Witchbody

This digressive rumination on magic and nature, with unusual ideas of what counts as “natural,” might inspire occult-minded readers as they dive deep into its incantations and wonderfully witchy drawings—but it will leave others puzzled. Scott follows the pull of the magical over the course of 80 lushly inked pages and hand-scrawled declarations, illustrated with coiling river currents and ferns, the bodies of small animals, and a woman interacting with it all against a city skyline. “Witchcraft knowledge is body knowledge,” she writes, as she seeks wonder everywhere from grimy city streets to ocean vistas, and urges collaboration with ecosystems (“What might happen when trees and concrete are perceived as bodies in the political arena?”). If there is a thesis of this nebulous, loosely linked tract, it lies in Scott’s passion for finding interconnected “realness” all around her and her earnest belief in magic’s role in protecting and appreciating it. Many inquiries are raised (“How do you hold the things you believe? What do you believe about belief itself?”), and she cites theorists such as Maurice Merleau-Ponty and Jane Bennett in grounding her ideas. The book’s amorphous structure seems true to its all-encompassing message, but doesn’t offer readers anything resembling a through line. While spellbinding in sections, the volume brews lovely art with a muddy message. [em](Mar.) [/em]