The Witch Rose

by Annie Dalton

When Laurel finds a witch rose she tries to use its magic for the good of her family.

96 pages, Hardcover

First published April 9, 1990

About the author

Annie grew up as an only child in the English countryside during the 1950s. Her father was not always around but when he was, he would tell her fantastical stories, often with her as the principal character. Annie missed him and his stories, which led her to the fantasy section at her local library, thus sparking life-long love of fiction.

After undertaking jobs such as waitressing, cleaning and factory work, Annie went on to study at University of Warwick and soon started writing.

Annie lives in Norfolk. She has three children, Anna, Reuben, and Maria (the inspiration for the first “Angels Unlimited” book, “Winging It”) and two grandchildren, Sophie and Isabella.

Reviews

[Capn · Rating 3 out of 5]

Laurel Fair didn't go into the garden looking for trouble. She was just trying to find something interesting for the class nature table . . . Then she saw the witch rose.
Witch roses come secretly, and they mean trouble . . . Laurel wanted more than anything to live happily in the ordinary world with Mum and Baby Nina . . .
Can her wish come true?

Cover illustration: Alan Fraser. Mammoth, 1990. 96 pages (large type)

Set at Hallowe'en, this is a story about a single mother family and two daughters tumbling through life, seeking to stay one step ahead of wizardry and witchcraft at their heels. It has large type, and simple sentences, and reminds me of the "Young Puffins" we have in terms of target audience (one step above Frog and Toad Are Friends, and not quite middle grade - there are six short chapters here, interspersed infrequently with full page black and white illustrations).

This is my second Annie Dalton book in a week, and I'm going to take from it the valuable lesson that there is a time and a place for each and every book. Had I read this before Out of the Ordinary, I would have thought better of it and rated it higher. The trouble is, I can't help playing amateur psychologist now.

Laurel is the eldest of two sisters, of unspecified primary school age. Her mother lives alone with the two girls, and is constantly uprooting their lives:

Laurel and her mum and her little sister had lived in so many places: an attic flat like a stuffy cupboard in a big noisy city; a caravan in a field where the rain sounded like bullets pinging off the roof when she was in bed at night; a leaky canal boat that smelled of tar; and a tall thin draughty house that rang like a struck glass in the wind and looked out over the great grey endlessly restless sea.
It was because they always had to keep one step ahead of the magic that they had to move so often.

Everything about this book was captivating until this point, when I started to draw parallels between Laurel's mum and Molly's mum Maureen from Out of the Ordinary. Laurel is a latch-key kid, and has to pick up and bring home her baby sister on Friday nights. Laurel knows all the ways to soothe baby Nina - she's a child quite well versed in rearing other children. Laurel's mum is opinionated and hard (but loving), possibly even thought of as imperious at times, and Laurel spends much of the story struggling with guilt about not being completely enmeshed, I'm sorry I meant 'open', with her worshipped mother. (This is me unable to ignore the recently read Out of the Ordinary - I'm not even sure how much of it is my own personal perspective. I'd be interested to read the reviews from others).

Without spoiling the entire plot, this is a 'wish-fulfillment fantasy' of Laurel's (who's missing from the picture? Who is the man she sees in her dreams? What if they could put down roots somewhere and be a normal, happy family?!). It ends happily, I guess, but as an adult it just made me feel a little sad. There's certainly an audience for this, though, which is heart-breaking to me. All children really want is stability and happiness in their homes and families. And I think that's what the author wants most of all, too, if I'm reading between the right lines.

The parts I liked were the rowan trees planted out front, and the other charms and rituals for keeping witches and wizards at bay. There's also a magical colour-changing kitten, which should appeal to "younger children", as the back cover suggests.

Not a lot of Hallowe'en content, to be clear. But we are told that:

And Hallowe'en wishing magic is three times as strong, it lasts seven times longer than the everyday kind. There would never be a chance like this again.

Certainly different, and I might have rated this much better if I wasn't getting mired in thoughts of less than ideal mother-daughter power imbalances and questionable emotional boundaries. It very well might just be middle-aged me - 9 year old me would be enchanted by this story and obsessed with that rainbow cat. ;)

[Jemina Feyarro · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read this book at school a long time ago and had forgotten a great deal of the details. Only the memory of those roses really stuck with me and I wanted to reread to find out why. Honestly I think I was just enchanted by any books that had magic in them but I can certainly see aspects of this book that must have appealed to me particularly at the time. For instance, I found Laurel's relationship with her baby sister relatable as well as her love of kittens. The fact that her mother was scared of magic despite it being a part of her was also interesting. I think just the idea that you can't control where the witch roses grow and that their presence means trouble is an intriguing one which I would like to have seen explored more.