Review: The Mercies

The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave
My rating: 4.5 of 5 stars

SPOILERS AHEAD

A heartbreaking and chilling story of a town broken by grief, rescued by the fortitude of strong women, and ruined by hysteria, sexism, religious intolerance, greed, jealousy, and the heady weight of power. Before this book, I didn’t know that the witch trials of the 1600s had spread as far as the northern coast of rural Norway.

In many ways, the story of Vardø is similar to what happened in Salem. Women who were uncontrollable or non-conforming to social norms, or those who had something those in power wanted, were targeted and accused of witchcraft, tortured until they confessed and accused others, and murdered. Other women were encouraged to accuse those around them that they either suspected or didn’t like, and often it was petty reasons why these women were targeted - she had the biggest house, or she wore pants and went to sea, or she was never good enough for my son. Once one person accused, there was a snowball effect, until a mob was formed. And once it was started, it was almost impossible to stop.

What sets Vardø more apart was the unique makeup of their community, and the unimaginable grief these women were living with after the deaths of almost all the men of their town: husbands and sons ands fathers and friends, all lost in a split second. Their lives were irrevocably changed in that moment, their personalities and fates altered. The runs that were minor annoyances became major fissures, breaking the community in two and providing the perfect atmosphere for chaos once a man like Absalom Cornet came to town, intent on seeing witches around every corner and dark magic in every rune stone. Absalom was more focused on his rise to power and influence, both in reputation and physically over his wife, than in finding the truth of Vardø.

There is so much sadness in this book. Maren loses her beloved brother and father (and also her betrothed Dag, though she’s less brown about that), and also slowly loses the closeness she thought she shared with her mother and sister-in-law, Diinna. Kirsten loses her husband (whom she clearly loved), does her best to keep her village going, saving them from a slow starvation, and is rewarded with accusations, torture, humiliation, and murder. Ursa is basically sold to her husband, taken from her family and the only home she’s ever known to the wilderness, and has to live carefully so as not to upset her cruel and irrational husband, who repeatedly rapes her in the babe if marital duty. I don’t want to dwell on that though.

What I want to remember from this book are the moments of kindness. Kirsten and Maren becoming friends as they work to catch fish and feed their village. That moment when baby Erik was born and I thought Maren had a chance of getting her family back. Maren and Ursa’s sweet connection, the way they gently helped and comforted one another, the peaceful way they felt around one another. Maren was clearly in love with Ursa almost from first sight, and watching Ursa fall for her, too, was a small light in the dark. Their moments together of truth and honesty and love were so meaningful and revelatory. I’m glad they at least have those memories to cherish.

This is not an easy book to read, but it is worth the effort and agony. The joy always is.

“Her thoughts are of Ursa. How she was the first and only one to ever know her. How that is enough.”

“Oh, God have mercy on us. We have begun it and cannot end it.”

“Even writing at a distance of 400 years, I found much to recognize. This is a story about people and how they lived before why and how they died became what defined them.”

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