Night of the Witch Lacks Magic and Charm

Sourcebooks Fire

“Enemies to lovers” is a contentious trope, but when it’s done correctly, it can make for good tension and a satisfying conclusion for the characters involved. Night of the Witch, a new novel by authors Sara Raasch and Beth Revis, is built around this dynamic, with a witch, Fritzi, and a witch hunter, Otto, tangled in the very real witch trials of 1590s Germany, during which anyone can be accused of witchcraft and many innocent lives are lost to the delirium. The setup is intriguing and works well at first, but the further the story goes, the more the plot falls apart, ending with more questions (and rage, if you’re me) and answering none of them.

Note: While this review does not give away the ending of the book, it does contain spoilers.

Night of the Wtich isn’t without its strong points, which all come from the historical angle the authors use. I had fun looking up the German words that were sprinkled throughout the story to learn the proper pronunciations, but the authors give enough context clues for definitions that makes it easy for someone not familiar with German to understand what’s happening from the book alone. These witch trials of the late 16th century were a new concept for me—I’m more familiar with the trials that took place in Salem a century later, but the similarities are striking. Women were targeted more than men, the “trials” were more for spectacle than proving innocence or guilt, and the panic was driven by fear and paranoia. The catch in the case of Night of the Witch is that there are witches that exist and practice magic, and while the witch hunters (hexenjägers) mostly capture and execute innocent citizens, they manage to wipe out nearly every coven living in the vicinity.

Fritzi and Otto are satisfactory protagonists, both sharing a feverish drive to take down the hexenjägers, both grudgingly accepting each other’s religions (Otto is Catholic, while Fritzi’s religion is centered on three powerful women). It surprised me that neither ever attempts to forcibly convert the other to their beliefs, continuing to coexist and work together despite their differences. That, unfortunately, is where any likability ends, because their journey from enemies to lovers is set to speedrun with how fast they fall for each other. Their chemistry is shaky at best, and given the dire circumstances they’re in—hiding out and waiting to save 100 people from being executed for witchcraft—their physical attraction for each other feels misplaced and uncomfortable. Their individual story arcs are set aside for their constant lusting for each other, which weakens the story and detracts from any kind of growth they might otherwise have.

The novel also plays into a bait and switch that is ultimately pointless if you’ve read the summary. Early on, the narrative sets out to confuse readers by portraying Otto as a ruthless hexenjäger, spending his first two chapters making him seem like a soulless man willing to turn in his sister to be burned as a witch. Chapter 3 reveals his true nature—he’s been acting this entire time to destroy the hexenjägers from the inside out, and his sister was in on her arrest—but it feels disingenuous and jarring when coming right off the heels of his complete opposite behavior. I’ve seen this technique used in other works of fiction, and each time it falls flat and isn’t an effective way to build suspense. There’s a difference between keeping something shrouded and mystery and having a character’s internal monologue contain misleading information about their motives, the latter being unrealistic and irritating. It doesn’t make much sense for Otto to be thinking about how his sister is doomed and he’s pleased with that fact; his doing so only exists to momentarily confuse and adds nothing of merit.

I also have to get into more substantial spoilers for a moment to discuss how this book mishandles mental health. Fritzi’s older brother, Dieter, was cast out of their coven for reasons unknown to her and has since become the leader of the hexenjägers, reveling in his mission to destroy witches he deems beneath him. At first, Fritzi is convinced that so-called wild magic—magic that can corrupt someone’s mind if they allow themselves to be subjected to it—is to blame for Dieter’s villain arc. But through a convoluted explanation, she discovers that wild magic is the same as any other magic, and the corruption it causes is a myth, which leads her to conclude that her brother has been evil from birth and his mental state is permanently “wrong.” Dieter is already difficult to take seriously as the villain with his maniacal laughter and borderline cartoonish glee when he monologues, but the implication that he’s always been unbalanced and twisted is a notion that veers into poor mental illness representation, and it’s a lazy explanation for his frequent mood swings. There’s no nuance to his character as a result, the opportunity to actually build an interesting backstory missed in favor of keeping him two-dimensional. I’m not sure whether the authors intended to have a narrow-minded approach to mental health, but that was the effect.

Without spoiling the entire book, the story also dips its toes into deconstructing religion in general and what it means if one questions the rules, but this never goes anywhere significant, ultimately concluding on a cliffhanger that had me rolling my eyes. The historical setting just isn’t enough to distract from the uneven pacing and flat characters, and I’m completely turned off from following future books as a result. There are much better enemies-to-lovers stories to check out—ones that put time into the relationship between their leads and that refrain from fumbling mental health representation.

Night of the Witch is out now.