This one sounds pretty exciting: queer retelling of The Little Mermaid, with Ursula as the heroine, including a Norse warrior girl and visits from theThis one sounds pretty exciting: queer retelling of The Little Mermaid, with Ursula as the heroine, including a Norse warrior girl and visits from the god Loki. There was a lot to like about this: I enjoyed the strength of Ersel’s relationship with her mother, and the complicatedness of her relationship with her friend. Loki’s character is also rather enjoyable: they’re genderfluid, and a true trickster: you’re never quite sure what they want and why.
Ultimately, it did feel a little thin to me at times, though, and the general background of misogyny and nastiness toward the female merpeople was a little unbearable to read. Not that I’d expected pure sunshine and puppies, but I wasn’t quite ready for the torture and enforced pregnancies, etc, etc. I could’ve done with more development of the relationship between Ersel and Ragna, too: it started well, but I found myself wondering how well they really knew each other at all, how likely it would be for their bond to actually be stable and lasting, given all the differences between them and the slenderness of their acquaintance.
So, an interesting retelling, but not in the end my thing.
It took me a while to get a handle on where this would fall exactly in terms of genre and audience; part of it really strongly reminded me of Joanne HIt took me a while to get a handle on where this would fall exactly in terms of genre and audience; part of it really strongly reminded me of Joanne Harris’ Chocolat, though I think it’s more intended for the YA market than that book was. Once I got into it, I really enjoyed it: some lovely writing, some very creepy scenes, and lovely use of fairytale tropes — the original sort of brutal, horrible fairytales, not the sanitised versions. I think the pacing was a bit jerky at times. Given the fairytale setting, I don’t think I can really complain about some of the rules not seeming clear/consistent at times… Fairytales are like that, and it spills into the book as a whole.
I enjoyed the fact that the ending didn’t go with anything too easy… though I’ve learnt that this is a series, or at least that there’s going to be another book. I’m somewhat reluctant to read it, actually, in case it changes Finch’s ending — that just seemed so apropos after what we see through the rest of the book.
Received to review via Netgalley; publication date 3rd October 2017
I didn’t really know what to expect going into this book. Fairyland, with missionarReceived to review via Netgalley; publication date 3rd October 2017
I didn’t really know what to expect going into this book. Fairyland, with missionaries? Hm. And then it kept sounding like a Gothic novel, too. Really, it delightfully combines all of that stuff: deep philosophical ponderings about the nature of fairies, fairies which are cruel and truth-telling and difficult to understand, and Gothic atmosphere and twists. The pace can be a little slow at times, and I’ll admit I called both of the twists regarding a certain character… but I enjoyed the atmosphere and the way the various puzzles built up and came to a conclusion.
If you’re not interested in something dark and twisted, step away. And if you’re really allergic to theological stuff, bear in mind that the main character is really pious, and the other main character is actually clergy. The fact that Jeannette Ng knows her stuff re: medieval and missionary theology is really clear, and the characters wonder about it and struggle with it to an extent that you might find boring. I was a little lost by it, honestly, but interested enough in the overall puzzle of it to keep going. And I really love the way the Fae are portrayed: confusing and cruel and capricious and, yes, beautiful but alien.
Overall, it does a lot right and I’m pretty intrigued by the world. The pacing is sometimes a little off, but that’s pretty much part and parcel of the Gothic atmosphere.
Received to review via Netgalley; publication date 26th September 2017
While these stories are set in Bardugo’s Grisha-verse, you don’t really need to Received to review via Netgalley; publication date 26th September 2017
While these stories are set in Bardugo’s Grisha-verse, you don’t really need to have read those books (or remember them in great detail) if you fancy reading this: it’s a little collection of twisted fairytales, somewhat shaped by the world of the Grisha, somewhat just by Bardugo’s responses to old stories. There’s a version of Hansel and Gretel, a sort of prequel to ‘The Little Mermaid’, a retelling of the story of the Nutcracker…
Each story has a certain magic, and Bardugo handles them well: they feel like fairytales, while also feeling fresh and new. I liked Ulla’s story in particular, the last one in the collection — but I liked the perspective Bardugo took on each of them. For example, the sting in the tail of her Hansel and Gretel retelling… But I’d better not say too much.
Suffice it to say it’s a great little collection, and it’s probably going to be a beautiful book in hardcopy, too. I recommend it if you love fairytale retellings as well as if you’re a fan of the Grisha-verse.
