Told through the strange, unsettling voice of a wax figurine created by Christenze Kruckow, a noblewoman accused of witchcraft in 17th-century Denmark, this slim novella mixes history, folklore, and poetry into something both eerie and fascinating.

Ravn clearly has a gift for mood. The wax child’s voice is haunting and the prose is often poetic. The themes of female persecution and religious zealotry are well handled and for such a sombre topic I found the general plot propulsive and engaging.

That said, I did struggledto stay fully engaged with transient characters that appear for only a few pages and language that at times felt so dense and abstract it pushed me away rather than pulled me in.

For me, this was a three-star read: a fascinating experiment, beautifully written in places, but not entirely successful as a novel. I admired it more than I loved it.

There is something really special about Olga Ravn’s writing. Is it the minimalism? The abstract? The experimental? The oddness? She’s so unique… by far one of the most captivating and distinctive contemporary writers.

The Wax Child is intriguing and bizarre. It’s based on historical witch trials in Denmark, covering the story of the first noble woman accused, trialed and executed for witchcraft. All told through the eyes of the wax figure she created.

The book is abstract, unsettling, atmospheric and odd. It got me down a rabbit hole of fact checking and reading about the Danish witch trials and the connections to the Scottish witch hunting and trials. Captivating and surreal at the same time!

We follow Christenze, a noble woman,
in Denmark in the 1600s, seen through the eyes of a wax child she has created, as she stands accused of witchcraft.
The book is based on witch trials that actually happened, and you can tell the author has done her research.
The prose in this book was very different, especially the repetition, but it all served to create a disorientating and uncomfortable mood, reflecting how the accused women may have felt.
A short, interesting read, and one I can see sticking with me.

This was quite an interesting read. I wouldn't say I'm super interested in the witch trials but I quite liked how Ravn approached it.

Olga Ravn has done something really different with the Wax Child. I usually really don’t like historical novels but this one had such a unique way of telling the story that it was hard not to get sucked into what was going on. A group of women are all accused of being witches when one of them creates a ‘wax child’ and we are shown the trails and mistreatment of the women through its eyes. The way the community falls into turmoil and the sisterhood tightens against the accusations was written so fragmentary that even though this felt folk tale-ish I found myself enjoying reading the book and racing through the story. There was something haunting about the narration from the child who shouldn’t exist and I found the tragedy of it quite moving. It’s different to her other work in terms of both subject matter and writing but she always delivers a novel that shocks you and makes you wonder what the hell she will come out with next.

Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for my free review copy of this one! My Work by Olga Ravn was one of my absolute faves in 2023 so I had high expectations for this one. When I started reading it though, I realised the two couldn’t be compared as they’re completely different in genre and structure. I haven’t read the Employees yet, but I know that one’s sci-fi-esque - we love an author who doesn’t limit herself to one genre!
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The Wax Child is based in a lot of historical fact, following a witch trial in Denmark in the 1600s. It’s mostly told from the POV of a little wax figure made by one of the accused women. I really liked all the little spells and remedies that were scattered throughout, all of which were pulled from real records. But I found the main thrust of the story to be a little too scattered. There were so many characters and so few pages, and it jumps erratically. I found myself growing frustrated with it because I could tell that the themes and content were something I’d usually devour, but the style just held it back.

Still 3 stars because the vibes were all there.

A retelling of a famous set of witch trials occurring in Denmark in the early 1600s, which led to several women, among them an aristocrat, being burned and beheaded. The story is told from the perspective of a wax child, a small doll fashioned from wax and other bits and bobs by one of the women, as a talisman of sorts.

The writing is unique and flows in a very peculiar way, blending inner monologue of the wax child, its observations, and interactions between the various characters. It's used very nicely, and lends the book a certain surreal feel, which permeates it from start to finish. The events are also horrifying, and bring to the fore, once again, the immense control that men (and the society they dominated) wielded and targeted at women who behaved in ways that veered even by minute degrees from the acceptable norm.

There was one aspect of the story I found peculiar - it blended the obviously grotesque proceedings of the witch trial and what led to them with depictions of the women practicing what appears to be witchcraft, or at least ceremonies they believed to be such. I am still conflicted about the purpose of this. On the one hand, it harmed the main narrative by giving credibility to the allegations - essentially, the women blamed for being witches also, somehow, believed themselves to be witches. On the other hand, it strengthens the argument that regardless of the person's beliefs and activities, the witch trials were horrifying and a blight on the history of western civilisation.

