Suffer a Witch
A Memoir
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- Pre-Order
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- Expected Aug 18, 2026
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- $11.99
Publisher Description
A stunning memoir in verse about sexual abuse, survival, and sisterhood from the New York Times bestselling author of Blood Water Paint.
“Suffer a Witch is a searing, precise testament on the long tradition of not believing women. The juxtaposition of the Salem victims with modern patterns, expressed in verse, pulses and aches on the page. McCullough’s words burn in this crucible of truth: these are the lengths men will go to when a woman cries abuse.” —Tia Levings, New York Times bestselling author of A Well-Trained Wife
Joy McCullough’s earliest memories are of time spent in church, moments when she climbed the steps to recite from the pulpit, just like her preacher father. But when she was a teenager in San Diego in the 1990s, her connection to her family and church were forever altered when a youth pastor groomed and sexually assaulted Joy.
In her debut memoir, McCullough pairs achingly raw poems recalling her abuse and its aftermath with hopeful, challenging verses about her life today as she seeks healing and justice in a country that rewards men for sexual abuse and still insists “girls these days will say anything.”
Among the poems, McCullough also weaves prose letters to historical girls and women—from Joan of Arc to Abigail Williams—whose lives and stories were ignored when they were caught in the maelstrom of witchcraft accusations.
Suffer a Witch shines a bright, unsparing light on one woman’s experience—and on those of generations of women who came before her.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
YA novelist McCullough (Everything Is Poison) blends poetry and prose in this bruising account of being sexually abused by a youth pastor at her preacher father's Presbyterian church. Spare, incantatory poems give shape to the trauma and PTSD she suffered both from the abuse (committed by a man referred to only as "Brett") and from her father's disbelief of it, while letters addressed to women accused of witchcraft throughout history draw discomfiting parallels between the persecution of women's bodies across the centuries. Brett's abuse drove a teenage McCullough to self-harm and disordered eating, as she became obsessed with avoiding the curvaceous figure that might attract his further attention. Her admission to Northwestern University marked the beginning of a path toward healing, though her initial attempts to speak out against Brett were met with repeated denials from people in her community. A late revelation that Brett also abused McCullough's older sister widens the scope of the narrative and reinvigorates the author's pursuit of accountability. McCullough effectively transforms her suffering into a testament to survival. It's a harrowing yet galvanizing account of reclaiming one's agency. Correction: A previous version of this review misidentified where the abuse took place.
