Half-Witch: A Novel

by John Schoffstall Narrated by Traci Odom

Overview

In the world in which Lizbet Lenz lives, the sun still goes around the earth, God speaks directly to his worshippers, goblins haunt every cellar and witches lurk in the forests. Disaster strikes when Lizbet's father Gerhard, a charming scoundrel, is thrown into a dungeon by the tyrant Hengest Wolftrow. To free him, Lizbet must cross the Montagnes du Monde, globe-girdling mountains that reach to the sky, a journey no one has ever survived, and retrieve a mysterious book.



Lizbet is desperate, and the only one who can help her is the unpleasant and sarcastic witch girl Strix. As the two girls journey through the mountains and into the lands of wonder beyond, on the run from goblins, powerful witches, and human criminals, Lizbet discovers, to her horror, that Strix's magic is turning Lizbet into a witch, too. Meanwhile, a revolution in Heaven is brewing.

Editorial Reviews

The New York Times Book Review - Amal El-Mohtar

…one of those books that are simultaneously so startlingly original and deeply familiar I can't quite believe they're debuts…Half-Witch is a marvel of storytelling, balancing humor, terror and grace. Lizbet is so earnestly good, in a way that I think has fallen out of fashion but that I loved reading. She and Strix are a perfect double act, and the shape and texture of the friendship they build is a joy to discover. It reminded me of Keith Miller's The Book of Flying crossed with Judith Merkle Riley's A Vision of Light and The Master of All Desires—a picaresque coming-of-age story about transformation set in a history made fantastical by taking the period's beliefs at face value. This is a book of crossing and mixing, of mashing and counter-mashing, with surprise and wonder the result.

From the Publisher

"John Schoffstall's Half-Witch follows 14-year-old Lizbet Lenz and witch-girl Strix on a journey to retrieve a strange book and rescue Lizbet's feckless father from prison. Lizbet inhabits a world where God, Satan and the battle between them is literally real (and being won by Satan), witches are made out of tea bags and sticks, and emotions can be physically pressed out of people's bodies – but beyond the mountains that scrape the sky and ring the world are even stranger things. A marvelous blend of whimsy, terror and deep feeling.” — NPR Best Books of the Year

“John Schoffstall’s Half-Witch is one of those books that are simultaneously so startlingly original and deeply familiar I can’t quite believe they’re debuts. . . . Half-Witch is a marvel of storytelling, balancing humor, terror and grace. Lizbet is so earnestly good, in a way that I think has fallen out of fashion but that I loved reading. She and Strix are a perfect double act, and the shape and texture of the friendship they build is a joy to discover. . . . This is a book of crossing and mixing, of mashing and counter-mashing, with surprise and wonder the result. The ending suggests a sequel, which I hope comes about; the book’s last act is full of revelations (as it were) about the especially strange nature of Lizbet’s world that I’m keen to see Schoffstall develop and explore. But Half-Witch is also fully satisfying in and of itself.” — Amal El-Mohtar, New York Times Book Review

“Extremely twisted, with a wicked sense of humor that had us snorting and reading passages out loud to anyone who would listen. The friendship between the leads is one of the loveliest relationships we’ve ever read in a teen book.”— San Francisco Chronicle

“Thoroughly delightful. . . . It embraces the absurdity of its medieval setting, with cheeky devils and superstitious townsfolk and even Jesus popping in for a chat, but the emotional core is anything but silly. These girls may only be half witches, but they’re each fully awesome.” — Christina Ladd, Geekly, Inc.

“There is something deeply satisfying about a traditional fantasy with plucky protagonists, nefarious villains, hungry goblins, tricky witches, and a dangerous and difficult quest. In John Schofstall’s Half-Witch, everything you expect to find is present, plus a lot of unlikely twists and turns that make this adventure a classic read. . . . As they continue their quest, Lisbet and Strix become the very definition of plucky, and it is hard not cheer them on. They are charming characters who overcome all sorts of fantastical obstacles and forge a powerful friendship.”— Colleen Mondor, Locus

“In a Europe where goblins coexist with the literal (but unhelpful) Holy Trinity, Lizbet is sucked into a magical quest with only the surly witch-girl Strix as a companion. Like all great children’s books, Half-Witch is not afraid to put the big stuff on the page: they match wits with the Pope of Storms and corpse-eating earth-witches, and also with human violence and cruelty. An edge-of-your-seat adventure about friendship, trust, and what it means to be changed by someone, Half-Witch is like The Golden Compass as written by Roald Dahl.” — Lauren Banka, Elliott Bay Book Company