I overall enjoyed it, but perhaps not as much as I would have had there was more detail and exploration of the personalities and characters of the protagonists. I also found the diversions to describe and show various occult practices unnecessarily long and tedious, playing little role in the main narrative.

Overall, I recommend the book for anyone interested in witch trials and the history of Denmark. However, while informative the book holds, at least for me, limited literary value as a work of art.

My thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with an early copy of this book in return for an honest review.

“Where there are many women, there are many witches.”

Inspired by the real events of a seventeenth-century Danish witch trial, Olga Ravn’s The Wax Child tells the story of suspected witch Christenze Kruckow through the all-seeing eyes of her wax child. Ravn’s writing is immersive and driven by the senses, providing details down to the smell of breath.

One of the elements I appreciated most was Ravn’s considered use of historical documents and archives, which include amalgamations of spells from black books and grimoires, which are interspersed between Ravn’s beautiful prose. Christenze herself is an intriguing character, having rebelled against her noble background through her refusal to marry a man, and instead choosing to surround herself with her love for women. While much of the book speaks to the tragic consequences of hysteria, misogyny, and scapegoating, there are also glimpses into community, love, celebration and solidarity between women.

Despite Ravn’s evident skill and careful research, I struggled to connect with the book — most likely due to my own personal preferences — as at times the dream-like style of writing was too abstract, and the pace a little off.

3.5

It's clear from the very first page of The Wax Child that Olga Ravn is a masterful writer. There are lines in this book that are downright poetic, certain images that will make you pause and relish their effect. The downside of such saturated poeticism, unfortunately, is that prose is not always a medium capable of holding so much obliquity and still resonating as prose.

To be clear, this review comes from someone who is incredibly sceptical of witchcraft as a general concept, let alone a fictional device; I am sure that someone more receptive to these themes would find much more of interest in this book, and I'm still excited to read the rest of ravn's work, given the diversity of her catalogue. As it is, I most enjoyed Ravn's historical commentary on the Nordic witch trials: namely, how 'deviant' practices are often perceived as such because they serve as a means of community and care for 'deviant' people (especially women, and queer women at that), and how some people will project their own neuroses on said 'deviants' by way of religious righteousness to avoid taking a good look at themselves in the mirror.

I found the narration of the titular wax child, on the other hand, to be hit or miss. Ravn makes a great deal of her speaker's oddity, and it was undoubtedly unlike any other perspective I've read before. But so much of the first half of the book is taken up by atmosphere-building and abstract equivocating that I found it difficult to latch onto anything in particular, which made it an arduous process to get through for such a short book.

The Wax Child is a literary historical novel based on a real 17th century witch trial in Aalborg, Denmark. It was a really strangely written story, especially in the beginning with one of its more lyrically experimental prose but I was so intrigued and didn’t want to put the book down 😄

I was very excited to read this because I love a good story about witchcraft and the witch trials! The novel is narrated by the wax child, telling the story of Christenze and accusations of witchcraft against her, and the occasional chapter containing spells and the sort of all seeing nature of this “child.”

Ravn steeps her novel in Nordic folklore, pulling from historical records, grimoires/black books, and poetry. I very much thought this was a historical horror novel, and while there were some minor horror elements but it mainly reads as literary fiction set in a historical period.

I loved the weird style of narration and how despite being so short in length, it was very atmospheric and tense! The Wax Child did a short but effective job of showing just how quickly accusations could spiral into persecuting women. As well as the historical track record of silencing women, trying to prevent them from gathering together and protecting one another from violent men.

I was really looking forward to reading 'The Wax Child' as the description sounded like something I would enjoy. I can see how someone would enjoy the format and the way in which it was written but unfortunately I found it very slow to get through and most of the time I had no idea what was going on and struggled to understand who was talking as there were no speech marks. Saying this, it doesn't mean its a bad book in any way, just it wasn't for me but I know readers who would love this and could fully appreciate it in the way it was intended.

