In seventeenth-century Denmark, Christenze Kruckow, an unmarried noblewoman, is accused of witchcraft. She and several other women are rumored to be possessed by the Devil, who has come to them in the form of a tall headless man who gives them dark powers: they can steal people's happiness, they have performed unchristian acts, and they can cause pestilence or death. They are all in danger of the stake. The Wax Child, narrated by a wax doll created by Christenze Kruckow, is an unsettling horror story about brutality and power, nature and witchcraft, set in the fragile communities of premodern Europe.
Gorgeously mercurial: fragmented, slippery, unresolved (a quality masterfully captured by Martin Aitken’s translation) ... At times it feels coldly bureaucratic, at others summoned from the ether ... The best historical fiction can turn the driest archival fact into revelation, and here is proof ... The Wax Child is certainly a child of our moment; it has clever things to say about autocrats and their fragile egos, queer history, coercive control and class privilege, the still-heretical power of women’s joy ... This novel speaks to our era of AI.
While Ravn’s witchy tale is not necessarily making never-before-seen observations on our history and the nature of witches specifically, it is certainly taking an angle and tone that is both deeply immersive and immensely pleasurable to read. As a long-time fan of Ravn’s, I was thrilled with how her newest work in English read to me, and would recommend this book to anyone looking for the classic, elegant gripping prose of the Ravn they know, and even slightly more to those looking for a witchy tale to fit their autumnal reading lists. The Wax Child is one to remember and return to, a story of power and who wields it, a story of women and how they stick together—and fall apart.
You’ve got to hand it to Ravn: she’s got range. And talent too: this short, sharp poke of a book, translated from the Danish by Martin Aitken, is full of lines that will rattle around in your brain long after you’ve raced through to the inevitable burnings and executions ... Ravn’s imagery mixes biblical diction and supernatural forces with the base stuff of life ... This is no plodding historical re-enactment. The four women are deliciously flawed ... It is this unusual narrator and its magical connection to the physical things of 17th-century Aalborg that elevates the novel to something truly special ... Vivid.
