Hecate “Kate” Goodwin is the first hedge witch in her coven in more than a generation. True to her craft, her days are spent in relative isolation, living in a cozy, comfortable cottage at the edge of Ipswich forest, where she tends to her garden and cooks up tinctures and concoctions that she sells in the town apothecary, which she co-owns with a fellow witch. She is, for the most part, content.
Then her older sister writes, asking Kate to host their coven on Halloween. It’s a momentous occasion, after all: not only is it the mark of a new year for witches, but Kate is also turning 31, a significant age in her coven, when she’s expected to declare her complete dedication to her craft by eschewing all other forms of magic.
It’s all a little overwhelming for someone used to such a small, quiet existence. Then Matthew Cypher, a young hexan from a rival coven with whom she shares a complicated past, shows up in the middle of the night, throwing her life into further disarray. His arrival brings about revelations that threaten to unravel everything Kate thought she knew about her magic, her family, and her very sense of self.
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My enjoyment of Wallis Kinney’s A Dark and Secret Magic was saved by a particularly solid and satisfying climax and a truly excellent All Hallows atmosphere. I do think it’s a bit all over the place, though, tonally speaking. The story tries to be too many things at once: a witchy, whimsical slice-of-life (every single dish mentioned in this book has a cutesy, cloying, Pinterest-primed name), a charming frenemies-to-lovers fantasy, and a dark, sultry, brooding romance. It never quite manages to strike the right balance between these distinct sensibilities, which makes for some truly whiplash-inducing moments where one scene will feature characters giving one another magically induced tissue death, and the very next will have characters going to a Halloween parade to hand out candy to toddlers. Wild stuff.
Don’t get me wrong: the sudden shifts in mood could totally work—if only the writing leaned a little less toward the self-serious end of the spectrum and a bit more toward the whimsical. Alas, there must be Brooding.
But, again, the strength of this moody novel lies in its atmosphere and world-building, both of which are exceptionally well done. (I thought the magic system was particularly fascinating and I definitely wanted to learn more about it.) Anyway, despite my grumbling, I went into this expecting potent Practical Magic vibes, and I can’t deny that Kinney did her damnedest to deliver. 🎃