Received to review via Netgalley; publication date 3rd May 2017
There was a lot of potential for this to go really wrong, since it features an aromantiReceived to review via Netgalley; publication date 3rd May 2017
There was a lot of potential for this to go really wrong, since it features an aromantic and asexual character in a typically heavily romance-is-your-happy-ever-after world. Princess Anette has to get married, and she’s not interested in the idea at all. It’s not the prince in particular: it’s the idea in general. She’s not interested in sex or romance at all; she doesn’t feel a lack of it in her life, she doesn’t even really feel curious about it.
But she has to get married all the same, to the son of Briar Rose, and everyone around her assures her that it’ll happen. She’ll find her happy ending with the prince.
Well, eventually she does, but not in the simple way they expect. Fortunately, she remains true to her stated identity throughout, without wavering; in that sense, the author deals with having an aro-ace character perfectly. And the setting is kind of cool, with various other fairytales popping their heads up to say hello — people are descending from a princess who could feel a pea through a hundred mattresses, witches can make jewels come out of your mouth whenever you speak, and three old spinning women have attended quite some weddings in their time as honoured guests. I liked all those references, and the way the story follows the logic of fairytales.
At times it does feel a little simplistic, but it takes a lot of work and space to build something really solid onto the fairytale base, and perhaps it’s wrong to expect it. The one thing that does feel wrong to me is that the antagonist is also aro-ace, and it motivates him to be a real ass to everyone. I get that bitterness and loneliness can really mess you up, but ugh.
The Prince of the Moon is a fairytale-like story of princes, queens and curses, along with true love, a pure heart, anReceived to review via Netgalley
The Prince of the Moon is a fairytale-like story of princes, queens and curses, along with true love, a pure heart, and other such trappings of the genre. The difference being that the witch burning may not be entirely justified — certainly there are at least two good witches in the story — and the people who have been cursed may just deserve it somewhat. Oh, and the romantic couple are both men, but that’s becoming more common lately and honestly didn’t feel like the point of the story. Which is kind of exciting, actually! M/M fairytales which aren’t just about changing genders, but also about interrogating other aspects of the story, like the wicked witch and her son.
It’s pretty short and mostly sweet, and the romance feels a little bit rushed… but on the other hand, of course it does: this is coming out of fairytales, after all. The only thing I honestly don’t get is why Solae keeps trying to help his family, when it’s fairly clear no one has ever stretched out a hand to him. He’s a good person, and yet he’s learned that goodness all out of nowhere.
Then again: it’s a fairytale. Who taught Rapunzel to be good?
The sex scenes are, well, not terrible or laughable or awkward, but neither were they necessary to the story. I just skipped past them, given lack of interest. But there is sex in this book, if that matters to you.
Once upon a time, people who weren't interested in sex (or who weren't interested in sex to the expected level, or people who were only interested in Once upon a time, people who weren't interested in sex (or who weren't interested in sex to the expected level, or people who were only interested in sex with very particular people) found each other and realised it was a thing, and started to support each other and make a space to talk about how it affected them. And it was great, because it made people a little less alone.
But it's not always obvious to everyone that this describes them, that this is a useful community to have, etc. So if you'd like to understand a little more about it via the medium of a fairytale, Lynn O'Connacht has got you covered -- and the booklet also includes an essay explaining things a little further, and a list of fiction which contains characters who share this experience. The focus in this case is specifically demisexuality, but honestly I think it's something relevant to anyone on the asexual spectrum, or anyone curious about it.
Disclaimer: I helped to edit the non-fiction essay, and Lynn is a friend of mine.
You can find the ebook here! You'll be pleased to know that it's "pay what you want", so if things are tight, you can still pick it up....more
In favour of me enjoying this book: I love retellings, especially ones which add in a bit of diversity or something Received as a gift from the author
In favour of me enjoying this book: I love retellings, especially ones which add in a bit of diversity or something else that updates the story. Not in favour: it’s a verse novel, and in free verse at that. I’m terrible and tend to prefer really structured poetry. Oh, and Lynn chose to use emoticons in the text, which she had solid reasoning for, but I am apparently just a cranky traditionalist and it tended to pull me out of things rather than add to it — though it does add something to how to read the lines, where in some places I wasn’t sure quite how to take the tone. I wouldn’t have known whether I was right or wrong without the emoticons, so they’re not without purpose.
So what did I think overall? Despite being not-for-me in some ways, I did enjoy reading it, and I read it quite fast — I’m glad I didn’t follow the web serial version, because I am an impatient creature. There’s some awesome lines and use of imagery, and some things just come across beautifully: one example is the mermaid’s love of dancing, for instance, and another is the quiet bond between the mermaid and the prince.
