True Crime Studies: “Murder, Magic, Madness” recounts a very strange crime in a very strange time
Penned by Owen Davies, a historian on modern and contemporary witchcraft, Murder, Magic, Madness: The Victorian Trials of Dove and the Wizard is the perfect book for anyone that lives for the cold hard facts. That’s primarily what this book is. There are no real theories or opinions or deep psychological analysis. Everything recounted in Murder, Magic, Madness is documented in history and told with about as much charisma as a technical manual. Not saying that the book is bad, or boring, only that it feels a bit like an Encyclopedia.
I am impressed with the amount of information that Davies gives though. There’s very little detail about this crime available, which means Davies must have worked mega hard on his research. It’s admirable, the amount that he shares, but it’s a shame that he writes it with such frankness.
In 1850s England, in a time when people were living between magic and science, there was a man named William Dove who murdered his wife Harriet, and he wasn’t at all discreet about it. Dove was an interesting fellow. Raised by devout Methodists that dotted on him, William was a true problem child that grew into an even more difficult adult.
Although there weren’t many proper diagnoses available during this time, it’s possible that the man had both a mental illness and a learning disability. He had violent mood swings that came without warning and seemed incapable of grasping a concept if too complicated. The author assumes he had Type 1 Bipolar Disorder and the theory certainly matches up with Dove’s many symptoms.
Dove struggled through adulthood, until one day, he meets a woman who falls in love with him. A strange woman with a presumably equally unpredictable temper named Harriet, and these two had a strange marriage. Of course, none of their home life is discussed in great detail but pieced together through first-hand accounts. House servants, neighbors, and friends who all describe the relationship as being like that of Frank and Monica from Shameless. A mix between extremely happy, extremely sad, childlike puppy love and violent explosions, up until the day that Dove decided to kill her.
Cunning Folk
The beginning of Dove’s demise started with Henry Harrison, a cunning-folk, and a real do**hebag. Cunning-folk were “professional” practitioners of magic in Britain. They were basically fortune-tellers and fake wizards that called themselves doctors. Obviously, most were frauds. The ones that weren’t could just be called herbalists. They were popular during a time when science was getting difficult to swallow and a lot of people found comfort in magic. Life was hard and, like religion, magic let people hold on to the belief that they held some kind of power over their life.
Davies actually wrote another book all about cunning-folk titled Popular Magic: Cunning-folk in English History so if you ever want to know more you can check that out.
Harrison was a cunning-folk who lived near the Dove’s and quickly became a person of great fascination for William. According to Murder, Magic, Madness, cunning-folk were often used to track down stolen possessions, which is how the two men supposedly met. Dove was mighty impressed with Harrison’s “skills” and started seeing him for other problems which included domestic issues, particularly involving his wife.
It was technically Harrison’s idea to kill her, but Dove needed no persuasion to go along with the plan. To get him on board, Harrison promised Dove that after Harriet died, fate would see him remarry a new wife who would not only be more beautiful but also rich. Harriet wasn’t exactly a “Stepford Wife”. She talked back, had a temper, and fought her husband’s raging alcoholism. So hearing that he was soon due a new and younger wife, Dove spurred into action and he slowly started the process of poisoning Harriet with strychnine.
Immediately after she got sick, he proceeded to go around the town and make sure he looked as guilty as humanly possible. I’m going to be honest, this whole section of the book had me in hysterics. The things Dove did to make sure he wouldn’t be suspected could’ve made it on the list for the world’s dumbest criminals. It took several days for Harriet to die, as he would give her numerous doses of poison, but every time she showed signs of improvement, Dove would straight up tell people she was going to die. Her doctors and friends came to check-in, and cheer at the color returned to her cheeks, only for Dove to walk in the room and just start talking about funeral arrangements. He even went to the coroner, or the equivalent of one back then, and ask if there was any chance that an autopsy wouldn’t be performed on Harriet.
You’d almost think he was trying to get caught, or maybe he was just that stupid. By the time someone suspected something it was too late. Harriet was dead and it wasn’t an easy passing. She clearly suffered and Dove never got this new wife he was promised. Instead he got shackled and carried off to the jailhouse.
