Kathleen Kent: The Heretic's Daughter

I devoured this book, recommended by my mother (like many of my books are), in four days. And only because I had a university exam that kept me from spending as much time with it as I would have liked. The Heretic's Daughter is the story of a young girl, Sarah Carrier, who lives in New England during the Salem witch trials. The story actually begins in 1690, two years before the actual trials take place, and gives an in-depth look at two quite different Puritan homes: the Carrier family, with its cold and strict ways, and the Toothakers - the cousins Sarah and her baby sister stay with to escape the smallpox - whose warmth towards the newcomers overshadows a life of superstition and family feuds. As the story unravels we get to know this silent and slightly disturbing protagonist as we see through her eyes the gradual climax of madness. Family going against family, friend against friend in a build-up of malice, superstition and dread. One of the most captivating figures is Martha Carrier, Sarah's mother. Like most characters in this book, she isn't particularly likeable, especially in the beginning, where all we see is her coldness towards her family and her sarcastic attitude towards her neighbors, making life and friendship all the more difficult for her daughter. But gradually her strengh and love seep through, as she bravely faces persecution and death sentenced by the magistrates because of "spectral evidence" of her witchcraft. This isn't a spoiler, because practically from the first pages of the novel (and thanks to the back cover of the book), we know what Martha's end will be and this makes the tension throughout the novel all the more powerful. In fact, a good half of the story goes by without much happening, at least not in the way of withcraft, but since we know what is about to happen every page is like a bomb ticking away under our chair. All the characters are interesting and realistic - not your conventional kind-hearted families, but Puritans made hard by desease, dread, gossip and fear of Indian attacks. The feeling of uneasiness and foreboding grows as we see the first glimpse of what can ensue from a girl's anger and pain, when Mercy Williams joins the Carriers. And the mysterious nature of Sarah's father, with his massive build and hidden past, makes him another source of ambivalent feelings from daughter and reader alike. What makes the novel so powerful, I think, is that it's the true story of the author's grandmother nine generations back. Kathleen Kent's pride and passion show through her re-telling of Martha Carrier's hanging and of the sometimes fierce but always true attachment between her ancestors. That, along with the greatly poetic writing that sets us among the shadows of what seems like a flemish painting, is what makes this not only a great work of historical fiction, but a moving family saga. I detected a trace of bitterness on the author's part, at the possibility of such horror towards dozens of innocent men and women, from a group of people who professed the religion of love and forgiveness (but perhaps for those first harsh Puritans those weren't the two most relevant aspects of Christianity). In fact what Martha tells her daughter before dying isn't a prayer of hope in God's everlasting life, but an entirely earthly and not very Puritan "There is no death in remembrance. Remember me Sarah. Remember me, and part of me will always be with you". This doesn't prevent a deep longing for God and queston about justice, love and truth to emerge from the pages. As well as the tender and kind character of Reverend Dane. He has no power to prevent the hanging, even of his own relatives, but his presence, along with the unyealding love of many others raises the question: o death, where is your victory?