her mother whose powers are much stronger than hers, and her father, her parents having split up after many years of marriage.
Towards the novel's end and abandoned by her husband and her daughters, who have literally taken flight, Lucie ends up working in an academy created by Isabelle, although oddly one where she realises 'I make a better professional fake than a real witch'. Another excuse for me to showcase two sublime sentences:
Cutting each other off, desperate to be heard, dismissively mocking the others’ tales, the teachers whispered loudly as they stretched their tendinous necks over the table, holding out their long, skinny faces on which foundation made greasy beige masks that contrasted with the pallor of their napes, and in furious, hard, frantic voices recounted their harrowing poverty, fortunately behind them for now, their relentless, violent husbands gone off who knows where (and good riddance), their children in foster homes, whom they haven’t heard from, whom they nebulously vowed to take back some day, whom they’d given extraordinary, recherché names reminiscent, I thought, of the names people give puppies or kittens. And while this exchange of frantic monologues was going on at the teachers’ table, the students, on the other side of the dining hall, were calmly discussing the lessons dispensed by those same hard- luck teachers (Technique of Fervent Meditation, Therapy by Subliminal Herbs, Astral Voyages Without Turbulence, Climbing the Silver Thread), all the while voraciously downing their steamed vegetables and various grains, which seemed to do wonders for them, to contribute to the beautiful pinkness of their very taut skin, the luxuriant health of their negligently coiffed hair, while the teachers seemed more shrunken and hollowed with every mouthful, choking it down with no attempt to hide their repugnance, missing only one thing from their past, they said, meat, of which many dreamt at night and admitted that its absence was torture.
The Witch had, for me, a more playful tone that some of Ndiaye's work, almost Anne Serre style. But underneath the humour of the text, there are various serious themes at work, including that of marginality; social and familial relationships, including between genders; economic equality and inheritance; and, hinted at but not explicit, Lucie's ethnicity.
Thanks to the publisher via Netgalley for the ARC
Interesting English language take on the original novel: here
Bibliography of works I've read
I also include others works in English translation which I've not got to in italics, all translated by Stump unless otherwise shown.
En famille (1991) / Among Family by Heather Doyal (1997)
Un temps de saison (1994) / That Time of Year (2020): my review
La Sorcière (1996) / The Witch (2026): my review
Rosie Carpe (2001) / Rosie Carpe by Tamsin Black (2004)
Tous mes amis, nouvelles (2004) / All My Friends (2013)
Autoportrait en vert (2005) / Self Portrait in Green (2021): my review
Mon cœur a l'etroit (2007) / My Heart Hemmed In (2009): my review
Trois femmes puissantes (2009) / Three Strong Women by John Fletcher (2013) [non-fiction]
Ladivine (2013) / Ladivine (2016): my review
La Cheffe, roman d'une cuisinière (2016) / The Cheffe (2019): my review
La vengeance m’appartient (2022) / Vengeance Is Mine (2023): my review
Booker judges' citation
‘Lucie, a long-suffering housewife, inducts her daughters into a secret practice passed down by the women in her family: witchcraft. As the two girls begin to explore their new powers, Lucie’s husband disappears, upsetting the balance of their stifling, suburban life. The language in this novel – and in Jordan Stump’s translation – is exquisite: sentences twist and transform in unexpected ways. Each character is observed with icy precision. Through Lucie’s daughters – with their nonchalant acceptance of the immense power they’re beginning to wield – the nuances of motherhood are brought into sharp focus. The Witch is pure magic.’
April 14, 2026
I feel like I read an entirely different novel from the one the blurb suggests. The witch storyline never quite commits to the uncanny, either literal or symbolic, but rather is subdued by an emotionally opaque exploration of interiority and womanhood. It doesn’t do anything interesting with its characters either. Also, nothing bores me in fiction more than the constant mention of money.
Read
March 1, 2026Lucie is a wife, a mother of twins, and a witch, albeit a mediocre one. Her skills are limited to vague images of present events that leave her with lightly blood-stained tears. But when her daughters come of age she initiates them into these mysterious powers and finds that they are quite strong in their perception, crying real tears of blood. When the girls begin to test the limits of their powers and fly the coop, Lucie reckons with the life she is left with: a mortgage, a loveless marriage, and a mission to reunite her own separated parents.
