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The Mercies
After a storm has killed off all the island's men, two women in a 1600s Norwegian coastal village struggle to survive against both natural forces and the men who have been sent to rid the community of alleged witchcraft.
Finnmark, Norway, 1617. Twenty-year-old Maren Magnusdatter stands on the craggy coast, watching the sea break into a sudden and reckless storm. Forty fishermen, including her brother and father, are drowned and left broken on the rocks below. With the menfolk wiped out, the women of the tiny Northern town of Vardø must fend for themselves.
Three years later, a sinister figure arrives. Absalom Cornet comes from Scotland, where he burned witches in the northern isles. He brings with him his young Norwegian wife, Ursa, who is both heady with her husband's authority and terrified by it. In Vardø, and in Maren, Ursa sees something she has never seen before: independent women. But Absalom sees only a place untouched by God and flooded with a mighty evil.
As Maren and Ursa are pushed together and are drawn to one another in ways that surprise them both, the island begins to close in on them with Absalom's iron rule threatening Vardø's very existence.
Inspired by the real events of the Vardø storm and the 1620 witch trials, The Mercies is a feminist story of love, evil, and obsession, set at the edge of civilization.
Finnmark, Norway, 1617. Twenty-year-old Maren Magnusdatter stands on the craggy coast, watching the sea break into a sudden and reckless storm. Forty fishermen, including her brother and father, are drowned and left broken on the rocks below. With the menfolk wiped out, the women of the tiny Northern town of Vardø must fend for themselves.
Three years later, a sinister figure arrives. Absalom Cornet comes from Scotland, where he burned witches in the northern isles. He brings with him his young Norwegian wife, Ursa, who is both heady with her husband's authority and terrified by it. In Vardø, and in Maren, Ursa sees something she has never seen before: independent women. But Absalom sees only a place untouched by God and flooded with a mighty evil.
As Maren and Ursa are pushed together and are drawn to one another in ways that surprise them both, the island begins to close in on them with Absalom's iron rule threatening Vardø's very existence.
Inspired by the real events of the Vardø storm and the 1620 witch trials, The Mercies is a feminist story of love, evil, and obsession, set at the edge of civilization.
345 pages, Hardcover
First published February 6, 2020
2,764 people are currently reading
95.8k people want to read
About the author
Kiran Millwood Hargrave
29 books2,463 followersKiran Millwood Hargrave is an award winning poet, playwright, and novelist.
Her books include the bestselling winner of the British Book Awards Children's Book of the Year and the Waterstones Children's Book Prize 2017 The Girl of Ink & Stars, and Costa Book Awards- and Blue Peter Awards-shortlisted The Island at the End of Everything, and The Way Past Winter, Blackwell's Children's Book of the Year 2018. A Secret of Birds & Bone, her fourth middle grade title, was published in 2020. Julia and the Shark, in collaboration with her husband, artist Tom de Freston, was Indie Book of the Month, Scottish Booktrust Book of the Month, and has been shortlisted for the Waterstones Book of the Year 2021.
Her debut YA novel The Deathless Girls was published in 2019, and was shortlisted for the YA Book Prize, and long listed for the CILIP Carnegie Medal. Her first book for adults, The Mercies, debuted as The Times number 1 bestseller, and at number 5 in the Sunday Times Bestseller Charts. Writing for the New York Times Book Review, Emily Barton called it 'among the best novels I've read in years', and it won a Betty Trask Award.
She is represented by Hellie Ogden (UK) and Kirby Kim (US) at Janklow & Nesbit. Kiran lives in Oxford with her husband and their cats, Luna and Marly.
Her books include the bestselling winner of the British Book Awards Children's Book of the Year and the Waterstones Children's Book Prize 2017 The Girl of Ink & Stars, and Costa Book Awards- and Blue Peter Awards-shortlisted The Island at the End of Everything, and The Way Past Winter, Blackwell's Children's Book of the Year 2018. A Secret of Birds & Bone, her fourth middle grade title, was published in 2020. Julia and the Shark, in collaboration with her husband, artist Tom de Freston, was Indie Book of the Month, Scottish Booktrust Book of the Month, and has been shortlisted for the Waterstones Book of the Year 2021.
Her debut YA novel The Deathless Girls was published in 2019, and was shortlisted for the YA Book Prize, and long listed for the CILIP Carnegie Medal. Her first book for adults, The Mercies, debuted as The Times number 1 bestseller, and at number 5 in the Sunday Times Bestseller Charts. Writing for the New York Times Book Review, Emily Barton called it 'among the best novels I've read in years', and it won a Betty Trask Award.
She is represented by Hellie Ogden (UK) and Kirby Kim (US) at Janklow & Nesbit. Kiran lives in Oxford with her husband and their cats, Luna and Marly.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 6,287 reviews
December 12, 2019
Vardo, Norway, Christmas Eve 1617, a remote northern settlement where a storm of unusually immense and vicious proportions, completely wipes out the menfolk in this small fishing community, leaving the womenfolk bereft and without the means to provide for themselves.
Eighteen months later, the women have become adept at catching fish and are finally able to look after themselves, but their world is about to be turned upside down with the arrival of Absalom Cornet, a God-fearing man who has been summoned from his home in Scotland to bring the women of Vardo to heel, and to ensure that they too are God fearing, and worship at the local church, but primarily, unbeknownst to these women, he’s also a witch finder!
The main protagonists are Maren, born and bred in Vardo, who lost her father and brother in the storm, and Absalom’s wife Ursa, a woman of genteel breeding, born and brought up in the city of Bergen, who is trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Despite the fact that they come from completely different backgrounds, Maren and Ursa soon form a bond, and find solace in each other’s company, but the whole village has much to fear where Absalom is concerned, including his wife.
The writing is beautiful, often crude, echoing the privations of an impoverished community at the mercy of a ghastly climate. The reader is overwhelmed by the bleak environment and the conditions it imposes. Knowing ‘The Mercies’ was based on the real events of the Vardo storm and the witch trials of 1621, makes it even harder to read, such is the brutality used against those accused of witchcraft, but it’s hauntingly beautiful and highly recommended!
*Thank you to Netgalley and Pan Macmillan, Picador, for my ARC for which I have given an honest unbiased review in exchange *
Eighteen months later, the women have become adept at catching fish and are finally able to look after themselves, but their world is about to be turned upside down with the arrival of Absalom Cornet, a God-fearing man who has been summoned from his home in Scotland to bring the women of Vardo to heel, and to ensure that they too are God fearing, and worship at the local church, but primarily, unbeknownst to these women, he’s also a witch finder!
The main protagonists are Maren, born and bred in Vardo, who lost her father and brother in the storm, and Absalom’s wife Ursa, a woman of genteel breeding, born and brought up in the city of Bergen, who is trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Despite the fact that they come from completely different backgrounds, Maren and Ursa soon form a bond, and find solace in each other’s company, but the whole village has much to fear where Absalom is concerned, including his wife.
The writing is beautiful, often crude, echoing the privations of an impoverished community at the mercy of a ghastly climate. The reader is overwhelmed by the bleak environment and the conditions it imposes. Knowing ‘The Mercies’ was based on the real events of the Vardo storm and the witch trials of 1621, makes it even harder to read, such is the brutality used against those accused of witchcraft, but it’s hauntingly beautiful and highly recommended!
*Thank you to Netgalley and Pan Macmillan, Picador, for my ARC for which I have given an honest unbiased review in exchange *
February 15, 2020
Reading this novel was like a feast to me. For one thing, the setting and all details included in this book are splendid. Scenery, clothes, food or architectural descriptions are splendidly researched and woven into the plot.
It is 1617, and a most terrifying storm that caims the lives of forty men begins what turns out to be a harrowing period for the women who are left behind in a small fishing village of Vardo in the north of Norway, and who can either try to survive by setting their own ways or who may perish due to the lack of fish, fur or grain. Choosing survival paradoxically brings about damnation upon the bravest of them all, Kirsten. Those were the days of new laws introduced by King Christian, following strict Cavinist rules, days of witch hunting in the tradition set by James I, days of fear of the unknown, days of rooting out thousand-year old traditions of the indigenous inhabitants, days of the male domination and female submission.
I found this novel totally unputdownable, with the stories of Kirsten, Maren and Ursa and with the depictions of the landscape and harsh lives in those days. While reading I was no longer in my sofa, I was out there, with Ursa attending to her suffering sister, with her on the ship, in the kirk of Vardo and on the cliff looking out for the whale which comes to Maren in her dreams. I believe it is a genuine gift on the part of the author to write in such a way.
I definitely recommend The Mercies as it is historical fiction in every aspect and will send chills down your spines. One of the best HF I have read in years ...
It is 1617, and a most terrifying storm that caims the lives of forty men begins what turns out to be a harrowing period for the women who are left behind in a small fishing village of Vardo in the north of Norway, and who can either try to survive by setting their own ways or who may perish due to the lack of fish, fur or grain. Choosing survival paradoxically brings about damnation upon the bravest of them all, Kirsten. Those were the days of new laws introduced by King Christian, following strict Cavinist rules, days of witch hunting in the tradition set by James I, days of fear of the unknown, days of rooting out thousand-year old traditions of the indigenous inhabitants, days of the male domination and female submission.
I found this novel totally unputdownable, with the stories of Kirsten, Maren and Ursa and with the depictions of the landscape and harsh lives in those days. While reading I was no longer in my sofa, I was out there, with Ursa attending to her suffering sister, with her on the ship, in the kirk of Vardo and on the cliff looking out for the whale which comes to Maren in her dreams. I believe it is a genuine gift on the part of the author to write in such a way.
I definitely recommend The Mercies as it is historical fiction in every aspect and will send chills down your spines. One of the best HF I have read in years ...
September 12, 2020
3 stars
Apparently inspired by true events (to an extent) - although one can easily guess there was a certain amount of reality to it. Not just in the way that women were treated but the overall sense of bleakness and eerie feeling that was constant throughout.
I am conflicted when it comes to this book. I read it a couple of weeks ago and I thought I’d think on it for a while because I felt like I was supposed to like it more. I had a few issues with it but the biggest one was the fact that I just didn’t like the writing style. This is a purely subjective observation and I’m sure (as I’ve noticed from other reviews) that no one or maybe very few people would cite that as a complaint against this book.
For me the writing has to connect me to the place and people that inhabit that place but here it just annoyed the heck out of me, it kept pushing me out of the moment, I would have to stop and be frustrated. For someone who absolutely loves lyrical, over the top sentimental and sometimes difficult, unique writing styles, ~ okay, that’s basically almost every type of writing, as long as it’s good ~ I was quite shocked that I truly hated it and it mentally exhausted me because I had to force myself to disregard it in favour of the story itself.
I guess it just wasn’t for me, and to be honest I forced myself to read this to the end because the story and the characters were actually interesting and I really wanted to know where it would all lead.
By the time I reached the end of the book, I would retract my observation about the characters or the story. I mean, sure, for a feminist historical novel it did all the right things and told a good story but I just didn’t connect with it. Intellectually, I am interested in the subject, but again, subjectively speaking this didn’t make me care, feel, be curios or anything that remotely resembles interest.
I believe this is a case of me not the book. ( I’m only half lying when I say that :D )
Just to end things on a more informative note, this novel did a good job at describing the setting, the village, the everyday chores at the time, basically, it did put you in the 1600’s Scandinavia (not that I have anything to compare it to, but it felt authentic) so that’s a pro. Another thing I liked was the friendship between Ursa and Maren which gives perspective to the story. But neither of those things were enough to make me love or like this. It gets 3 stars because even though I didn’t like it, I can recognise that it’s not a story that deserves a lower rating either.
Apparently inspired by true events (to an extent) - although one can easily guess there was a certain amount of reality to it. Not just in the way that women were treated but the overall sense of bleakness and eerie feeling that was constant throughout.
I am conflicted when it comes to this book. I read it a couple of weeks ago and I thought I’d think on it for a while because I felt like I was supposed to like it more. I had a few issues with it but the biggest one was the fact that I just didn’t like the writing style. This is a purely subjective observation and I’m sure (as I’ve noticed from other reviews) that no one or maybe very few people would cite that as a complaint against this book.
For me the writing has to connect me to the place and people that inhabit that place but here it just annoyed the heck out of me, it kept pushing me out of the moment, I would have to stop and be frustrated. For someone who absolutely loves lyrical, over the top sentimental and sometimes difficult, unique writing styles, ~ okay, that’s basically almost every type of writing, as long as it’s good ~ I was quite shocked that I truly hated it and it mentally exhausted me because I had to force myself to disregard it in favour of the story itself.
