Magic is usually messy. In most stories, it’s all about high stakes, glowing swords, and world-ending prophecies that make your head spin. But then you pick up The Very Irregular Society of Witches by Sangu Mandanna, and suddenly, the "magic" feels less like a weapon and more like a warm cup of tea on a rainy Tuesday. It’s weirdly comforting.
The book follows Mika Moon. She’s one of the few witches in Britain, living under a strict set of rules designed to keep her kind hidden and solitary. Witches aren't supposed to gather. They aren't supposed to form bonds. If they do, their magic supposedly starts acting out, attracting unwanted attention or worse. So Mika lives a lonely life, posting "fake" witchy videos online where she pretends to be a normal person pretending to be a witch. It’s meta. It’s relatable. And then a random message changes everything.
What makes the society so "irregular" anyway?
Most fantasy tropes lean heavily into the "Secret Society" vibe where everyone is wearing dark robes and chanting in Latin. Mandanna tosses that out the window. The "society" in The Very Irregular Society of Witches isn't a shadowy government. It’s a chaotic, makeshift family living in a place called Nowhere House.
You’ve got three young witches—Rosetta, Terracotta, and Altamira—who have absolutely no idea how to control their powers because they’ve been raised in isolation by a grumpy primary caretaker and a cast of lovely, eccentric adults.
Mika is hired to teach them.
The irregularity comes from the structure. There is no hierarchy here. There’s Jamie, the prickly librarian who hates everyone (except he definitely doesn’t), and Ian and Ken, the older couple who basically run the house with kindness. It’s a domestic setting. The stakes aren't about saving the world; they're about saving a home. That’s why people are obsessed with it. It’s "Low Stakes Fantasy," a genre that has exploded lately because, honestly, our real lives are stressful enough. We don't always need to read about the apocalypse.
The rule of isolation and why it’s a lie
In the world of the book, the prevailing wisdom among witches is that they must stay apart. The idea is that witchy energy is like volatile chemicals—put too many in one room and things explode. Mika has spent her whole life believing that being alone is her destiny.
But as the story unfolds at Nowhere House, we see a different perspective.
The "irregularity" is actually the cure for the "curse." Mandanna explores the psychological toll of forced loneliness. When Mika starts teaching the girls, she realizes that the "accidents" they cause aren't because they are around other witches. It’s because they are scared and untrained. It’s a massive metaphor for how society treats anyone who is "different." We tell people to hide their light so they don't bother anyone else, but all that does is make the light flicker and burn out.
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Why Sangu Mandanna’s world-building feels real
You might think a book about witches would spend pages explaining the mechanics of mana or spell slots. It doesn't.
Instead, the magic in The Very Irregular Society of Witches is tied to emotion and nature. It’s intuitive. Mika’s magic manifests through her hair color changing or the way the air feels when she's happy. It’s whimsical. The house itself feels like a character. Located in a remote part of the British countryside, Nowhere House is protected by wards that make people simply "forget" it exists.
The realism comes from the relationships.
Jamie, the love interest, isn't a prince or a powerful wizard. He’s a guy who cares deeply about the kids he’s looking after. He’s protective. He’s skeptical of Mika at first because he’s seen how outsiders can mess things up. Their romance isn't a "lightning bolt" moment; it’s a slow-burn realization that they actually work well together as a team.
Honestly, the dialogue is where the book shines. It’s snappy. It feels like stuff people actually say. When Mika is nervous, she rambles. When the kids are being kids, they are loud and annoying and sweet all at once. It’s a specific kind of "found family" trope that works because it doesn't feel forced.
Handling the heavy stuff with a light touch
It’s not all sunshine and tea. The book touches on some pretty heavy themes:
- The trauma of being an orphan and moving from house to house.
- The fear of being "found out" and persecuted.
- The grief of losing people who were supposed to protect you.
- The struggle of finding an identity when you've been told to be invisible.
Mika’s background is heartbreaking. She was raised by various "Guardians" who were paid to keep her, but none of them loved her. They were terrified of her. Coming to Nowhere House is the first time she’s treated like a person instead of a liability.
The "Found Family" trope done right
We see this trope everywhere. The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune is the most common comparison, and for good reason. Both books deal with a government-style oversight (in this case, the mysterious and somewhat threatening "Witchers") and a group of marginalized people creating their own safe space.
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But Mika Moon feels more active than Linus Baker. She’s choosing to defy the rules of her society. She’s choosing to risk her safety for three girls she barely knows.
The "Society" isn't a group Mika joins; it’s a group she creates.
That’s a huge distinction. It suggests that community isn't something you find—it's something you build through consistent effort and vulnerability. You can't just walk into a family; you have to show up every day, even when it's hard. Even when the kids turn the kitchen into a disaster zone with a misplaced spell.
Understanding the "Cozy Fantasy" boom
Why are we all reading books like this now?
Back in the day, fantasy was defined by Lord of the Rings or Game of Thrones. It was gritty. It was epic. It was about "The Chosen One." Now, readers are looking for "The Chosen Family."
The Very Irregular Society of Witches fits perfectly into the 2020s literary landscape because it prioritizes mental health and emotional safety. It’s the literary equivalent of a weighted blanket.
Google searches for "cozy fantasy" and "found family books" have skyrocketed. People want stories where the conflict is internal or interpersonal rather than existential. We want to know that even if we are "irregular" or "weird," there is a place for us.
Does it actually rank as a "great" book?
Look, if you want high-octane action, this isn't it. If you want a hard magic system with laws and physics, look elsewhere.
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But if you want a character study? It’s top-tier.
Sangu Mandanna is an expert at pacing. She knows exactly when to drop a joke to break the tension and when to let a moment of sadness breathe. The prose is beautiful without being "purple." It doesn’t try too hard to be poetic, which actually makes it more poetic.
Real-world takeaways from a fictional world
Even though it’s about witches, the book offers some genuine insights into how we live our lives.
- Stop hiding your "weird." Mika spent years trying to be "normal," and it only made her miserable. Once she embraced her magic and shared it with others, her life actually started.
- Community requires risk. You can’t have deep connections without the possibility of being hurt. Mika had to risk the "wrath" of the witch world to find Nowhere House.
- Family is a verb. It’s not just who you’re related to; it’s who shows up. The inhabitants of Nowhere House are a mix of different backgrounds and species (mostly human, actually), but they are more of a family than any biological one Mika ever had.
- Small magic matters. We often look for huge miracles, but the book argues that making someone a perfect cup of tea or helping a child feel safe is the most powerful magic there is.
How to get the most out of reading it
If you haven't picked this up yet, go in expecting a character-driven story. It’s best read in the autumn or winter—the atmosphere just hits better when it’s cold outside.
If you’re a writer, pay attention to how Mandanna handles the "ticking clock" element. There is an external threat (a lawyer investigating the estate), but it serves mostly as a catalyst to force the characters to be honest with each other. It’s a masterclass in using external plot to drive internal growth.
To wrap this up: The Very Irregular Society of Witches is more than just a cute cover. It’s a genuine exploration of what it means to belong. It challenges the idea that we are better off alone and proves that even the most "irregular" people can find a place to call home.
Next Steps for Readers:
- Check out the audiobook version; the narration by Samara MacLaren is widely considered one of the best in the genre for capturing Mika’s voice.
- If you've already finished it, look into Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree or The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst for a similar "low stakes, high heart" vibe.
- Research the "Cozy Fantasy" subreddit or Discord communities to find more "irregular" stories that prioritize comfort over conflict.