Weyward by Emilia Hart * * * * *
The story takes place across three timelines, each following a different woman from the Weyward family. The earliest is set in 1619, during the reign of James I, and follows Altha Weyward, a young woman who is accused of witchcraft after a local man dies under suspicious circumstances. The second timeline takes place during the Second World War and follows Violet, a young aristocratic girl who lives in a grand country house with her father and younger brother, Graham. Violet has spent her entire life on the estate, almost completely isolated from the outside world. Her mother died when she was very young, and her father has made sure that she knows practically nothing about the world beyond their home. Finally, the contemporary timeline follows Kate, a young woman who is trying to escape an abusive relationship and finds refuge in a cottage she has inherited from her great-aunt.
All three women face different problems, but there is a recurring theme of men trying to control their lives. Altha lives in a society where women can be accused of witchcraft and executed for possessing knowledge that others find threatening. Violet is kept deliberately ignorant by a father who wants complete control over her future, while Kate lives in a supposedly more enlightened age, yet still finds herself trapped in a relationship with a violent, controlling man. The circumstances are different, but the underlying struggle is remarkably similar.
One thing I particularly appreciated was that the book doesn't portray every man as evil. I've noticed that some novels about female empowerment, especially those dealing with generations of women suffering under patriarchal systems, tend to make practically every male character abusive, violent, or otherwise horrible. Here, however, we get a much better balance. There are terrible men in all three timelines, but there are also decent men who genuinely care about the women in their lives. Kate remembers her father as a loving man who once saved her life, Violet has her younger brother Graham, who stands by her despite their father's influence, and Altha encounters men who are willing to help her even when doing so requires considerable courage. I appreciated this distinction because the book isn't arguing that men themselves are inherently bad. It's examining what happens when certain men are given power over women and decide to abuse it.
Another aspect I loved was the setting. The story takes place in Cumbria, in the Lake District, where I actually used to live. I spent several months living in Grasmere, so I know the area quite well, and it was incredibly easy for me to imagine the landscapes described in the book. The green hills, the forests, the lakes, and the rain. Oh, the rain! It can rain so heavily there that you might as well be standing under a shower. Reading about the countryside brought back some wonderful memories of just how beautiful that part of England is. The locations in the novel are fictional, but they're situated in a landscape that felt very familiar to me, and I could easily imagine the Weyward women living somewhere not far from where I once lived.
The witchcraft itself is closely connected to nature. This isn't the kind of magic where people wave wands or recite elaborate spells. Instead, the Weyward women have an extraordinary connection to animals, insects, plants, and the natural world. They also possess knowledge of herbs and traditional healing, which is passed down through the generations. At first, it isn't entirely clear whether the women actually possess supernatural abilities or whether their reputation for witchcraft comes from their unusual knowledge and independence. Eventually, however, we learn that there really is something magical about them.
I found this connection to nature strangely beautiful. There is something wonderful about the idea of being able to communicate with animals, to understand the natural world on such an intimate level, and to possess abilities that other people cannot even comprehend. The descriptions of birds, insects, and other creatures responding to the Weyward women were among my favourite elements of the book.
But the magic is only one part of their independence. Another important theme is self-sufficiency. All three women gradually learn that they can survive without relying on men, whether through their knowledge of plants, their ability to provide for themselves, or simply their determination to build lives on their own terms. They learn to make decisions about their own futures rather than accepting the futures that other people have chosen for them.
I also liked how the novel examines the way women's histories can disappear. So much of what we know about the past comes from official documents, letters, and records, and historically, these were much more likely to preserve the lives and achievements of men. Women could spend their entire lives raising families, working, helping their communities, and enduring extraordinary hardships, only to leave behind almost nothing that tells us who they really were. Sometimes we never discover what happened to them, and sometimes we don't even know their names. This uncertainty becomes particularly important in Violet's storyline, where the disappearance of her mother has left an enormous gap in her understanding of her own family.
The book is often very sad, and there were moments when it made me genuinely angry. All three women suffer because of the cruelty, selfishness, or desire for control of the men around them. Yet it also made me cry for reasons that were much harder to explain. There was something deeply moving about their connection to nature, their determination to survive, and the knowledge that, despite everything they endured, they eventually managed to find some measure of happiness.
I loved Weyward both for its witchcraft and for its exploration of women's independence across three centuries. It's a story about abuse and suffering, but also about knowledge, motherhood, survival, and the freedom to make your own choices. The three timelines complement one another beautifully, showing how much the world has changed for women and, unfortunately, how many problems have remained the same. I would absolutely recommend it, particularly to readers who enjoy historical fiction, nature-based witchcraft, and stories about women reclaiming control over their lives. It's a beautifully written, emotionally powerful novel that fully deserves the five stars I gave it.