“ Half-Witch gave me the same atmospheric shivers that The Bear and the Nightingale gave me; it’s got that same fairy-tale quality that makes every word seem a little bit like it’s shrouded in fog, like you are discovering the book as you are reading it. And it has that same weird blend of folk-lore and Christianity that makes for a wild and excellent contrast of ideas and themes and makes me want to just dig in and discuss this book. It’s a slightly creepy, unsettling, atmospheric, beautiful story about friendship and love and the journey it takes to get to those emotions, the trials humans face and the ways they change when faced with growing up and losing their ways. It’s about Loss. It’s about Finding. It’s about Being Made New. And while I don’t know if I really liked this book, I absolutely enjoyed it. (Also the cover is gorgeous. That’s important to note.)” — Megan Szmyd, Book Shop of Fort Collins

“A picaresque fantasy debut in the mode of L. Frank Baum, in which witches and magic and God and goblins populate a world that is possibly just next door to our own. Lizbet and the witch girl Strix are delightful company in which to set out on the road.” — Kelly Link, author of Get in Trouble

“Even a fantasy world strictly conforming to medieval Christian cosmology cannot withstand an unlikely friendship between human and witch in a picaresque middle-grade debut. After 14 years fleeing across the Holy Roman Empire, Lizbet Lenz has learned to avoid attachments. Yet when her ne’er-do-well father finally lands in jail, she’s ready to beg help from anyone: margraves, witches, God (with whom she has regular, literal, if one-sided conversations). Only Strix, a witch girl crafted from leaves and rubbish, is willing to aid Lizbet’s desperate venture across the impassable Montagnes du Monde; unfortunately, that assistance may be turning Lizbet herself into a witch. In this wildly imaginative alternative Europe, the delicately evolving relationship between kindhearted, pious, fiercely determined, and achingly lonely Lizbet (“fair-skinned, like most northern folk”) and surly, bellicose, but resourceful Strix (“the brown of autumn leaves”) provides a sweet counterpoint to a tale otherwise teeming with selfishness, violence, and cruelty, where even heaven fails before the legions of hell. This last plotline, played at first for mordant (and potentially blasphemous) humor, subtly coalesces all the seemingly unrelated episodes until they suddenly transmogrify into a climax that’s genuinely thrilling, unexpectedly poignant, and oddly reverent. As Lizbet and Strix together realize their individual identities and agency, even greater joint adventures beckon. Not for everyone, but readers who appreciate powerful female friendships and sui generis whimsy will cherish it.” — Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

“Fourteen-year-old Lizbet Lenz is used to not getting close to anyone and having to flee in the middle of the night thanks to her father’s penchant for getting in over his head. When he gets thrown into jail for causing a rain of mice it’s up to Lizbet to rescue him by scaling mountains everyone claims are impassable. As she travels, she gains a companion in Strix, a witch who doesn’t believe in friendship but looks out for Lizbet as she gets into trouble. This fantasy adventure has strong spiritual undertones, where God is not a distant unreachable figure, but someone who people can have a conversation with when they take Communion. Lizbet wrestles with her religious views as she is propelled into a world of goblins and demons in order to free her father and stop herself from being sent to an orphanage. The world feels like an antiquated version of our own—albeit with magic—though the exact time period is not clearly defined. Almost every movement made by Lizbet and Strix gets them into some kind of difficulty, which maintains a quick-paced plot and the threat of danger around every corner. Characters are initially childish in their beliefs and stubborn when those beliefs come into question. However, both Lizbet and Strix manage to grow over the course of the narrative.” — School Library Journal