Told in long and winding, lyrically written sentences, NDiaye’s prose (and Stump’s excellent translation) creates a dreamy almost surreal atmosphere. While a majority of the story is very grounded in reality, the obvious fantastical elements woven into everyday life create an aura of mysticism and confusion that mirrors Lucie’s own experiences. In some ways it reminded me of the sort of nightmarish plottiness of Ishiguro’s novel, The Unconsoled, where events quickly unravel into the next thing and Lucie is whisked along for the ride.
However, ultimately, despite being beautifully written and offering interesting themes of motherhood, marriage, and the role that power dynamics play in both of those arenas, the story itself felt a bit underwhelming by the end. The book is quite short (only about 144 pages) and divided in 2 parts. I really enjoyed the set-up in part 1, and while I was engaged in part 2 it felt like things happened too quickly and then the ending left me wanting more.
I would definitely check out more of NDiaye’s work because I loved her prose, and perhaps reading this a second time would reveal even more layers under the surface, but overall I just liked, but didn’t love, this one.
Told in long and winding, lyrically written sentences, NDiaye’s prose (and Stump’s excellent translation) creates a dreamy almost surreal atmosphere. While a majority of the story is very grounded in reality, the obvious fantastical elements woven into everyday life create an aura of mysticism and confusion that mirrors Lucie’s own experiences. In some ways it reminded me of the sort of nightmarish plottiness of Ishiguro’s novel, The Unconsoled, where events quickly unravel into the next thing and Lucie is whisked along for the ride.
However, ultimately, despite being beautifully written and offering interesting themes of motherhood, marriage, and the role that power dynamics play in both of those arenas, the story itself felt a bit underwhelming by the end. The book is quite short (only about 144 pages) and divided in 2 parts. I really enjoyed the set-up in part 1, and while I was engaged in part 2 it felt like things happened too quickly and then the ending left me wanting more.
I would definitely check out more of NDiaye’s work because I loved her prose, and perhaps reading this a second time would reveal even more layers under the surface, but overall I just liked, but didn’t love, this one.
April 11, 2026
I guess the message is, don’t be mediocre, especially if you are a witch. But can life be something else when you choose tradition?
April 17, 2026
I really enjoyed this story and the voice of the main character was incredibly compelling. It just ended a bit too quickly and abruptly for me and I would have liked to discover a bit more about the characters and the daughters because I was enjoying it so much. I also loved how the reader calls into the question the very validity of what's happening and the main character's magic - this is a magical realism novel where the magic is all alluded to and passed down through the sheer belief that they are witches rather than any outright magic being used. It was quite a powerful metaphor for the bonds between women in a family. I really would recommend this novel as it certainly drew me in quickly and I loved reading it.
February 25, 2026
Lucie is in a lackluster marriage and though she’s technically a witch, her powers are nothing to write home about. She can occasionally muster a glimpse into a present scene taking place elsewhere, but what’s there to see beyond the arrival of her salesman husband who will surely resent the fact that dinner is not ready? After initiating her two daughters into the powers handed down through their maternal line, Lucie finds herself left behind. Her daughters flee the nest, her husband finds himself a new family, and even her pesky neighbor leaves town for good. What’s a witch to do?
There’s a dreamlike haze to the story, with one foot set firmly in reality and the other in a world where daughters turn into crows and fathers into snails. Despite the uncanny magic that Ndiaye weaves through the story, it’s really a story of the mundane, of familial relationships, of mothers and daughters and weak and spineless men. The fantastical elements function more as a symbolic device to expose the small devastations plaguing an ordinary life: isolation, powerlessness, and domestic strife.
Ndiaye’s prose is engrossing, so verbose, but in the best way possible. Adjectives and adverbs accumulate in sentences that go on and on but retain their clarity. It’s a style I could get lost in for hours.
I'm thrilled to see that this was recognized on the 2026 IB longlist!
There’s a dreamlike haze to the story, with one foot set firmly in reality and the other in a world where daughters turn into crows and fathers into snails. Despite the uncanny magic that Ndiaye weaves through the story, it’s really a story of the mundane, of familial relationships, of mothers and daughters and weak and spineless men. The fantastical elements function more as a symbolic device to expose the small devastations plaguing an ordinary life: isolation, powerlessness, and domestic strife.
Ndiaye’s prose is engrossing, so verbose, but in the best way possible. Adjectives and adverbs accumulate in sentences that go on and on but retain their clarity. It’s a style I could get lost in for hours.
I'm thrilled to see that this was recognized on the 2026 IB longlist!
April 27, 2026
This is a powerful and lovely novel in many ways. Although it's only 130 pages, a lot of the pages are so dense with insights and descriptions that they must be read slowly.
