I love the idea of this anthology that collects works from 26 different women worldwide, all on the theme of the mythical Baba Yaga. It’s a really rich subject open to different, intriguing interpretations. For those of you unfamiliar with the myth, our subject is the old wise woman of Slavic lore, who lives in a house that walks on chicken legs, dispensing terror or justice as the mood strikes. Christina Henry’s excellent foreword points out that Baba Yaga wasn’t necessarily ever just one figure either, but was sometimes three, often sisters, but always otherworldly and beholden only to her or their own rules.
Fitting, then, that she’s the subject of this fiercely feminist grouping of tales. Her ambiguous reputation provides fertile ground for the speculative fiction author. Is she a benefactress or beastly or both? Is she something to be run towards in hope or run away from in horror? I found that my favorite stories of this bunch definitely leaned more towards the former than the latter, but that’s the beauty of this collection, its absolute openness to any variation on the theme.
That is also, perhaps, its greatest weakness. In its eagerness to accept any spin on the tale, the anthology occasionally loses coherence, as the tone whipsaws wildly between moods instead of building gradually to an overarching whole. The ending, for example, felt better left to the quietly poetic Baba Yaga In Repose by Heather Miller. Instead Saba Syed Razvi’s equally poetic but much more metaphorical, almost anthropological, Shadow And Branch, Ghost Fruit Among The Lullabies provides an unnecessary coda that pulls focus from the lady in question to talk about the women she haunts instead. I can understand the argument that those inspired by her are more important in the long run than the witch herself, but I didn’t really come here to read about them, did I? Centering her influence instead of her actions makes this collection feel more like sociology than fiction, more like textbook than entertainment.