Magic Lessons

The novel opens by establishing Maria Owens’s formative relationships with two maternal figures—Rebecca and Hannah—to explore the differences between the study and practice of traditional magic and a raw, innate bloodline power. When Hannah finds the infant Maria, she’s “wound in a blue blanket with her name carefully stitched along the border” (3), an object that introduces the color blue as an emblem of protective, maternal devotion. Hannah’s decision to take Maria in and raise her with a magical education and the introduction of Cadin, Maria’s crow familiar who guards her as a baby, establish the dual nature of Maria’s inheritance: the learned, nurturing tradition of Hannah’s “green magic” and the wild, innate power of her bloodline—both of which pose a threat to male power in Maria’s world. The confirmation of her bloodline magic with the stolen silver hairpin proves that her abilities are innate rather than taught. This distinction between learned craft and inherent nature creates a central tension in Maria’s development, forcing her to reconcile the healing arts taught by Hannah with the more potent magic that is her birthright, foreshadowing her ability to cast the generational curse that acts as the premise of Hoffman’s series.

Hannah’s decision to teach Maria how to read and write is presented as a radical act of empowerment against a society that systematically disempowers women. Hannah’s backstory—imprisonment for witchcraft and the brutal killing of her cat familiar—grounds the narrative in the historical reality of the 17th-century witch hunts, which targeted women who possessed knowledge and independence. In this context, Patriarchal Oppression of Independent Women exists as a constant, life-threatening danger. Hannah’s gift of a Grimoire, a personal book of spells, represents a legacy of forbidden female knowledge. The text declares that literacy is “true magic, the making and unmaking of the world with paper and ink” (13), explicitly linking the power of words to the power of witchcraft. By equipping Maria with the ability to read and record her own knowledge, Hannah provides her with the ultimate tool for survival and self-determination in a world designed to silence and control her.

The arrival of Rebecca, Maria’s biological mother, introduces a conflicting model of love that stands in contrast to Hannah’s selfless care. Hannah’s simple advice to Maria, “Always love someone who will love you back” (12), establishes the novel’s thematic engagement with The Importance of Reciprocated Love. Hoffman positions Rebecca’s relationship with her husband as a cautionary tale of obsessive, unreciprocated passion. Rebecca used the dangerous Tenth Love Potion to ensnare a man, resulting in a violent need to own and control her—a magical spell that backfires and brings destruction upon both herself and Hannah. The examples of Hannah and Rebecca present Maria with two opposing paths: Hannah’s quiet, solitary life, shaped by the pain of betrayal but rooted in kindness, and Rebecca’s chaotic, passionate existence, driven by desires that leave a wake of devastation. Maria’s subsequent vow to protect herself from love is a direct reaction to witnessing these two extremes.

Hannah’s black mirror reveals glimpses of a future that Maria misinterprets, leading to heartbreak rather than protecting her from it, laying the groundwork for the novel’s thematic focus on The Corrosive Cost of Revenge. As a child, she sees a vision of “a daughter in her future, but no husband. Only the man with the diamonds, who, as they walk[] along the wooden dock, under clouds of parrots, seem[s] an impossible fate” (63). This prophecy shapes her expectations of love and destiny, so when Hathorne, a figure of apparent wealth and status, gives her a packet of diamonds, Maria attempts to step into this foreseen future. The mirror shows her what will happen but offers no insight into the character of the man or the consequences of their union, illustrating the limits of magical sight—knowledge of the future does not grant control over it. The fulfillment of the prophecy becomes an ironic trap, luring Maria into a relationship that is a temporary infatuation rather than love, and leads to abandonment, positioning the mirror as a symbol of the danger of seeing a destination without understanding the path, a recurring pattern in the Owens family saga.

Maria’s voyage to Massachusetts with Samuel broadens the novel’s exploration of persecution and introduces the potential for genuine, mutual connection. Maria’s bond with Samuel forms over shared histories of familial trauma, invoking real-world historical context to underscore their respective legacies of oppression. Samuel’s Sephardic Jewish family fled the violent Spanish Inquisition, while Maria’s predecessors were victims of the English witch hunts. This parallel situates Maria’s struggle within a wider context of marginalized people seeking freedom from religious and patriarchal tyranny. Her relationship with Samuel is built on reciprocal care and the sharing of their histories, a contrast to the whirlwind, deceptive affair with Hathorne. Samuel’s observation that the sapphire that Hathorne gave Maria is a fake stone exposes the fleeting nature of Hathorne’s affection. This dynamic reframes Maria’s quest, shifting the narrative focus from a misguided search for a false love to the nascent possibility of a partnership founded on shared experience and mutual respect.