I guess it just wasn’t for me, and to be honest I forced myself to read this to the end because the story and the characters were actually interesting and I really wanted to know where it would all lead.
By the time I reached the end of the book, I would retract my observation about the characters or the story. I mean, sure, for a feminist historical novel it did all the right things and told a good story but I just didn’t connect with it. Intellectually, I am interested in the subject, but again, subjectively speaking this didn’t make me care, feel, be curios or anything that remotely resembles interest.
I believe this is a case of me not the book. ( I’m only half lying when I say that :D )
Just to end things on a more informative note, this novel did a good job at describing the setting, the village, the everyday chores at the time, basically, it did put you in the 1600’s Scandinavia (not that I have anything to compare it to, but it felt authentic) so that’s a pro. Another thing I liked was the friendship between Ursa and Maren which gives perspective to the story. But neither of those things were enough to make me love or like this. It gets 3 stars because even though I didn’t like it, I can recognise that it’s not a story that deserves a lower rating either.
May 30, 2023
Finmark, Norway, 1617 in the fishing town of Vardo, a storm sweeps in, causing the deaths of forty men. All the names left are the elderly, the very young and the village cleric. Now, the women must fend for themselves, which presents a huge problem. Women are not supposed to wear pants not rushing boats.
I finished this book a few days ago and it hasn't left my thoughts. The atmosphere is so immersive, the characters so well drawn. Maren is a young 22, but capable and free thinking. Ursa, not used to this life, nor her sudden marriage to a man who has been sent to weed out witchcraft. Some of these women show surprising strength and work together for their survival. Some as always are jealous and willing to label those who have more, as witches. Marens sister in law, now a widow with a young son, is a Sami and these are people whose customs and runes are suspicious.
This book doesn't spare one in it's descriptions of the smells and sounds, nor the beliefs of those in the village. The tone is tense and builds as the story progresses, as the danger becomes more apparent. Although there names may not be real, what happens here is actual history, as the author note explains. She also explains how and why the witch trials were happening in various countries and villages. A horribly, tragic time and one well documented in this novel.
Reminiscent of the novel, Burial rites, but with its own character and flavor.
ARC from Netgalley.
I finished this book a few days ago and it hasn't left my thoughts. The atmosphere is so immersive, the characters so well drawn. Maren is a young 22, but capable and free thinking. Ursa, not used to this life, nor her sudden marriage to a man who has been sent to weed out witchcraft. Some of these women show surprising strength and work together for their survival. Some as always are jealous and willing to label those who have more, as witches. Marens sister in law, now a widow with a young son, is a Sami and these are people whose customs and runes are suspicious.
This book doesn't spare one in it's descriptions of the smells and sounds, nor the beliefs of those in the village. The tone is tense and builds as the story progresses, as the danger becomes more apparent. Although there names may not be real, what happens here is actual history, as the author note explains. She also explains how and why the witch trials were happening in various countries and villages. A horribly, tragic time and one well documented in this novel.
Reminiscent of the novel, Burial rites, but with its own character and flavor.
ARC from Netgalley.
February 12, 2020
NOW AVAILABLE!!
back in the reviewing saddle.
so, no—as i anticipated, this was not scary enough to be a true ‘october is spoooooky’ read, and reviewing it in december feels even less spooky, but it is an excellent book nonetheless; female-fronted historical fiction that reminded me of the novels of jessie burton in its similarly strong character development, its attention to detail, and its perspective of women in a historical context and a time period/setting that hasn’t already been done to death. can we agree that we neverever need to publish another WWII novel?
The Mercies is based on the real-true events which occurred in 1617 in a fishing village located on one of norway’s tiny islands—when a sudden freak storm came, saw, and conquered; assaulting the fishing boats that were just heading out with the majority of the village’s menfolk on board, killing forty men in a matter of minutes.
this brief storm reduced the island’s population dramatically, leaving behind only the women and girls, the very young boys and elderly men to survive in an unforgiving climate whose livelihood had depended on their fishermen.
it was also a time where political power used religious devotion as a tool to get rid of undesirables. you know, that one time in history.
the island’s women have very little opportunity for grieving their husbands and sons; when their bodies wash ashore, they are collected and stored until the ground becomes soft enough to allow for their burial, and in the absence of able-bodied men, some of the women defy convention and take on the necessary task of fishing, to prevent their people starving to death.
theirs is a village that has been long-isolated from the greater world, and has for the most part maintained a perfunctory relationship with religion. although some are more devout than others, the island’s kirke is as much a town hall for the community to gather as it is a sacred place, and the region’s indigenous sami* people have contributed their own rituals to the fabric of the village. one of these women has even married into the community; a woman named diinna, made a widow by the storm, whose family’s cultural influence has long been a part of life on the island:
after the storm, in the absence of male influence or supervision, the women step up to fill the void; capable, independent, unbound by conventional roles and duties—one woman even going so far as to wear her late husband’s trousers. his TROUSERS!!
the women are adjusting and getting by just fine on their own until the arrival of absalom cornet—a scottish commissioner and witch-hunter. with him is his new wife ursa, a young woman accustomed to city life, luxurious surroundings, and servants; unprepared both for the barebones living conditions of the island and the homemaking duties of a wife.
cornet has been summoned by king’s orders to restore godliness to the island and is horrified by the presence of runes and other evidence of heathen savagery he encounters. before long, some of the more devout women flutter under his masculine authority, relieved and reassured by a man’s presence, and to ingratiate themselves with him, they begin to denounce their less conventional neighbors, in the way of all of history’s witch hunting situations. unlike salem, where the accused were hung or smooshed by rocks, here they burn witches alive. and HOOO the witch-burning scene in this book is particularly horrifying.
the story is carried by maren, who has lost her own betrothed in the storm, and ursa; two unlikely women thrown together by circumstance, forming an unexpectedly close, and very dangerous, bond.
this is hargrave’s adult debut, and it’s an impressive one. the descriptions were strong, and reminded me of Tidelands; the similarly-situated/themed witch-series opener by philippa gregory— a hardscrabble existence on a bleak and tiny island where nature is unforgiving and women are at the mercy of powerful men and the gossip of bored or resentful neighbors, women whose reputations could be destroyed with a word or a suspicion. unlike gregory’s novel, this one has merits apart from the descriptive finesse, most notably in the character development.
ursa is especially well-written—a woman wrenched away from her home and her beloved, chronically ill, sister into a marriage arranged out of financial necessity; the culture shock of moving from comfortable, although faded, opulence to severe privation; the psychological shock of going from being a pampered daughter to becoming the wife of a man of deep religious conviction who is proud and ambitious but without any gentleness to him. he has no understanding of how to treat a lady, unless it’s a witch he’s burning, and the wedding-night sequence is excruciating to read, although her (long) wait for him to come to their room is a beautifully written scene of nervous expectation, ripe with foreshadowing.
maren is also a very strong character. although island born and bred, she feels more compassion and patience for ursa than many of her neighbors. ursa stands out; a pretty flower in a stark landscape, and maren is drawn to her, helping ease her transition to island living, soon understanding that ursa’s domestic helplessness is circumstantial, not a result of laziness, and that her life and her marriage are not as pleasant as one might expect—learning how much she has sacrificed; down to the most essential part of her identity: …because they will use his customs for naming, she is Mistress Absalom Cornet. Herself, lost inside his name..
this is a gorgeous piece of feminist historical fiction, full of female awakening and empowerment, despite the high cost of independence, and there is beautiful and subtle perspective-writing as the two women see in each other a reflected kindred spirit, and become more to each other than they could ever have foreseen.
it’s not out for a while, but it’s worth waiting for. like this review?
*TIL (or ‘back in october IL’) that ‘lapps’ is apparently an offensive term.
************************************
SPOOKYMONTH WINDS DOWN!
i have no expectations of this actually being a horror novel, but i won it thru the gr giveaways and it has been patiently waiting for me to finish my horror-only october readings, so in these last few days of shocktober: witches.
not horror, but maybe gentle alarm?
come to my blog!
’I remember once when runes gave you comfort, when sailors came to my father to cast bones and tell them of their time left to come. They are a language, Maren. Just because you do not speak it doesn’t make it devilry.’
back in the reviewing saddle.
so, no—as i anticipated, this was not scary enough to be a true ‘october is spoooooky’ read, and reviewing it in december feels even less spooky, but it is an excellent book nonetheless; female-fronted historical fiction that reminded me of the novels of jessie burton in its similarly strong character development, its attention to detail, and its perspective of women in a historical context and a time period/setting that hasn’t already been done to death. can we agree that we neverever need to publish another WWII novel?
The Mercies is based on the real-true events which occurred in 1617 in a fishing village located on one of norway’s tiny islands—when a sudden freak storm came, saw, and conquered; assaulting the fishing boats that were just heading out with the majority of the village’s menfolk on board, killing forty men in a matter of minutes.
this brief storm reduced the island’s population dramatically, leaving behind only the women and girls, the very young boys and elderly men to survive in an unforgiving climate whose livelihood had depended on their fishermen.
it was also a time where political power used religious devotion as a tool to get rid of undesirables. you know, that one time in history.
the island’s women have very little opportunity for grieving their husbands and sons; when their bodies wash ashore, they are collected and stored until the ground becomes soft enough to allow for their burial, and in the absence of able-bodied men, some of the women defy convention and take on the necessary task of fishing, to prevent their people starving to death.
theirs is a village that has been long-isolated from the greater world, and has for the most part maintained a perfunctory relationship with religion. although some are more devout than others, the island’s kirke is as much a town hall for the community to gather as it is a sacred place, and the region’s indigenous sami* people have contributed their own rituals to the fabric of the village. one of these women has even married into the community; a woman named diinna, made a widow by the storm, whose family’s cultural influence has long been a part of life on the island:
Her father is a noaidi, a shaman of good standing. Before the kirke was more fully established, their neighbor Baar Ragnvalsson and many other men went to him for charms against bad weather. They had stopped lately, with new laws brought in to ban such things, but still Maren sees the small bone figures that the Sami say will protect against bad luck on most doorsteps. Pastor Gursson always turned a blind eye, though Toril and her ilk urged him to come down harder on such practices.
after the storm, in the absence of male influence or supervision, the women step up to fill the void; capable, independent, unbound by conventional roles and duties—one woman even going so far as to wear her late husband’s trousers. his TROUSERS!!
the women are adjusting and getting by just fine on their own until the arrival of absalom cornet—a scottish commissioner and witch-hunter. with him is his new wife ursa, a young woman accustomed to city life, luxurious surroundings, and servants; unprepared both for the barebones living conditions of the island and the homemaking duties of a wife.
cornet has been summoned by king’s orders to restore godliness to the island and is horrified by the presence of runes and other evidence of heathen savagery he encounters. before long, some of the more devout women flutter under his masculine authority, relieved and reassured by a man’s presence, and to ingratiate themselves with him, they begin to denounce their less conventional neighbors, in the way of all of history’s witch hunting situations. unlike salem, where the accused were hung or smooshed by rocks, here they burn witches alive. and HOOO the witch-burning scene in this book is particularly horrifying.
the story is carried by maren, who has lost her own betrothed in the storm, and ursa; two unlikely women thrown together by circumstance, forming an unexpectedly close, and very dangerous, bond.
this is hargrave’s adult debut, and it’s an impressive one. the descriptions were strong, and reminded me of Tidelands; the similarly-situated/themed witch-series opener by philippa gregory— a hardscrabble existence on a bleak and tiny island where nature is unforgiving and women are at the mercy of powerful men and the gossip of bored or resentful neighbors, women whose reputations could be destroyed with a word or a suspicion. unlike gregory’s novel, this one has merits apart from the descriptive finesse, most notably in the character development.
ursa is especially well-written—a woman wrenched away from her home and her beloved, chronically ill, sister into a marriage arranged out of financial necessity; the culture shock of moving from comfortable, although faded, opulence to severe privation; the psychological shock of going from being a pampered daughter to becoming the wife of a man of deep religious conviction who is proud and ambitious but without any gentleness to him. he has no understanding of how to treat a lady, unless it’s a witch he’s burning, and the wedding-night sequence is excruciating to read, although her (long) wait for him to come to their room is a beautifully written scene of nervous expectation, ripe with foreshadowing.
She removes the chamber pot from sight, slides the warming pan from one side of the bed to the other. There are pale stains on the mattress, and the straw has broken through in places. She can’t face the greying pillow and so wraps her old nightdress about it.
