The
hysteria over witchcraft that enveloped Salem, Massachusetts in
1692 endures as one of the most riveting and horrific episodes in
our collective past. Before it was over, 19 people were hanged as
witches and one man was pressed to death. Hundreds more were
imprisoned in hellish conditions while the British crown
confiscated their property.

The event has inspired a slew of novels, movies and nonfiction
tomes. But with SUSANNAH MORROW: A Novel of Salem, Megan Chance
makes this well-trod historical ground look fresh.

The novel blends factual and fictional characters to build a
mesmerizing portrait of a society strangled by misguided religious
fervor, sexual repression and emotional alienation. Chance's deft
use of detail and archaic speech patterns anchor the story, giving
it weight and authenticity. At its heart, though, this is not a
novel of history or social mores, but an intimate love story.

It's three main characters --- 15-year-old Charity Fowler, her
father Lucas and her aunt Susannah Morrow --- take turns telling
the story in first person. The narrative focuses on them, never
stepping back to allow a broader view of the events.

The story opens with Charity watching as her mother, Judith, lay
bloody and dying moments after giving birth. Her father rushes in
from the storm. He has brought Judith's sister, Susannah. The two
have not seen each other for 17 years, but their connection is
palpable as Susannah leans over her sister.

"But then, my mother smiled and it was not a feeble smile like the
ones she'd given me or my father," Charity observes. "It was the
first real smile I'd seen on her face since the labor had begun and
with it came a light in her eyes that stunned me, that raised a
blinding hope in my own soul."

A few minutes later, Susannah removes the hood of her cloak,
revealing a beauty the reader instantly recognizes as dangerous ---
even though Charity does not.

"She was so beautiful that for a moment I fancied 'twas not the
fire's gold she was reflecting but some light that came from inside
her, something so bright that I suddenly knew where my mother had
found the will to birth the baby. She had caught some of that
spirit in Susannah Morrow's face. I wondered that it had not been
enough to keep her alive."

Susannah is not just beautiful, but sensual, mildly irreverent and
scented with the seductive hint of a disreputable past. That she is
also nurturing, perceptive and loyal tends to get lost on the women
who envy her and the men who lust after her.

Among those men is Lucas, a man so hell-bent on righteousness he
fears the sin of looking at his own daughters with pride. When he
finally gives in to his desire for Susannah --- and then repeats
the lapse a number of times --- it's sexy in a way only resisted
passion can be. Here the prose approaches romance territory,
stopping just short of slipping into it.

Says Lucas, "I braced my hands on the edges of the barrel and
rocked her until the lid became unsettled and I felt the beer
spilling over my fingers; I smelled the yeast and malt of it,
filling the air along with her scent, lemons and musk and
sex."

All three of the central characters feel real, but Lucas is the
most compelling. Fearful of making his daughters weak, he denies
both them and himself the comfort of a touch or tender word. He's
so tortured by his feelings for Susannah he convinces himself that
she really is a witch when others make the charge.

The book makes no attempt to answer the question that has lingered
for 300 years --- what allowed Salem to be gripped by such cruel
insanity? This book trades in relationships. Let scholars grapple
with the big societal issues.

Susannah's experiences as an accused witch are based on the
experiences of several real-life women who were branded as witches.
Revealing Susannah's ultimate fate would ruin the fun. That would
be a shame, as this is one of the most entertaining novels of the
season.