Lucianne Tonti’s latest book, Good Witch: In Search of Our Lost Feminine Power, is an ambitious and broadly encompassing exploration of the witch hunts that traversed Europe and America from the 15th to the 18th centuries, and how they have impacted the lives we lead today in the West, in particular the economic and cultural place of women.

Divided into five parts – gardener, gossip, spinster, healer, nymph – Tonti uses this segmentation to reflect on the various accusations directed at women in the trials, often leading to executions, and what was lost, apart from lives, in the process. Situating the witch hunts alongside the Renaissance (the elevation of science) and the start of the Industrial Revolution, Tonti makes clear the connections between the church, science, the crown and the law, all working together to dominate and control women who didn’t fit within their patriarchal order.

Tonti breaks down an atmosphere of deeply held and often irrational fears, linked to dealings with the devil, which led to almost 60,000 executions of mainly women. The witch-hunters were suspicious of women: who were widowed and in control of finances and land; who had a connection to nature, food production and animals (access to the “commons” before landowners took control); and who could support themselves through spinning and weaving. Communal knowledge gleaned through centuries of applying home medicines (potions) and midwifery was seen as magical and evil, to be eradicated. Gatherings where women danced, drank and had fun were enough to have them burnt at the stake.

Her account of King James (whose name graces the Bible many still use today) is particularly harrowing, the way he used torture methods to personally check whether women had the mark of the devil by stripping them down, shaving their hair and pricking their private parts with a pin. In Norway, accused women were thrown into the ocean; if they floated, they were witches. The women were often tortured and assaulted to extract a confession, worn down by sexual abuse, the Scold’s Bridle (a torture instrument with an iron muzzle and metal gag placed in the mouth), and even the rack. As Tonti points out, their stories of confession given in court were remarkably similar, regardless of location; a coerced narrative by the men in charge.

Tonti argues that it was in the men’s economic interests to keep women isolated and unpaid for their domestic labour and the care of others, while blocking access to education and scientific knowledge. She observes that the basic power structures entrenched after the witch hunts are still being grappled with today: the pay discrepancy between doctors and nurses; the emotional burden of care duties; the abuse of women working in the clothing industries, many not yet receiving a living wage. Her solution is to talk to women building a path of resistance and “re-enchanting” the world by working together in harmony with the land to build community from the ground up.

The book’s strongest sections come when Tonti travels to the various settings of executions, including Salem in the US, North Berwick in Scotland, and Tromso in Norway. Her blend of the now and then, and beautiful descriptions of place, give a haunting insight into the lives of women accused. In particular, her visit to Tromso and the sculpture by French-American artist Louise Bourgeois – which sits on the very spot where the women were executed – is a moving way to project the women’s torn-apart lives into the contemporary world.

One surprising omission is any mention of “witches” in Australian politics or media, and in particular the Mad F---ing Witches, an organisation formed in 2016 after politician Peter Dutton called a female journalist “a mad f---ing witch”. This advocacy group against misogyny might embody the spirit Tonti is arguing for, their campaigns playing a role in dismantling the careers of Alan Jones, Kyle Sandilands and Karl Stefanovic. In a recent opinion piece in The Age, Neil Mitchell appears fearful of the collective power of women taking to their brooms and contacting the advertisers directly, describing them as “bullies”. It seems, as Tonti suggests, that women working together to fight the status quo is still seen as a dangerous thing.

Occasionally, Tonti can head off on tangents that strain against the parameters she’s set herself, like the man who takes up her personal space on a boat trip, or the friend she goes swimming with who doesn’t respect his girlfriend. These memoir-moments feel like they slow the reader down, perhaps part of another story to tell. But when she retrains her focus on the history of the witches’ trials, gives an honest account of the highs and lows of researching as she’s doing it, and interviews contemporary women doing witchy things in extraordinary ways, it’s a skilfully built, compassionate and immersive read.

Good Witch: In Search of Our Lost Feminine Power by Lucianne Tonti is published by Summit Books ($37).

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