The Wax Child is a haunting historical novella narrated by a wax doll, crafted in 1620 by Christenze Kruckow, an unmarried Danish noblewoman accused of witchcraft. As Christenze flees to Aalborg to escape mounting suspicion, the doll becomes an unblinking witness to the power struggles, superstition, and fear that engulf her maker. Rooted in real 17th-century witch trials in northern Jutland, the story blends court records, letters, and fragments of folklore into a chilling, intimate portrait of one woman’s peril.

With lyrical precision and eerie restraint, Olga Ravn conjures a world where the boundaries between history and imagination blur. The wax child’s voice—both tender and unsettling—guides the reader through landscapes of dread, resilience, and quiet defiance. The result is a compact yet resonant work that critics have hailed as a masterpiece of substance and style, and a fierce reimagining of women’s history.

Blown away from this gem of a book! I've read Olga Ravns new book "The Wax Child" in one sitting and it's instantly a new favorite of mine. The book tells the story of Christenze Kruckow in seventeenth-century Denmark - she is a noblewoman, lives unmarried with friends and her self-made doll of wax, who is also the narrator of the story (!!!). Of course, women living happily among themselves can only mean one thing - they are witches. Christenze as well as her friends are accused of being witches, working with the devil and hexing other people. Whats so special about this book - besides other things - is, that the story is based on Christenze Kruckow trial and a series of witch trials in the 16th century in premodern Europe. It's an unsettling, deeply disturbing horror story that gives light to the brutality and reality of the witch trials in earlier days. Olga Ravn also uses quotes from original sources, court documents and magical spells. 6 star book that needs to be read!

Wow! What an incredible analysis of the Danish witch trials.
The whole book is written from the perspective of the Wax Child and it allows her t comment on things that an ordinary narrator may have missed.
Ravn’s narrative draws on concepts of image magic, specifically the creation of waxen effigies sometimes known as voodoo dolls. The creator of the doll is a Danish noblewoman Christenze Krukow. Krukow is now long dead but the wax child has endured, buried in the soil, somehow all-seeing, related to everything around it. The child’s mannered, near-archaic voice reflects its origins; its curious view of events its existence as part object, part organism. This hybrid status has enabled it to commune both with objects and with living things from birds to flowers and trees, its recreation of the past blends the archaeological with the organic. It’s a breathless, driven creature, sometimes restrained, sometimes feverishly spewing out words. All of which are intended to bear witness to Christenze’s fate.
I Leo historical fiction and I particularly love it when the story allows me to learn about a period of history, ir in this case, a specific event, that I did not already know about. Highly recommend!

Based on real life, this pieces together the documentation regarding a sixteenth century witch trial in Denmark. The eerie and remarkable thing about this book is that it is narrated by a wax doll that the chief suspect, Christenze Kruckow. The narration feels like the dream of a child but the activity she narrates is gothic, vengeful and strange. This reminded me a lot of Arthur Miller's Crucible but a lot weirder in a good way. Short, intense and strange.

First of all, I’d like to make it clear that I admire both the author’s ambition and the lyrical prose she uses to convey it. That said, I can’t say I truly enjoyed this book.

To me, this novella was a considerable effort to get through (albeit partly due to formatting issues in the ARC, which are of course not the author’s fault). While it’s true that the book is written beautifully, with poetic language that clearly reflects the author’s background as a poet, it ultimately felt extremely cryptic and desperately impenetrable, leaving me cold and emotionally detached.

The context, as is often the case with stories about witches, is fascinating: 17th-century Denmark, seen through the eyes of a wax child, a magically created doll who witnesses the tribulations of a woman condemned for witchcraft. However, for me, the premise quickly fades as style is prioritised over substance. The language, though beautiful, became too abstract for my taste, and I struggled to follow the story.

For me (and I stress: for me!! because I truly believe this could be an outstanding read for the right reader), this ended up being a frustrating rather than enriching experience, mainly due to the lack of emotional connection I felt throughout.

While this was beautifully written, I found myself bored and disconnected with the story itself. The poetic writing gave no real detail of what was happening, and after finishing this book I couldn’t actually tell you what happened. Great writing but no real substance.

Remarkably well done, surpassed all expectations - or at least expectations any ordinary reader would hold or have when it comes to a more complicated and nuanced narrative playing with a historical context touching on witchcraft. I wouldn't simply and unfairly generalise and think of this one as a simple tale which promotes feminist ideas as blurbs may suggest. It's more than just witches, and it's extremely good to say the least.

