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Malefice
A startlingly imaginative, terrifying novel of the occult - set against the backdrop of England's civil war and accompanying religious turmoil - Malefice tells the story of a seventeenth-century witch who comes to dominate an English village and is brought down by the very people who have been dependent on her powers. The night before old Alice Slade was hanged for witchcraft in 1655, she was sequestered with the local vicar so that he might convince her of her sins and teach her how to confess properly during her last moments on the scaffold. The hours he spent with Alice shook the vicar to the core, as she confronted him with all that he feared to know about himself and the other villagers. Told in the voices of Alice's accusers and her only ally, the by-now mad ex-vicar Malefice lays bare the underbelly of a community torn asunder. Dishonest working women, a seemingly pious but actually swindling church warden, a drunken ex-soldier, a cynical squire - all reveal themselves as much by their lies as by their admissions.
168 pages, Paperback
First published May 4, 1993
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27 people want to read
About the author
Leslie Wilson
117 books11 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
September 12, 2020
This novel tackles an interesting subject. Set during the turbulent English Civil War, a vicar spends the night in the gaol cell of an old woman who is to be hanged for witchcraft in the morning. He questions her on the various crimes of which she is accused, wanting answers which will satisfy his own tormenting religious doubts, and his doubts about his dead wife and whether or not she was unfaithful to him. To obtain answers, he inflicts torture on the woman, such as having her walked up and down the cell by gaolers, kept awake (by implication for days before this) and even beaten.
The story is told from multiple viewpoints, including that of the old woman, Alice, the vicar and many others in the community. She seems to condemn herself, as the village wise woman who exploited her position of fear and was the daughter of the previous wise man. She has had an unusual history compared to others who have never left their village, because, as a young woman, she ran off with a handsome juggler leaving her daughter Margaret and husband, which is another thing to set her apart. Alice had a troubled relationship with Margaret who felt unloved, and also with an adopted daughter, the child of her sister who died giving birth. Yet it becomes clear that a lot of the accusations are unfair and should instead be directed against other people.
As well as the multiple viewpoint, the story is told in small snippets so the viewpoint switches are frequent. Every character has his or her axe to grind. The outcome is not in doubt either, because the opening segment is by Margaret who has fled the area with her family having first buried her mother in the churchyard - a burial place denied those who have been executed for witchcraft, but which, as it transpires, the vicar will not challenge for reasons of his own.
I found a problem with the constant swapping around between so many viewpoints, which for me diluted the narrative and made it difficult to keep track of who was who at times, a problem worsened because there wasn't much differentiation between the voices. So an interesting concept and period of history but not quite well enough executed to really hold my interest.
The story is told from multiple viewpoints, including that of the old woman, Alice, the vicar and many others in the community. She seems to condemn herself, as the village wise woman who exploited her position of fear and was the daughter of the previous wise man. She has had an unusual history compared to others who have never left their village, because, as a young woman, she ran off with a handsome juggler leaving her daughter Margaret and husband, which is another thing to set her apart. Alice had a troubled relationship with Margaret who felt unloved, and also with an adopted daughter, the child of her sister who died giving birth. Yet it becomes clear that a lot of the accusations are unfair and should instead be directed against other people.
As well as the multiple viewpoint, the story is told in small snippets so the viewpoint switches are frequent. Every character has his or her axe to grind. The outcome is not in doubt either, because the opening segment is by Margaret who has fled the area with her family having first buried her mother in the churchyard - a burial place denied those who have been executed for witchcraft, but which, as it transpires, the vicar will not challenge for reasons of his own.
I found a problem with the constant swapping around between so many viewpoints, which for me diluted the narrative and made it difficult to keep track of who was who at times, a problem worsened because there wasn't much differentiation between the voices. So an interesting concept and period of history but not quite well enough executed to really hold my interest.
April 12, 2020
There's a lot to be said for a book that lets the reader know – from the outset – that its major character ends up dead, hung as a witch.
That's how Malefice begins: with Alice Slade dead at 50, her body washed by one of her neglected daughters. But the journey of how we get to this post-rope cleansing is a little more involved.
Set in 1655, in the heat of the English Civil War, the novel combines a number of viewpoints to try and explain how central the accused witch is to the people in her village. More importantly, we're made aware of the fact that Slade's increasing strangeness was caused by the village itself: the gathering of souls required someone to play a particular role, and the woman embraced it fully, armed with the secrets residents would tell her willingly. Slade is accused of creating death spells and more, but her punishment is more due to what she knows.
There's a lot of political back-and-forth, albeit indirect, in the novel. We hear from judges and priests, trying to curry favour with both the witch and pro-Cromwell forces. The wider trials of the country reach into rural life, though they're presented as somehow lesser to the usual small-town vicissitudes.
A couple of weeks ago, I reread John Fowles' A Maggot which definitely could be shelved alongside Wilson's work. Both texts rely on records (and unreliable recollection) to place the reader in a position where not only is information drip-fed to the reader, but each addition adds a further kink to the story.
The story of persecution of wise women or cunning folk as witches or necromancers is one that's difficult to tell. There's a risk that the persecutors are presented solely as bastards, and the victims saints. History – even adapted – can tend towards bone-dry rather than interesting, and personal testament can come across as too twee. Thankfully, Wilson's writing manages to create a troublingly multi-faceted portrait – something that can't be locked into stereotypes easily.
What we have, instead, is a portrait of human weakness; something which can be used in the course of increasing power, but something from which nobody is immune.
That's how Malefice begins: with Alice Slade dead at 50, her body washed by one of her neglected daughters. But the journey of how we get to this post-rope cleansing is a little more involved.
Set in 1655, in the heat of the English Civil War, the novel combines a number of viewpoints to try and explain how central the accused witch is to the people in her village. More importantly, we're made aware of the fact that Slade's increasing strangeness was caused by the village itself: the gathering of souls required someone to play a particular role, and the woman embraced it fully, armed with the secrets residents would tell her willingly. Slade is accused of creating death spells and more, but her punishment is more due to what she knows.
There's a lot of political back-and-forth, albeit indirect, in the novel. We hear from judges and priests, trying to curry favour with both the witch and pro-Cromwell forces. The wider trials of the country reach into rural life, though they're presented as somehow lesser to the usual small-town vicissitudes.
A couple of weeks ago, I reread John Fowles' A Maggot which definitely could be shelved alongside Wilson's work. Both texts rely on records (and unreliable recollection) to place the reader in a position where not only is information drip-fed to the reader, but each addition adds a further kink to the story.
The story of persecution of wise women or cunning folk as witches or necromancers is one that's difficult to tell. There's a risk that the persecutors are presented solely as bastards, and the victims saints. History – even adapted – can tend towards bone-dry rather than interesting, and personal testament can come across as too twee. Thankfully, Wilson's writing manages to create a troublingly multi-faceted portrait – something that can't be locked into stereotypes easily.
What we have, instead, is a portrait of human weakness; something which can be used in the course of increasing power, but something from which nobody is immune.
November 12, 2024
It’s technically very clever indeed but it also feels a bit too studied to actually work as a novel. It’s all sleight of hand in support of a not particularly original idea, and feels easier to be impressed by than actually like. It’s got a chilly coldness at the centre which is clearly intentional but also means it feels very mechanical and, as is always a danger with historical novels, more like pastiche than anything else
August 26, 2015
Sometimes a little hard to follow, particularly if I'd left the book for a day or two, but in all a poignant and touching exploration of life and beliefs in rural 17th century England.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews