Book Review: Slewfoot: a Tale of Bewitchery by Brom (2021)
Tor Nightfire
(this review contains mild spoilers.)
Slewfoot is one of those novels that I came to purely through word-of-mouth. I never saw an ad, read a review, or connected the author to another literary fixture where I was invested, but time and again the novel was mentioned in numerous circumstances as one of the best under-the-radar horror entries of the past few years. I came in with high expectations, primed by the consistent accolades, and expected a solid-if-predictable tale about a witch during the early colonial period. In the end, only half of that expectation was met, but it’s nice to be surprised.
Recognizing how long it had been since I impulsively ventured outside of my regular literary stripes, I picked Slewfoot up without concrete knowledge of what the book was about. The cover art was a bit of a throwback, something glossy and stylized, and the term itself, ‘Slewfoot,’ sounded like something I had come across while reading about the Salem Witch Trials (this is apparently untrue). While the novel draws directly and openly from that historical event, it also incorporates a number of other thematic and cultural elements which are not typically associated with the period of Western history, and in this we get a nice alchemy of subverted expectations and mythological crossover. It’s a deeply ambitious tale, unafraid to break some of the rules and formulas of popular fiction, and proved an unexpectedly refreshing read. I applaud Brom, and found a lot to appreciate in his dark-fairy-tale-meets-history novel, Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery.
(New) England, Keep My Bones
Abitha is a young Englishwoman sent to the New World colonies in the 1660s to be married to a stranger and live among the Puritan colonists. The daughter of a mother who practiced folk medicine and an alcoholic father who fell into religious fervor after her death, Abitha arrives in New England and meets her husband-to-be, Edward, who is a gentle, inward-facing man living perpetually in the shadow of his elder brother and landlord, Wallace. Though Abitha comes to love Edward—a welcome mercy after all she’s suffered in her short life—she struggles with the patriarchal culture of the Puritan community. When Wallace seeks to sell Edward’s nearly-paid-for farm to the local magistrate, Abitha finds herself on a collision course with him that will puts her in conflict with the rigid and remorseless colonial government.
But all of that fades in importance when a powerful spirit awakens in an ancient grove near her farm. This creature, who has forgotten his name as well as his history, is marked by great horns and cloven feet, is prompted to purge the interloping colonists by three lesser spirits of the land. He departs the grove, hunting the new people and searching for his lost identity. Catching first sight of him, Abitha dubs him Slewfoot, a moniker for Satan. The dual narrative follows a bloody path that puts both Abitha and this ancient spirit on a collision course where, in time, they find their personal paths may be better served walking together, even if doing so alienates both from those around them.
By Devils Be Drawn
One of the great strengths of this novel is its dual-perspective, using both Abitha and the spirit she calls Slewfoot to present contrasting perspectives on the developments of the story. Both were brought to this small stretch of New England against their will, and each finds ready reason to question and contest those who claim to have their interests at heart. At its core, the novel is about Abitha and Slewfoot making decisions to define their own identity, and suffering the consequences of the choices they elect.
Abitha’s alienation from the other colonists is one readers can readily understand: she came alone from a different culture to a society where she has only found tenuous companionship in her husband, who himself is beset by his own multitude of challenges. Slewfoot on the other hand is a demigod or spirit, and has much longer history with the land, and recognizes that he was, at different times, both a beloved god and a monstrous horror to the native peoples who lived in those times. While he feels common history with the wildfolk spirits that reincarnated him–Forest, Creek, and Sky–at times their story of his purpose conflicts with the instinctive calling he feels from somewhere else. In time, he must come to decide if his next role will indeed be that of the Devil, the name the European colonists have given him because of his horns and hooves, or if he will seek this lost, older identity.
There are a handful of chapters told from other perspectives, but most of the novel pendulums between Abitha and Slewfoot as each finds their role in the world as it is, and in each other’s lives. Both characters follow a rich arc, detailing some of the best character development I’ve encountered in recent memory.
The writing is solid and wonderfully untrained, neither too lofty nor too plain. Being foremost known as an visual artist, Brom takes clever and unconventional approaches to plot structure and narrative, hitting the typical notes of a novel’s arc at a different pace from most of the fiction published today. The result makes this an exceptional novel for those like me who read speculative fiction year-round.
With Apologies to Cotton Mather
The characters are uniformly well-written in Slewfoot, so much so that I found myself accepting of the rather straightforward plot, which signposts its eventual conflicts and complications well before they arrive. The story is almost fable-like, an evolved fairy tale about the beast in the forest and the woman who refuses to accept her place. Despite this familiar ground, the rich and unexpectedly complex characters make this novel feel like something very new and original.
My only issue with the characters is that the villains in Slewfoot are a bit flat, each of them one-dimensional and bordering on overly simple. Wallace, Edward’s older brother and tormentor, is greedy and simple and manages to trade in greed and simplicity right into becoming who is probably the greatest villain of the story. Similarly, the other antagonistic Puritans as well as the lesser spirits who look to manipulate Slewfoot never really develop the layers that the main characters do. In a title with such excellent protagonists this can almost be overlooked, but this was something I picked up on early in the novel and never quite made peace with.
Final Thoughts
Slewfoot is a wonderful tale that lives to subvert expectations, feeling more like a darkly whimsical fable than a horror novel, and tinged with elements of legal drama and romance which round out a remarkably original novel. Brom's vision, patiently revealed, is one of depth, promise, and refreshing originality among the wider fiction about this historical period. Though ready for a popular audience, this novel touches literary elements, wisely and thoughtfully engaging the topics of belief, faith, trauma, and belonging.
The twin protagonists are artfully likable characters, the story well-paced and original, and while the villains are a touch pantomime, the cast as a whole is decidedly strong. Brom’s style is unlike most authors of today, and he isn’t afraid to shoot for the moon in either the novel’s plot or the progression of composite arcs.
Score: 8.1
Strengths:
Great protagonists, complex and written well
Expansive story that reaches beyond the present, sinking deep roots into the land itself
Mingles different historic mythologies with grace
Weaknesses
Touches a lot of historical, mythological, and cultural ground, perhaps too much for some readers
Villains are uninteresting
Pacing is a touch odd, lingering on fantastic stretches of deeper exposition for extended periods. Sometimes the story itself feels a bit too large for the novel
You can purchase Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or preferably, from a bookstore in your community.
You may also like: Neil Gaiman, The VVitch, The Scarlet Letter, Abarat
