The Weaver and the Witch Queen, by Genevieve Gornichec

I don’t know if there’s a name for this trope or type of story (maybe self-fulfilling prophecy?) but one of my favorite things to read are stories in which characters are warned about terrible things in their future and, in their attempts to avert their fate, steer straight into the exact scenario they were trying to avoid in the first place. This happens multiple times in the stories of Oedipus, Macbeth, and even Harry Potter. Genevieve Gornichec’s The Weaver and the Witch Queen is a Norse saga*-inspired version of this all too human story. We just can’t seem to help ourselves when someone presents us with a glimpse of the future. We try to put our stamp on fate and Fate stamps back.

As the unloved youngest child of a minor lord in Norway, Gunnhild has no idea that the future holds anything for her other than a boring life of domestic drudgery. The only interesting thing in her life is an aggravating mystery. When she was young, a seeress saw—but then refuse to tell—Gunnhild’s future. In a fit of frustration after yet another fight when her mother and the threat of being married off, Gunnhild manages to escape when another seeress passes through their village. She’d rather learn magic in the hinterlands of Finnmark than get married to an oaf decades older than she is. Who wouldn’t?

Twelve years later, Gunnhild is a gifted witch who can fly, heal terrible wounds, talk to the dead, and all sorts of feats. Using her ability to fly is how she learns that her only childhood friends, Oddny and Signy, have been attacked by roving raiders. Signy is taken. Oddny manages to escape and find sanctuary with Gunnhild’s parents. If it hadn’t been for this attack, Gunnhild would have stayed in Finnmark and never popped into history. But because her friends are harmed, Gunnhild swears to track down the people responsible and take her revenge.

Like Kaikeyi of the Ramayana, Gunnhild is written as a villain in the original versions. From Gornichec’s retelling, it isn’t hard to see how the hardheaded and fierce Gunnhild would end up on the wrong side of a skald. Gunnhild lets nothing get in her way, even if it means breaking promises and arguing the opposition into the ground. And I daresay it pissed a lot of people off that Gunnhild had the power—magical, physical, and emotional—to get her way. But because Gornichec took the time to show us what shaped this remarkable character and what it meant for her to have two great friends during the loneliest time of her life, it isn’t hard to be on Gunnhild’s side in her quest for rescue and revenge.

I’ve been eagerly awaiting Gornichec’s second novel. Her debut, The Witch’s Heart, is one of the best books I’ve ever read. The Weaver and the Witch Queen is not a sequel and it’s more of a traditional work of historical fiction than the episodic Witch’s Heart and might be more accessible to readers who aren’t as familiar with Norse mythology. No prior knowledge is required for The Weaver and the Witch Queen. But for any readers who want to read amazing tales of Norse women, magic, power, and fate, I highly recommend both of Gornichec’s novels.

I received a free copy of this book from the publisher via NetGalley, for review consideration.

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*Gornichec cites the Heimskringla and Egil’s Saga in her author’s note.