I have my own theory about why Harrison suddenly suggested that Harriet be killed and it involved the custody of a walking stick. Harriet and Harrison made no attempts to hide their apparent distaste for one another but it was only after Dove decided to gift his wizard friend his own personal walking stick that the relationship turned dangerously sour. When Harriet found out her husband gave his walking stick away to a quack she demanded he that get it back. She even went over to Harrison’s house to forcibly reclaim it. Eventually, she succeeded and Dove got his stick back, but not before Harrison carved his initials into the handle. Almost immediately after this dispute is when the plan to kill Harriet started taking form. Meaning there’s a strong chance Harrison made the suggestion all out of spite. Don’t come between two men and their gift exchange.
Trial and aftermath
I’m actually shocked by how thin Murder, Magic, Madness is considering how jammed back it is. It crams in as much as it can in under 300 pages and a lot of it has to do with the murder trial. This takes up most of the book, which might be why I often found myself bored with it. I hate everything about court. One of the reasons why I can never finish a John Grisham novel.
Most of the court sections feel like a transcript; “characters” pop in one after another, every defense and every argument is summed up to its bare minimum, letters written by Dove are presented as well as statements made by witnesses. There’s the introduction of the insanity defense which just introduces several passages of experts arguing over Dove’s mental state with some claiming he was totally deranged and others assuming he was mentally handicapped. It was a “moral insanity” versus “moral idiocy” debate with a few crying out “inborn imbecility.”
It doesn’t end there though. Midway through the trial, Dove attempted a deal with the Devil that he just stole word for word from Goethe’s rewrite of Christopher Marlowe’s play The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus. It’s probably the weirdest detail of this story, right along with that walking stick. In the end, Dove was declared guilty and sentenced to hang. Harrison was then tracked down and charged for a multitude of offenses after his past was dug up and people discovered his many past deeds.
No one remembers William Dove today, nor Henry Harrison, but they definitely had an impact on history. Harrison caused a surging fear of intellects while Dove created a reluctant acknowledgment of insanity in relation to crime among the middle and upper class. Why Dove did what he did is never 100% understood as it’s a crime that happened 164 years ago and despite his eagerness to get Harriet out of the picture, I personally got the feeling that Dove wasn’t completely aware of the fact that poisoning Harriet would have resulted in a dead wife. There was a theory that he really believed Harrison’s prediction about Harriet’s death and that by poisoning her he was only speeding up fate.
Either way, Murder, Magic, Madness is a big court transcript sandwiched between two history lectures. Slightly boring, a bit monotone, but you’ll come away with a new look at the evolution of crime. Especially the change in shock value. Two quotes from two newspapers of that time: “This miserable story of folly and of crime goes beyond the boundaries even of fiction”- Western Flying Post, and “…a stranger story than his never passed human lips”- The Leeds Times. Imagine how scandalized they’d be if they could see some of the murder cases going on today.
(3 / 5)
Published in April 2023, Catriona Ward’s novel, Looking Glass Sound, continues her tradition of crafting intricate narratives that defy easy categorization. Like her acclaimed The House on Needless Street, Ward expertly weaves a web of clues and red herrings that will unravel with each reread. Is it an atmospheric horror, a twisted serial killer mystery, or the coming-of-age tale of a writer? The answer, as Ward skillfully demonstrates, is all three.
The Plot.
In 1989, sixteen-year-old Wilder Harlow, travels to the Maine coast with his mother and father, for the summer. His family has inherited a cottage on Whistler’s Bay, all hope that this will be a fresh start for him.
On the first day, Wilder meets Harper and Nat; teens who roam the town with little to no adult supervision. The two quickly become his guides to the town’s hidden secrets.
As they explore the bay’s eerie beauty, Wilder discovers a sinister undercurrent. A terrifying figure known as the “Dagger Man” has been terrorizing families; breaking into homes and photographing sleeping children at knifepoint. Meanwhile, a more chilling mystery unfolds: women have been vanishing from the town for over a decade.
