‘I did an evil thing to be put in here, and I’m going to have to do an evil thing to get out.’

They call them wayward girls. Loose girls. Girls who grew up too fast. And they’re sent to the Wellwood House in St. Augustine, Florida, where unwed mothers are hidden by their families to have their babies in secret, give them up for adoption, and most important of all, to forget any of it ever happened.

Fifteen-year-old Fern arrives at the home in the sweltering summer of 1970, pregnant, terrified and alone. There, she meets a dozen other girls in the same predicament. Rose, a hippie who insists she’s going to keep her baby and escape to a commune. Zinnia, a budding musician who plans to marry her baby’s father. And Holly, barely fourteen, mute and pregnant by no-one-knows-who.

Every moment of their waking day is strictly controlled by adults who claim they know what’s best for them. Then Fern meets a librarian who gives her an occult book about witchcraft, and power is in the hands of the girls for the first time in their lives. But power can destroy as easily as it creates, and it’s never given freely. There’s always a price to be paid . . . and it’s usually paid in blood.

This is my 4th Hendrix title and I think this gives me enough “know” to be able to say that Horrorstör was a fluke. Or, maybe the Devil appeared to Hendrix after Horrorstör and said: Dude, you can do so much better. I can help. Let’s strike a bargain. And then Hendrix started writing truly captivating, layered stories. I’m sorry, I have said it before and I’ll say it again: Horrorstör bored me to tears! Everything since has been amazing, though! We Sold Our Souls, The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires… and now Witchcraft for Wayward Girls. I love a story with meat on its bones and I fully appreciate that I have yet to explore more of Hendrix’s work. Looks like he can write and publish faster than I can read.

Our parents say the War is good. The president says the bomb is good. They tell us factories that poison the earth are good. They say drugs are bad, and burning draft cards is bad, and hippies are bad, and everyone who wants to stop the War and save the planet is bad. It’s brainwashing! Everything they say is bad is good, and everything they say is good is bad. So maybe we should stop marching along like a bunch of sheep and start thinking for ourselves.

How exactly Hendrix is able to put his writing self into every different perspective is beyond me. I did wonder how he’s able to write the female characters’ POV quite so… just so… I also don’t understand how he is able to write multiple perspectives of a single story and make all sides feel like the victim and the wrong-doer at the same time. The lines got so blurred at who was doing the right thing, the moral thing, the evil thing, the selfish thing that I felt like I was lost in a maze and despair wanted to take over me because I just didn’t know! And what does that say about me?!

No one was telling them what they needed to know. No one cared what happened to them. All they had was each other. And their babies. And after this was over, they’d never see each other or their babies again. They were completely and totally alone.

Most importantly, the lines get really blurred around the horror… is it the witches and the magic you must fear, or is it the human being whose actions seem to be kind but are not? Which is worse? Or are the both bad! But maybe it is the very accurate and relatable fears and discomforts of pregnancy with the impending child delivery clock ticking that makes the hairs stand on the reader’s neck. Heck, I sure felt seen with some of those descriptions. Whoever enlightened Hendrix on the particulars of pregnancy sure did a good job, a very detailed job. Yes, the fear factor dial was turned to max position but we are talking about teenage girls, and the story is set in the 70s. I mean, these girls smoked so much, I started getting cravings myself.

Maternity homes existed in America since the nineteenth century, but they became widespread between 1945 and 1973, from the end of World War II until Roe v. Wade. While their secrecy makes numbers hard to come by, it’s estimated that at least two million babies were surrendered for adoption in the United States during that period[…]

Anyway, the girls we meet in the book, pregnant and shunned and hidden into this “private care home” demonstrate a great sense of camaraderie among each other. The girls came from all backgrounds: regular families, well to do families. They all had their own personalities: the quiet girls, the hurt girls, the girls that would not ever yield to authority. And they all mixed and watched out for each other. I loved that the most. But, it’s a human thing to come to the end of one’s patience when being constantly put down, pressured, brainfucked, ordered around… And as the pregnancy evolves, so does the bond in between the mother and unborn child. Pushed into a corner, sick of this shit, and protective of their children, it does not make anyone wonder that witchcraft seems like a good option to fight back.

The witchcraft, magic and the coven aspect of the book actually felt witchy and what you’d expect. Personally, this was the vibe I expected and Hendrix sure did deliver. Particularly the aspect that no magic is a plaything without consequences.

She knew that all the magic the witches had ever done was only a pale imitation of what had happened here tonight. This was the Great Mystery that lay at the heart of all things. This was the miracle that passed all understanding. First there is nothing. Then there is.

I can only imagine how some readers will go into an absolute uproar about.. well, various representations of some things… like smoking and childbirth, pregnancy, teenage girl rep… I mean, you name it, the list is long. Someone could pick something from every page of the book to protest against. But the fact remains- this is a hell of a well written, many-layered book, set in the 70s with a touch of paranormal. Please, Hendrix, never go back to writing Horrostör-type stories… You’re amazing at these serious, horrible, realistic, uncomfortable, sad stories that have aspects and nuance for days.