School Library Journal

06/01/2018
Gr 7 Up—Fourteen-year-old Lizbet Lenz is used to not getting close to anyone and having to flee in the middle of the night thanks to her father's penchant for getting in over his head. When he gets thrown into jail for causing a rain of mice it's up to Lizbet to rescue him by scaling mountains everyone claims are impassable. As she travels, she gains a companion in Strix, a witch who doesn't believe in friendship but looks out for Lizbet as she gets into trouble. This fantasy adventure has strong spiritual undertones, where God is not a distant unreachable figure, but someone who people can have a conversation with when they take Communion. Lizbet wrestles with her religious views as she is propelled into a world of goblins and demons in order to free her father and stop herself from being sent to an orphanage. The world feels like an antiquated version of our own—albeit with magic—though the exact time period is not clearly defined. Almost every movement made by Lizbet and Strix gets them into some kind of difficulty, which maintains a quick-paced plot and the threat of danger around every corner. Characters are initially childish in their beliefs and stubborn when those beliefs come into question. However, both Lizbet and Strix manage to grow over the course of the narrative. VERDICT An additional purchase for YA collections where adventure novels are widely read.—Rebecca Greer, Hillsborough County Public Library Cooperative, FL

Kirkus Reviews

★ 2018-04-16
Even a fantasy world strictly conforming to medieval Christian cosmology cannot withstand an unlikely friendship between human and witch in a picaresque middle-grade debut. After 14 years fleeing across the Holy Roman Empire, Lizbet Lenz has learned to avoid attachments. Yet when her ne'er-do-well father finally lands in jail, she's ready to beg help from anyone: margraves, witches, God (with whom she has regular, literal, if one-sided conversations). Only Strix, a witch girl crafted from leaves and rubbish, is willing to aid Lizbet's desperate venture across the impassable Montagnes du Monde; unfortunately, that assistance may be turning Lizbet herself into a witch. In this wildly imaginative alternative Europe, the delicately evolving relationship between kindhearted, pious, fiercely determined, and achingly lonely Lizbet ("fair-skinned, like most northern folk") and surly, bellicose, but resourceful Strix ("the brown of autumn leaves") provides a sweet counterpoint to a tale otherwise teeming with selfishness, violence, and cruelty, where even heaven fails before the legions of hell. This last plotline, played at first for mordant (and potentially blasphemous) humor, subtly coalesces all the seemingly unrelated episodes until they suddenly transmogrify into a climax that's genuinely thrilling, unexpectedly poignant, and oddly reverent. As Lizbet and Strix together realize their individual identities and agency, even greater joint adventures beckon.Not for everyone, but readers who appreciate powerful female friendships and sui generis whimsy will cherish it. (Fantasy. 10-16)

Product Details

BN ID:	2940170579150
Publisher:	Tantor Audio
Publication date:	03/29/2019
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

Half-Witch
A novel, by John Schoffstall

Chapter 1

When Lizbet Lenz was eight years old, she and her father Gerhard fled their home in Frucy-sur-St. Jacques.
“Why do we have to leave?” Lizbet asked. “Why do they hate us?”
Unforeseen accidents, Gerhard explained sadly. Misfortune. Mistrust.
Clinging to the back of Gerhard's horse, they rode for their lives. An angry mob chased them. Lizbet, riding behind Gerhard and gripping his coat in her fists, risked a glimpse backward. Among the crowd she saw Marguerite and Huguette. Marguerite and Huguette were Lizbet's best friends in the world. She had shared everything with them. She had confided in them all the secrets that she could never, ever tell anyone else. They had all promised to be friends forever.
Marguerite and Huguette ran in the mob beside their brothers and parents, shouting curses at Lizbet and Gerhard.
Burning tears blurred Lizbet's eyes. I hate friends, she thought. I hate them. I'll never have a friend again. I promise.
After Frucy, Lizbet and Gerhard settled in Souvilliers. Lizbet broke her promise, and made friends with a girl named Rosemonde. But after a few months she and Gerhard had to flee again. Lizbet's heart broke in a different way: this time she was the betrayer, unable to say goodbye to Rosemonde, unable to make good on any of her promises to her.
“Why do we have to go away again?” she cried to Gerhard. “Why?”
Misunderstandings, Gerhard told her, sighing. Unreasonable expectations. Good intentions gone awry.
And so they traveled to Yblitz, where they lived for more than a year. Until one night, when men in clanking armor pounded on the door of their fine house, yelling that they had a warrant for Gerhard's arrest. Gerhard and Lizbet had to slip out through the scullery entrance and make off on a horse that Gerhard said was a 'friend's', but Lizbet was pretty sure they were stealing.
Bad luck, Gerhard explained, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. Misadventures. Poor timing.
They fled to Zwandt. From Zwandt to Pforzenhausen. To Zoltwice. To Padz. Lizbet learned her lesson. She stopped having friends. Having friends just meant enduring the pain of losing them, again and again. Her only friends were her dolls, her father, and her God, to whom Lizbet prayed that Gerhard might someday prosper, and that she might live in one town all her life, like a normal girl.
God was always friendly and sounded sympathetic, but He just didn't get what being a 'normal girl' meant. He liked to ramble on about about fasting. Or martyrdom. Had Lizbet ever considered becoming an anchoress, He asked?
“A what?”
An anchoress, God explained, was someone who let herself be walled up in a cubbyhole in some church for her entire life, with nothing to do but pray all day long. It was like solitary confinement, except that you hadn't done anything to deserve it.
It was the absolute opposite of the being a normal girl.
Each time Lizbet and her father made their home in a new town, it wasn't long before they had to flee again. Each time Gerhard had a new excuse. Every year Lizbet grew more lonely.
The year Lizbet was fourteen years old, they settled in Abalia, in the farthest east of the Holy Roman Empire, beneath the snow-capped peaks of the Montagnes du Monde, the highest mountains in the world. No one knew what lay beyond the Montagnes.
This surely must be the edge of the world, Lizbet thought. We have to stay here. We have to, because there's nowhere further to go.
But one day, after they had lived in Abalia for almost a year, disaster struck.