Don't be fooled by the title, and don't expect Stephen King or Alice Hoffman. There's very little witchcraft in this book. Indeed, the narrator Lucie's main magical ability lies in crying tears of blood. (She admits she's a weak witch.) Her mother and her 12-year-old twin daughters are more powerful, but their craft is rarely displayed.
All that is fine with me; I prefer realism. But does that make the title misleading?
Well, it depends on how you define "witchcraft."
Is there a witchcraft to being a good mother?
The novel's intensity and power -- in language translated from French by Jordan Stump-- come from Lucie's feelings about her daughters, Maud and Lise. She outright expresses and agonizes over emotions that so many mothers don't dare admit: love for her daughters' exquisite beauty, pride yet also envy toward their superior ability, terror that they may fly the maternal nest. For most children, that's a metaphor; here, the fear is literal, because the two girls love taking the form of crows.
The book's main weakness, in my opinion, is its attempt at a standard narrative, which I found much more confusing than the bits of witchcraft. Lucie's husband, Pierrot -- a salesman of overpriced vacation packages-- doesn't want to know about her witchcraft. Lucie wants to reunite her estranged parents. There's a creepy neighbor, and an anecdote with a colleague of Pierrot's that dribbles to nothing. And the ending? Well, nothing spellbinding about it.
Don't be fooled by the title, and don't expect Stephen King or Alice Hoffman. There's very little witchcraft in this book. Indeed, the narrator Lucie's main magical ability lies in crying tears of blood. (She admits she's a weak witch.) Her mother and her 12-year-old twin daughters are more powerful, but their craft is rarely displayed.
All that is fine with me; I prefer realism. But does that make the title misleading?
Well, it depends on how you define "witchcraft."
Is there a witchcraft to being a good mother?
The novel's intensity and power -- in language translated from French by Jordan Stump-- come from Lucie's feelings about her daughters, Maud and Lise. She outright expresses and agonizes over emotions that so many mothers don't dare admit: love for her daughters' exquisite beauty, pride yet also envy toward their superior ability, terror that they may fly the maternal nest. For most children, that's a metaphor; here, the fear is literal, because the two girls love taking the form of crows.
The book's main weakness, in my opinion, is its attempt at a standard narrative, which I found much more confusing than the bits of witchcraft. Lucie's husband, Pierrot -- a salesman of overpriced vacation packages-- doesn't want to know about her witchcraft. Lucie wants to reunite her estranged parents. There's a creepy neighbor, and an anecdote with a colleague of Pierrot's that dribbles to nothing. And the ending? Well, nothing spellbinding about it.
April 10, 2026
Don’t bother.
May 12, 2026
Witches in literature are classically described as either powerful human beings or as women oppressed by narrow minded men. In “The Witch” by Marie NDiaye, this image is reinvented, as the protagonist is a mediocre witch whose main trouble is motherhood and her deeply ordinary life. The novel is set in a small town in France and follows Lucie, a schoolteacher and mother of a pair of twins, that unlike powerful and glamorous witches, she has weak and inconsistent magical abilities. Her life feels ordinary and her relationships uninteresting. As time passes, Lucie’s troubled marriage deteriorates, her relationship with her parents becomes strained, while her daughters develop strong powers that make her feel alone and disconnected. The result is a stressed woman that feels inadequate in every role she is playing. The premise of the story is really interesting and because of that the book feels (at least at the beginning) fresh and original. The writing is subtle and uncanny. Blurring reality with absurdity by transforming the classical image of a witch into something deeply human is one of the strongest aspects of the novel. Still, the plot felt uninspired and the ending rushed making reading the book as a whole a flat experience.
This is a book about witchcraft and witches. Mysterious and secret powers. Divination, visions and the power to know human behaviour. A story about female identity and motherhood. Occult powered women, bad relationships and cruel marriages. The pressures placed in women through family and society. About the absurdity of everyday life and mundane domestic routines. The fragility of one’s reality. It is also a book about inheritance and transformation. What we pass to our own children through genes and education. About talented daughters and untalented mothers. The way we raise our children and the wish to change the way our children are. A story about belonging or not belonging. Not having someone to care about you. Mostly though, this is a book about loneliness and disconnection. Emotional distance and social estrangement that become unbearable. Exhaustion and vulnerability. About powerlessness and ineffectiveness. The struggle to fulfil expectations while also trying to maintain a sense of one self.
