A surprise from Galchen, but an enjoyable and interesting one. I liked the twist on olde witchcraft and the way it allows the story to resonate in the present, but I forgot most of this book within a day of finishing it. It was fine, but not terribly memorable rn.

Katharina Kepler is a spunky, down-to-earth, no-nonsense widowed grandmother who has raised successful children while managing her property and livestock very well despite having an absentee husband early in life. I found her instantly loveable and funny - she’s wise, witty, and sharp for her age -- her internal reflections and observations made me chuckle at times.

The author instantly transplants the reader into Katharina's world - rural Germany in the early 1600’s. This is an age in which religious doctrine controls an impoverished, paranoid, patriarchal society -- where imaginations (steeped in superstition) are vivid; where justice for commonfolk is slow and elusive. It is a landscape that sowed greed, envy, and vengeance and reaped a myriad of unproven accusations of witchcraft against an elderly woman of means where Katharina, the accused, could lose her life and livelihood defending against such claims while the accusers (including court officials) could gain her wealth and property as retribution. She’s accused of killing livestock, causing aches and pains, issuing curses, infanticide, and murder (by death) -- many of these witnesses experienced such afflictions and offenses decades earlier!

Historical Fiction is one of my favorite genres and this book is an impressive combination of actual persons, imagined characters, authentic missives, courtroom testimonies, and actual events. While this could have easily morphed into a slogfest of sorts; I found this to be a delightful read that moved quickly for me. I really enjoyed how the author told the story. I also learned a bit about the era’s laws and (lack of) due process, the posture/teachings of the Church during this period, and Johannes Kepler’s famed political appointments, involvement in his mother’s trial, and hints surrounding his (at the time) seemingly underappreciated scientific contributions. The cast of characters is also well-formed and full-bodied -- motivations were clearly presented. I very much appreciated the closure she offered not only for Katharina, but also to her extended family members mentioned in the novel, including Katharina’s legal guardian, and even Chamomile, her beloved cow. A nice lagniappe for meticulous readers!

The title and style of the cover of this book gives a peek into the sensibility of the writing. Although this is an historical novel depicting the accusation that Kepler's mother was a witch back in the 1600's, the author clearly tells the story with a modern point of view.

I have been waiting for a new novel by Rivka Galchen since I read her debut, Atmospheric Disturbances, in 2008. Atmospheric Disturbances had the humor, complexity, and strangeness of Pynchon and the unsettling ambience of Cortazar. Over the years, I’ve recommended it widely. It’s my go-to any time someone says “it’s not that I intentionally don’t read women writers, women just don’t write the type of books I like to read.”

Her second novel is quite different, but maintains the wit and postmodern playfulness of her prior work. Everyone Knows Your Mother is a Witch is best described as historical fiction. Galchen draws on primary and secondary sources to reconstruct the accusation and trial of one unlucky woman in 1600s Germany. Katharina is suspected of witchcraft for the usual reasons: she is independent, outspoken, and old. Europe is creeping from the Reformation towards the Enlightenment, its progress hindered by plague and impending war. The science community is starting to realize that there is more to the universe than humans have previously understood, but they have not yet articulated their theories in a way the layperson can understand. Astronomy and astrology are the same field, and kings make political decisions based on their star charts. A woman sharing home remedies for gout, however, is liable to be tortured for her work. Katharina is at the epicenter of these competing forces, the mother of the Royal Astronomer, but also a resident of a small, backwards town.

Galchen tells Katharina’s story through a variety of narrators and documents. The primary narrative device is Katharina’s testimony, as dictated to her neighbor and friend Simon. Katharina is illiterate and a mere woman, so she depends upon Simon to act as her legal guardian and also to transcribe her tale. Simon intersperses his own monologues, trying to justify how he came to be one of the sole defendants of a witch. Galchen also utilizes letters (based on real letters), trial records, and depositions. The depositions from Katharina’s neighbors are a mix of literal translation from historic documents and creative modernization by Galchen. The depositions give each townsfolk a chance to say in their own words how they came to realize that Katharina is or isn’t a witch, or to try and remove themselves from the drama altogether. Together they provide a taxonomy of the reasons for going along with a conspiracy theory. One might describe this book as timely, but the psychology of othering and paranoia has been “timely” since at least 1618 when the real Katharina was first accused. “‘People are too stupid,’ Suze said, which of course was unbecoming, if correct.”