At some point during Lizbet's afternoon classes, it began to rain mice.
The mice may have started falling during the last half of “Realms Despoiled on Account of the Uterine Fury” or the first part of “Economic Geography of the Saracen Kingdoms.” While Dame Mother Pallidum's nasal voice enumerated the principal rivers of the Caliphate of Andalusia, Lizbet noticed that Bruno, in the seat just ahead of hers, was staring out the window with unusual intensity. He'd better pay attention to Pally soon, Lizbet thought, or Pally's Rod of Chastening will get busy.
Brigitte, two seats over and a row ahead, also had her head turned to the window. And Robin in front of her.
The Dame Mother's voice stuttered to a halt. She turned her gaze to the window and stared.
Things were falling past the window, larger than snowflakes, and darker, and it was too warm for snow in April, anyway. One falling object landed on the sill, put its forelegs up against the glass, and wiggled its pink nose.
A mouse.
Another came behind it, and another, and another, until the sill outside the window was piled high with mice, black, white, fawn and dappled, wiggling their tails and their curious noses, tumbling over each other, falling off the sill to the ground. Teacher and class watched in silence.
Lizbet climbed onto her chair and stood on tiptoe to see out the window. She was a thin, pale girl, whom adults always felt they had to urge second helpings on at the supper table. Her hair was straight and square cut, her features narrow and precise. In her black school gown and white pinafore, dark hair and pale face, she resembled a handful of ebony and ivory keys fashioned for some celestial piano, but omitted by an absent-minded angel.
One by one, every student in the room turned their gaze from the mice to Lizbet, standing alone on her chair. Lizbet ignored them. In her fourteen years, she had lived in a dozen cities in five nations. Lizbet was always the stranger, always the foreigner. Because no one made things easy for her, she had learned boldness beyond her years: she went where she liked, demanded her due, and was not afraid to elbow her way to the front of a crowd. In her secret heart, loneliness tugged at her, and love for her ne'er-do-well father, and piety to God. But in standing up to the world of suspicious strangers into which life had dropped her, Lizbet was a lion in petticoats.
She squinted into the bright light from outside. The school grounds already were covered with a heaving, squirming, wiggling blanket of millions and millions of mice. She knew what all the other students were thinking. They thought it was her father's fault.
It was always her father's fault.
Never satisfied with the modest rewards of honest labor, Gerhard Lenz spent his lifetime peddling harebrained moneymaking schemes, disastrous alchemy recipes, quack medicines, and other frauds and follies across the breadth of the Holy Roman Empire, from West Francia to Dalmatia to the Hansa to the eastern reaches of the Abalian Pale. Here, in Abalia, Gerhard had declared himself a magician. He had wormed himself into the favor of Abalia's ruler, the Margrave Hengest Wolftrow. As always, he had been unable to make good on his boasts. His career had been one magical mishap after another. None, though, had been half as bad as this.
A blizzard of mice, blanketing the landscape. There would be such an uproar. Once again, Gerhard's endless schemes and deals and plans had led to disaster. Once again, they would have to flee.

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