Ultimately, what stayed with me wasn't the cruelty these women experienced, but the fact that none of them allowed it to define the rest of their lives. They all carry scars, but they also find ways to move forward.
And sometimes the most powerful magic is simply being able to live your own life.
Spoiler Section
Major spoilers for all three timelines
I have quite a lot to say about the individual storylines, especially because all three women experience abuse, and some of the situations made me absolutely furious.
Let's start with Kate, who is trying to escape her abusive boyfriend, Simon. Their relationship has become so violent and controlling that she has essentially lost her freedom. He repeatedly hurts her, sexually assaults her, and makes her afraid for her own safety. Fortunately, we don't have to witness most of the abuse directly, which I was very glad about. I sometimes feel that books describing sexual violence in graphic detail can become almost gratuitous, especially when the reader already understands how terrible the situation is. I don't need several pages of explicit suffering to comprehend that a woman has been traumatised.
What I found particularly moving about Kate's storyline was her pregnancy and her eventual decision to keep her child. She initially considers whether she wants to continue the pregnancy, especially given the circumstances of conception, but gradually realises that this is her decision to make. She doesn't have to have a child if she doesn't want one, but she also doesn't have to give up a child simply because the father is an abusive man.
And this part really got to me.
As a single mother myself, there is something incredibly powerful about knowing that you can have a child and raise that child without relying on a man. You can provide for them, make decisions for them, and build a life together. There's also something extraordinary about giving birth and looking at this little person who came out of your own body, knowing that you're responsible for them and that they carry your name. They're your child, and you don't need a man to make that relationship complete.
I was particularly touched when Kate's daughter was born with dark eyes, because my son was also born with dark eyes. It's such a small detail, but it immediately brought back memories of his birth. I honestly don't know why this part of the story made me so emotional, but it did. I found myself crying, and even now, thinking about it brings back those feelings.
Violet's storyline, on the other hand, made me absolutely furious.
Her father has deliberately kept her ignorant of practically everything, including the most basic facts about her own body. She doesn't understand menstruation properly, doesn't know how babies are conceived, and has no real understanding of sex. She has been so completely sheltered that she doesn't even recognise the danger when a man starts giving her alcohol and takes advantage of her.
And that's what makes what happens to her so horrifying. She's not simply inexperienced. She has been deliberately denied the knowledge she needs to understand what is happening to her.
Her father believes that keeping her ignorant will make her obedient and easier to control, but that very ignorance leaves her completely vulnerable to a predator. She doesn't know what the man is doing to her because nobody has ever explained it. She doesn't even understand the significance of missing her period because she knows so little about the functioning of her own body.
This is why I think education is so incredibly important, especially when it comes to sex and bodily autonomy. Children and young people need to understand their bodies, consent, and the ways other people might try to exploit them. Ignorance doesn't protect innocence. It protects the people who want to take advantage of it.
And I want to be very clear that I'm not blaming Violet for anything that happened to her. She was the victim of a horrible crime. The responsibility lies entirely with the man who assaulted her. But the fact that her father had kept her so sheltered made the situation even more tragic because she had no way of recognising the danger.
When Violet discovers that she's pregnant, she faces a terrible decision. Unlike Kate, she doesn't live in a society where she can realistically choose to raise the child independently. Keeping the baby would mean being forced to marry the man who raped her, placing both herself and her daughter under his control.
And the child would certainly have been a girl, as the firstborn Weyward child is always female.
I think Violet would have loved to keep her daughter. There is a sense of regret surrounding her decision, and I don't think the abortion is presented as something easy or emotionally uncomplicated. But she understands what keeping the child would mean, and she chooses not to condemn another generation to the same kind of captivity she has experienced.
That makes her decision both heartbreaking and incredibly courageous.
I was also delighted that she eventually got her revenge on that horrible man. Making him lose his mind through the very creatures he feared was rather satisfying, although, frankly, I thought it was quite merciful. After what he did to her, I wouldn't have minded something considerably more painful happening to him.
Her father wasn't much better. The more we learn about him, the more obvious it becomes that he was an abusive, controlling man who viewed his daughter as property rather than a person. And I found it particularly infuriating that he seemed so concerned about Violet behaving improperly with men when he had never even taught her what sex was. How exactly was she supposed to be deliberately seducing anyone when she didn't even understand what that meant?
