Wise Child by Monica Furlong: A Young Girl Finds Her Place with Juniper

At the heart of Monica Furlong’s Wise Child is a child trying to decide whom she can trust. Juniper, the solitary healer whom her village treats with suspicion, offers Wise Child a home, an education and an account of magic that challenges what the girl has been taught. The result is a coming-of-age fantasy about care and knowledge, with a growing threat that gives Wise Child’s choices real weight.

A home with Juniper

Nine-year-old Wise Child has been left without a guardian. Her mother, Maeve, left her with her grandmother years earlier, while her father, Finbar, is a sailor who is often away. When her grandmother dies during one of his absences, the village must decide where Wise Child will stay until he returns.

Wise Child hopes to live with her aunt, but her aunt and uncle are already struggling to feed their own children. The priest asks the village after church whether anyone will take the girl in. Few volunteer. Those who show interest seem to want an extra pair of hands, and Wise Child fears the harsh treatment she has seen other children receive in such households.

Juniper steps forward. The village knows her as an unmarried woman from Cornwall who lives alone, avoids church and practises magic. People distrust her, yet they still turn to her when illness defeats other healers. The priest objects to her taking a child, but Juniper says Wise Child should have a say. Unsure whom to choose, the girl is helped by her aunt, who claims that Finbar had already wanted Juniper to care for his daughter. No one challenges the story, and Juniper brings Wise Child home.

The move frightens Wise Child. Her cousins have told her that Juniper flies on a broom and keeps dead bodies in her cupboards. When Juniper asks what is troubling her, Wise Child admits that she believes the stories and is afraid. Juniper doesn’t scold her or blame the villagers for spreading them. She calls the girl brave for coming despite her fear and promises that she’ll discover the truth for herself.

She does. The cupboards hold ordinary things, the broom is just a broom, and Juniper treats her gently. She promises never to beat Wise Child, even when she makes mistakes. That kindness matters: the girl has reason to expect the opposite from adults, and trust develops through Juniper’s everyday actions rather than a sudden change of heart.

Learning a different kind of magic

Juniper becomes both guardian and teacher. Wise Child has long wanted to attend school, and at home she learns practical skills as well as the use of herbs and medicines. Juniper also intends to teach her Latin. Girls in the village are generally expected to prepare for marriage and household work, but Juniper regards Latin as part of a learned education. When Wise Child’s cousin Coleman visits to check on her, she tells him she is doing well.

There is more to Juniper’s household than Wise Child first sees. An older woman called Yuni arrives and insists that the girl take part in a strange ritual. Yuni and Juniper rub a foul-smelling ointment on her skin. Wise Child experiences a vision in which she flies on Juniper’s broom. The following day, she asks whether what she saw actually happened.

Juniper explains that she and Yuni are magic-users. Others might call them witches, but they call themselves “Doran”, a name linked to the word for “door”: a way of seeing into things that most people don’t perceive. Dorans, Juniper says, live in the rhythms of nature, life and the seasons. Wise Child’s vision suggests she may have the ability to become one of them.

This new understanding also stirs memories of Maeve. Wise Child recalls her mother’s cruelty and the hurt of being left behind. She remembers, too, that Maeve had unusual objects and habits. When she asks if her mother was a Doran, Juniper says no. Maeve uses magic, but of a different kind.

The difference becomes plain when Maeve returns and persuades Wise Child to go and live with her for a while. She offers comfort and luxury, with none of Juniper’s difficult lessons. But Wise Child sees how Maeve uses other people and recognises that her mother has hurt and exploited both her and Finbar. The contrast helps her value Juniper’s care and teaching, even when that life asks more of her.

As the story unfolds, Wise Child learns about the history shared by Juniper and Maeve, their long rivalry, and the beliefs attached to the land around them. She also encounters people’s efforts to gain power over one another and the natural forces they fear. Juniper’s past remains only partly known, giving the story’s family conflict a wider, older reach.

