‘Pendle Hill’ is the powerful opening “spel”, as Ralphs terms it, with its arresting call and response structure. The importance of the reader’s ear is quickly affirmed, as the poem’s final word compels us to hear these “hollow voices” - “Listen”, Ralphs demands. Beneath her spell, we cannot do anything else. Across the thirteen epitaphic monologues, strong individual voices come through, but the narrative cross-overs tie the collection together charmingly. Necessarily, unique voices can be heard, amid the chaos.
 

The play with space and formatting is a welcome addition in ‘Anne Whittle’ and ‘Isabel Robey’, both visually pleasing and structurally engaging. Alongside five of the poems, Emma Wright’s eerily charming illustrations sit perfectly. The pamphlet itself (a yellowed paper and black and white colour scheme) is cleverly reminiscent of a medieval pamphlet.

What is perhaps most memorable about Ralphs’s collection is the evocative and sharp metaphorical imagery – my favourite example being the wonderfully bleak line from ‘Katherine Hewit’: “What is a child discarded but a gapp-tuthed calendar?” The collection continually surprises with images you can bite into. The violence of the trials is particularly memorable in ‘Jane Bulcock’, in which “no eyelid [is] left unflippd”.

The most challenging aspect of Malkin is the free spelling, since most of us are unfamiliar with medieval English. It requires a certain patience and concentration, but once used to it, the spelling thoroughly enriches the poetry and expands its meaning – the onomatopoeia in ‘Anne Whittle’ is particularly beneficial. For this reason, this collection of poetry is not a 'light read', but it does not pretend to be. Ralphs has triumphed in making the witch trials unnervingly accessible. Malkin sends you tumbling down Pendle Hill, and only when you have reached the bottom, do you realise you have been utterly charmed.