There's also the mystery surrounding Violet's mother, Elizabeth Weaver. We never learn exactly what happened to her, and I actually liked that the author left this unresolved. Kate discovers letters that suggest Violet's father was obsessively possessive of Elizabeth, in a way that reminds her of Simon's behaviour towards her. Combined with what we know about how he treated his children, it strongly suggests that Elizabeth may also have suffered under his control.
But we never get the full story.
And that fits beautifully with the book's broader theme of forgotten women. Sometimes the evidence simply doesn't survive. Sometimes there are no witnesses left to tell us what happened. Sometimes a woman's entire life is reduced to a few letters written by a man who may never have understood her at all.
I was glad that Graham didn't turn out like his father. Despite growing up in the same household, he becomes a kind and supportive brother, and his relationship with Violet provides some much-needed warmth in an otherwise rather bleak storyline.
Then there's Altha, whose story takes us all the way back to 1619, when being accused of witchcraft could cost a woman her life.
What I found interesting about Altha's trial is that, in a way, she actually is guilty. Not of the ridiculous accusations surrounding witchcraft in the traditional sense, but she really did use her powers to cause the death of the man who was abusing Grace, the woman she loved. She called upon the crows to frighten the cattle, causing them to trample him.
And quite frankly, he deserved it.
I was delighted that Altha was able to use her powers to protect Grace, even though the consequences placed her own life in danger. Grace had already suffered so much. She had spent years caring for her younger siblings and doing everything her father expected of her, only for him to marry her off to an abusive man. After everything she had sacrificed for her family, she was essentially treated as property that could be handed over to someone else.
This is one of the things that makes historical fiction about women so infuriating at times. Marriage wasn't simply a romantic relationship. For many women, it meant losing control over their property, their bodies, and their futures. A father could decide whom his daughter would marry, and once she was married, her husband could exercise enormous control over her life.
Altha and Grace's relationship was particularly sad because they clearly loved each other, but the society they lived in gave them so little freedom to express that love or build a life together. And although Altha survives, she probably never sees Grace again.
I was glad, however, that the author gave us some idea of what happened afterwards. We know Altha eventually had a daughter, since the later Weyward women are descended from her. Her story doesn't simply end with the trial, even if we don't get to witness the rest of her life.
I also loved the moment when a man finally decides to speak up for Altha during the trial. He remembers that he failed to protect a woman in his village, who had helped his wife, and realises that this time he has an opportunity to do the right thing. It's such a small act compared with the terrible injustices surrounding the trial, but it matters enormously. He cannot undo what happened in the past, but he can choose not to remain silent again.
That was another reason I appreciated the presence of decent men throughout the novel. They don't magically solve all the women's problems, and they certainly don't erase the cruelty of the others, but they demonstrate that people have choices. Even in deeply unjust societies, individuals can decide whether to participate in that injustice or stand against it.
One thing that frustrated me about the contemporary storyline was the suggestion that Simon might receive a relatively lenient sentence despite everything he had done. Unfortunately, that felt depressingly believable. We still live in a world where perpetrators of sexual violence can receive remarkably little punishment, sometimes because people are more concerned about the consequences for their futures than about the lives they've already damaged.
That makes me absolutely furious.
When someone commits a serious sexual assault, the victim may carry the consequences for the rest of their life. Their sense of safety, their relationships, and their ability to trust other people can all be affected. Yet somehow we're supposed to worry about whether a conviction might damage the perpetrator's career prospects or future opportunities. What about the victim's future?
This is one of the reasons Weyward made me so angry. Four centuries separate Altha and Kate, and although women's legal rights and opportunities have changed enormously, the desire of abusive men to control women remains frighteningly familiar.
But despite all that anger, I didn't finish the book feeling hopeless.
I actually cried quite a lot, and not always during the saddest scenes. Sometimes it was the beauty of the Weyward women's relationship with nature that affected me. Sometimes it was the thought of Kate holding her daughter. And sometimes it was simply the knowledge that these three women, despite everything they had suffered, had managed to reclaim their lives.
None of them emerges completely unscathed. They lose people they love, endure terrible experiences, and carry memories that will never entirely disappear. But they survive, and more importantly, they eventually find ways to live rather than merely endure.
I think that's what I found most beautiful about Weyward. The women don't need to be rescued by powerful men, nor do they need to become invulnerable to overcome their circumstances. They need knowledge, courage, support, and the freedom to make their own decisions.
Their magic helps them fight back, but their greatest achievement is that they finally get to belong to themselves.
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