Faith, fear and a gathering danger

Wise Child struggles to reconcile her Christian beliefs with what she is learning about the Dorans. Juniper tells her that she needn’t choose between them: Juniper believes in Jesus and sees no necessary conflict between Christianity and Doran beliefs. She also acknowledges that others will disagree. The village priest is particularly distrustful and believes Juniper has led the girl astray.

That suspicion becomes more dangerous during a severe winter, when famine and sickness strike. The priest blames Juniper and brings in an inquisitor to question her and Wise Child. The girl fears what the priest and the villagers may do. The story leaves her facing an urgent question: can she and Juniper escape, and where could they find safety?

Wise Child is the first book in a series about the Dorans. The second book, Juniper, is a prequel about Juniper’s early life. The book is available to borrow and read for free online through Internet Archive.

A reread and the historical details

I first read Wise Child in my early teens, when its world of magic made a strong impression but much of the lore behind it went over my head. On rereading, I found myself paying closer attention to the book’s relationship with history. The story draws on witchcraft lore, but its Doran tradition is invented for the book and its series; it isn’t a historical term.

The setting is a small Scottish village, but Furlong never pins down the period. I read it as medieval when I was young, and that still seems a likely impression. Yet some details point in other directions. Wise Child describes Juniper serving a kind of tea, though tea from the Camellia sinensis plant did not reach the British Isles until the 1600s and only became popular much later.

There’s a useful distinction here between tea made from that plant and drinks made by steeping herbs or grains. People in the Middle Ages did prepare hot, infused drinks, but calling them “tea” gives them a later name. Such drinks were described as waters, as in herb-infused drinks, barley water or sage water. The plant itself is discussed in this account of the origin of tea; the distinction between tea and herbal infusions is also explained in this piece on herbal tea.

The questioning scene near the end creates another mismatch in the implied timeline. The priest’s response resembles the witchcraft prosecutions associated with Scotland after the Witchcraft Act of 1563, which made witchcraft illegal and helped open a period of trials that lasted until 1736. That history is a better fit for the story’s inquisitor than the Middle Ages. Before that later period, people were more likely to dismiss supposed witches as deluded, superstitious or fraudulent than to organise the kind of persecution the novel depicts. The contrast is explored in this account of the Witchcraft Act’s impact in Scotland and this overview of witchcraft beliefs and trials.

Juniper’s magic also feels shaped by later ideas. The story’s healing lore has affinities with Wiccan traditions, while its attention to emotional and physical wellbeing and its account of women’s learning reflect more modern sensibilities. A simple farming village is an unlikely place for someone to develop Juniper’s breadth of knowledge. For readers interested in that background, this documentary about Gerald Gardner, who founded Wicca, offers useful context.

Juniper’s Latin lessons need a little care, too. Latin was central to advanced scholarship in the Middle Ages, which made the truly learned a small group. That doesn’t mean ordinary people couldn’t read or write: some used vernacular skills for accounts or personal messages. But books were expensive, time-consuming to produce by hand, and Latin training was largely associated with clerical scholars and those taught by them. Juniper’s education would be unusual because of her background and circumstances, not simply because she’s teaching a girl. The prequel Juniper supplies an important piece of that explanation: her royal origins gave her far more education than most people around her.

The ritual with the ointment draws on stories about substances said to create the sensation of flight; a discussion of that lore appears in this account of witches and broomsticks. Another ritual involves the sacrifice of a deer that is willing to take part, followed by a meal shared after the ceremony. The scene evokes accounts of Celtic animal sacrifice, though much of what is known about pre-Christian practice in the British Isles comes from Roman sources and remains open to question. I’d forgotten the scene since my first reading, and found it disturbing on this one, even with the animal eaten afterward.

The historical looseness doesn’t erase what the novel does well. Its strongest thread is Wise Child’s gradual movement from fear towards discernment: she learns to judge Juniper by her actions and Maeve by hers, while confronting beliefs that don’t fit neatly together. Readers who enjoy a young heroine’s education, a vivid magical tradition and complicated family ties may find plenty to stay with. The uncertain period and blended lore are part of the reading experience; the emotional stakes are what carry it.