She lies ever so carefully, makes sure her hair is about her shoulders the way Agnete told her makes it look like she lies in a field of shining yellow wheat. Lamplight comes irregularly from the dock, and through the wooden walls she hears coarse voices speaking English and Norwegian and French and other languages she can’t recognize.
Beneath is all sits a creaking sound, like their stair at home, or Father’s knees when he sits. For a long while she can’t place it, and wonders if it is inside her own mind. But then she realizes: it is the ice, relocking about the ships
maren is also a very strong character. although island born and bred, she feels more compassion and patience for ursa than many of her neighbors. ursa stands out; a pretty flower in a stark landscape, and maren is drawn to her, helping ease her transition to island living, soon understanding that ursa’s domestic helplessness is circumstantial, not a result of laziness, and that her life and her marriage are not as pleasant as one might expect—learning how much she has sacrificed; down to the most essential part of her identity: …because they will use his customs for naming, she is Mistress Absalom Cornet. Herself, lost inside his name..
this is a gorgeous piece of feminist historical fiction, full of female awakening and empowerment, despite the high cost of independence, and there is beautiful and subtle perspective-writing as the two women see in each other a reflected kindred spirit, and become more to each other than they could ever have foreseen.
it’s not out for a while, but it’s worth waiting for. like this review?
*TIL (or ‘back in october IL’) that ‘lapps’ is apparently an offensive term.
************************************
SPOOKYMONTH WINDS DOWN!
i have no expectations of this actually being a horror novel, but i won it thru the gr giveaways and it has been patiently waiting for me to finish my horror-only october readings, so in these last few days of shocktober: witches.
not horror, but maybe gentle alarm?
May 12, 2020
The Mercies is inspired by the real events of the Vardo Storm and the 1621 Witch Trials on the Norwegian Island of Vardo. A Beautifully written and vivid story. I was swept up in the storytelling of Kiran Millwood Hargrave and the plight of the people left behind after the storm. A vivid and compelling plot with ingesting and believable characters make this such a compelling story.
On Christmas Eve in 1617, the sea round the remote Norwegian Island of Vardo is thrown into a reckless strom. As Maren Magnusdatter watches, forty fisherman, including her father and brother are lost to the waves, the menfolk wiped out in an instant. Vardo is now a place of women. Eighteen months later Absalom Cornet is summoned to the Island and his control and suspicions of witchcraft bring a new kind of terror to the Island.
This a beautifully imagined piece of historical fiction taking a little known event and creating and imagining a story that was touching and a memorable read. The cruelties of the times are well depicted and for the last 50 pages of the novel I was totally engorssed and memorised by the story and really didnt want this one to end.
I am so happy I purchased a hard copy of this one as its a lovely addition for my real life book shelf.
I think readers who have enjoyed novels like
or
will enjoy this one too.
On Christmas Eve in 1617, the sea round the remote Norwegian Island of Vardo is thrown into a reckless strom. As Maren Magnusdatter watches, forty fisherman, including her father and brother are lost to the waves, the menfolk wiped out in an instant. Vardo is now a place of women. Eighteen months later Absalom Cornet is summoned to the Island and his control and suspicions of witchcraft bring a new kind of terror to the Island.
This a beautifully imagined piece of historical fiction taking a little known event and creating and imagining a story that was touching and a memorable read. The cruelties of the times are well depicted and for the last 50 pages of the novel I was totally engorssed and memorised by the story and really didnt want this one to end.
I am so happy I purchased a hard copy of this one as its a lovely addition for my real life book shelf.
I think readers who have enjoyed novels like
July 12, 2020
Based on real events, THE MERCIES is a riveting book about what powerful men back in the 1600’s would do to quiet independent women.
Set in the remote town of Vardo in Northern Norway, a storm hits while all 40 men in the village perish while fishing. The women must fend for themselves to survive in the harsh environment. Some women look at the storm suspiciously while others prove their strength by setting out to feed the community. This is an era of male domination. A self-righteous zealot with a history of burning witches is brought in from Scotland. Along the way he picks up a young wife whom he has never met and brings her to this bleak landscape.
This is the story of that gentle wife and the friendship she develops. It’s about the tragic circumstances that come to Vardo in the form of a religious fanatic and the superstition and jealousy of some of the women. It’s about love, hate, betrayal, evil, and self-sacrifice.
THE MERCIES plays on many of our emotions from anger, to a feeling of foreboding and the loss of those that are good. It is a stunning and beautifully written book.
4.5 stars out of 5
Set in the remote town of Vardo in Northern Norway, a storm hits while all 40 men in the village perish while fishing. The women must fend for themselves to survive in the harsh environment. Some women look at the storm suspiciously while others prove their strength by setting out to feed the community. This is an era of male domination. A self-righteous zealot with a history of burning witches is brought in from Scotland. Along the way he picks up a young wife whom he has never met and brings her to this bleak landscape.
This is the story of that gentle wife and the friendship she develops. It’s about the tragic circumstances that come to Vardo in the form of a religious fanatic and the superstition and jealousy of some of the women. It’s about love, hate, betrayal, evil, and self-sacrifice.
THE MERCIES plays on many of our emotions from anger, to a feeling of foreboding and the loss of those that are good. It is a stunning and beautifully written book.
4.5 stars out of 5
July 27, 2020
Based on a horrific true story of witchcraft deaths in Norway
The Mercies starts with a catastrophe, the deaths of 40 fishermen in a sea storm off the tiny village of Vardo in northern Norway in 1617.This horrific, treacherous storm killed all the able bodied adult men of the town in one fell swoop.The women and children are left bereft. How are they to eat, to live, without their men?
In tandem with the Vardo story is one of a young girl who is given in marriage by her father to a total stranger and a foreigner. She has to leave with him to go to Vardo within a few days of their betrothal and marriage. She has barely spoken to him and finds their union painful physically and mentally as she has to cut herself off from her beloved home and sister.
As the two stories are united, we begin to fear for the innocent victims of the cruel and diabolical men who want to stamp out tradition, foreign ways and the spirits of strong women.
The Mercies starts with a catastrophe, the deaths of 40 fishermen in a sea storm off the tiny village of Vardo in northern Norway in 1617.This horrific, treacherous storm killed all the able bodied adult men of the town in one fell swoop.The women and children are left bereft. How are they to eat, to live, without their men?
In tandem with the Vardo story is one of a young girl who is given in marriage by her father to a total stranger and a foreigner. She has to leave with him to go to Vardo within a few days of their betrothal and marriage. She has barely spoken to him and finds their union painful physically and mentally as she has to cut herself off from her beloved home and sister.
As the two stories are united, we begin to fear for the innocent victims of the cruel and diabolical men who want to stamp out tradition, foreign ways and the spirits of strong women.
March 3, 2020
Christmas Eve, 1617. "...the storm comes in like a finger snap...the sea and sky clashing like a mountain splitting...All about her, other mothers, sisters, daughters are throwing themselves at the weather...a final flash of lightning illuminates the hatefully still sea...of their men, there is no sign...Papa used to say that the sea was the shape of their lives. They have always lived by its grace...but the storm has made it an enemy...".
All forty fishermen were killed in the Vardo Storm. The women, able to recover the bodies, must store them over the frigid winter until the frozen ground softens...but...What caused the storm? Is it "the devilry" of the indigenous Sami people who used charms, runes and weather-weaving?
Maren Magnusdatter, 20 years old, had lost her father, brother Eric and her betrothed, Dag, to the storm. Diinna, of Sami descent, was married to Eric. Despite the "press of thumb to her forehead", this did not "...draw a thread to reel men at sea home again" based upon Sami custom.
June, 1618. Kindness of neighboring villages aside, "...we must start to carry ourselves. The ice is gone, we have the midnight sun...time to fish...". Eight women, dressed in their dead men's sealskins and caps...are consumed by their work. Some of the women "[watch] from windows and keenly from the doorway of the Kirke...[judging, unfavorably]...". Kirsten Sorensdatter takes the lead by caring for and slaughtering reindeer, and by the way, wearing trousers while doing so. It might seem "ungodly" for women to be in charge. First, Pastor Kurtsson is sent to Vardo to provide continuing Christian values and additionally "bring the Sami" into the fold . While Maren and Kirsten fish, chop wood and ready fields for planting, "Kirke women" hang on Pastor's every word.
Changes are coming. The new independence and self-sufficiency of the women is suspect. Interest in the pastor's message is waning. Suspicion is growing. Did witches wreck havoc and cause the harrowing storm? To this end, a Scotsman named Absalom Cornet is appointed commissioner to Vardo. His job: to root out witches by the method of "branding, strangling, and burning". Sinister Absalom Cornet, a religious zealot who prays fervently, has no tolerance and expects subservience from all women. He has brought his bride, Ursa to this harsh land. Ursa, a sheltered teenager, finds a friend and confidant in Maren. The friendship is unlikely, devotion to each other, beautifully portrayed.
"The Mercies" by Kiran Millwood Hargrave engendered a plethora of emotions. I felt sadness, longing, isolation, love, tenderness, anger and frustration. I felt as if I spent time in Vardo with both Maren and Ursa, the principal, well detailed and well written protagonists of this historical fiction tome describing the Vardo Storm of 1621 and the life changes of a group of strong-willed, determined women. Highly recommended.
Thank you Little, Brown and Company and Net Galley for the opportunity to read and review "The Mercies".
All forty fishermen were killed in the Vardo Storm. The women, able to recover the bodies, must store them over the frigid winter until the frozen ground softens...but...What caused the storm? Is it "the devilry" of the indigenous Sami people who used charms, runes and weather-weaving?
Maren Magnusdatter, 20 years old, had lost her father, brother Eric and her betrothed, Dag, to the storm. Diinna, of Sami descent, was married to Eric. Despite the "press of thumb to her forehead", this did not "...draw a thread to reel men at sea home again" based upon Sami custom.
June, 1618. Kindness of neighboring villages aside, "...we must start to carry ourselves. The ice is gone, we have the midnight sun...time to fish...". Eight women, dressed in their dead men's sealskins and caps...are consumed by their work. Some of the women "[watch] from windows and keenly from the doorway of the Kirke...[judging, unfavorably]...". Kirsten Sorensdatter takes the lead by caring for and slaughtering reindeer, and by the way, wearing trousers while doing so. It might seem "ungodly" for women to be in charge. First, Pastor Kurtsson is sent to Vardo to provide continuing Christian values and additionally "bring the Sami" into the fold . While Maren and Kirsten fish, chop wood and ready fields for planting, "Kirke women" hang on Pastor's every word.
Changes are coming. The new independence and self-sufficiency of the women is suspect. Interest in the pastor's message is waning. Suspicion is growing. Did witches wreck havoc and cause the harrowing storm? To this end, a Scotsman named Absalom Cornet is appointed commissioner to Vardo. His job: to root out witches by the method of "branding, strangling, and burning". Sinister Absalom Cornet, a religious zealot who prays fervently, has no tolerance and expects subservience from all women. He has brought his bride, Ursa to this harsh land. Ursa, a sheltered teenager, finds a friend and confidant in Maren. The friendship is unlikely, devotion to each other, beautifully portrayed.
"The Mercies" by Kiran Millwood Hargrave engendered a plethora of emotions. I felt sadness, longing, isolation, love, tenderness, anger and frustration. I felt as if I spent time in Vardo with both Maren and Ursa, the principal, well detailed and well written protagonists of this historical fiction tome describing the Vardo Storm of 1621 and the life changes of a group of strong-willed, determined women. Highly recommended.
Thank you Little, Brown and Company and Net Galley for the opportunity to read and review "The Mercies".
April 18, 2020
The last two days have been dark and dreary and cool -- the perfect weather in which to read this beautifully rendered novel set in northeastern Norway, a place of cold, dark, and long winters. It was not just the setting that was chilling, but the story itself.
In 1617, a ferocious storm blew over the island of Vardø, killing all of the men who were fishing at the time. The women were left to fend for themselves for a time until the witch hunt began by King Christian IV reached their small community.
This is the background and real history that Kiran Millwood Hargrave expands upon, weaving together a brilliant, beautiful, but ultimately tragic story about the women whose lives are shattered with the storm, and then further broken apart with the arrival of the pious and sadistic Commissioner Absalom Cornet.
The descriptions of this island are exquisite and the characters resurrected in beautiful prose. It took about 5 pages of reading to have me gripped and not wanting to put this book down. It is the kind of historical fiction I like (as opposed to WWII cheesy romances). There is a background love story in this too, but between two women which I appreciate more than the usual F/M romance.
