The Witches of Cambridge

The apple is a central symbol that represents forbidden knowledge, magical lineage, and the reclamation of female power. The novel deliberately subverts the traditional biblical narrative of the apple as the source of humanity’s fall. Instead, it reframes the fruit as an emblem of a powerful, matriarchal inheritance, explicitly stating, “Apples had been the original charm, Eve’s downfall and Lilith’s delight” (8). By associating witchery with Lilith—Adam’s defiant first wife, “who had not been created out of her husband’s rib but had been made of her own flesh and blood and bone” (35)—the novel transforms the act of seeking knowledge from a sin into an act of self-actualization. The Black Oxford apples left on Ava’s windowsill by her birth mother are a direct, tangible link to her true heritage, offering a form of communion and nourishment rather than corruption. They represent a “forbidden” knowledge that is not sinful but essential to Ava’s identity. The apple motif is thus important to the theme of The Ongoing Struggle Against Oppression, as it shows the characters actively rewriting a foundational myth used for centuries to justify the subjugation of women. By choosing Lilith’s delight over Eve’s downfall, they claim a history of power, not of shame.

In The Witches of Cambridge, witches are identifiable by two physical signs: an 11th finger and black blood. Together, these markers symbolize suppressed identity and the violence of forced conformity. As a hereditary marker of witch heritage, the extra finger is an undeniable sign of being different in a world that punishes deviation. The act of surgically removing it in infancy, as was done to Ava and Jamie, is a parental attempt to enforce normalcy that perfectly illustrates The Dangers of Assimilation and Appeasement. The resulting scar becomes a permanent, often painful reminder of this hidden heritage. When Ava confronts Jamie by asking, “Do you have a scar like this?” (95), the question is an act of recognition, revealing a shared, secret wound that connects them. While the scar symbolizes the external, violent suppression of identity, the motif is deepened by the existence of black blood, the internal, biological proof of witchery that cannot be removed. This internal/external dichotomy highlights the futility of assimilation; though society can scar the body, it cannot change the essential truth of who someone is.

The motif of books, letters, and personal grimoires embodies the power of narrative to preserve history, define the self, and reclaim a voice that has been systematically silenced. The novel’s entire structure is built upon Ava’s discovery of the first witch’s letters, which are hidden within old books in libraries. These archives become sacred spaces where the true, suppressed history of women’s power is passed down, allowing Ava to understand her own lineage and The Ongoing Struggle Against Oppression. The act of writing is portrayed as a form of magic, a way to impose order on chaos and give substance to one’s identity. As Rose Bridewell, the first witch, reflects, “Writing is the antidote to sorrow, and the first step of magic” (79). This belief is carried forward by Lauren, whose personal grimoire is her most prized possession, a place where she documents spells and, more importantly, forges her own identity through poetry and self-expression. By writing their own stories and spells, the characters directly combat the historical erasure that is a cornerstone of their oppression, ensuring that their truths, unlike those of the women in Salem, will not be lost.