The witch, named Bella Yaga, takes Earwig into her home to serve as her assistant. She finds she doesn’t want to learn more about him, either. Due to her strong personality Earwig basically runs the place she gets what she wants when she wants it, from the other children as well as from the staff.Įarwig’s tricks don’t work on a strange couple who come to foster her: the woman is clearly a witch, and the man, well, he definitely doesn’t look right when Earwig peers at him from the corner of her eye. She lives at an orphanage, but don’t pity her, she loves it there. It suits her very strong personality better anyway. Its title character has the proper name of Erica Wigg, but she goes by Earwig because she knows that’s her true name. When taken just for what it is, however, the book is still a charmer. So it’s just impossible for me to approach Earwig objectively to me it’s so much more than a 100-paged children’s chapter book. That’s not true I didn’t encounter her until college, and to this day I mourn all the years I never knew her. The way I’m writing about Diana you’d think she helped raise me, that I hid in the woods and stretched her books over my knees on long summer days. If you don’t trust me, trust the words of another Diana fan, Neil Gaiman. If the name rings a bell that’s because you’re familiar with the work of one of Diana’s fans, Hayao Miyazaki. Go to the library and check out the novel Howl’s Moving Castle. She wrote for decades before her death and produced an inspiring amount of imaginative fiction for children, teens, and adults. If that’s the case, know this: Diana Wynne Jones is one of the most under-appreciated authors in British fantasy. Maybe you haven’t heard of her, don’t understand why I’d whisper a word like “earwig” with such reverent tones. The last true story she wrote before passing away in March 2011. What could it possibly be?Įarwig and the Witch, by Diana Wynne Jones.

I braved the wasteland, that spine-tingling wing in the depths of the library, “here there be drool and sticky fingers,” and returned, triumphant, with my prize. I stepped foot into the children’s section of the library to procure it, bracing my ears against the shrill cries and weaving around the tiny beings that barreled in my direction on the way to gawk at the fish tank. It’s barely 100 pages I could knock it out in 20 or 30 minutes, easy. Maybe that’s why I ignored its release for a couple of months, and even then only checked it out of the library instead of buying it the moment I could. I’ve never been as afraid to read a book as I am this one.

Earwig and the witch book