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This Woman’s Work: The Bewitching by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
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This Woman’s Work: The Bewitching by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
An immensely readable gothic horror story that mixes folklore with suspense and mystery across three timelines.
By Mahvesh Murad
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Published on August 18, 2025
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At three different times, three different young women face something sinister, something that could destroy them if they don’t lean into the knowledge they have acquired from their love of the weird, the supernatural, the witchy, and from their ancestors. Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s latest novel The Bewitching mixes folklore with suspense and mystery, set across three timelines, with each holding its own in the larger narrative framework. Moreno-Garcia has written almost a dozen novels; she’s nothing short of prolific. Each novel is very readable and focuses on a different aspect of the supernatural, but each keeps a facet of Mexican folklore or pop culture firmly as its anchor point.
The Bewitching is about Mexican student Minerva, whose interest in the occult and weird tales began as a child, raised as she was on her great-grandmother Nana Alba’s stories about witches. But these are stories about witches very specific to Mexico—no pointy hats and broomsticks here. Rather, “on the night of the new moon evil witches like to dance against the treetops” was what her great-grandmother used to say. ‘They’d slip out of their human skins and grow wings, turn into balls of light, and cavort in the sky. The teyolloquani, the most fearsome of all, drank the blood of their victims and ate their hearts.” This is real, pure evil, not the Disney version of things we find more commonly in contemporary storytelling, especially television and film.
Minerva’s interest in the gothic continues into adulthood, her love for horror stories taking her as far as New England for a graduate degree at Stonebridge College in 1998, where she is working on her thesis about a book called The Vanishing, written by a little known female writer who also happened to attend the same college in the 1930s—the same college where every so often (but consistently), students go missing. One of these missing students was Virginia, the roommate, best friend and first love of the writer Minerva’s thesis is about: Beatrice Tremblay, whose story is set in 1934 and told via various epistolary forms including her personal diary and newspaper articles, adding to the drama and mystery that threads solidly through The Bewitching.
What really sets the mood for the novel is the third narrative: the story of Nana Alba, Minerva’s great grandmother, set in 1908 Hidalgo, Mexico, on a farm where Alba as a young woman is attempting to understand the strange things happening around her, some time after her father’s death. These are the personal stories Alba later passes down to Minerva too, in addition to Mexican folklore: a story of a disappearance that was tied to witchcraft, “just as Beatrice Tremblay’s novel had connections with the occult.” In Alba’s story, we see her navigate the entry of her shady uncle into her life after her father’s death, and the mysterious way in which her brother vanishes, in a way similar to the disappearance of Beatrice’s best friend Virginia many years later at Stonebridge. “Perhaps that was why she’d love the book so much, why she’d devoted years of her life to pursuing this tale,” thinks Minerva, “this was what got her pulse racing, not lovers or romance—it was the thrill of research, of odd questions and murky answers.” The parallels between the women’s stories run strong and true throughout The Bewitching; Moreno-Garcia is excellent at crafting multi-planar but individually whole narratives in one novel.
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The Bewitching
Silvia Moreno-Garcia
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The Bewitching
Silvia Moreno-Garcia
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Amidst the lonely, moody New England landscape, Minerva is attempting to figure out the true story behind Beatrice’s novel. This may have seemed achievable in the beginning, but the material in the archives of Stoneridge was “dry and impersonal,” and all of Beatrice’s private letters and diaries are kept under lock and key by Carolyn Yates, a wealthy benefactor of many student scholarships, who happened to be Beatrice’s close friend when they attended Stonebridge together but has thus far refused to meet Minerva or entertain her requests. When Minerva happens upon Carolyn’s grandson—a very drunk Noah Yates—at a party, she snags an invite to meet his grandmother. Carolyn wasn’t just Beatrice’s friend; she knew Virginia too, and after Virginia’s disappearance, it was Carolyn who ended up marrying Virginia’s fiancé Edgar, the wealthy son of an influential New England family. Carolyn, it seems, is much more tied up in the story of Virginia and Beatrice then she lets on.
Before she knows it, Minerva finds herself caught up in some ancient power, a shadow cast over her as it had been over Alba and Virginia. She must use all the knowledge she inherited from her great grandmother, not just to make sure she is safe, but also to find justice for Virginia. Alongside all this, Minerva also has to manage her actual grad student reality, but The Bewitching is not Dark Academia fantasy at all, nor should it be confused for that. Moreno-Garcia plays well with balancing the supernatural elements of an occult thriller with those of Minerva’s very real world issues, from her financial needs, to the deadlines for turning in pages to her advisor, to the pressure that Minerva places on herself because she “couldn’t afford to be anything except excellent” since her tuition at Stonebridge College was “covered courtesy of a scholarship for academic high achievers.” This is in part what makes Minerva a very relatable, very human protagonist: This high achiever also has some very low periods. In theory, Minerva has everything she wanted: She’s in grad school, obtaining an English literature degree from the same college Beatrice Tremblay had attended. It was her “childhood dream come true,” but often “she was sad for no reason.” Add witchcraft to the mix, and you’ve got a protagonist who has to manage herself out of sadness and into proactivity.
As usual, Moreno-Garcia has created an immensely readable story. All three narratives are easy to follow, each contains its own tension, and following individual timelines isn’t difficult. Each chapter is helpfully titled with the year it is set in, so switching between narratives is fairly smooth. Each woman’s voice is unique, true to her time and her personality. While both the New England timeline settings are equally vivid, it is Alba’s story set in Hidalgo that is possibly the most evocative. There is a fair degree of threat and potential abuse lurking just below the surface of Alba’s relationship with her uncle, along with a hefty dose of gaslighting, as he insists to her that her fears are unfounded, and her belief in the supernatural is small-minded garbage. But Alba’s connection to indigenous folklore keeps her safe, as it does Minerva decades later.
Moreno-Garcia’s language really does soar when she writes about Mexico, as it has done with all her past novels. The Bewitching is of course heavily inspired by both Mexican folklore surrounding witches and 17th century New England stories of witchcraft, and Moreno-Garcia has made a concerted effort to move away from the idea of witchcraft as currently seen in popular media currently: something good, benign, or similar to a superpower. The witchcraft in this novel is dangerous, violent, aggressive, and often needs very specific methods to combat, methods that must be taught and passed down from one generation to the next. As with most stories about witches, this novel too brings women together across time and space, sharing their stories in order to stay safe, and keep each other safe.[end-mark]
The Bewitching is published by Del Rey.
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