Summer Reading: Backwoods Witchcraft

Backwoods Witchcraft: Conjure and Folk Magic from Appalachia by Jake Richards found its way to my desk after I came across the title while researching folk horror short story collections. Unlike those stories I initially sought, Backwoods Witchcraft is presented as a non-fiction account of the author’s own childhood growing up in Appalachia. Richards uses anecdotes, recollections and stories from his youth serve as the vehicle through which to share the charms and conjures he believes still work today.

In many ways your enjoyment of the text as a whole rests on how open you are to a friendly conversation on things that appear to be beyond belief. To his credit, Richards’s conversational style makes it a much easier sell than you might think. Reminiscent of the Justin Wilson Cajun Cooking television shows I enjoyed watching on PBS as a child, I easily accepted the invitation to enter his world. I regularly watched Wilson’s show on PBS for much the same reason I enjoyed Richards’s book; both “hosts” sprinkled in regional stories and history along with their “recipes”. Just as I never actually prepared any of the dishes Wilson colorfully prepared on his show (though as an adult I will not turn away Cajun food), in all likelihood I will not be attempting to remove warts using Quartzite as Richards’ Papaw showed him how to. Given the author’s friendly, conversational writing style, Backwoods Witchcraft reads as if you are sitting at the dining room table chatting over a cup of coffee. Richards anticipates many of the queries an outsider might have, and as a result the text works as a fascinating piece if backwoods Americana. “The stories and tricks,” as the author notes on page 33, “are passed down in families and communities, routinely offered as wives’-tale cures, or simple reminiscing of things that helped folks get along in their daily life.” Whether from Louisiana, Appalachia or Western New York, it’s these stories that bind each of us to our respective communities. Richards’ extends his own sense of belonging and community to include the reader.

For a book subtitled “Conjure and Folk Magic,” it was curious how much of the mystical qualities of stones, waters and individuals was dependent on Richards’ Christian faith. Digging deeply enough into any charm or cure and you’re likely to find a strong reliance on the brand of Christianity practiced by the residents of Appalachia. For example, when instructing the reader about gazing (a means of divining the future with a bowl of water), Richards shares that the ceremony begins with recognition of the “the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” (136) Whether the reader believes the power suggested in the stories will depend greatly on one’s orthodoxy of beliefs in tenants of Christianity. Both rely on faith to have an impact. Richards Christianity is one deeply intertwined with Native American tradition and an appreciation for the power of Nature. This eclectic heritage makes for a type of Christianity that is both diverse and, in some instances, almost New Age. While one charm may have Richards invoking the Holy Trinity, the next is just as likely to point out the positive attributes of leaving pumpkins on the porch to keep the haints at bay.

Backwoods Witchcraft: Conjure and Folk Magic from Appalachia by Jake Richards is a very accessible look behind the veil of a unique set of American traditions. Unavailable at my local library, I purchased my copy from Aamzon.com, and I suspect that, much like a reference book, as I come across unfamiliar traditions and concepts in other reading, I will find myself returning to the table for a follow-up chat with Richards’s book.

Hallow-Reading: The Dreams in the Witch-House

Just as with certain superior recording artists there are “no B-sides”, some writers seem to hit on all cylinders regardless of the piece. While “At the Mountains of Madness” is understandably viewed as one of his masterpieces, H. P. Lovecraft wrote many other stories that despite slightly less literary love, seem, to this reader, equally impressive. More than just my restating the obvious (“Lovecraft is a great horror writer”), with each new story I read buried deep in anthologies of his work, I am sure I have not always appreciated just how “great.”

Take “The Dreams in the Witch-House,” for instance. (Note: Upon researching some information on the story, I was surprised to discover that many reputable Lovecraft scholars deem this particular story to be one of his lesser efforts.) As a fan of Lovecraft’s mythos, as well as those other works clearly influenced by his writing, I found the description of the cosmic environments to be illuminating. Perhaps it is too overt in its depiction for those who like more nuanced horror, but the “vast converging planes of a slippery-looking substance” (At the Mountains of Madness and Other Tales of Terror, page 153) populated by geometric creatures bathed in violet light and “iridescent bubble-congeries”, made concrete for this reader that which has not always been so clear. This approach is as effective as the more subtle approach, albeit in a different way. Much of the content and details in “The Dreams in the Witch-House” also provides a “Who’s Who” of Lovecraftian ideas. In some ways this is an excellent follow up to “Mountains” as it takes some of the cosmology eluded to in the first and grounds it in a more accessible folklore (witchcraft). In addition to the expected supernatural/fantastic elements inherent in the horror, familiar settings such as Arkham and Miskantonic University connect the story to the Cthulhu Mythos by grounding the action in a real-er world.

My favorite new comedic creature as
visualized by digital artist
 Carlos Garcia Rivera.

Few writers are as closely associated with their literary creations as Lovecraft is with his Great Old One, Cthulhu. In addition to vividly capturing the cosmic nature of Lovecraft’s aesthetic, “The Dreams in the Witch House” also introduces a terrifying creature, though of much smaller in cosmic and physical stature than Cthulhu, Brown Jenkin. “That shocking little horror,” Brown Jenkin, is described as being “no larger than a good-sized rat”, having “horribly anthropoid forepaws”, and a “tiny, bearded human face.” (145) Unlike some of Lovecraft’s creature creations, due in part to its rat-like nature, visualizing Brown Jenkin is much easier to do than others. The familiar of the witch of the title, Keziah Mason, Brown Jenkin enters the small room of the story’s protagonist, Walter Gilman, via a series of rat holes. As a familiar, he serves the role of Mason’s herald, visiting Gilman without his master at varying points of the story, often terrorizing Gilman in his sleep. For the reader, Brown Jenkin also plays serves as comic-relief, even if gruesomely so. “The sinister old woman and the fanged furry little animal” are quite the duo. If the evil witch is the "straight-man", Brown Jenkin is the comedic player. While requiring a leap, this dynamic is not one I generally associate with Lovecraft’s work so was pleasantly surprised by it. Perhaps it is Brown Jenkin’s tendency to “titter” maniacally throughout the proceedings that gave me a vision of the wisenheimer side-kick archetype. Of course by the story’s conclusion, no one’s laughing at Brown Jenkin or his “four tiny hands of daemonic dexterity”! So taken was I by this monstrous little creature that upon meeting him in the story, I immediately texted a friend of mine who has also read a few Lovecraft stories: “Where has Brown Jenkin been my whole life?”

The lesson here (beyond the coolness of Brown Jenkin) is that like those aforementioned B-sides, it pays to read deeper cuts by authors you enjoy. I know that as a result of this experience, I am going back through those other anthologies looking for any more gems.