I shouldn’t spoil the story, because at the time of writing (August) the web serial is still running. Suffice it to say that I enjoyed this take on the story, and especially the role of the Witch and her more complex than usual motivations....more
In terms of the psychoanalysis here, which is heavily based on Freud’s work, it sounds like a lot of rubbish to me. And if you know Bettelheim’s work In terms of the psychoanalysis here, which is heavily based on Freud’s work, it sounds like a lot of rubbish to me. And if you know Bettelheim’s work from his work on autism, you’re not entirely safe from that here — he only mentions it once or twice, but it’s still jarringly wrong. Still, some of his analyses of the texts on a literary level do make sense, and his suggestions of how some people might apply their own lives in understanding and interpreting them are fascinating. As a literary work, The Uses of Enchantment is a bit of a classic, and if you’re a first year English Lit student wondering why Red Riding Hood’s signature colour signifies her coming to sexual maturity, well, it’s got you covered.
Reading it now, eh. I can appreciate some of the stories he tells about the way people relate to stories, even if the psychoanalysis behind it is laughable at times. (Warning: I was raised by a psychiatrist. I haven’t read Freud for myself, just absorbed a healthy disdain through my mother and what I encountered as a lit student.) Some of his comments on why fairytales endure while modern morality stories don’t work, too. But overall… shrug?
Sometimes surprisingly sweet, sometimes surprisingly dark, this retelling of The Snow Queen turns things upside-down in quiet ways. It’s fairly traditSometimes surprisingly sweet, sometimes surprisingly dark, this retelling of The Snow Queen turns things upside-down in quiet ways. It’s fairly traditional in the set-up, and you can recognise each incident as you go along… until you meet Mousebones, the raven. He adds a lot of life to the story with his snarky comments and unique perspective. And then there’s Janna, the robber princess, who has rather more of a role in this version than I remember from Hans Christian Anderson’s — one he probably would not have thought of, really.
This is actually, though it isn’t immediately clear, a lesbian retelling of The Snow Queen — one that isn’t too surprising when you think about the robber princess’ fondness for Gerta in the original (or at least, the version I remember reading). It works really well, and the addition of the reindeer skin magic and the… weirdness when Janna has to slit Gerta’s reindeer-throat to bring her back to normal — that little bit of darkness works really well and brings some more colour and warmth into The Snow Queen; something I think is lacking in the original, rather pious and obvious story.
I don’t love it as much as Bryony and Roses, for example, but it is a well done retelling.
I’m having a hard time putting together what I thought of this book, but perhaps it boils down to one thing: communication, damn it! Between brother aI’m having a hard time putting together what I thought of this book, but perhaps it boils down to one thing: communication, damn it! Between brother and sister, between friends, between parents and their children, between faerie princes and the people they hope will help them. And especially with people you want to kiss.
Seriously, half the issues here would be mitigated by communication; if Hazel talked to Ben, if Ben talked to Hazel. Jack’s the only one I somewhat let off the hook, because he’s part faerie and geasa/odd restrictions are part of the stock in trade. (Actually, I mostly liked the portrayal of the faerie people; cruel and wild and sometimes beguiling, with bits of traditional fairy stories all over the place, and fairytale narrative styles as well — things coming in threes, for instance. The portrayal of people, in general, the suspicions of Jack, the apathy regarding anything that doesn’t touch directly on the community — that all worked quite well.)
I can’t help but feel that I would’ve been more interested in Ben’s story, because Hazel is so necessarily divided from herself by the plot. There’s stuff happening to her, and you don’t really know what or why, because even though she’s the focus character, there are gaps and omissions. It makes sense, but I kind of wanted Ben’s story more — probably especially because he’s not straight, and he is in the end the most entangled with the faerie world.
I do enjoy Jack’s characterisation a lot; his resolution to get the best of both worlds, to be a human while he can. His caring for his brother (double), his human parents, and the call to the faerie side of him as well — his insistence on living a mortal life while he can and appreciating his human family, his human connections, because he has all the time in the world for the rest.
I think ultimately, the book didn’t stand out enough for me, but it is interesting.
It didn’t surprise me when I finished reading this and read T. Kingfisher’s note that it was inspired originally by Robin McKinley’s Rose Daughter. ItIt didn’t surprise me when I finished reading this and read T. Kingfisher’s note that it was inspired originally by Robin McKinley’s Rose Daughter. It’s definitely not the same story, but something of the same atmosphere came across, and of course there’s the gardening aspect which is important in both. This explores the force that punishes the Beast rather more, I think: rather than a long-standing curse which fades into a known factor in the background, the Beast’s curse is very much an active thing which can be affected by things that Bryony and the Beast do.
There’s a rather darker background to this story, too, with the ivy spirit wound throughout the story, the dead girl and the bloodstained room, the cruelties of the ivy spirit. There’s also more sense in why the curse came to be, explaining both the cruelty of it and the helping magic of the house.