The Wax Child by Olga Ravn is a haunting, poetic novella that lingers like a half-remembered dream. Blending surrealism, grief, and fragmented memory, Ravn crafts a story that feels both intimate and disorienting. The language is spare but evocative, and the narrative slips between reality and metaphor with unsettling ease, creating a deeply emotional undercurrent beneath its strangeness.

While the abstract style won’t be for everyone, readers willing to surrender to its ambiguity will find something quietly profound. It’s a meditation on motherhood, loss, and identity that asks more than it answers—and that’s exactly its power. A beautiful, eerie read that earns 4 stars for its originality and emotional resonance.

"And I, I am a wax child, secreted from the scaly glands of the honeybee's abdomen, of rose hip, propolis, pollen, dread, quince, longing, yeast dough, age, and ever young, with infinity's secret in my folds."

The Wax Child (2025) is Martin Aitken's translation of Voksbarnet (2023) by Olga Ravn, itself building on the theatre production Hex for which she wrote the script.

The novel is based on the real-life figure of Christenze Kruckow who was executed in 1621, having been twice accused of witchcraft, first in Nakkebølle in the late 16th century and later at Aalborg around 1620. As a nobelwoman, Kruckow's sentence was for decapitation by sword, but the other women involved in the two incidents - Olga Ravn records at least 8 in her afterword - were burned to death. Ravn, as she explains, condenses the events into a short period in the novel.

Kruckow and the other women were caught up more in inter-family rivalries and witchcraft hysteria created by the new King Christian IV of Denmark than anything else, although Ravn has Christenze engaging in practices that offend the local priest, the text including spells that Ravn has found from the archives dating from 1400 to 1900. Although the gathering together of independent women (Kruckow does not marry) causes as much consternation.

And the novel is rather less conventional than my description might imply, as it is navigated by the wax child, a figurine created by Christenze, which accompanies her and the women, but is also able to tell the story through its ability to perceive its wider surroundings and communicate with animals as well as other inanimate objects:

"Occasionally, a girl would come too and lift the lid of the chest to peep inside when no one was looking. Are you a real live child? she whispered then. But I could not answer, could not even blink, and the chest would then be closed again, and because I could see nothing but the lid, I decided to perceive my surroundings with my back, and with my back I heard and saw the Limfjord, the quaysides and the market place. I saw the mound with its gallows dripping with rain. I saw a servant girl drown her newborn in secret. I saw the sand of the execution place absorb the blood from the beheading. I saw a breastbone at the bottom of a tub of ale. I saw a goldsmith melt down stolen goods. I saw two children freeze to death on the street. I saw the ships come in with oranges, marzipan and blue raisins. I saw resentments old and new, saw pearls as on a string be spilled upon the cobbles."

This is a sensous and vivid text filled with spells, sounds, sights and scents.

Ravn worked with perfumier Lisbeth Jacobsen to create a scent for the book ("I’m interested in exploring how my own artistic practice can liberate itself from specific genres such as literature or visual art. For example, at the moment I’m developing a scent for my forthcoming book with perfumer Lisbeth Jacobsen, and we’ve spoken a lot about chalk, beeswax and apples") - the resulting perfume, made in solid wax, was a finalist for the Premio Aromata.

A sample of the text:

"The forest reached from Aalborg, northwards towards Ugilt, its fringes no more than scrub, a thickening denseness of lingonberry and juniper. The low-slung oakwoods ran east as far as to the sea, clambering across the moor and shaping shelters underneath its crowns, where a comb of horn was pushed up from the ground with an inscription concerning head lice; where apeared a jug, as round as a cabbage, pearls enough to fill a hand, of Roman glass, and further south-east not far from Gjerrild, in the dolmen there, numerous precious metals, small parts, coins and fragments of jewellery, silver and bronze. Jutland - the land itself a wax child, filled with horn and hair, with human remains, human tools, flutes and whistles carved in bone, and the wind became audible unto itself as it passed through them. In the dungeon Dorte whistled too. They took turns to sit by the door, where outside air might waft the face and be breathed, and Dorte whistled in reply to the howl of the wind. She thought about a marzipan mouth that had lain among others on a dish at the grocer's store, and smacked her lips to recall it, then turned to the others and said, I will get out of here, I have a plan, my son-in-law will come to my rescue, I cannot imagine otherwise."

A 2026 International Booker contender.