I don’t know why Kafkaesque bureaucracy lends itself so well to humor, but it does, and this novel reads like a hilarious Michael Kohlhaas. Katharina is a delightfully snarky narrator. Introducing her accusers, she writes: “Ursula has no children, looks like a comely werewolf, and is married to a third-rate glazier. It’s her second marriage. Two of Ursula’s brothers, to my great misfortune, have come up in the world. One serves as a barber-surgeon to the Duke of Württemberg, the other as Forest Administrator here in Leonberg. The barber I call the Barber. The Forest Administrator, Urban Kräutlin, I call the Cabbage. It suits him, right?” She describes the Ducal Governor as “an unwell river otter in a doublet.” Her tying of medieval concerns with modern dialogue creates a layer of irony that prevents the bleakness of Katharina’s world from overwhelming the reader. Despite her modern approach to dialogue, Galchen does not commit the sin of transforming the characters into modern people, but instead lets them be weird to us both due to their historicity and also as individuals. These subtle layers of humor--witty dialogue, bureaucratic shenanigans, dramatic irony, and quirky characters--stack up in the novel the same way the various narrative devices stack up to create a delightful yet complex work.

I dislike judging a book for what it is not rather than what it is, but I’m just a reader giving my opinion on Goodreads of all places, so I’ll allow myself the indulgence of a subjective opinion. While I enjoyed the novel, I kept wishing for something closer to Atmospheric Disturbances. The historical rigor means dry plot points such as “I moved in with my son” and “then I moved in with my daughter-in-law.” The redundancy in Katharina’s travails were as wearying for this reader as they appeared to be for her guardian Simon. I wanted more of a sense of adventure, of pushing against the bounds of narrative and history. I wanted to be able to spend decades recommending this book the way I have with Galchen’s previous work. Instead “all I got” was a great read that I chuckled my way through.

This book, based on the true story of Katharina Kepler, tells of how she was accused and tried as a witch in Leonberg, Germany. She was accused by Ursula Reinbold of offering her a bitter, witchy drink that made her sick. The book is filled with testimonies of other preposterous claims from other villagers, for things Katharina supposedly did, which caused them or their livestock harm. This was a fascinating look into the past, to see how easily a woman could be accused and tried for being a witch. I highly recommend this one!

I did not know anything about this book and assumed it would be fantasy or fable. Instead, it was a fascinating and vivid account of life in the 1600s in Germany. I was enthralled with the sociology and history of a small village told through various viewpoints in very clever ways. The characters were very developed and it was very easy to be immersed in their world.

I enjoyed reading this historical fiction novel inspired by Johannes Kepler (genius mathematician/astronomer) whose mother, Katharina, was accused of witchcraft. It's a well-developed look at small town politics and relationships and how fear of the unknown leads to concrete and dire consequences.

I loved the original concept (and the bold title is fantastic) but the pacing of the story was fairly slow.

I really enjoyed this book especially the historical aspect of it. The author has a fabulous list of resources that she used when researching this book. Katharina was a delight and I enjoyed her dialogue and story. The book was also incredibly frustrating and sad due to the nature of the trial that Katharina faced. Groupthink led to violence against women for centuries and definitely plays a part in this tale.

A nice historical work focused on witches, or the suspicion of witches. I enjoyed the historical aspect of the book, but also the human side and story. A great, quick read that is engaging and entertaining.

Thank you to NetGalley for an ARC of Everyone Knows Your Mother is a Witch.

The blunt title caught my eye so I was excited when my request was approved.

This was based on the famous mathematician and astrologer, Johannes Kepler, whose mother was accused of being a witch in the 16th century.

The author weaves a disturbing tale, pulling from historical records and her own creative license, of Katharina Kepler's ordeal when she is accused of witchcraft by a jealous, spiteful woman.

