A mirror for witches — A Reader’s Guide

A Voice Between Sermon and Story

The novel's narrator adopts the persona of a learned divine, citing authorities like 'the Reverend Pyam Plover' and offering theological commentary. This voice is not consistent: it veers from dry catalogues of demonic lore to vivid, almost novelistic scenes. For instance, when Doll meets the demon on the straw stack, the prose slows to capture her physical sensations—'a shock of joy'—and the demon's fine clothing, with 'hoops in his ears ... not of brass but jewels.' The shift from abstract moralizing to concrete, sensory detail creates a tension between the narrator's condemnation and the reader's immersion in Doll's perspective.

Pace and the Architecture of Suspense

Forbes controls pace by alternating between compressed summaries and extended, almost cinematic sequences. The early chapters move quickly through historical examples, but the encounter with the demon unfolds in slow motion: the fire, the bull, the ladder, the dialogue. This change in tempo mirrors Doll's own experience of time—long stretches of loneliness punctuated by intense, supernatural moments. The narrator's interruptions ('She was stuffed full of lunatic theology') also serve as brakes, reminding the reader of the moral framework while the story itself pulls toward sympathy with Doll.

Recurring Details and Their Weight

Certain images recur with accumulating force: fire (the three great fires, the burning barn), isolation ('I have been lonely, lonely'), and the demon's physicality—his 'fine ruddy complexion,' 'strong shoulders,' and 'white and strong' teeth. These details are not merely atmospheric; they ground the supernatural in the tangible. The demon's denial of hellfire ('Those who served Satan faithfully in this world were never burned in Hell') directly contradicts the narrator's warnings, creating a theological puzzle that the novel does not resolve. The reader is left to weigh the evidence of Doll's joy against the promised judgment.

Readers attentive to voice will notice how Forbes uses the chronicler's persona to both condemn and complicate Doll's story. The novel rewards careful attention to shifts in register—from legalistic citation to intimate dialogue—and to the way recurring motifs (fire, loneliness, the demon's body) build meaning across chapters. The incomplete excerpts leave open how the narrative balances its moral frame with its psychological depth, making each scene a site of interpretive tension.

Years shelving tales of the Salem trials, I often recall Esther Forbes’s Doll, whose demon lover was but loneliness made flesh. Her sorrowful solitude reminds me of an older, stranger kinship—those Celtic wanderers who laughed even as the sea took them. There is comfort in that shared ache, collected gently in The Laughter of Peterkin: A retelling of old tales of the Celtic Wonderworld — Context and Discussion. Both speak of hearts that find their only true companions in the wind.