Why should you read “The Witch”?
Because you will realise that motherhood is not for everyone, and some women can feel suffocated by it.
Because you will acknowledge how useful it would be to read people’s souls.
Because you will wonder whether you would like to see your people’s future.
Because you will think of the obstacles that prevent you from being your best self.
Because you will reflect on what it means to belong, to be seen and to exist within systems and societies that demand conformity.
Favorite quotes:
-
This is a book about witchcraft and witches. Mysterious and secret powers. Divination, visions and the power to know human behaviour. A story about female identity and motherhood. Occult powered women, bad relationships and cruel marriages. The pressures placed in women through family and society. About the absurdity of everyday life and mundane domestic routines. The fragility of one’s reality. It is also a book about inheritance and transformation. What we pass to our own children through genes and education. About talented daughters and untalented mothers. The way we raise our children and the wish to change the way our children are. A story about belonging or not belonging. Not having someone to care about you. Mostly though, this is a book about loneliness and disconnection. Emotional distance and social estrangement that become unbearable. Exhaustion and vulnerability. About powerlessness and ineffectiveness. The struggle to fulfil expectations while also trying to maintain a sense of one self.
Why should you read “The Witch”?
Because you will realise that motherhood is not for everyone, and some women can feel suffocated by it.
Because you will acknowledge how useful it would be to read people’s souls.
Because you will wonder whether you would like to see your people’s future.
Because you will think of the obstacles that prevent you from being your best self.
Because you will reflect on what it means to belong, to be seen and to exist within systems and societies that demand conformity.
Favorite quotes:
-
May 27, 2026
The Witch by Marie Ndiaye
“Just barely a shadow but a shadow that gets in the way. . .”
I’m still stuck in this fever dream.
The Witch feels like both nothing I’ve ever read and exactly everything I needed at the moment I read it.
Maybe I was searching for space-for a story that could loosen my understanding of narration and possibility. Something larger than the familiar architectures of storytelling. Something I could fall into like a dream and co-tell the story with the author. I can’t believe a novel conceived over 30 years ago managed to do exactly that for me. While reading it, I constantly felt the urge to either pick up a pen or run wildly into an open field.
Even when we have power, in what ways are we still powerless? What is truly within our control? What can we change-and what should we change?
Ndiaye uses power to explore the limits of human agency and the role obsession plays in eroding it. Lucie is a witch who is obsessed with the mundane and familiar missing the gravitas of the power in her. She teaches and does the ‘right’ things but is easily surpassed. Is she taken seriously within the story? Is she taking her story seriously?
What stunned me most is how Ndiaye writes on multiple planes simultaneously. One thing is happening literally, another psychologically, and an entirely different meaning hums beneath both. It’s surreal in the truest sense. If you come in expecting straightforward magical realism because of the title, you may be disappointed. This is realism at its sharpest. The magical elements aren’t spectacle; they point toward deeper emotional truths about how humans behave and relate in the real world - the snail father, the twins suddenly sprouting wings when their mother attempts to overprotect them, blood tears when we use our powers.
And then there’s what Ndiaye does with character contrasts. So many novels suffer because every character sounds like the same person wearing different clothes. Ndiaye somehow does the opposite: she makes certain characters feel almost identical, only to slowly reveal them as complete inversions of one another. Lucie and Isabelle are the clearest example. I honestly can’t even fully explain how she pulls this off. It feels like mastery.
This book made me want to relearn my French just to experience Ndiaye in the original language.
And while we are at it - I’ve already ordered every single thing by this MASTER available in English.
“Just barely a shadow but a shadow that gets in the way. . .”
I’m still stuck in this fever dream.
The Witch feels like both nothing I’ve ever read and exactly everything I needed at the moment I read it.
Maybe I was searching for space-for a story that could loosen my understanding of narration and possibility. Something larger than the familiar architectures of storytelling. Something I could fall into like a dream and co-tell the story with the author. I can’t believe a novel conceived over 30 years ago managed to do exactly that for me. While reading it, I constantly felt the urge to either pick up a pen or run wildly into an open field.
Even when we have power, in what ways are we still powerless? What is truly within our control? What can we change-and what should we change?
Ndiaye uses power to explore the limits of human agency and the role obsession plays in eroding it. Lucie is a witch who is obsessed with the mundane and familiar missing the gravitas of the power in her. She teaches and does the ‘right’ things but is easily surpassed. Is she taken seriously within the story? Is she taking her story seriously?
What stunned me most is how Ndiaye writes on multiple planes simultaneously. One thing is happening literally, another psychologically, and an entirely different meaning hums beneath both. It’s surreal in the truest sense. If you come in expecting straightforward magical realism because of the title, you may be disappointed. This is realism at its sharpest. The magical elements aren’t spectacle; they point toward deeper emotional truths about how humans behave and relate in the real world - the snail father, the twins suddenly sprouting wings when their mother attempts to overprotect them, blood tears when we use our powers.
And then there’s what Ndiaye does with character contrasts. So many novels suffer because every character sounds like the same person wearing different clothes. Ndiaye somehow does the opposite: she makes certain characters feel almost identical, only to slowly reveal them as complete inversions of one another. Lucie and Isabelle are the clearest example. I honestly can’t even fully explain how she pulls this off. It feels like mastery.
This book made me want to relearn my French just to experience Ndiaye in the original language.
And while we are at it - I’ve already ordered every single thing by this MASTER available in English.
April 18, 2026
I read this because it made the International Booker shortlist this year. This is pretty short (basically a novella) & I read in one sitting. It was fine, I neither really liked it nor disliked it. While NDiaye's writing style is quite nice, I just didn't really connect with the story. I'm sure plenty of metaphors could be teased out of the text, but to what end? Ultimately, the story is (I guess) about motherhood & womanhood, yet I'm not quite sure what messages to take from it.
Read
May 2, 2026zupełnie nie tego się spodziewałam ale bardzo mi się podobało, mniej fantastyki a więcej trudnych relacji rodzinnych, język piękny
May 15, 2026
This one is a headscatcher. More of a sad suburban drama than a supernatural witchcraft story. I struggle to come up with a single theme, but if I was forced to, I’d go with: women who are constantly overlooked and overshadowed thereby unable to tap into their full potential. In this case, it’s one woman's plight; someone who is forced to watch others thrive while her worldview is limiting and pigeonholed. In this story, witchcraft is a metaphor for authority and agency, and due to our narrator’s meager use of her powers, we see what it looks like when one is in a position of societal disempowerment. Am I reading too much into it? Maybe. But there is enough in the text to make a strong case.
The Witch is just such a strange one. It’s drab. It’s mean-spirited. It’s bitterly funny. There’s no substantial plot. There are no obvious character threads. It’s sprinkled with some dated observations, although you gotta remind yourselves that it was originally written in 1996. The novel features plenty of setups with no resolutions. It’s designed for the reader to go in with certain expectations yet doesn’t deliver on a single one. It’s too ambiguous, possibly directionless. Perplexing. Intriguing.
This novel could easily be labeled as “just vibes.” And, well, I’m totally fine with that. I enjoyed this book, and yet I don’t know why.
The Witch is just such a strange one. It’s drab. It’s mean-spirited. It’s bitterly funny. There’s no substantial plot. There are no obvious character threads. It’s sprinkled with some dated observations, although you gotta remind yourselves that it was originally written in 1996. The novel features plenty of setups with no resolutions. It’s designed for the reader to go in with certain expectations yet doesn’t deliver on a single one. It’s too ambiguous, possibly directionless. Perplexing. Intriguing.
This novel could easily be labeled as “just vibes.” And, well, I’m totally fine with that. I enjoyed this book, and yet I don’t know why.
April 14, 2026
There are some books that I start where I find the writing really compelling even if the content takes some work to make sense of. I usually hope that it will get easier as more of the story becomes clearer and in many cases it does.
This book, however, never made sense from start to finish. I find unlikeable characters or characters trying to find their way out of a dismal life situation interesting so Lucie, as the witch with mediocre powers, struggling to handle her even more unlikeable husband and twin daughters who seem to be far more powerful than her, initially hooked me in. The sequence of events that followed, though , were really bizarre.
From a neighbour who is highly dominating to Lucie's unexplainable obsession with reuniting her divorced parents to the behaviour of her daughters, there seemed to be multiple threads branching out on their own and never connecting back to any central theme.
If there is indeed a story here, it needs far more work than should be necessary to unearth it!
This book, however, never made sense from start to finish. I find unlikeable characters or characters trying to find their way out of a dismal life situation interesting so Lucie, as the witch with mediocre powers, struggling to handle her even more unlikeable husband and twin daughters who seem to be far more powerful than her, initially hooked me in. The sequence of events that followed, though , were really bizarre.
