In the past years, Hammer Film Studios have attempted to return to the glories of old with a number of new horror movies, including the atmospheric film version of Susan Hill’s The Woman in White. Parallelly, Hammer has diversified into the publishing business, commissioning not just film tie-ins but also new horror stories by established authors. These have included fine ghostly tales by Helen Dunmore and Sophie Hannah, but the most self-consciously “literary” contribution is probably Jeanette Winterson’s “The Daylight Gate”.

Inspired by the notorious Lancashire witch-trials of 1612 and cannily issued to coincide with the 400th anniversary of the tragic events, this slim book is a bold reimagining of history, using real characters and places woven into an intriguing blend of fact and fiction.

The early 17th century was a dark period of British history. James I, having survived a number of treasonous plots (both real and, possibly, imagined) was clamping down on segments of the population deemed “dangerous”, including Catholics. This paranoia infected the population and outsiders could easily be branded as “witches” or “dabblers in the occult” as a pretext for prosecution (and persecution). Indeed, some historians now believe that the Lancashire witch trials were merely an exercise in anti-Catholic propaganda.

Winterson is brilliant at evoking this threatening, oppressive setting. Not for her the detailed descriptions historical novelists are wont to resort to in order to conjure up the past. What we get instead is a lean, almost biblical narrative voice which fits the epoch being portrayed, but is also timeless. It seems to suggest that terror does not lie in the supernatural but in the misery which Man is capable of inflicting on Man. And more unsettling still, that history can repeat itself and political oppression is not restricted to a particular time or place.

So far so good. But Winterson seems undecided whether to stick to writing a historical novel with subtle supernatural overtones or to opt for a straightforward piece of diablerie. That’s where the book starts to lose its focus.

“Popery witchery witchery popery” claims Thomas Potts – the real-life chronicler who acted as reporting clerk for the Crown. Winterson quotes his mantra in her introduction and argues that this was the typical reasoning of a reign where “witchery” was a convenient excuse to proceed against uncomfortable political figures. Yet, one of the characters in her story is, precisely, a Jesuit who, having survived torture without renouncing his faith, is not above embarking on a sexual liaison with an alchemist/occultist. With a cleric and a witch as bedfellows, Thomas Pott’s allegations do not appear so far-fetched. Again, the initial chapters suggest that the suspects in the trials are, at best, wrongfully accused outsiders who are being denied a fair trial or, at worst, a bunch of deluded dabblers in superstitious rituals. As the novel progresses however, we learn darker secrets about them and our sympathy towards them starts to wane.

My quibble is not about whether this portrayal is true to history or not – the problem is that Winterson’s approach undermines the very thrust of the novel. It almost seems as if there were two books rolled into one, each struggling to gain the upper hand.

“The Daylight Gate” is certainly a well-written read and the narrative style is gripping enough to lead you on despite the novella’s inconsistencies. However, it’s difficult not to feel that this could have been a more convincing work. ( )

As I've mentioned before, the phrase "strong stuff" always comes to mind when I read Jeanette Winterson's books. Powerful, and generally not for the faint of heart. Bourbon, not white wine.

In many respects this is a remarkable book, one that I could not put down even though from reading the actual circumstances of this case I knew the outcome. Of course, it IS historical fiction and Winterson invented an elaborate backstory for the central character, Agnes Nutter, with no basis in actual fact. But somehow I didn't think, as I read, that she would change the ending.

The book abounds with alchemy and witchery and religious conflict. The early 17th century was a particularly grim time for anyone in England to espouse the Catholic faith, and James I of England (aka James VI of Scotland) chose to direct the energies of his reign against demons - and witches, almost always women.

Generally, these were poor and helpless women, and Winterson's vivid descriptions of their plight is challenging reading, being accurately and acutely wrought. The visits to the Jacobean torture chambers are equally sad and harrowing.

Fortunately these grim realities are balanced with brilliant storytelling, especially as Agnes relays her history to a lover. I was swept up with the richness of the imagery as she described people and places and events in her past.

In Agnes, Winterson has created for us a woman of whom we can be in awe. One who has made a life for herself using her clear-headed intelligence, her love and her compassion.

“You are stubborn,’ said Roger Nowell. ‘I am not tame,’ said Alice Nutter.”

“He scarred her arm...but she did not care because she loved him and she knew that love leaves a wound that leaves a scar.”

“Are you like all other men after all? The poor should have no justice, just as they have no food, no decent shelter, no regular livelihood? Is that how your saviour Jesus treated the poor?”

The novella length of this book is ideal. Another author might have attempted to stretch out the story to a full length novel, but that would have done the story a disservice. Winterson has created something that can fit in a shotglass, not delicate stemware. ( )

I had some serious difficulties to follow the plot in the beginning, but it still gripped me firmly and brutally with fangs made of short, precise sentences. Very homogenic, fascinating, strange, beautiful and fear-inspiring. Wild, mysterious and sharp, like a raven with a bloody beak. Just not quite as cheesy as I just said that. ( )

A perfectly written witch tale. Terrifying, intense, and dark. It has been quite a while since I have read a book by Winterson, but this was well worth the wait. A great story to read at this time of year. ( )

I kept waiting for it to be something other than a chronicle of horrors. Too bleak, too vile, perhaps too real for me. I don't see the point of it, except to illustrate passion's madness and some of the usual inhumanities. Effectively revolting, but I missed the message if there was one. ( )