The story is narrated in turn by each of these women: Maren, a strong and capable young woman whose fiancé was killed at sea, and Ursa, the young wife of Commissioner Cornet. As these two women are drawn ever closer, the events unfolding around them become more and more horrific.
Because this is based on real events, it is all the more harrowing. The brutality inflicted upon countless women and men by self-righteous religious leaders is appalling. The fear and hysteria instigated by those leaders led to so much suffering and death. I hadn't known about the witch trials of Vardø prior to reading this novel, but they were basically the same everywhere they transpired.
Chilling and haunting yet beautiful, The Mercies is a novel that fans of historical fiction will not want to miss.
In 1617, a ferocious storm blew over the island of Vardø, killing all of the men who were fishing at the time. The women were left to fend for themselves for a time until the witch hunt began by King Christian IV reached their small community.
This is the background and real history that Kiran Millwood Hargrave expands upon, weaving together a brilliant, beautiful, but ultimately tragic story about the women whose lives are shattered with the storm, and then further broken apart with the arrival of the pious and sadistic Commissioner Absalom Cornet.
The descriptions of this island are exquisite and the characters resurrected in beautiful prose. It took about 5 pages of reading to have me gripped and not wanting to put this book down. It is the kind of historical fiction I like (as opposed to WWII cheesy romances). There is a background love story in this too, but between two women which I appreciate more than the usual F/M romance.
The story is narrated in turn by each of these women: Maren, a strong and capable young woman whose fiancé was killed at sea, and Ursa, the young wife of Commissioner Cornet. As these two women are drawn ever closer, the events unfolding around them become more and more horrific.
Because this is based on real events, it is all the more harrowing. The brutality inflicted upon countless women and men by self-righteous religious leaders is appalling. The fear and hysteria instigated by those leaders led to so much suffering and death. I hadn't known about the witch trials of Vardø prior to reading this novel, but they were basically the same everywhere they transpired.
Chilling and haunting yet beautiful, The Mercies is a novel that fans of historical fiction will not want to miss.
January 27, 2021
The Mercies is inspired by the real events of the Vardø storm and the 1621 witch trials. Taking these historical events, Kiran Millwood Hargrave creates a story centered around a community of powerful, independent, strong female characters.
After the storm took the men's lives in a small Norwegian village in 1617, the women are left on their own. They must find a way to survive and live on their own. Maren is left grieving the death of her father, brother, and fiancé with her mother and sister in law. Through the strength of each other, the women have built a life for themselves without men. We see into their daily lives as they fish, tend to livestock, and plant, and at times, the pace was a little slow going. They have grown strong as a community but not without struggles as they deal with their grief, loss, beliefs, and accepting the differences in each other. Three years later, a Commissioner arrives to see what evil lurks in the women who can survive without men. A witch hunt begins, and we start to see themes of feminism here while exploring oppression. It is easy to draw modern-day parallels to. It also explore organized religion used to control the women and what happens when they don't conform to it.
The Mercies is an empowering, beautifully written story; however, the author does not shy away from disturbing details. It's intense thought-provoking, insightful story of love, friendship, evil, power and control with women we can learn from! I highly recommend it.
What makes a strong female character? Check out my post
https://travelingsistersbookreviews.c...
After the storm took the men's lives in a small Norwegian village in 1617, the women are left on their own. They must find a way to survive and live on their own. Maren is left grieving the death of her father, brother, and fiancé with her mother and sister in law. Through the strength of each other, the women have built a life for themselves without men. We see into their daily lives as they fish, tend to livestock, and plant, and at times, the pace was a little slow going. They have grown strong as a community but not without struggles as they deal with their grief, loss, beliefs, and accepting the differences in each other. Three years later, a Commissioner arrives to see what evil lurks in the women who can survive without men. A witch hunt begins, and we start to see themes of feminism here while exploring oppression. It is easy to draw modern-day parallels to. It also explore organized religion used to control the women and what happens when they don't conform to it.
The Mercies is an empowering, beautifully written story; however, the author does not shy away from disturbing details. It's intense thought-provoking, insightful story of love, friendship, evil, power and control with women we can learn from! I highly recommend it.
What makes a strong female character? Check out my post
https://travelingsistersbookreviews.c...
February 15, 2021
Taking an underrepresented piece of history, author Kiran Millwood Hargrave, inspired by the 1617 Vardo, Norway storm and the witch trials that followed in 1621, wrote this unforgettable work of historical fiction. For this reason, along with GR friend, Jenna's awesome review and a trip to Scandinavia over 30 years ago, drew me to this story.
This novel earned 5 stars from me for the following reasons:
1. memorable characters, both likable and despicable, are the highlight of this story;
2. the plot leads you from sadness to utter despair (okay, it's not a feel-good story);
3. I learned about the persecution of the indigenous Sami people (whose homeland is the Lapland region);
4. I could feel the intense cruelty and fear during the descriptions of the witch hunts;
5. Hargrave's "Historical Note" lent some fascinating information; and,
6. narrator, Jessie Buckley, brings this story to life on this audiobook (I especially appreciated her pronunciation of Norwegian names and places).
It is so sad that women can be their own worst enemies. Heartbreaking, but highly recommended!
This novel earned 5 stars from me for the following reasons:
1. memorable characters, both likable and despicable, are the highlight of this story;
2. the plot leads you from sadness to utter despair (okay, it's not a feel-good story);
3. I learned about the persecution of the indigenous Sami people (whose homeland is the Lapland region);
4. I could feel the intense cruelty and fear during the descriptions of the witch hunts;
5. Hargrave's "Historical Note" lent some fascinating information; and,
6. narrator, Jessie Buckley, brings this story to life on this audiobook (I especially appreciated her pronunciation of Norwegian names and places).
It is so sad that women can be their own worst enemies. Heartbreaking, but highly recommended!
August 28, 2022
In 1617, 40 men from a Norwegian coastal village were killed by a freak storm while fishing, which was all the village men, excluding those very old or young. The Mercies, based on the real events, tells of the women surviving alone in a time of superstition, struggling to provide for themselves, and the tragic witch trials to follow. Descriptive and evocative.
April 20, 2020
1617. Norway. A group of women stand, bracing the harsh winds of a sudden storm, as they stare out at sea and watch the broken bodies of their men fling themselves to shore. The only males now left in their society are the very young or the very old; those who did not brave the fickle beast called nature and lose. They are isolated and must rely on themselves and each other if they are to survive the brutal land they call home.
A year passes but grief still lies thick upon their skin. The women have taken up their former roles as well as those of the men they lost but have not forgotten. But this is not the Christian way. And the so-called messengers of Him will ensure they pay for their transgressions.
Although told through fictional characters, The Mercies relays the very real story of the Vardø storm and the subsequent 1621 witch trials. The fear of the other looms like a distant storm cloud, throughout the entire narrative, closing in as the story breaks, with horror, sorrow and the despicable acts inflicted by humans to each other, along with it.
This tale was largely a slow-moving one. It is told through a series of subtle glances and the brush of skin upon skin. It relays a history of people, a culture losing its grip to religion, and the dark deeds of man through quiet interactions and long silences. I got to know the women of this community before I grew to know their so-called sins. And this was largely the point of the book.
Females dominate this community and the novel, and yet they are never the ones who are the deciders of their own future fates. They are never the ones who have dominion over their community, their land, or even their bodies. One male presence is enough to dispel any illusions of this. For to be born male is to be born with power, and to be born powerful is to learn how to abuse it.
I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. Thank you to the author, Kiran Millwood Hargrave, and the publisher, Pan Macmillan, for this opportunity.
A year passes but grief still lies thick upon their skin. The women have taken up their former roles as well as those of the men they lost but have not forgotten. But this is not the Christian way. And the so-called messengers of Him will ensure they pay for their transgressions.
Although told through fictional characters, The Mercies relays the very real story of the Vardø storm and the subsequent 1621 witch trials. The fear of the other looms like a distant storm cloud, throughout the entire narrative, closing in as the story breaks, with horror, sorrow and the despicable acts inflicted by humans to each other, along with it.
This tale was largely a slow-moving one. It is told through a series of subtle glances and the brush of skin upon skin. It relays a history of people, a culture losing its grip to religion, and the dark deeds of man through quiet interactions and long silences. I got to know the women of this community before I grew to know their so-called sins. And this was largely the point of the book.
Females dominate this community and the novel, and yet they are never the ones who are the deciders of their own future fates. They are never the ones who have dominion over their community, their land, or even their bodies. One male presence is enough to dispel any illusions of this. For to be born male is to be born with power, and to be born powerful is to learn how to abuse it.
I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. Thank you to the author, Kiran Millwood Hargrave, and the publisher, Pan Macmillan, for this opportunity.
March 3, 2020
ARC received in exchange for an honest review 🌊
Atmospheric and beautifully written, The Mercies takes inspiration from the real life disaster of 1617 where 40 men drowned on Christmas Eve off the coast of Vardo in Norway in a vicious and unnatural storm. For the women left behind they must fight not only for survival in the harsh climate, but also the resulting accusations of witchcraft which creates a growing level of mistrust between the women. Taking centre stage in this story are two women, Maren and Ursa. Maren is the daughter of a fisherman, who lost both her father and brother in the storm. Ursa is the new wife of a renowned Witch Hunter, a man who has been sent to Vardo to quell the growing rumours of women living independently by any means possible. Even if his methods have horrific and life ending consequences.
I loved the writing in this. It’s richly descriptive and well researched, immersing the reader in the environment from the very first page with a vivid reimagining of this tragic disaster. The characters are also well fleshed out and complex, as we see Maren struggle to deal with her growing resentment for some of the women she’s grown up with - including the slow unravelling of her relationship with her mother and brother’s wife, an outsider. This really feels like a tale about women, how they create kinship in times of need and band together as a community. They’re pragmatic, but this also then dissolves into mistrust and hatred over time. A hatred fuelled by the church and its Commissioner with stories of spells and the devil. The standout relationship however is that between Maren and Ursa. It’s gradually built upon, as the two women share their experiences and losses, growing first into friends and then something deeper. Something more meaningful. They are each other’s shining beacon of hope in an otherwise desolate landscape. It feels realistic and hopeful, amongst an otherwise dark story.
That said, there was just something missing for me throughout the story and I think that’s largely a result of the pacing. The story takes place over 3 years, and is very slow to pick up after the dramatic opening scene. Not much happens for a large portion of the text, with both our main characters not even meeting until over 100 pages in. There’s a lot of set up, and a lot of talk between the women (which does help with character development), which leaves the plot lagging and stilted. At times I did find my mind wandering, and I struggled to stay focused on the story. The pay off at the end also doesn’t fully compensate for the pacing. It feels a little incomplete, and not totally satisfying.
A fascinating and well researched look at a moment in time that is largely overlooked in literature, but I just wanted more from the plot and pacing to accommodate these wonderful characters.
Atmospheric and beautifully written, The Mercies takes inspiration from the real life disaster of 1617 where 40 men drowned on Christmas Eve off the coast of Vardo in Norway in a vicious and unnatural storm. For the women left behind they must fight not only for survival in the harsh climate, but also the resulting accusations of witchcraft which creates a growing level of mistrust between the women. Taking centre stage in this story are two women, Maren and Ursa. Maren is the daughter of a fisherman, who lost both her father and brother in the storm. Ursa is the new wife of a renowned Witch Hunter, a man who has been sent to Vardo to quell the growing rumours of women living independently by any means possible. Even if his methods have horrific and life ending consequences.
I loved the writing in this. It’s richly descriptive and well researched, immersing the reader in the environment from the very first page with a vivid reimagining of this tragic disaster. The characters are also well fleshed out and complex, as we see Maren struggle to deal with her growing resentment for some of the women she’s grown up with - including the slow unravelling of her relationship with her mother and brother’s wife, an outsider. This really feels like a tale about women, how they create kinship in times of need and band together as a community. They’re pragmatic, but this also then dissolves into mistrust and hatred over time. A hatred fuelled by the church and its Commissioner with stories of spells and the devil. The standout relationship however is that between Maren and Ursa. It’s gradually built upon, as the two women share their experiences and losses, growing first into friends and then something deeper. Something more meaningful. They are each other’s shining beacon of hope in an otherwise desolate landscape. It feels realistic and hopeful, amongst an otherwise dark story.
That said, there was just something missing for me throughout the story and I think that’s largely a result of the pacing. The story takes place over 3 years, and is very slow to pick up after the dramatic opening scene. Not much happens for a large portion of the text, with both our main characters not even meeting until over 100 pages in. There’s a lot of set up, and a lot of talk between the women (which does help with character development), which leaves the plot lagging and stilted. At times I did find my mind wandering, and I struggled to stay focused on the story. The pay off at the end also doesn’t fully compensate for the pacing. It feels a little incomplete, and not totally satisfying.