From a neighbour who is highly dominating to Lucie's unexplainable obsession with reuniting her divorced parents to the behaviour of her daughters, there seemed to be multiple threads branching out on their own and never connecting back to any central theme.
If there is indeed a story here, it needs far more work than should be necessary to unearth it!
May 24, 2026
A lot of people have theories about what the message of this book was, but I'm not convinced there was one. It's an odd little book. Stuff happens. Some more stuff happens. Most of the characters are ghastly. It felt more like a series of thought experiments than anything else.
I wonder if reading it in conjunction with the author's other works would shed any light on her intentions?
I wonder if reading it in conjunction with the author's other works would shed any light on her intentions?
June 12, 2026
Marie NDiaye’s The Witch definitely challenged my love of literary fiction. Her writing is flawless. She gets us into the action without dillydallying about setting, locations, emotions, and physical descriptions. Within a few pages, we know Lucie is a mother of precocious twin girls, married to a disgruntled man, and a witch from a long line of witches. Lucie lets us know that witchcraft is not her forte, but she’s determined to respect the family tradition and initiate her daughters, which is where the story begins.
Instead of dwelling on magic systems and witchy rituals, The Witch sets the tone by establishing a psychological backdrop of a prevailing sense of mishaps and mediocrity experienced by Lucie. The environment is very familiar to many: a new housing development, a mainstream domestic life teetering on the brink of financial ruin, all shadowed by the uncanny (see academic scholar Daisy Connon’s Subjects Not-At-Home). What I mean is that The Witch is not an Isabel Allende’s The House of Spirits or Gabriel García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude but a form adjacent in which we recognize the world of the novel but something has shifted. As we move through Lucie’s world, we go from one nearly disconnected scene to another, relaying Lucie’s inability to control events happening to her despite her witchy talent. She tries to master her fate but fails as each event moves her into odd situations.
We train about with her, meeting various characters, to Poitiers, Paris and Bourges. Each character has something just a bit off about them or their environment. For example, her father lives the life of a king for which he owes a crippling amount of money; her estranged husband plays the role of a happy but unemployed stepdad; her mother smells vaguely of rot; and her twins act with nearly total disregard of others, including their own mother. Her neighbor Isabelle is perhaps the most intriguing character of all. More witch than the main character, Isabelle appears throughout the novel in surprising moments, watching Lucie and emanating a quiet menace. We really don’t have anyone to root for because each good quality in a character is crushed by a pile of bad ones.
NDiaye offers up quite a bit of humor, which might be missed or misunderstood by many North American readers. I laughed outloud when Lucie's husband’s acquaintance, M. Matin, hightailed it out their back door when his wife and son show up to return him to his family responsibilities. Another example is the crazy slogans on the clothing of Stevie, Isabelle’s much-maligned son, proclaiming he is adored and treasured by his very hateful mother. My personal favorite is when Robert, the BF of the main character's mother, shows up at Lucie’s job with a tiny box containing her father transformed into a slug. The terror that her slug-father may die because she is unable to feed him dominates the ending. The slug is weirdly funny to me.
Speaking of the end: it encapsulates the surreal-like feeling of the novel. Lucie finds herself surrounded by many of the characters populating the book, minus her twin daughters (who literally fly away). We feel no connection among them or to her. A statement about our world today? Despite the fact that the book was written three decades ago, I have to say yes.
All in all, I’m glad I read The Witch even though I almost DNF-ed. What helped me understand it was The New Yorker review by Kristen Roupenian (6 April 2026). NDiaye is truly a brilliant writer.
As for my Booker challenge to read the entire 2026 International Short List, I have two more to go, but Taiwan Travelogue and The Director stand as my top two.
Instead of dwelling on magic systems and witchy rituals, The Witch sets the tone by establishing a psychological backdrop of a prevailing sense of mishaps and mediocrity experienced by Lucie. The environment is very familiar to many: a new housing development, a mainstream domestic life teetering on the brink of financial ruin, all shadowed by the uncanny (see academic scholar Daisy Connon’s Subjects Not-At-Home). What I mean is that The Witch is not an Isabel Allende’s The House of Spirits or Gabriel García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude but a form adjacent in which we recognize the world of the novel but something has shifted. As we move through Lucie’s world, we go from one nearly disconnected scene to another, relaying Lucie’s inability to control events happening to her despite her witchy talent. She tries to master her fate but fails as each event moves her into odd situations.