Wilder and his new friends are drawn into the mysteries and the truth begins to unravel as they explore the hidden corners of the bay.
This is only the first section of the book. What follows is Wilder’s experience through college, eventually returning to Whistler Bay as an elderly man. On his return things begin to twist and we find that everything we’ve been told is not strictly fact.
Highlights.
Catriona Ward is known for writing strong characters and here she does not disappoint. The novel introduces us to Wilder, Nat, and Harper as teenagers whose complex dynamics and relatable angst draw us in. Wilder’s college roommate, Sky, adds another layer of depth, offering a poignant exploration of queer coming-of-age.
While Ward’s intricate plot keeps us guessing, it also presents a minor challenge: the sheer number of twists and turns can sometimes blur the lines between characters: making it difficult to keep track of names and relationships. The introduction of two characters named Sky and Skye, in particular, can be confusing. Despite this, Ward’s character development remains consistently strong. Looking Glass Sound is a compelling exploration of human connection and the complexities of memory.
Drawbacks.
The overwhelming drawback for this novel was the structure. The first half of the novel follows a straightforward, linear timeline, allowing us to connect with Wilder and his friends on a personal level. However, the narrative takes a significant detour in the second half, adopting a complex frame-within-a-frame structure, or perhaps more accurately a book within a book… within a book. This shift can be disorienting, as readers are constantly pulled back and forth between different time periods and perspectives, often only to discover that certain events were not entirely as they seemed.
While this unconventional approach adds a layer of intrigue, it can also make the plot feel fragmented and difficult to follow. Ward’s decision to interrupt the narrative with explanations and asides can sometimes disrupt the pacing and immersion. While this choice may be intentional, it can also leave readers feeling lost and confused.
The Final Take.
This is not my first Catriona Ward novel, nor it will be my last. Ward writes stories that are built to confound the reader and make them question everything they’ve read. Looking Glass Sound pushes this a little too far. In my opinion is the weakest of her novels that I have read so far. In saying that I did enjoy the atmospheric horror of the introductory chapters and the dark academic feel of the college section. Following that I found myself becoming a little fed up with deciphering the plot.
(2.5 / 5)
“You can’t win against the mountain. The mountain always finds a way.”
Published in July 2024, Alisa Alering’s debut novel, Smothermoss, is a chilling blend of folk horror and dark fairytale. Though concise, this novel packs a powerful punch, its narrative dense with metaphor and a suffocating atmosphere. Not for the faint of heart, Smothermoss is a haunting exploration of the sinister lurking beneath the surface of the ordinary.
The Story.
Set in the rugged Appalachian Mountains of the 1980s, Smothermoss follows the lives of sisters, Sheila (17) and Angie (12). The two live with their mother and an elderly woman in a crumbling cottage in the forest. Both Sheila and Angie are the object of ridicule and bullying within their school community, the sisters cope with this bullying in starkly different ways. Sheila retreats into silence, avoiding conflict and longing for escape. Angie, meanwhile, immerses herself in a fantasy world, battling imaginary Russians and believing her handmade cards hold prophetic power.
When two women hikers are brutally murdered on the nearby Appalachian Trail, Sheila becomes more withdrawn and avoidant of the world, while Angie becomes convinced she’s destined to capture the killer. Little do they know; a far greater evil lurks in the forest.
Highlights.
Alering’s masterful characterization of Sheila and Angie was the true gem of Smothermoss. Despite being told in the third person, the alternating chapters offer a bone deep immersion into each sister’s perspective. In recent fiction, author’s have not quite captured the authentic voice of a young character. However, Alering nails it. Angie’s pre-teen naivety shines through and never accidently matures past its 12-year-old existence. While Sheila’s late teenage anxieties and queer coming-of-age struggles are beautifully rendered.
Another highlight of this story is the lyrical prose. Smothermoss has a rhythm; it reads like poetry in places and in others could be mistaken for a children’s fable. Reading about the visceral and raw events and thoughts contained in Smothermoss, in such beautiful but simple language adds to the unsettling experience, and enjoyability, of reading this story
Drawbacks.