A fascinating and well researched look at a moment in time that is largely overlooked in literature, but I just wanted more from the plot and pacing to accommodate these wonderful characters.
March 23, 2020
After reading this I’m not sure which makes me angrier - the arrogance of the Protestant church including murder under the guise of Christianity, the racist prejudices against a minority, or the abusive self-righteous, domineering husbands. These are evils portrayed in Hargrave’s historically based account of the hardscrabble women of 17th century Finnmark, Norway.
Hargrove melds the harsh Norwegian landscape and its weather with a sense of foreboding. She has created personalities that immerse the reader in the social constrictions placed on women and how their fear of natural disaster leads to hysteria and irrational explanations. In the midst of this horrific setting is a love story and the sacrifices a lover makes for their loved one.
This is a tragic event that occurred centuries ago but I found it holds valuable lessons for women today.
Hargrove melds the harsh Norwegian landscape and its weather with a sense of foreboding. She has created personalities that immerse the reader in the social constrictions placed on women and how their fear of natural disaster leads to hysteria and irrational explanations. In the midst of this horrific setting is a love story and the sacrifices a lover makes for their loved one.
This is a tragic event that occurred centuries ago but I found it holds valuable lessons for women today.
February 29, 2020
[4+] Over the last few days I have been transported to an isolated fishing village in 17th century Norway. When all the able bodied men perish in a storm, women must step into the men's roles to survive. The novel's tension builds slowly and focuses on the relationship between two women, Marin and Ursa, the wife of the new commissioner, whose mission is to find and persecute witches. I loved every moment of my immersion in this beautifully rendered and chilling world!
Thank you to Little, Brown and Company @picadorbooks for the ARC.
Thank you to Little, Brown and Company @picadorbooks for the ARC.
April 18, 2021
5+
"Grief cannot feed you, but it fills you."
"But now she knows she was foolish to believe that evil existed only out there. It was here, among them, walking on two legs, passing judgement with a human tongue.
Sometimes you read a historical book and you are aware of how much has changed, and sometimes the book screams things haven't changed much at all. The Mercies is one of the latter.
Actual witch hunts have taken place for centuries. In 1617, off the coast of Norway, an unprecedented storm killed 40 fisherman, fathers, sons, husbands, brothers. Was this an act of nature or some unnatural evil force? Could some "witchy women" be responsible?
There have been many beautiful reviews of this book. One more retelling is not necessary, but there could never be too many accolades. The barren and frigid coast of Norway sets the mood. Always desolate and dark for much of the year, I felt the chill in my bones and the foreboding chill of what was coming. The fires that warmed these women, the ashes that needed tending also foretold of other fires and human ashes. Fire for survival, death by fire. The ocean that sustains life is the ocean that destroys life and invokes fear.
The author, Kiran Millwood Hargrave, expertly builds the suspense in this chilling tale, making sure all our senses are fully engaged. Women trying to survive on their own become petty and jealous, the religious zealots point fingers, seeing guilt where none exists and so begins the maelstrom that cannot be stopped. What starts as small village disaccord grows into group hysteria.
Dictatorial rulers have always known how best to worm their way into control: build distrust among the people and encourage them to turn on one another, build fear, often fear of one segment of the population, torture those who voice disagreement, takeover or shut down the media (not a problem in 1617). Similarly to The Mercies, often these corrupt leaders (and often religious officials) chose to come down hard on women, especially strong women. Are things different today?
The power of women is a dominant theme in this novel, although their strength is both their salvation and their downfall. Through love, courage, and friendship women prevailed in 1617 and through the ages. This is the beautiful message of this powerful book, one of the best I have read this year or maybe in many years.
You can bend but never break me
'Cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
'Cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul.
(verse 3 I Am Woman)
"Grief cannot feed you, but it fills you."
"But now she knows she was foolish to believe that evil existed only out there. It was here, among them, walking on two legs, passing judgement with a human tongue.
Sometimes you read a historical book and you are aware of how much has changed, and sometimes the book screams things haven't changed much at all. The Mercies is one of the latter.
Actual witch hunts have taken place for centuries. In 1617, off the coast of Norway, an unprecedented storm killed 40 fisherman, fathers, sons, husbands, brothers. Was this an act of nature or some unnatural evil force? Could some "witchy women" be responsible?
There have been many beautiful reviews of this book. One more retelling is not necessary, but there could never be too many accolades. The barren and frigid coast of Norway sets the mood. Always desolate and dark for much of the year, I felt the chill in my bones and the foreboding chill of what was coming. The fires that warmed these women, the ashes that needed tending also foretold of other fires and human ashes. Fire for survival, death by fire. The ocean that sustains life is the ocean that destroys life and invokes fear.
The author, Kiran Millwood Hargrave, expertly builds the suspense in this chilling tale, making sure all our senses are fully engaged. Women trying to survive on their own become petty and jealous, the religious zealots point fingers, seeing guilt where none exists and so begins the maelstrom that cannot be stopped. What starts as small village disaccord grows into group hysteria.
Dictatorial rulers have always known how best to worm their way into control: build distrust among the people and encourage them to turn on one another, build fear, often fear of one segment of the population, torture those who voice disagreement, takeover or shut down the media (not a problem in 1617). Similarly to The Mercies, often these corrupt leaders (and often religious officials) chose to come down hard on women, especially strong women. Are things different today?
The power of women is a dominant theme in this novel, although their strength is both their salvation and their downfall. Through love, courage, and friendship women prevailed in 1617 and through the ages. This is the beautiful message of this powerful book, one of the best I have read this year or maybe in many years.
You can bend but never break me
'Cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
'Cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul.
(verse 3 I Am Woman)
March 8, 2020
F**k this book and what it did to my heart.
Two points of note:
1. This was not what I was expecting.
2. This book held me captivated from start to finish.
I honestly thought this was going to have real witchcraft but it's firmly on the solid land of Historical Fiction. We're in 1620 Norway, visiting a tiny commune in Vardo following an unexpected storm that's wiped out the majority of the male population. The women have to fend for themselves as best they can, before an outsider comes to take control.
I genuinely thought this was a book set on a fictional island that was inhabited solely by women - something more akin to the Amazons (I'm not the greatest at blurb comprehension, I'll admit). I was ready for some badass ladies finding their power. But this is all snow and ice and backwards ways and dark, dark times. It was super depressing.
This entire story is gloomy and overcast, and the author does such an incredible job of transporting us to this historical village of ice and snow with a storm hanging over its head. I knew very early on this was not going to be a happy story.
Add to that the fact that this story is inspired by true events and it's enough to make your blood run cold.
I was fully entrenched in this world while reading, and I felt so much for the characters. I connected completely and felt their pain as my own. By the end of it I was nearly crying from all the hardship. And I'm not really a crier.
This is a heart-wrenching story about the evil of ignorance. About how following blindly can have tragic consequences. And about how contagious fear is, and how detrimental that fear becomes. How grateful I am to live in a world that's moved past these evils, but how terrified I am to see the same ignorance and fear causing different tragedies around the world four hundred years later.
I'll likely be recommending this one to a lot of people. If I hadn't been lured in by wrong impressions I would not have picked this up, and that would have been a real loss, because this is such an incredible read. It's not particularly happy but it's fascinating and atmospheric and creates a true connection to these women and what they experience.
A highly worthy read.
With thanks to Macmillan for an ARC.
Two points of note:
1. This was not what I was expecting.
2. This book held me captivated from start to finish.
I honestly thought this was going to have real witchcraft but it's firmly on the solid land of Historical Fiction. We're in 1620 Norway, visiting a tiny commune in Vardo following an unexpected storm that's wiped out the majority of the male population. The women have to fend for themselves as best they can, before an outsider comes to take control.
I genuinely thought this was a book set on a fictional island that was inhabited solely by women - something more akin to the Amazons (I'm not the greatest at blurb comprehension, I'll admit). I was ready for some badass ladies finding their power. But this is all snow and ice and backwards ways and dark, dark times. It was super depressing.
This entire story is gloomy and overcast, and the author does such an incredible job of transporting us to this historical village of ice and snow with a storm hanging over its head. I knew very early on this was not going to be a happy story.
Add to that the fact that this story is inspired by true events and it's enough to make your blood run cold.
I was fully entrenched in this world while reading, and I felt so much for the characters. I connected completely and felt their pain as my own. By the end of it I was nearly crying from all the hardship. And I'm not really a crier.
This is a heart-wrenching story about the evil of ignorance. About how following blindly can have tragic consequences. And about how contagious fear is, and how detrimental that fear becomes. How grateful I am to live in a world that's moved past these evils, but how terrified I am to see the same ignorance and fear causing different tragedies around the world four hundred years later.
I'll likely be recommending this one to a lot of people. If I hadn't been lured in by wrong impressions I would not have picked this up, and that would have been a real loss, because this is such an incredible read. It's not particularly happy but it's fascinating and atmospheric and creates a true connection to these women and what they experience.
A highly worthy read.
With thanks to Macmillan for an ARC.
December 8, 2019
Norway 1617, the town of Vardo. Maren Bergensdatter and Diinna are just two of the women who have made their way through the slashing rain to the edge of their island to watch a terrible, colossal storm raining down havoc and destruction on the little fishing fleet caught in the middle of it.
Maren and the other women are not aware of the consequences that this storm is going to have on the lives of their island town. As the storm subsides, the women observe the detritus rolling in towards them on the waves.
“The women of Vardo gather at the scooped-out edge of their island, and though some are still shouting, Maren’s ears ring with silence. Before her, the harbour is wiped smooth as a mirror. Her Jaw is caught on the hinges of itself, her tongue dripping blood warm down her chin. Her needle is threaded in the web between her thumb and forefinger, the wound a neat circle of pink. As she watches, a final flash of lightning illuminates the hatefully still sea, and from its blackness rise oars and rudders and a full mast with gently stowed sails, like underwater forests uprooted. Of their men, there is no sign.
The women of Vardo don’t know it yet but every man of the fishing fleet has drowned, including Maren’s father and brother. Her brother was Diinna’s husband and his loss is felt by both women.
There used to be fifty-three males living in the town, now there are thirteen. Two are merely babies, three are elders, and the rest are young boys who were too young to be out with the fleet.
Superstition is rife. The women start looking for answers as to what caused this tragedy. The storm abnormally strong and swift. They talk of signs that suggested this was going to happen, a tern, a whale swimming upside down, signs that the women should have noticed. The devil himself is blamed for the storm and the loss of their men.
Then the talk inevitably turns to leaving. The women have relations and family in other towns. Serious talk and consideration bandied about of leaving to the larger cities of Varanger and Tromso. Cities a good distance away. It is finally decided that they will wait for word from Kiberg, which they expect will arrive by boat now the storm has dispersed.
Diinna is of the indigenous Sami people. Charms, talking to spirits to appease the weather, vital for a fishing population, is simply their way of life. Maren’s father was a noaidi, a shaman, a mystic. Many from the town would come to him for charms and trinkets, protection from the sea and foul weather. However, King Christian IV is a strict Lutheran and times have changed, and laws have been brought in by the church banning such acts, although the pastor would normally let such things pass, turning away as if not noticing. Christianity has taken hold here and there is bad blood between the Christians and the Sami, who they consider pagans that follow the old ways.
The narrative now jumps to 1619, Bergen, which is in the southwest of Norway, almost as far away from Vardo, which is way up in the north, as you can get. Ursa has no choice in the husband she is to marry, she does not even get to see him before her father has agreed happily to the marriage. Commissioner Absalom Cornet has come all the way from Scotland and his marriage proposal is a simple sentence uttered to Ursa and her father, “I am in need of a wife”. Commissioner Cornet has been sent from Scotland under the orders of Lensmann Cunningham to ostensibly stamp out all heathen presence and activity from Vardo. Ursa’s father is, if not euphoric, then ecstatic, that his daughter will be marrying a man in such a prestigious position. Ursa’s feelings, well they hardly matter do they.
When the Commissioner leaves Ursa watches him from an upstairs window and thinks,
“Absalom Cornet. It sounds less like a prayer, and more like a knell.”
Ursa has no idea how prescient this thought will turn out to be.
Absalom and Ursa set sail for Vardo, where Lensmann Cunningham will meet up with them.
On the long sea voyage to Vardo, Ursa comes to see her husband’s true side and realises that she is trapped with no chance of escape. Upon overhearing her talking to the captain in Norwegian, Absalom becomes quite angry with her, he then asks the captain of the ship to teach him Norwegian.