We train about with her, meeting various characters, to Poitiers, Paris and Bourges. Each character has something just a bit off about them or their environment. For example, her father lives the life of a king for which he owes a crippling amount of money; her estranged husband plays the role of a happy but unemployed stepdad; her mother smells vaguely of rot; and her twins act with nearly total disregard of others, including their own mother. Her neighbor Isabelle is perhaps the most intriguing character of all. More witch than the main character, Isabelle appears throughout the novel in surprising moments, watching Lucie and emanating a quiet menace. We really don’t have anyone to root for because each good quality in a character is crushed by a pile of bad ones.
NDiaye offers up quite a bit of humor, which might be missed or misunderstood by many North American readers. I laughed outloud when Lucie's husband’s acquaintance, M. Matin, hightailed it out their back door when his wife and son show up to return him to his family responsibilities. Another example is the crazy slogans on the clothing of Stevie, Isabelle’s much-maligned son, proclaiming he is adored and treasured by his very hateful mother. My personal favorite is when Robert, the BF of the main character's mother, shows up at Lucie’s job with a tiny box containing her father transformed into a slug. The terror that her slug-father may die because she is unable to feed him dominates the ending. The slug is weirdly funny to me.
Speaking of the end: it encapsulates the surreal-like feeling of the novel. Lucie finds herself surrounded by many of the characters populating the book, minus her twin daughters (who literally fly away). We feel no connection among them or to her. A statement about our world today? Despite the fact that the book was written three decades ago, I have to say yes.
All in all, I’m glad I read The Witch even though I almost DNF-ed. What helped me understand it was The New Yorker review by Kristen Roupenian (6 April 2026). NDiaye is truly a brilliant writer.
As for my Booker challenge to read the entire 2026 International Short List, I have two more to go, but Taiwan Travelogue and The Director stand as my top two.
April 22, 2026
Main character Lucie is a witch with subpar powers. She initiates her two daughters, Maud and Lise, into the world of witches when they are twelve. They cry tears of blood, which are used as divination tools. Her husband makes off with an inheritance left to her by her father and uses it to support his "other" family. The storyline is fragmented, more a series of episodes than a narrative arc.
This novel is a bit too strange for me. I have trouble picturing witches crying tears of blood, and I tend to read these kinds of outlandish abilities as metaphors. I'm not sure what the author intended, but that interpretation is what works for me. The prose, though, is lyrical. I read the English translation from the original French, and it flowed beautifully. I would pick up another book by NDiaye for the writing alone.
This novel is a bit too strange for me. I have trouble picturing witches crying tears of blood, and I tend to read these kinds of outlandish abilities as metaphors. I'm not sure what the author intended, but that interpretation is what works for me. The prose, though, is lyrical. I read the English translation from the original French, and it flowed beautifully. I would pick up another book by NDiaye for the writing alone.
April 10, 2026
This. Was. So. Bad. I only finished it because I received a copy in the mail. I am so so shocked this has made the shortlist for IBP to be completely honest.
April 9, 2026
Lucie is a witch, but not a very good one. She inherited powers from her mother, but through lack of use they have faded. She does however, teach her twin teenage daughters how to use this gift, and they take to it with relish.
Meanwhile her marriage is falling apart and her husband takes off with another woman and another family, taking with him most of Lucie’s inheritance. As Lucie tries to track him down the novel takes a turn for the less predictable, and downright strange.
This isn’t a plot driven story, so those taking it on hoping for a twist or climax will be disappointed. Rather, it’s the peculiarity of the story that appeals. It’s a novel about female power, maternal identity, and family secrets. In its brevity it is evocative and evocative, with a dreamlike quality to it.
Meanwhile her marriage is falling apart and her husband takes off with another woman and another family, taking with him most of Lucie’s inheritance. As Lucie tries to track him down the novel takes a turn for the less predictable, and downright strange.
This isn’t a plot driven story, so those taking it on hoping for a twist or climax will be disappointed. Rather, it’s the peculiarity of the story that appeals. It’s a novel about female power, maternal identity, and family secrets. In its brevity it is evocative and evocative, with a dreamlike quality to it.
April 22, 2026
Marie Ndiaye’s The Witch, translated by Jordan Stump, is my 13th, and final, novel from this year’s International Booker Longlist.
Lucie is a witch, descended from a long line of them. She lives in the French suburbs (Francs are still used but I’m assuming we’re in the 90s) and is trapped. Her husband irritates her, so does her neighbor and son.
When she discovers that her daughters have inherited her powers she wants them to develop them but she’s scared they’ll choose the more humdrum life of their father.
