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Look Closer
Just a Little Witch, Mostly a Mom is not only a memoir sharing your story of grief, motherhood, and the quiet magic hiding in plain sight, but a reminder to notice the small spells that you cast each day. Why was this an important book for you to write?
I wrote Just a Little Witch, Mostly a Mom because I didn’t want my mother’s story — or the strange, magical details of our life together — to disappear quietly. Grief can feel isolating, but when I wrote it down, it became connective instead. The book let me braid memory, motherhood, and a little magic into something that could outlast me. And honestly, I didn’t want to wait around for someone else to write the book I needed — so I did it myself.
What were some ideas that were important for you to share in this book?
That motherhood and grief can coexist with humor, wonder, and even irreverence. That it’s possible to feel devastated and enchanted in the same breath. I wanted to show how ordinary objects, pop culture, and family rituals — everything from a backyard Jaws screening to rosemary growing by the gate — carry their own magic. I wasn’t trying to hand out lessons; I wanted to say, look closer, this is what ordinary life really looks like when you let yourself see it.
What was the most challenging part of writing your memoir, and what was the most rewarding?
The hardest part was writing about my mother’s decline with honesty while still protecting the tenderness of who she was. Grief doesn’t have a clean arc, and there were days I wanted to slam the laptop shut and pretend I’d rather be doing literally anything else. The most rewarding part was realizing, as the pages stacked up, that I wasn’t just writing loss — I was writing a legacy. And when early readers told me they felt both seen and entertained? That was the moment I thought, okay, maybe this actually works.
What do you hope is one thing readers take away from your story?
Permission. Permission to find the sacred in the silly, to laugh even when it hurts, and to notice the everyday magic hiding in plain sight. If nothing else, I want readers to remember that love and loss aren’t opposites — they’re the same spell, just cast differently. And if they finish the book and immediately text their sibling some inside joke from childhood, then I’ve done my job.
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Just a Little Witch, Mostly a Mom
The book tells the story of grief, memory, and the odd ways magic seeps into everyday life. Author Diana Jonas writes about her mother’s death, her own role as a mother, and the weight of family history. She stitches together stories of her Cuban refugee mother, her painter father, her mischievous brother, and the life she built on Centre Island. The narrative shifts between the sharp pain of loss and the shimmering texture of ordinary moments, with hints of magical realism that make the past feel alive. It is a memoir that reads like a spell, part mourning and part celebration of the ties that shape us.
Reading it, I felt pulled in two directions. On one hand, the writing is raw. She does not hide the ugliest moments, like hospital chaos, family fights, and financial collapse, and that honesty can sting. On the other hand, the prose often sings. Her images of the bay, her parents’ love and rage, the dogs, the music, the childhood friends, they glow with life. I found myself laughing in one moment and aching in the next. It reminded me of sitting with an old friend who refuses to sugarcoat but still makes you feel safe.
The ideas in the book struck me hardest when she leaned into the quiet magic of family. I loved the way she wrote about ordinary dinners and car rides like they were part of some greater ritual. She does not romanticize, not really, but she shows how beauty hides in the mess. The small spells are the ones you don’t notice until later. That theme ran through the whole book, and I kept nodding along. Sometimes I wished she had held back on a detail here or there, since the sheer weight of memory can be overwhelming, but maybe that is the point. Grief is overwhelming, and she lets us feel it without guardrails.
Just a Little Witch, Mostly a Mom is tender and fierce, funny and tragic, messy and beautiful. I would recommend it to readers who like memoirs that feel alive with both pain and humor, especially those who have lost someone close or who believe in the strange magic of ordinary life.
Pages: 295
LITERARY TITAN 