“Ursa feels a noose slip about her neck. Soon she will have nowhere to hide, not even her mother tongue. She excuses herself early, leaves them talking in the lamplight. She feels, once again, quite alone.”
When the ship finally pulls into Vardo the women are all there to witness the arrival. Maren thinks that the last time all the women were gathered here together like this was the night of the storm, the night they lost the men.
It is Maren who runs back to get Ursa a coat when they make land and an instant connection is formed between the two as Ursa thanks her.
There is an almost ominous feeling shrouding over this initial landing, and the weather, as if in agreement starts to rain.
A little later, when Absalom publicly addresses the women, he tells them that, “Too long you have been left here without guidance. I am here to offer it, and I must ask you to be vigilant.”
A dramatic statement that has a forbidding feeling attached to it.
It does not take long for Maren to realise that Ursa is floundering in this new way of life and has no idea about the things that the women of Vardo find basic and rudimental. Marlen takes it upon herself to help Ursa, and a strong bond of friendship is formed between the two.
These two characters who come from the two extreme ends of their country, come from lives that are universes apart, become closer and closer as each day passes. Are their feelings passing over the line of friendship? What will happen if Absalom finds out?
Then the Lensmann, who Absalom has been waiting for finally arrives, and the true, horrible purpose of Absalom’s appointment to Vardo becomes painfully clear!
To think that this book is based on a real event and real characters is chilling but not surprising. We have inflicted horror upon horror upon ourselves throughout our brief history. Looking at the world today, I would like to think we have moved forwards a little. We certainly don’t burn “witches” at the stake anymore, but do we tolerate beliefs that are not our own? Do we persecute those who choose a different faith? A different style of life? Will we ever truly change?
This wonderful novel will be published by Little Brown and Company in February 2020. Thankyou to them and Netgally for the ARC.
Maren and the other women are not aware of the consequences that this storm is going to have on the lives of their island town. As the storm subsides, the women observe the detritus rolling in towards them on the waves.
“The women of Vardo gather at the scooped-out edge of their island, and though some are still shouting, Maren’s ears ring with silence. Before her, the harbour is wiped smooth as a mirror. Her Jaw is caught on the hinges of itself, her tongue dripping blood warm down her chin. Her needle is threaded in the web between her thumb and forefinger, the wound a neat circle of pink. As she watches, a final flash of lightning illuminates the hatefully still sea, and from its blackness rise oars and rudders and a full mast with gently stowed sails, like underwater forests uprooted. Of their men, there is no sign.
The women of Vardo don’t know it yet but every man of the fishing fleet has drowned, including Maren’s father and brother. Her brother was Diinna’s husband and his loss is felt by both women.
There used to be fifty-three males living in the town, now there are thirteen. Two are merely babies, three are elders, and the rest are young boys who were too young to be out with the fleet.
Superstition is rife. The women start looking for answers as to what caused this tragedy. The storm abnormally strong and swift. They talk of signs that suggested this was going to happen, a tern, a whale swimming upside down, signs that the women should have noticed. The devil himself is blamed for the storm and the loss of their men.
Then the talk inevitably turns to leaving. The women have relations and family in other towns. Serious talk and consideration bandied about of leaving to the larger cities of Varanger and Tromso. Cities a good distance away. It is finally decided that they will wait for word from Kiberg, which they expect will arrive by boat now the storm has dispersed.
Diinna is of the indigenous Sami people. Charms, talking to spirits to appease the weather, vital for a fishing population, is simply their way of life. Maren’s father was a noaidi, a shaman, a mystic. Many from the town would come to him for charms and trinkets, protection from the sea and foul weather. However, King Christian IV is a strict Lutheran and times have changed, and laws have been brought in by the church banning such acts, although the pastor would normally let such things pass, turning away as if not noticing. Christianity has taken hold here and there is bad blood between the Christians and the Sami, who they consider pagans that follow the old ways.
The narrative now jumps to 1619, Bergen, which is in the southwest of Norway, almost as far away from Vardo, which is way up in the north, as you can get. Ursa has no choice in the husband she is to marry, she does not even get to see him before her father has agreed happily to the marriage. Commissioner Absalom Cornet has come all the way from Scotland and his marriage proposal is a simple sentence uttered to Ursa and her father, “I am in need of a wife”. Commissioner Cornet has been sent from Scotland under the orders of Lensmann Cunningham to ostensibly stamp out all heathen presence and activity from Vardo. Ursa’s father is, if not euphoric, then ecstatic, that his daughter will be marrying a man in such a prestigious position. Ursa’s feelings, well they hardly matter do they.
When the Commissioner leaves Ursa watches him from an upstairs window and thinks,
“Absalom Cornet. It sounds less like a prayer, and more like a knell.”
Ursa has no idea how prescient this thought will turn out to be.
Absalom and Ursa set sail for Vardo, where Lensmann Cunningham will meet up with them.
On the long sea voyage to Vardo, Ursa comes to see her husband’s true side and realises that she is trapped with no chance of escape. Upon overhearing her talking to the captain in Norwegian, Absalom becomes quite angry with her, he then asks the captain of the ship to teach him Norwegian.
“Ursa feels a noose slip about her neck. Soon she will have nowhere to hide, not even her mother tongue. She excuses herself early, leaves them talking in the lamplight. She feels, once again, quite alone.”
When the ship finally pulls into Vardo the women are all there to witness the arrival. Maren thinks that the last time all the women were gathered here together like this was the night of the storm, the night they lost the men.
It is Maren who runs back to get Ursa a coat when they make land and an instant connection is formed between the two as Ursa thanks her.
There is an almost ominous feeling shrouding over this initial landing, and the weather, as if in agreement starts to rain.
A little later, when Absalom publicly addresses the women, he tells them that, “Too long you have been left here without guidance. I am here to offer it, and I must ask you to be vigilant.”
A dramatic statement that has a forbidding feeling attached to it.
It does not take long for Maren to realise that Ursa is floundering in this new way of life and has no idea about the things that the women of Vardo find basic and rudimental. Marlen takes it upon herself to help Ursa, and a strong bond of friendship is formed between the two.
These two characters who come from the two extreme ends of their country, come from lives that are universes apart, become closer and closer as each day passes. Are their feelings passing over the line of friendship? What will happen if Absalom finds out?
Then the Lensmann, who Absalom has been waiting for finally arrives, and the true, horrible purpose of Absalom’s appointment to Vardo becomes painfully clear!
To think that this book is based on a real event and real characters is chilling but not surprising. We have inflicted horror upon horror upon ourselves throughout our brief history. Looking at the world today, I would like to think we have moved forwards a little. We certainly don’t burn “witches” at the stake anymore, but do we tolerate beliefs that are not our own? Do we persecute those who choose a different faith? A different style of life? Will we ever truly change?
This wonderful novel will be published by Little Brown and Company in February 2020. Thankyou to them and Netgally for the ARC.
March 30, 2020
I read this compulsively over two or three sittings. A brief historical note gives the setting for the events that form the backbone of this book: "on 24th December 1617, just off the coast of the island of Vardo, Norway's north-easternmost point, a storm lifted so suddenly eyewitnesses said it was as if it were conjured. In a matter of minutes, forty men were drowned. In this already remote and underpopulated place, it was a catastrophic event".
It would seem that the drowning of almost all the men in a village that relied heavily on fishing would have spelled doom for the entire population. But no! The women stand firm, taking upon themselves the tasks previously done by men. They have to face not only the inhospitable weather and the difficulties of the sea but also the prejudices amongst them, that women should not go out to sea, or that they should not wear trousers, because that is for men only. Yet, by sticking together and braving the weather, they survive until a Lensmann is commissioned to rule over them. This Lensmann, however, is not only keen to stamp down on any behaviour that challenges the established order; moreover, he is intent upon sniffing out witchcraft and extirpating it by the most extreme means possible. To help with this task he employs a commissioner with a reputation for being severe, ambitious and tough.
The story is told alternately from the point of view of the two main characters, Ursa, the commissioner's wife, and Maren, a young woman from the village, who has lost both her father and bethrothed to the storm. Ursa has had a sheltered life in the city before she is given away in marriage, whereas Maren is a headstrong woman who will do her bit to help her community and family survive. They get to know each other under what are for both difficult circumstances. Ursa is coming to terms with her new life in the tough environment of the village and with a husband she disdains, whilst Maren is finding her steps in a new world without men. Love, companionship and loyalty will blossom, but will be countered by hatred, envy, wickedness and small-mindedness.
The story is well-paced and the characters come alive. In fact, I found it difficult to put the book down, and totally recommend it to anyone with an interest in historical fiction. I do have one or two critcisms though.
It would seem that the drowning of almost all the men in a village that relied heavily on fishing would have spelled doom for the entire population. But no! The women stand firm, taking upon themselves the tasks previously done by men. They have to face not only the inhospitable weather and the difficulties of the sea but also the prejudices amongst them, that women should not go out to sea, or that they should not wear trousers, because that is for men only. Yet, by sticking together and braving the weather, they survive until a Lensmann is commissioned to rule over them. This Lensmann, however, is not only keen to stamp down on any behaviour that challenges the established order; moreover, he is intent upon sniffing out witchcraft and extirpating it by the most extreme means possible. To help with this task he employs a commissioner with a reputation for being severe, ambitious and tough.
The story is told alternately from the point of view of the two main characters, Ursa, the commissioner's wife, and Maren, a young woman from the village, who has lost both her father and bethrothed to the storm. Ursa has had a sheltered life in the city before she is given away in marriage, whereas Maren is a headstrong woman who will do her bit to help her community and family survive. They get to know each other under what are for both difficult circumstances. Ursa is coming to terms with her new life in the tough environment of the village and with a husband she disdains, whilst Maren is finding her steps in a new world without men. Love, companionship and loyalty will blossom, but will be countered by hatred, envy, wickedness and small-mindedness.
The story is well-paced and the characters come alive. In fact, I found it difficult to put the book down, and totally recommend it to anyone with an interest in historical fiction. I do have one or two critcisms though.
April 29, 2021
“Inspired by the real events of the Vardo storm and the 1621 witch trials.”
On Christmas Eve 1617 the Vardo storm claims forty fishermen, among them brother and father of Maren. With nearly all men dead, the women of a tiny Arctic island of Vardo must fend for themselves. The women fish, chop the wood, ready the fields, butcher reindeer, tend the livestock. A new Pastor assigned to Vardo observes the women closely and asks for a commissioner to be assigned as he sees something that may not be a godly behavior. A firmer hand is needed, “to root the Church more fully into the land.”
Ursa, commissioner’s wife, is terrified by her newlywed husband. But she is a smart woman and she can form her own opinion. By being obedient doesn’t mean she agrees with her husband. On the small island of Vardo, she sees primitive living conditions. At the same time, she notices women being independent.
Commissioner’s pressure and his iron hand cause a rift among kirke-women. Those gathering for social Wednesday meets at kirke (religious community).
The women’s gatherings and the friendship forged between two women, Maren and Ursa, are very heart-warming. My heart went out to those two women, especially Ursa, coming from a warm house and married to a cold, controlling husband. She carefully needs to trudge the waters with her husband.
Impressively drawn characters, who are helpless against man’s ruling world.
Grippingly drawn time period, infused with different customs. I enjoyed the customs of Sami people, who some considered wild. What one finds comfort in or sees as gestures of remembrance, another sees as witchcraft. The time period also gives a good sense of how it was to be a passenger on a boat or to be doing fishing. The simplicity of living huts is well-presented.
Enjoyable descriptions that transport readers back in time, giving enough descriptions to make that impression of the time of hard conditions and at the same time they’re not overly done.
Poignant and captivating story of courageous women, inspiringly crafted with flawless prose.
On Christmas Eve 1617 the Vardo storm claims forty fishermen, among them brother and father of Maren. With nearly all men dead, the women of a tiny Arctic island of Vardo must fend for themselves. The women fish, chop the wood, ready the fields, butcher reindeer, tend the livestock. A new Pastor assigned to Vardo observes the women closely and asks for a commissioner to be assigned as he sees something that may not be a godly behavior. A firmer hand is needed, “to root the Church more fully into the land.”
Ursa, commissioner’s wife, is terrified by her newlywed husband. But she is a smart woman and she can form her own opinion. By being obedient doesn’t mean she agrees with her husband. On the small island of Vardo, she sees primitive living conditions. At the same time, she notices women being independent.