The Witch is a tiny book but has a lot of themes: the patriarchy is one: all the males in the book are weak, make fun of the women for being witches or are quick to prosecute them.
Other themes are breaking free and one could see the book as a portrait of French suburban life. In all though, history repeats itself when society comes across people who are different.
The writing is interesting- to a certain extent it’s cinematic- by this I kept imagining the book as a Claude Chabrol yet Marie Ndiaye’s sentences are long and loping, which need a small adjustment period. I did like reading it and Lucile’s utter distaste for everyone but her daughters made me laugh a bit. This was a good one to end my IB journey.
Lucie is a witch, descended from a long line of them. She lives in the French suburbs (Francs are still used but I’m assuming we’re in the 90s) and is trapped. Her husband irritates her, so does her neighbor and son.
When she discovers that her daughters have inherited her powers she wants them to develop them but she’s scared they’ll choose the more humdrum life of their father.
The Witch is a tiny book but has a lot of themes: the patriarchy is one: all the males in the book are weak, make fun of the women for being witches or are quick to prosecute them.
Other themes are breaking free and one could see the book as a portrait of French suburban life. In all though, history repeats itself when society comes across people who are different.
The writing is interesting- to a certain extent it’s cinematic- by this I kept imagining the book as a Claude Chabrol yet Marie Ndiaye’s sentences are long and loping, which need a small adjustment period. I did like reading it and Lucile’s utter distaste for everyone but her daughters made me laugh a bit. This was a good one to end my IB journey.
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January 7, 2026
Book Riot’s Most Anticipated Books of 2026:
A witchy book in translation about a mom of twins, written by a Black woman? Did Reparations Club publish this book just for me? I'm new to NDiaye, but I can see this book introducing the prolific and award-winning novelist, playwright, and screenwriter to an even wider audience. Translated from the French, this novel set in modern France tells of a woman, a witch, a mother whose twins fly the coop upon initiation. For anyone who understands or seeks to understand the multitudes motherhood contains, this book is set up to deliver. —S. Zainab Williams
A witchy book in translation about a mom of twins, written by a Black woman? Did Reparations Club publish this book just for me? I'm new to NDiaye, but I can see this book introducing the prolific and award-winning novelist, playwright, and screenwriter to an even wider audience. Translated from the French, this novel set in modern France tells of a woman, a witch, a mother whose twins fly the coop upon initiation. For anyone who understands or seeks to understand the multitudes motherhood contains, this book is set up to deliver. —S. Zainab Williams
May 3, 2026
i liked this enough that i wanted more from it!
June 2, 2026
A strange little book about a mediocre witch in a mediocre marriage living a mediocre life except for her daughters. A the start of the novel Lucie is teaching her daughters how to use their talent, and they end up far exceeding her own abilities. Most of the book is just weird but I couldn’t not read it, I think it was making points about motherhood, and men fearing strong women, but also society and how it forces women to behave in certain ways, and there’s probably more or maybe not at all….maybe it’s just a strange little book.
April 19, 2026
Sundays are perfect for novellas that can be read in one sitting and this International Booker 2025 nominated story of a less than mediocre witch, her far more powerful daughters, her very powerful mother, and the sorry state of their family was excellent.
Marie NDiaye should be in every avid reader's personal library. This is only my 3rd NDiaye, but she is now a completist author for me.
Ms. NDiaye is a confident, brilliant writer of psychologically intense stories that are surreal without being impenetrable (which is how I find most surrealist fiction,) with just enough magic realism to create tension and mystery, without earning the magic realism tag, and with oracular symbolism and allegory that make the stories timeless. I thought this book was recently written, but it was written 30 years ago, so while I thought I was reading about women becoming self-aware and mother-daughter issues, it might have been about women taking back their power or insisting on their independence, likely it's about all of it.
I highly recommend this book and this author!
Marie NDiaye should be in every avid reader's personal library. This is only my 3rd NDiaye, but she is now a completist author for me.
Ms. NDiaye is a confident, brilliant writer of psychologically intense stories that are surreal without being impenetrable (which is how I find most surrealist fiction,) with just enough magic realism to create tension and mystery, without earning the magic realism tag, and with oracular symbolism and allegory that make the stories timeless. I thought this book was recently written, but it was written 30 years ago, so while I thought I was reading about women becoming self-aware and mother-daughter issues, it might have been about women taking back their power or insisting on their independence, likely it's about all of it.
I highly recommend this book and this author!
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