Connie Goodwin's Harvard advisor has just demanded she find some truly unique (and of course here-to-fore unseen) primary source to build her doctoral thesis around. Before she even gets to chance to consider how this impossible feat will be made possible, her mother calls and demands that Connie spend the summer repairing and cleaning her late grandmother's house so it can be sold. A historic treasure-trove of a house that Connie did not even know existed until that moment.
Barring a few too many quaint coincidences, I really enjoyed this book. It easily moves between plotlines in 1692 and 1991, and there were enough surprises and bends in the tale to keep me interested.
The novel's premise boils down to this: what if they weren't all religious zealots and wack-jobs, and witchcraft DID really exist in Salem in 1692?
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