AN ART, A CRAFT, A MYSTERY

Two women journey to Colonial America and are accused of witchcraft in poet Secord’s debut novel in verse.

“Don’t think these skills were simple, / they were an art, a craft, a mystery, / yet when the men took notice, / they doubted diligence and named it witchery,” reads the closing verse of this book’s title poem. The skills to which the poet refers are those adopted by 17th-century women to nurture their communities—skills that outsiders distorted and called malevolent acts. This novel initially hurls the reader into the heart of London, England, at a time of plague. Lydea Gilbert and her niece, Kate, tend to the sick with little success, and after losing loved ones, they decide to journey across the ocean. In 1636, they board a ship called the Truelove and set sail for Massachusetts, accepting a period of indentured servitude to pay for their passage. They’re made to work for Hutchinson, a merchant; his wife, Anne, is later put on trial for heresy. Lydea and Kate then travel on to Connecticut, where they go their separate ways, with Lydea going to stay with her cousin, Thomas, and Kate marrying John Harrison, a grower of hops, barley, and tobacco. In 1654, Lydea is accused of being a witch by families she “nursed through pox,” and in 1668, Kate, too, is dragged from her bed and charged with witchcraft. In a final note, the poet reveals that the characters of Lydea and Kate are based on real women, the author’s ancestors, who lived in and were persecuted by Puritan society.

Secord powerfully captures the precariousness of the lives of women healers in the space of a deceptively simple quatrain: “My pockets carry sentimental pieces. / These womb-shaped bags hang below my skirts / hiding needed things, tools for nourishing, / locks of my children’s hair and linen strings.” These brief lines speak volumes about Lydea’s maternal benevolence and the need for her to conceal her practices from those around her. The work presents poems from the separate perspectives of Lydea and Kate, and these first-person accounts shape two psychologically distinct characters. The younger Kate’s vulnerability is palpable on occasion: “I thought that I could live / without her presence, but being with child / again, I wish I could feel her hands.” Secord is also expert at communicating atmosphere, as when, on their arrival in America, Lydea observes: “The air smells / ever green, and trees outnumber men,” a stark contrast to the “many funeral pyres” of the London they left behind. Some readers may be initially skeptical of a novel written entirely in verse, but Secord maintains a strong storyline throughout, and her poetry adds a deeper sense of mysticism. From its opening line, “We kept the small alive from day to day, / kept households warm, kept bread made,” this book is a passionate celebration of historically undervalued daily endeavors of women and a vital reminder of what victims of persecution endured.

A smartly conceived and emotionally stirring poetic tale.