The Blue Maiden
For the residents of Sweden’s Berggrund Island in 1825, the Blue Maiden is a fearful place. An uninhabited neighboring isle, its appearance shifts in dense fog and in morning light, showing itself changeable and untrustworthy—as typical of women, in their view. The island’s perceived gender is no coincidence. It’s rumored that witches fly to a secret realm there, called Blockula, to conduct dark Sabbaths. Five generations earlier, over two dozen women were put to death by Berggrund’s men for purported witchcraft, an event that lingers in everyone’s minds, especially anyone born female.
Noyes’ bleak and poetic novel ripples throughout with this atmosphere of internalized misogyny. It’s a difficult environment for two motherless girls to grow up in. Beata and Ulrika are daughters of the island’s priest, misfits in this isolated place; their 17th-century ancestor was an accused witch who was only saved from burning due to her pregnancy. With only the village healer willing to speak of their late mother—the beautiful but mysterious Angelique, who died at Bea’s birth—the sisters grow obsessed with learning more about her. Over time, the young women’s contrasting personalities become apparent. When a middle-aged mainlander arrives on the island to take up an inherited property, long-suppressed truths about the sisters’ family begin spilling out.
The Blue Maiden takes time to catch hold; Bea and Ulrika, although sympathetic due to their outcast status, are kept at an emotional distance. Bea proves to be the protagonist, but this doesn’t become obvious until past the midway point. Those with an aversion to literary fiction should probably steer clear, but the beautifully described island scenery and rural customs have a compelling draw, combined with the women’s struggle to liberate themselves from patriarchal prejudice. The ultimate reveal is a shocking surprise that will reward patient readers of this moody Scandinavian gothic.
