The Witch's Trinity

by Erika Mailman

Book Overview

"The year is 1507, and a friar has arrived in Tierkinddorf, a remote German village nestled deeply in the woods. The village has been suffering a famine, and the villagers are desperately hungry. The friar's arrival is a miracle, and when he claims he can restore the town to prosperity, the men and women gathered to hear him rejoice. The friar has a book called the Malleus Maleficarum - "The Witch's Hammer" - a guide to gaining confessions of witchcraft...

• Format: Hardcover
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0307351521
• ISBN13: 9780307351524
• Release Date: September 2007
• Publisher: Crown Publishing Group (NY)
• Length: 278 Pages
• Weight: 0.98 lbs.
• Dimensions: 1.0" x 6.4" x 8.4"

Customer Reviews

Creepily contemporary

This is a terifying novel, but not in the a cheesy, horror-story way suggested by the title--indeed the title might be the one flaw in this icy, beautifully written book. No, this story is terrifying because of how incisively and subtly it gets at the way we are, the things we'll do when we're frightened, the things we'll excuse. In that way, it feels creepily contemporary to me, even though it also credibly pulls you into a very "other" time and place: I mean to say, it's satisfyingly Germanic, medieval, peasant-ish. I especially like how Mailman understands that the victims here are of the same culture that is victimizing them, they buy the premise that some people are witches and should be burned for the greater good, they're not sure if they themselves are witches or not. Good work, Mailman. Write some more. Can't wait for your next one.

Chilling and Evocative

An amazing intense read--with evocative language and a unique point of view. With the author's great storytelling ability, this gripping tale feels so real as it unfolds from the point of view of the accused. It reinforced for me how we humans must continue to guard against our worst instincts--how quickly we can lose our humanity! I also like the afterward with the brief story of Ms. Mailman's own ancester in New England who was also accused of witchcraft. This would be a great book club choice.

A haunting tale of paranoia and fanaticism

Human nature can be strange. The mentality of a mob for example, shows how brutal people can become when surrounded by others who are filled with passionate anger. Erika Mailman shows us through the eyes of an elderly woman what it would have been like to live in the Middle Ages when witchcraft was thought to be the cause of any misfortune. The famine described in this small village of Tierkinddorf, Germany is haunting. It made me feel strange reading the novel while having my lunch. I began to feel guilty knowing that the characters were willing to accuse others of witchcraft just to get a bite to eat. A scapegoat was needed to place all the blame of the village's misfortune. It was thought that then, all things would revert back to days of plenty. That the famine would end. The paranoia, the suspicion, the opportunity to point the finger of blame at someone whom you bear a grudge. An accusation of milk spoiling was enough to damn someone to being burned to death, and you didn't even have to bring forth the spoiled milk as evidence. Your word was enough, if coupled with other such scurrilous complaints, to condemn someone to death. Given today's sensibilities the thought of public execution is abhorrent. However, it is a gruesome part of our history that drawing and quarterings, beheadings, hangings, and burning at the stake were all done in the village square to serve as a lesson to all. Beware or it may happen to you. The Witch's Trinity is a potent tale whose ending surprised me. I highly recommend it.

Spellbinding!

Erika Mailman's novel about witch burnings in 1507 Germany is so compelling you'll feel like you can smell the smoke from the pyre. It's also a vivid reminder of what happens when religious leaders twist the tenets of their faiths for their own evil agendas. This is historical fiction that turns out to be remarkably timely. ---Kemble Scott, Editor, SoMa Literary Review

"Someone is making mischief and bringing misery to this village."

With a stroke of her pen and a quote from the Malleus Maleficarum -the witch hunter's bible- Mailman plunges into a terrifying period of history, where superstition combines with ignorance and mass hysteria to accuse helpless women of witchcraft. Set in 1507 in the German village of Tierkenddorf, famine-starved neighbors cast covetous eyes on one another, their bellies empty and their minds fevered. In the home of Jost Muller, his wife, Irmeltrude resents each morsel shared with her elderly mother-in-law, Gude. Jost's son and daughter, silent, watch with widened eyes as Irmeltrude harries old Gude, one starless night pushing her from the hut, barring the door against the grandmother's return: "It was a winter to make bitter all souls." Arriving in the village in response to a letter from the local lord, the stern-visaged Friar Johannes Fuchs, his voluminous black robes unfurling like wings against the snow, announces that he has come to purge this place of evil, the curse of witchcraft that has blighted the fields. The friar believes that just as "God punished the world with a flood... he is now punishing you with famine." Clearly witchcraft is at work. To discover and excise the source is to regain God's pleasure. All eyes fall on a solitary figure, Gude's girlhood friend, Kunne, now as bowed by age and hunger as the rest. An herbal healer, Kunne stands accused, neighbors stepping forward to complain of soured mild, hens that won't lay and barren wombs. Anguished, Gude watches as her dearest friend is stripped and burned on a pyre of wood, the village's lust for revenge temporarily sated. But the famine does not abate. Most of the burg's able-bodied men take to the woods in search of game, knowing their quest may take them far; indeed, such are the odds that they may not return. Meanwhile, left to their empty larders and active imaginations, the women wait. Irmeltrude's rancor increases and Gude fears the malice in her daughter-in -law's eyes. Scheming to please the soul-hungry priest, Irmeltrude fastens upon the fact that the new friar gave meat to each family after Kunne's sacrifice. As hysteria mounts, the village turns one upon another, the innocent made guilty, the devil's malevolence at every hand. Without the men to temper their rampant emotions, new victims must be found to feed the beast of fear, even hunger forgotten in the heat of passion. The clarity of Mailman's prose, the recreation of a simple village haunted by hunger, prey to the cajoling of the priest who claims authority to determine God's will and the helpless innocents who stand accused portray humanity at its most craven. Hearts turn to stone in self-preservation. Exposing the atavistic nature of survival, famine drives friends and neighbors to obscene behavior, blessed by a wild-eyed friar with a lust for sacrifice. Pulled back from the edge of despair, civilization is restored, but the ugly events of the recent past leave a mark upon the collective soul of this village