There is understated drama and suspense, but not in the way you might imagine:

Katharina's ordeal sheds light on why certain women were accused; people were jealous, spiteful, and owed debts. The fact that Katharina spoke her mind did not help.

She had an extremely educated and famous son, who struggled in his own right, despite his royal status as the Royal Mathematician at court.

I really liked Katharina and enjoyed the details of her daily life (as well as her personal observations on the morons who were in cahoots in accusing her); I also admired her honesty, her outspoken personality, and her love for her dear cow.

There were a few insights I learned, such as when you're taken prisoner, you are responsible for your own upkeep and that of the guards keeping watch over you.

You can't be arrested until two people have accused you of witchcraft.

The writing was good, but the tone and word usage was off; sometimes modern terms were used which would pull me out of the narrative.

Those were dark and dangerous times to be living in, especially if you were a woman of modest means who spoke her mind (not unlike the dark and dangerous times we live in now), and though Katharina's tale ends on a semi-happy ending, this didn't make her story less frightening to read.

This was actually much more historical than I was expecting. A lot of research went into this book.
This book was super interesting.
I’ve read a lot of books about witches this year, but this one was much more rooted in history.
It really showed how much fear influenced people back then to make accusations of witchcraft. Anything or anyone that seemed out of the ordinary just had to be witch!
It was a very entertaining way to learn about real events (in a fictional light).
Great read!

How we deal with adversity in life depends a lot on how we answer this question: why do bad things happen to good people? Some people are more comfortable with chaos and don’t believe in karma or divine action. Others look for a bigger reason than A causes B and shit happens. In the 1600s, in the Holy Roman Empire and a lot of other places in Europe, the bigger reason was witches. If something bad happened to you, your family, your business, or your livestock, it was because you’d had the misfortune of getting on the wrong side of a witch. The real bad luck, I think, is if you’re the one accused of being a witch, like the protagonist of Rivka Galchen’s Everyone Knows Your Mother is a Witch.

I didn’t know before I started this book that it was based on real history. In the 1610s and 1620s, the astronomer (and writer of proto science fiction, it turns out) Johannes Kepler had to take breaks from his position as Imperial Mathematician to the Holy Roman Emperor to defend his mother from charges of witchcraft. Katharina Kepler is the kind of woman who annoys people, even those who say they like her. She says whatever comes into her head. She insists on doing things her way. The fact that quite a few people in her town owe her money is also a mark against her. But everyone thinks that she might have been alright if she hadn’t filed for slander against the first people who officially accused her of being a witch and embarrassed the local aristocracy. From there, things get increasingly dire.

Galchen wrote in her afterword that she used translated court documents from Kepler’s trial, letters, and other contemporary sources to give structure to a narrative that moves between Katharina’s version of events and those of her neighbor Simon, who agrees to act as Katharina’s guardian (because women needed one in those days). Reading all these different accounts—the things the characters say and purposefully don’t say—makes for a very interesting story of betrayal, denunciation, lies, loyalty, and tangled legal proceedings. And I do love a book with unreliable narrators.

It was an interesting experience to read Everyone Knows Your Mother is a Witch shortly after reading A Demon-Haunted Land, by Monica Black, a nonfiction account of healers and witch accusations in Germany after World War II. Black’s book is full of citations to philosophers, psychologists, and thinkers who theorize about why people believe in witches. I felt more prepared for Galchen’s fictionalized version of Katharina Kepler’s story; I paid a lot more attention to the hidden motives of Katharina’s accusers. The first accusers were, I think, motivated by money that they owe Katharina. But then things start to take on a life of their own as more and more “witnesses” come forth to link a look or a bad word or a remedy from Katharina to something bad that later happened to them. Black’s book showed me the “logic” of witch accusations. Which is to say, because I knew more about how accusations of witchcraft come about, I was lot more afraid for Katharina than I might have been before I read A Demon-Haunted Land because I knew there would be no reasoning with the people pointing fingers at her.

Galchen writes in a very modern-sounding idiom. (There are a lot of people saying “okay” in this book.) The writing style, the use of historical research, and sense of time passing made for an absorbing reading experience. I got completely pulled into Katharina’s life and trials. This was historical fiction at its best.