Book Review: Witchcraft for Wayward Girls by Grady Hendrix

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Witchcraft for Wayward Girls by Grady Hendrix

Mogsy’s Rating: 3.5 of 5 stars

Genre: Horror

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Berkley (January 14, 2025)

Length: 496 pages

Author Information: Website | Twitter

Grady Hendrix is known for his horror novels with unique takes, sometimes with a social spin, and there’s no doubt he’s tackling some heavier and more complex themes in Witchcraft for Wayward Girls, even if some of them might be over his head. Whether or not Hendrix fully succeeds will depend on the reader—but he’s definitely taking some risks, and that’s always worth noting.

As the story opens, we’re transported to 1970 as 15-year-old Neva Craven becomes “Fern” at the Wellwood Home, a sanctuary for teen girls facing unplanned pregnancies. None of the girls here use their real names or talk about their pasts. They were here to do one thing only—carry out the rest of their pregnancies in secrecy, provided with the necessary medical care and support until they give birth, then give their babies up for adoption. Then they go back to their old lives, never to speak of this time again.

At the home, Fern and her newfound friends—with names like Rose, Zinnia, Holly—while away their days waiting for their due dates, chafing under the strict supervision of the owner, Miss Wellwood. Every two weeks, an eccentric librarian named Miss Parcae will stop by in her book mobile and provide some reading material for the girls. One day, Miss Parcae hands Fern a book on the occult that changes everything: How to be A Groovy Witch, a slim volume of spells that are guaranteed to get you what you want in life, if only you are strong enough to take what’s yours. This includes pledging your loyalty to your coven, even if it means having to take bold, sometimes messy actions. However, as Fern delves further deeper into the book’s secrets, things soon spiral into darker, deadlier territory—especially as the girls grow increasingly desperate to change their circumstances.

As events progress, witchcraft becomes our characters’ only path to regaining the autonomy and dignity they’ve lost. This thread underlies much of the story, becoming a powerful metaphor that resonates. Hendrix does an admirable job portraying the emotional turmoil of the young women at Wellwood Home. Each of them arrived there for unique reasons—some more terrible than others—yet they all share a common thread: their families, unable to bear the societal shame of their daughters’ pregnancies, have sent them away to erase the scandal, with the expectation that once their babies are born and adopted out, they can quietly return home and pretend none of it ever happened. While some of the girls are resigned to this arrangement, others are far less willing to give up their rights as mothers but are forced to do it anyway. Often, they are written off as too young and incapable of making their own decisions or deemed unfit because of their “wayward” reputation.

The author deserves credit for approaching these emotional struggles with clear intent and empathy, making the women’s rebellion—their choice of turning to a book of witchcraft—feel both bittersweet and empowering in its own strange way. That said, I couldn’t help but feel the execution was uneven at times. For one, the pacing felt inconsistent. After a strong start, the middle sections meandered and touched upon so many separate threads at once that it diluted some of the tension and urgency. Elements of the occult also felt slightly underdeveloped, as if the story was torn between taking a full-on plunge into the supernatural realm or staying firmly rooted in reality.

Using pregnancy and childbirth as a device in horror novels can also be tricky, though one good example of doing it right is Danielle Valentine’s Delicate Condition. There’s the undeniable feminine experience in the subject, which can be deeply personal, and raises the question of whether complex issues like emotional vulnerability and physical sacrifice can be authentically portrayed, especially when interpreted through a male lens. This isn’t to say that male authors shouldn’t write about these topics or that Hendrix’s take isn’t valid, but I will confess that, in at least one instance, his portrayal of childbirth came across as borderline exploitative and sensationalized for shock value. It made me feel kind of icky, and not for the right reasons.

Still, it may hit differently depending on the reader. Despite its flaws, Witchcraft for Wayward Girls was a worthy read, delivering a thought-provoking tale especially when considering the subject matter and taking the historical setting in context. The story is undoubtedly at its best when leaning into the raw emotions of its characters like anger and helplessness giving way to hope, determination, and defiance. Fans of Grady Hendrix’s previous works will want to pick this one up, as will readers who are curious about the premise and are also interested stories with a witchy punch.