Book Review: The Morrigan by Kim Curran

– The Morrigan: A visceral journey through goddess, grief, and the warrior within –

Some books land on our shelves at the exact right time. Others wait—sometimes for months, even years—for the perfect moment to be heard. The Morrigan by Kim Curran, first published in February 2025, was one of those books for me. I’ve had it in hard copy since its release, sitting patiently on my table, waiting. It wasn’t until one of the lovely women in my own circle, Megan, gently prompted me to finally dive in that I picked it up—and I haven’t regretted it for a moment. I paired reading with listening to the Audible version, which is masterfully narrated by Máiréad Tyers—a name I won’t soon forget.

The Morrígan—witch, warrior, and goddess of Ireland—is a figure I’ve known for years, yet this book brought her to life in a way I hadn’t experienced before. Told in her own voice, the story is raw, complex, and utterly human—despite her divine form. It’s not just a tale of magic and mythology, though it certainly is that too. It’s a story of identity, transformation, grief, love, vengeance, and ultimately, wisdom.

We honoured the Morrígan as our Sacred Study for Aries Season in Awen’s Inner Circle, which made reading this book such a beautiful companion piece—adding even more texture, storytelling, and soul to the goddess work we’ve been exploring together.

What struck me most is how Curran has painted the Morrígan not just as a goddess, but as every woman—as maiden, mother, and crone. As the curious maiden, she bursts with power she doesn’t yet understand. As the fierce mother, her heart is softened by love, then shattered by devastating loss. And as the wise crone, she walks the long, spiraling path back to herself, discovering that her truest strength is not in solo battles—but in sisterhood, in being among women.

I found so many echoes of my own life in this book. As someone who has moved through all these stages myself—fighting internal battles, tending to wounds both visible and hidden, and now sitting in circle with other women—I felt this book deeply in my bones. Even amidst the blood and gore of battle scenes (which, yes, there are plenty of!), there is a tenderness here. A mirror held up to the feminine psyche.

The grief she carries as a mother was almost unbearable to read—and yet beautifully done. Her inner torment, her desire for vengeance, the moments she loses herself in battles that aren’t hers—all of it felt so true to what it means to be human, and more specifically, what it means to be a woman navigating a world that often demands we be everything to everyone.

What makes this retelling especially powerful is that it’s not just about mythology—it’s about metaphor. Every sword fight, every cry of rage, every moment of sorrow stands in for the battles we fight within ourselves: our longing, our fears, our need to belong, and our craving to be seen, loved, and understood.

And Máiréad Tyers—oh, her voice. That gorgeous Irish lilt gave the Morrígan the voice she’s always deserved. Her tone carried the wisdom of a crone, the fire of a warrior, and the softness of a mother’s grief. Listening felt like sitting beside a hearth, wrapped in a cloak, hearing the old stories passed down through generations.

If you’re practicing witchcraft, walking the path of goddess work, or simply trying to understand the terrain of your own inner landscape—especially as you transition into your crone years—this book is a worthy companion. It’s one I’ll return to again, perhaps next time only listening, perhaps only reading. Either way, I know it still has more to offer.

I wouldn’t recommend reading it at bedtime unless you’ve got nerves of steel or very peaceful dreams—some scenes are intense. I found that listening on walks or reading during the day gave me the space to digest and reflect.

The Morrígan isn’t a light read—but it’s a necessary one. It reminds us that even the fiercest warrior goddesses have their doubts, their heartbreaks, and their own becoming. It reminds us that strength often looks like surrender, and that the deepest power is sometimes found in simply sitting in circle with other women, sharing our stories.

Put it on your bedside pile, or better yet—walk with her voice in your ears.

Highly recommended.

Blessed be,

Angela