Commissioner’s pressure and his iron hand cause a rift among kirke-women. Those gathering for social Wednesday meets at kirke (religious community).
The women’s gatherings and the friendship forged between two women, Maren and Ursa, are very heart-warming. My heart went out to those two women, especially Ursa, coming from a warm house and married to a cold, controlling husband. She carefully needs to trudge the waters with her husband.
Impressively drawn characters, who are helpless against man’s ruling world.
Grippingly drawn time period, infused with different customs. I enjoyed the customs of Sami people, who some considered wild. What one finds comfort in or sees as gestures of remembrance, another sees as witchcraft. The time period also gives a good sense of how it was to be a passenger on a boat or to be doing fishing. The simplicity of living huts is well-presented.
Enjoyable descriptions that transport readers back in time, giving enough descriptions to make that impression of the time of hard conditions and at the same time they’re not overly done.
Poignant and captivating story of courageous women, inspiringly crafted with flawless prose.
August 2, 2021
In the beginning I was captivated by Hargrave's vision, and by her glorious writing. As I read further I became crestfallen by the relentless brutality with which she treated her characters, and for the way she left these characters entirely bereft of hope. It might be historically accurate to write about strong women destroyed by the demands of their medieval patriarchal superstitious culture, and it might also be accurate to imagine that the women who demand the most freedom for themselves would be punished the most severely...but honestly. Tell me something I don't know. If you give yourself the freedom to begin your novel so imaginatively--with a passage about a dreaming young woman channeling the thoughts of a dying whale--then why not imagine your way to a different outcome for these women? Why chain yourself to a story that takes your characters down the least imaginative, most grim, most predictable and boring path, of women being systematically victimized and brutalized because of their gender?
I'm disgruntled.
I'm disgruntled.
January 17, 2021
Christmas Eve, 1617. A sudden storm whips up just off the coast of the Arctic island of Vardø, in far eastern Norway. Forty men, the entire male population of the village, are snatched from their fishing boats and pulled deep into the sea where they had been seeking sustenance for their families.
Among the dead are Maren Magnusdatter's father, her brother, and her fiancé. Maren, her mother and her pregnant sister-in-law, an indigenous Sámi named Diina, are devastated but they cannot linger in their sorrow. Diina's son is born soon after the tragic storm and everyone - all the widows and young ones remaining in the village - must come together to survive.
Several of the women, led by the indomitable Kirsten Sorensdatter, take up their husbands' nets and boats and teach themselves to fish. Soon these women are thriving, managing and butchering reindeer herds, repairing homesteads and maintaining order in the bereft village. Yet a rift grows between the sanctimonious "kirke-women", led by Toril Knudsdatter, and the women like Kirsten and Maren, who have found their rhythm and a measure of happiness in their newfound liberty.
Far to the south in the town of Bergen, Ursa, a young shipowner's daughter, is given in marriage to a man she has only just met and whose language she barely speaks. But it is a prestigious and necessary match. The shipowner is widowed and nearly broke, his sorrow having stolen his ambition. He is left with two daughters, one of whom is slowly dying from consumption. His new son-in-law, Commissioner Absalom Cornet, is a Scotsman hired by the Norwegian crown to oversee the village of women. Rumblings of nefarious activity has reached the south. Women unsupervised by any man but a meek pastor can be up to no good, and it's known that Sámi in the region call upon the evil, unchristian powers to influence even the weather.
Cornet is dispatched to Vardø, where suspicions of the supernatural are being fomented by the villagers themselves. He is a witch hunter of some renown in his native land, where obsession with witchcraft boomed after King James VI published his treatise on sorcery, Daemonologie, in 1597.
The voyage north from Bergen to Vardø is long and perilous for Ursa. Not so much for the dangers of the sea, but from her unsettling marriage. Cornet forces himself upon her nightly, takes her small savings, and isolates her from any companionship. Still, she finds a few moments of friendship with the ship's captain, a fragile bond that comes into play at the story's end.
Once in Vardø, another bond is formed, this between Maren and Ursa. Their friendship becomes a tension point that balances the story between dread and delight. Ursa, intelligent but naïve, slowly awakens to her power over her husband and dances a delicate two-step between protecting Maren and her family and manipulating her husband to redirect his fervor.
But there is no stopping the frenzy of hate that results in accusations of witchcraft from one set of villagers against another, with taciturn, dogmatic and cruel Commissioner Cornet reveling in the hysteria that affords him ultimate power.
Kiran Millwood Hargrave based her astonishing, gorgeous, heartbreaking novel on the true story of witch hunters and the 91 souls they condemned to death in Vardø in 1621. She writes with vivid intensity detail of birth, death, and survival, sparing no detail, and the result is potent and mesmerizing.
This is a novel about the power of lies, of mob hysteria, of men with no conscience using religious beliefs to justify heinous acts of violence. It is as revelatory of modern times and the mindset of the unquiet minds that follow demagogues as it is of its historical context.
It is also a story of love, of the strength of women, of their forgotten or dismissed stories, passions, and triumphs. This is will easily be one of the finest novels I will read in 2021. It is just that good. Better.
Among the dead are Maren Magnusdatter's father, her brother, and her fiancé. Maren, her mother and her pregnant sister-in-law, an indigenous Sámi named Diina, are devastated but they cannot linger in their sorrow. Diina's son is born soon after the tragic storm and everyone - all the widows and young ones remaining in the village - must come together to survive.
Several of the women, led by the indomitable Kirsten Sorensdatter, take up their husbands' nets and boats and teach themselves to fish. Soon these women are thriving, managing and butchering reindeer herds, repairing homesteads and maintaining order in the bereft village. Yet a rift grows between the sanctimonious "kirke-women", led by Toril Knudsdatter, and the women like Kirsten and Maren, who have found their rhythm and a measure of happiness in their newfound liberty.
Far to the south in the town of Bergen, Ursa, a young shipowner's daughter, is given in marriage to a man she has only just met and whose language she barely speaks. But it is a prestigious and necessary match. The shipowner is widowed and nearly broke, his sorrow having stolen his ambition. He is left with two daughters, one of whom is slowly dying from consumption. His new son-in-law, Commissioner Absalom Cornet, is a Scotsman hired by the Norwegian crown to oversee the village of women. Rumblings of nefarious activity has reached the south. Women unsupervised by any man but a meek pastor can be up to no good, and it's known that Sámi in the region call upon the evil, unchristian powers to influence even the weather.
Cornet is dispatched to Vardø, where suspicions of the supernatural are being fomented by the villagers themselves. He is a witch hunter of some renown in his native land, where obsession with witchcraft boomed after King James VI published his treatise on sorcery, Daemonologie, in 1597.
The voyage north from Bergen to Vardø is long and perilous for Ursa. Not so much for the dangers of the sea, but from her unsettling marriage. Cornet forces himself upon her nightly, takes her small savings, and isolates her from any companionship. Still, she finds a few moments of friendship with the ship's captain, a fragile bond that comes into play at the story's end.
Once in Vardø, another bond is formed, this between Maren and Ursa. Their friendship becomes a tension point that balances the story between dread and delight. Ursa, intelligent but naïve, slowly awakens to her power over her husband and dances a delicate two-step between protecting Maren and her family and manipulating her husband to redirect his fervor.
But there is no stopping the frenzy of hate that results in accusations of witchcraft from one set of villagers against another, with taciturn, dogmatic and cruel Commissioner Cornet reveling in the hysteria that affords him ultimate power.
Kiran Millwood Hargrave based her astonishing, gorgeous, heartbreaking novel on the true story of witch hunters and the 91 souls they condemned to death in Vardø in 1621. She writes with vivid intensity detail of birth, death, and survival, sparing no detail, and the result is potent and mesmerizing.
This is a novel about the power of lies, of mob hysteria, of men with no conscience using religious beliefs to justify heinous acts of violence. It is as revelatory of modern times and the mindset of the unquiet minds that follow demagogues as it is of its historical context.
It is also a story of love, of the strength of women, of their forgotten or dismissed stories, passions, and triumphs. This is will easily be one of the finest novels I will read in 2021. It is just that good. Better.
January 28, 2020
I have read a lot more historical fiction than usual lately and I've found that I like when it gives a modern spin on things or opens up something I didn't know about before. In some ways, THE MERCIES should work for me because it's looking at a slice of history I didn't know about before: the Vardø Witch Trials in the early 1600's.
At first, I was interested and felt a lot of momentum, but it faded as this turned into the kind of story I had seen many times before, watching a community turn against itself and accuse members of witchcraft. There is still a lot of possibility here, and Hargrave has some great prose and character development so she's up to the task, ultimately though I didn't love it as much by the time I reached the very-rushed ending. When I tried to put my finger on what didn't work, it came down to a question of whose story is more interesting. We follow Maren and Ursa, and as much as they were quite different from each other and I enjoyed learning about this world through their eyes, the characters around them were much more interesting. Diinaa, Maren's sister-in-law who is from the indigenous Sámi people, viewed as suspicious pagans by the heavily Christian Norwegians, all alone with her new baby after the death of her husband. Kirsten, who responds to the death of the men of the town by taking on their roles herself, wearing pants and putting out the fish nets. Even the women who start accusing their former friends are mostly a mystery to us but there's so much to consider there. As lovely as Maren and Ursa are, as central as they are to the story, they are mostly observers.
If you want a twist on the story you've heard from Salem, this may be just what you're looking for, since the setting is a big part of the story and vastly different.
At first, I was interested and felt a lot of momentum, but it faded as this turned into the kind of story I had seen many times before, watching a community turn against itself and accuse members of witchcraft. There is still a lot of possibility here, and Hargrave has some great prose and character development so she's up to the task, ultimately though I didn't love it as much by the time I reached the very-rushed ending. When I tried to put my finger on what didn't work, it came down to a question of whose story is more interesting. We follow Maren and Ursa, and as much as they were quite different from each other and I enjoyed learning about this world through their eyes, the characters around them were much more interesting. Diinaa, Maren's sister-in-law who is from the indigenous Sámi people, viewed as suspicious pagans by the heavily Christian Norwegians, all alone with her new baby after the death of her husband. Kirsten, who responds to the death of the men of the town by taking on their roles herself, wearing pants and putting out the fish nets. Even the women who start accusing their former friends are mostly a mystery to us but there's so much to consider there. As lovely as Maren and Ursa are, as central as they are to the story, they are mostly observers.
If you want a twist on the story you've heard from Salem, this may be just what you're looking for, since the setting is a big part of the story and vastly different.
October 16, 2024
Last night Maren dreamt a whale beached itself on the rocks outside her house.It's easy to be forgiven of assuming this book will be as good as Rebecca since it borrows so heavily—for it's opening line—from one of the most atmospheric modern classics. And it does succeed in delivering ambience. The Mercies is set in 17th Century Norway, in a small area called Vardo that experiences the midnight sun and surrounded by jagged rock and angry ocean. Life seems idyll until a storm, as though conjured by magic, rises from the sea and swallows all forty men who worked in the village when they'd gone to fish.
At first, this book tries to be ambiguous about whether it's magical realism but it soon strips you of any notions of magic because while it may be ambient and with good prose, everything else fails miserably. This book is about witch trials that happened in Vardo after King Christian decided to corall power in the far reaches of Norway. They were also motivated by xenophobia against indigenous people in Scandinavia, specifically the Sami.
After the men die, the women, vaguely led by Kirsten have to take on the duties that were previously done by the husbands and sons. Things like going out fishing and slaughtering elk. This in itself is fascinating and I thought would be the catalyst for a power struggle between Kirsten, who appears pragmatic, strong, popular and an unpleasant religious fundamentalist mean girl Toril. Although, in the beginning, Toril doesn't even hate Kirsten. It seems to rise out of nowhere, a big problem with this book.
The main character appears to be Maren. Although I do not understand the reason for this. She's just an empty vessel who offers vague reactions to the events happening around her. Maren has about as much personality as a cardboard cutout. The story starts with her betrothed to Dag, friendly with her sister in law Diinna, friends with her brother Erik and her father Pappa, and with a functional relationship with her Mamma. Beyond this there isn't much else to this woman. Sure she has a sapphic relationship with another main character but I couldn't tell you much about Maren. Is she stubborn? Is she kind? Does she have a favourite colour? No fucking idea. What Maren is, is deeply unserious.
The other main character is Ursa. She contains more personality. She is the caretaker of her younger sister Agnete, sheltered and existing ploddingly until her father marries her off to Governor Ratcliffe wannabe and Count Frollo cosplayer Absalom. Together, they sail to Vardo and Absalom establishes his power, a little too quickly to make sense, and begins his campaign to prosecute witches.
