Weyward by Emilia Hart: A review

Weyward tells the stories of three women from three different centuries, women who are tied together by blood and by the common sanctuary that each of them found in a place called Weyward Cottage. We meet and get to know Kate from 2019, Violet from 1942, and Altha from 1619. Perhaps most importantly we get to know the cottage that is worlds away from the unhappiness and abuse that those three women experienced in their lives.

Kate had inherited the cottage in 2019 from a great-aunt whom she barely knew. The inheritance came at a fortuitous time as she needed to escape from an abusive relationship. As things became unbearable for her, she fled under cover of darkness to the cottage where she had never really spent any time previously. It felt to her like coming home.

In 1619, Altha was charged with witchcraft. She was accused of having murdered a local farmer by causing a stampede of his cattle that had trampled and killed him. Her mother had taught her knowledge of the natural world and such knowledge was considered dangerous by her neighbors who didn't possess or understand it. They could not appreciate that they, too, were a part of Nature.

We meet Violet in 1942 as World War II is raging. Violet wants to seek an education like her brother is receiving but social convention at the time forbids it and she is trapped on her family's estate. Violet owns a mysterious locket that came from her mother and is engraved with the letter "W." Moreover, on a baseboard in her bedroom, she finds the word "weyward" scratched. What does it all mean?

Emilia Hart weaves together the stories of these three women and of their sanctuary cottage. Their stories give testament to the resilience of women and to the power of the natural world to transform and heal.

The stories also make clear that not enough has changed regarding the status of women over more than four centuries. Even in the twenty-first century, women must often struggle to be considered equal to men in the rights they have and in their place in society.

Hart's first book was a remarkable accomplishment that won her the Goodreads Best Historical Fiction and Best Debut Novel awards in 2023. It is so well-written that it is actually difficult to believe that this was her first novel, although it should be noted that she had previously published considerable short fiction. I think she likely has a bright future as a novelist.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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