There were a couple of things that had me a little confused during this book. Several shorter chapters leave the sisters entirely behind and focus on rabbits and other forest animals. At first, I interpreted these to be metaphoric. The animals standing in for the killers point of view, or perhaps the murdered women. This book is so heavy with metaphor that this seems plausible, but I finished the book still questioning myself about this.
The other issue I found was that many of the subplots in this story are left unexplained or unfinished, turning to the last page with many questions that will never be answered. (Which has resulted in sleepless nights because I just want to know what exactly that rope is among other things!)
The Final Take.
At its core, this is the story of two sisters growing to understand each other and supporting each other through adversity.
Beyond that, Smothermoss feels like a fairytale dragged through the mud.
The small size of this book (just over 250 pages) might lead people to think it is a quick or easy read. Don’t be fooled, as Shakespeare said, “though she be but little, she is fierce.” This is a complex story, with heavy themes and dark subtext.
I want, and hope, to read this story again because I know that there is much more to uncover here. The metaphors are dark and unnerving, the characters deep and moving, the natural imagery thick. I was not at all surprised to find out that Alering grew up in the Appalachian Mountains. Only someone familiar with the area could have described the people and place with so much heart.
(4 / 5)
Book Reviews
The Unmothers.
“There was a horse that gave birth. There was a baby. There was a tree. There was a price.”
Leslie J. Anderson’s debut novel, The Unmothers, is a chilling folk horror that delves into the darkest corners of motherhood. Published in August 2024, this slow-burn tale introduces a world where women’s rights are under threat.
With a subtle touch of Eldritch horror, Anderson weaves a narrative that explores the complex themes of motherhood, choice, and the lengths a woman might go to maintain control over her own body and destiny.
The Story.
Journalist Carolyn Marshall is sent to cover the story of a horse giving birth in the rural American town of Reaford. The attraction of this occurrence for a newspaper? That the baby is a healthy human baby boy. Marshall quickly debunks this story but decides to stay in town and follow her journalistic instinct to a bigger scoop.
Beneath the town’s quaint facade, Marshall uncovers a web of dark secrets. A drug epidemic is ravaging the community, immigrant workers are dying under mysterious circumstances, and the town’s powerful patriarch, John Daily, seems to hold everyone in his debt. As Marshall delves deeper into these troubling issues, she becomes increasingly entangled in the lives of the locals.
Through her interactions with the townspeople, Marshall hears whispers of a sinister presence lurking in the nearby woods. The locals share chilling tales of what a young woman in Reaford might do to terminate an unwanted pregnancy. As the story unfolds, Marshall must confront the terrifying truth about the town’s hidden past and the dangers that lurk within its borders.
Highlights.
I was never a young girl that oohed and aahed at the sight of a horse. After reading The Unmothers though, yeah, I get it. Anderson’s vivid descriptions of these magnificent creatures brought them to life in a way I’d never experienced before. The way she portrays their gentle nature, combined with their raw power and potential for brutality, is both captivating and unsettling. It’s a testament to Anderson’s skill as a writer that she can make even the most mundane details of these animals feel extraordinary.
Drawbacks.
The Unmothers is a complex novel that delves into the interconnected events of a rural town, both past and present. In the first half of the book, the sheer number of characters and viewpoints can make it difficult to keep track of the plot. However, there are a few pivotal revelations that occur near the midpoint. This helps certain characters become more prominent and memorable, making the story easier to follow.
The Final Take.
The Unmothers is a haunting and unforgettable read that will leave you both terrified and deeply moved. Anderson’s masterful storytelling draws you into a world where the line between the natural and the supernatural is blurred.
The novel’s focus on horses, a subject I’m not particularly knowledgeable about, was a pleasant surprise. I was fascinated to learn about the unique characteristics of foals, including the tentacle-like growths on their hooves which had me Googling for proof.
This book is a must-read for fans of horror, folk tales, and thought-provoking fiction. It’s a powerful exploration of motherhood, choice, and the dark forces that can lurk beneath the surface of even the most seemingly idyllic communities.
(4 / 5)