The thing about this book that frustrated me the most was the feeling that every new scene felt like I had missed a whole other scene. For instance, after the deaths of the men, Diinna, who is Sami, briefly leaves Vardo and Mamma has a whole breakdown claiming she has abandoned them. But Diinna returns to perform Sami rites on Erik and Pappa. Mamma calms down but then a few chapters later, Mamma is suddenly extremely hateful to Diinna and even wants her gone. It makes no sense. Just because it's fiction based on real events doesn't mean it has the right to skip necessary beats that show the character development or regression.
Characters would also decide one thing one chapter and do something completely antithetical in the next. At one point Kirsten wears her late husband's trousers to do the slaughtering and butchering. Practical but taboo. But then she visits Absalom's house while Maren is there doing chores with Ursa. Kirsten didn't know Absalom was gone or at least it's implied that she wanted to shock Ursa. She didn't know Ursa wasn't necessarily an ally of Absalom's or even forced to reveal details about the women of Vardo. So it's safe to infer that she's defiant, rebellious. But later at a women's meeting, she tries to hide poppets from Toril, one of the bootlickers of Vardo's latest patriarch. Why would she do that? Isn't she a ballbuster who does what she wants? What happened in the pages in between that would make her decide to be more discreet about having Sami trinkets? The book won't tell us.
Kirsten is also the best character in the book who is the most poorly treated. We barely get any scenes with her which is odd considering the large role she plays towards the end of the book. But we had to read pages dedicated to the consistency of Agnete's phlegm, Ursa's aforementioned sick sister. Maren was too inconsequential until the last few pages where she's still not the one that makes the big bad move that changes everything.
The book also sometimes relies on a plot device I abhor. It switches POVs between Ursa and Maren and for whatever reason, Hargrave decided to make some scenes appear twice from the perspectives of both women. To the service of no one. We have the space for that but we can't understand why Toril went so far off the deep end? Why Mamma decided whiplash was her only contribution to the story? This book had a lot of potential that was squandered by half-baked plotting, absent character development and frustrating pacing. Seriously, at one point two years pass in two pages. Hargrave has some author chops because the prose was the only thing that made this bearable but ultimately, this felt like an adult book for YA readers who can't handle "big books". Which is a shame, because that cover deserves a much better story.
Buddy read with Christina
June 15, 2020
And I thought the Salem Witch trials were bad! Hah! Apparently Christian IV of Denmark/Norway was obsessed with witchcraft and brought in experienced witch hunters from Scotland to hunt them down. He was particularly suspicious of the Sami, the northern Indigenous people and their customs. There ended up being 140 witch trials in Vardø between 1621 and 1663, resulting in the deaths of 91 people. The Steilneset Memorial was completed in 2011 to commemorate them.
Hargrave’s novel highlights the 1617 destructive storm that killed 40 men, leaving their wives and families without their prowess to fish and provide food. Conspiracy theories abounded to explain the unnatural storm. Certain women within the community were also unsettled by the strength of some women as they took upon themselves the fishing duties. Enter Commissioner Absalom Cornet, a seasoned witch hunter, who followed the treatise of King James VI of Scotland to “spot, prove and execute those who practice maleficium”. And how does he uncover such persons? By listening to rumor and innuendo from neighbors; and throwing in some brutal torture to obtain ‘confessions’. Such theocratic demagogy created its own momentum which was difficult to stop.
Hargrave creates a powerful cast of women characters that the reader can empathize with as they face the suspicious authorities. Recommend.
Hargrave’s novel highlights the 1617 destructive storm that killed 40 men, leaving their wives and families without their prowess to fish and provide food. Conspiracy theories abounded to explain the unnatural storm. Certain women within the community were also unsettled by the strength of some women as they took upon themselves the fishing duties. Enter Commissioner Absalom Cornet, a seasoned witch hunter, who followed the treatise of King James VI of Scotland to “spot, prove and execute those who practice maleficium”. And how does he uncover such persons? By listening to rumor and innuendo from neighbors; and throwing in some brutal torture to obtain ‘confessions’. Such theocratic demagogy created its own momentum which was difficult to stop.
Hargrave creates a powerful cast of women characters that the reader can empathize with as they face the suspicious authorities. Recommend.
March 30, 2020
By the reviews I’m a minority, but I couldn’t find anything to like about this book. Firstly, I never settled into the writing style. It’s overly descriptive and emotive, which ends up dragging out every single scene. The premise grabbed me, as did the opening chapters when the storm hits, but after that the plot unfolds at a snail pace, filled with inconsequential details (and some historical inaccuracies) which add nothing to the main plot. The story is then rushed into the final chapters with one of the worst conclusions I’ve read in a long time. The POV characters were uninteresting observers to the unfolding events, and I did not buy into their instalove story. I would not call this a feminist story either. The tale ends in tragedy. Men turn again women. Women turn again women. Innocents are put to death. Lives end in suicide. The patriarchy win. What sort of message is that?
November 20, 2023
4★
“The barbarian Lapp population mixes freely with the whites. Their magicks are no small part of what we must move against. Their weather sorcery is even sought out by sailors. But I believe that with you, and a small number of other capable, God-fearing men, we can beat back the darkness even in the ever-dark of winter. Even here, at the edge of civilization, souls must be saved.”
Welcome to your new life, Absalom Corbet, Scottish witch-hunter. And on your way to this harsh, frozen land, you might like to find a wife as you travel north. There are some likely lasses in Bergen.
Absalom Corbet is an ambitious, serious man who does as suggested, stops at Bergen, selects a girl, marries her in haste, and they spend their honeymoon on the ship that takes them to his new posting.
This is shortly after the King’s decree of 1617 that witches must be burned. On Christmas Eve of that year, a horrific storm swept up a fishing boat with forty fishermen aboard and flung it over, smashing it and its crew to bits as the women and children watched from the shore.
“And then the sea rises up and the sky swings down and greenish lightning slings itself across everything, flashing the black into an instantaneous, terrible brightness. Mamma is fetched to the window by the light and the noise, the sea and sky clashing like a mountain splitting so they feel it through their soles and spines, sending Maren’s teeth into her tongue and hot salt down her gullet.
And then maybe both of them are screaming but there is no sound save the sea and the sky and all the boat lights swallowed and the boats flashing and the boats spinning, the boats flying, turning, gone.”
The entire tiny community lives from fishing. Fish are their food and what they trade for other goods. When Absalom and Ursa arrive, it’s the women who have learned to fish and who have kept the remaining families alive.
Ursa is terribly homesick, frightened of her stern husband, who can’t speak Norwegian, and appalled by the raw boatshed that is to be their home. It’s bare with no food. One of the women shows her their ‘house’.
“There is a second door at the back corner of the room. When Kirsten opened it, Ursa could have been sick. Great headless carcasses hang there, split from neck to belly and restitched.
‘Enough there to last to winter,’ Kirsten had said, before setting a light to the heaped moss in the grate.”
Kirsten would know. She is the rare woman who wears trousers so she doesn’t get blood on her skirts when she butchers the meat. Ursa is completely lost. She has been a child at home, looking after her much-loved, disabled sister, and now she’s been thrown into a freezing, stark society of strangers.
She knows nothing about cooking, and when one of the women, Maren, befriends her to teach her, Ursa realises again how different she is and how much she has to learn.
“They sit together at the floury table. Ursa takes her own attempt and cracks it, sending crumbs and flakes of seeds scattering into her lap. She brushes them carelessly to the floor as she chews.
. . .
Maren can’t think what to say. She takes some more flatbrød, catching the crumbs neatly in her palm and placing them atop the flour.”
What Ursa sees as crumbs to be swept away, Maren sees as bits of food not to be wasted.
The authorities want to eradicate the Lapps, the indigenous Sámi people to whom the villagers turn for medical help when injured or having babies. Their traditions and rituals are banned and considered dangerous threats to the church.
Maren’s sister-in-law, Diinna, is from a Sámi background, which attracts unwanted attention. This is from the beginning of the story, when the men were setting out on the ill-fated fishing expedition.
“Erik only bowed his head to accept Mamma’s kiss, and his wife Diinna’s press of thumb to his forehead that the Sámi say will draw a thread to reel men at sea home again.”
Absalom was given this advice when he was offered the posting.
“Many of the issues arise from a segment of the local population, endemic here in Finnmark – a transient community termed Lapps. They are somewhat akin to gypsies, but their magicks deal in wind and other weather. As mentioned, legislation against their sorcery is established, but weakly enforced.”
This is a horrifying and all-too-common part of history, and the author describes it so well that I was uncomfortable. The indigenous populations of all countries seems to be similar, but I’m happy to say that I’ve seen documentaries on the Sámi parliaments across Scandinavia now.
It’s good but awful and not for the faint-hearted.
“The barbarian Lapp population mixes freely with the whites. Their magicks are no small part of what we must move against. Their weather sorcery is even sought out by sailors. But I believe that with you, and a small number of other capable, God-fearing men, we can beat back the darkness even in the ever-dark of winter. Even here, at the edge of civilization, souls must be saved.”
Welcome to your new life, Absalom Corbet, Scottish witch-hunter. And on your way to this harsh, frozen land, you might like to find a wife as you travel north. There are some likely lasses in Bergen.
Absalom Corbet is an ambitious, serious man who does as suggested, stops at Bergen, selects a girl, marries her in haste, and they spend their honeymoon on the ship that takes them to his new posting.
This is shortly after the King’s decree of 1617 that witches must be burned. On Christmas Eve of that year, a horrific storm swept up a fishing boat with forty fishermen aboard and flung it over, smashing it and its crew to bits as the women and children watched from the shore.
“And then the sea rises up and the sky swings down and greenish lightning slings itself across everything, flashing the black into an instantaneous, terrible brightness. Mamma is fetched to the window by the light and the noise, the sea and sky clashing like a mountain splitting so they feel it through their soles and spines, sending Maren’s teeth into her tongue and hot salt down her gullet.
And then maybe both of them are screaming but there is no sound save the sea and the sky and all the boat lights swallowed and the boats flashing and the boats spinning, the boats flying, turning, gone.”
The entire tiny community lives from fishing. Fish are their food and what they trade for other goods. When Absalom and Ursa arrive, it’s the women who have learned to fish and who have kept the remaining families alive.
Ursa is terribly homesick, frightened of her stern husband, who can’t speak Norwegian, and appalled by the raw boatshed that is to be their home. It’s bare with no food. One of the women shows her their ‘house’.
“There is a second door at the back corner of the room. When Kirsten opened it, Ursa could have been sick. Great headless carcasses hang there, split from neck to belly and restitched.
‘Enough there to last to winter,’ Kirsten had said, before setting a light to the heaped moss in the grate.”
Kirsten would know. She is the rare woman who wears trousers so she doesn’t get blood on her skirts when she butchers the meat. Ursa is completely lost. She has been a child at home, looking after her much-loved, disabled sister, and now she’s been thrown into a freezing, stark society of strangers.
She knows nothing about cooking, and when one of the women, Maren, befriends her to teach her, Ursa realises again how different she is and how much she has to learn.
“They sit together at the floury table. Ursa takes her own attempt and cracks it, sending crumbs and flakes of seeds scattering into her lap. She brushes them carelessly to the floor as she chews.
. . .
Maren can’t think what to say. She takes some more flatbrød, catching the crumbs neatly in her palm and placing them atop the flour.”
What Ursa sees as crumbs to be swept away, Maren sees as bits of food not to be wasted.
The authorities want to eradicate the Lapps, the indigenous Sámi people to whom the villagers turn for medical help when injured or having babies. Their traditions and rituals are banned and considered dangerous threats to the church.
Maren’s sister-in-law, Diinna, is from a Sámi background, which attracts unwanted attention. This is from the beginning of the story, when the men were setting out on the ill-fated fishing expedition.
“Erik only bowed his head to accept Mamma’s kiss, and his wife Diinna’s press of thumb to his forehead that the Sámi say will draw a thread to reel men at sea home again.”
Absalom was given this advice when he was offered the posting.
“Many of the issues arise from a segment of the local population, endemic here in Finnmark – a transient community termed Lapps. They are somewhat akin to gypsies, but their magicks deal in wind and other weather. As mentioned, legislation against their sorcery is established, but weakly enforced.”
This is a horrifying and all-too-common part of history, and the author describes it so well that I was uncomfortable. The indigenous populations of all countries seems to be similar, but I’m happy to say that I’ve seen documentaries on the Sámi parliaments across Scandinavia now.
It’s good but awful and not for the faint-hearted.
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