Wicker soon set out to discover what was so compelling about the philosophy and practice of magic, or witchcraft. From the moment she introduces a group of self-professed vampires, who challenge her as to whether she is a victim, she sweeps us into some seriously cobwebby corners of the American psyche. Impeccably researched and filled with details on the prevalence of magic throughout American history, the book could be ponderous and freaky, but that Wicker's delightfully self-abnegating tone never allows. When she attends a ritual in Salem, Massachusetts, where historic witch-burning is the basis of a profitable commercial cult, her over-the-top costume makes it hard for her even to walk. Offered a chance for some good mojo to spice up her sex life, she decides to let well enough alone. Wicker never mocks the magicians' and witches' beliefs or their sometimes-extreme personal habits but rather constantly seeks the reasons for belief and the context for personal choice.