EVERYONE KNOWS YOUR MOTHER IS A WITCH

A 17th-century German witch hunt—really.

Katharina Kepler is an old woman when she is accused, by the wife of the town’s third-rate glazier, of being a witch. She laughs at the accusation. She has three grown children and a cow named Chamomile. She has a life to live. The accusation, unfortunately, seems to stick, with townspeople emerging, as it were, from the woodwork: A young girl once felt a pain in her arm as Katharina walked by; the schoolmaster once felt a pain in his leg. What one character calls “the destructive power of rumor” gathers momentum—gradually, and then all at once. Galchen’s latest book, which is by turns witty, sly, moving, and sharp, is a marvel to behold. Set in the early 1600s and based on real events—Katharina Kepler was Johannes Kepler’s mother, who really was tried as a witch—the novel also speaks to our own time in its hints at the apparent malleability of truth. “If only I had understood earlier what was really true,” someone says. “It can be so difficult to tell, the way people talk.” Galchen’s story will, by necessity, remind many readers of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, but by focusing her narrative on an old woman rather than a cast of attractive young girls, she’s made her mission a far sneakier one. Then, too, Galchen’s prose can sparkle and sting with wit. Katharina’s neighbor thinks, “In order to avoid turning people into monsters by suspecting them of being monsters, I do my best to keep myself mostly to myself.” There is so much in this novel to consider—the degree to which we make monsters of one another, the way that old age can make of femininity an apparently terrifying, otherworldly thing—but it is also, at every step along the way, an entirely delicious book.

Dazzling in its humor, intelligence, and the richness of its created world.