I thought it was a very good interpretation, and it’s amazing how authors can make the Beast loveable, every time. He’s kind and a bit snarky and he’s a craftsman, and he’s also willing to muck in and work with Bryony in her garden.
And Bryony’s family is pretty satisfying too, the support of her sister and the fact that she’s basically the support for her family, with her father long out of the picture. It’s got all the elements of the traditional fairytale, but gives them more depth and takes it in surprising directions.
The Frog Princess is one of my sister’s favourite comfort-reads, so it was the first thing she thought to recommend when I had a reading challenge proThe Frog Princess is one of my sister’s favourite comfort-reads, so it was the first thing she thought to recommend when I had a reading challenge prompt to read something recommended by a family member. It takes a generic medieval-ish setting (castles, royalty, witches), and the usual Frog Prince story, and gives it a little twist to complicate it. If you’ve seen Disney’s The Princess and the Frog, you know the basic twist — apparently, the film was somewhat based on this book, though my sister disagrees about the whole idea. (Setting is different, characters different, etc, etc.)
It’s fun enough, though because it’s aimed at — well, I’m not good at judging: middle grade, perhaps? Whatever that means in British terms… — anyway, say middle grade, it’s pretty slight. It has a fairly clever and strong-minded heroine, who is not the perfect sort of princess — a princess who laughs in entirely the wrong way, and is clumsy about everything she does. That’s an okay role model for kids, even if the whole story basically rushes her towards adulthood and romance, whether she likes it or not.
The main male character is mostly insufferable. Randomly demanding kisses, acting as entitled as they come, boastful… The romance itself, though it has some cute moments, fails to enchant me.
In terms of other characters, there’s some interesting and funny stuff going on in the background, like the character of the snake and the bat. All in all, cute enough, though it’s not something I’ll come back to the way my sister does — wrong point in my life entirely for it to become charmingly nostalgic.
Beauty wraps up the trilogy, tying the books together even more and linking even more fairytales. It’s written in the same style as the previous two, Beauty wraps up the trilogy, tying the books together even more and linking even more fairytales. It’s written in the same style as the previous two, and illuminates some points from the other books — including the characters of the Prince and the Huntsman. It’s all a little too neat for my tastes, and I think this might’ve been my least favourite of the books; the gruesomeness and sex was exaggerated even further, and we spend far too much time with the Prince, who we know is not exactly the nicest of characters. (Though perhaps this book explains it, somewhat!)
The ending, the epilogue part, was just infuriating — is this the end of a trilogy? Are there more books coming? I’m confused; it seems to promise that there will be resolution of this plot, at some point, maybe, but not now? The character is just left hanging in the most infuriating sort of way: there’s a way out of her situation, right, so what is it? I want to know! (Though the choice to combine Sleeping Beauty and Beauty and the Beast is quite fun taken as a concept, I just wish there was an actual resolution.)
I do like the way that Pinborough has twisted and combined the fairytales into one landscape of story. It might be a bit too clever by half, but I’ve been getting used to it, and it’s kind of fun to play spot-the-fairytale — and also spot the references to other people’s versions. The language works well, although it makes the sexual imagery all the more surprising — reading it, you’d think it’d be suitable for a child, or almost. And then… oh. Perhaps not!
I liked Charm more than the first book, but I’m still somewhat wondering exactly what to think about this. There’s less of a focus on sex in this bookI liked Charm more than the first book, but I’m still somewhat wondering exactly what to think about this. There’s less of a focus on sex in this book than in Poison, and what there is ends up feeling less exploitative and like power-play. Indeed, two of the scenes include a lot of tenderness, for quite different reasons. I can appreciate the world created, in which sex isn’t a huge deal but can be a way to share joy.
It’s also an interesting set-up world-wise, with Robin Hood making an appearance and more references to Hansel and Gretel, etc. It’s all a bit too wildly promiscuous about the stories mingling for my taste — there seems little rhyme or reason behind it — but it’s kind of fun to figure the references out, anyway.
As with the first book, the narration remains fairytale-like, and the twists on the original story are quite fun. For example, the ‘ugly’ step-sisters aren’t really ugly at all, and Cinderella’s hatred of her step-mother is rather unjust… but she is lower class than them and she does work around the house, and she doesn’t go to the balls. And her sister, Rose, tries to cut off her own toes to fit the shoe… because she believes it’s what her mother would want. The characters aren’t necessarily likeable, but for me that isn’t so much an issue with the clever sort of tale chosen here. I think you’re only meant to be able to sympathise with Rose, and not so much Cinderella. It’s showing up the selfishness of pursuing a dream to others’ cost.
I’m definitely going to read the third book, Beauty; the three aren’t that closely linked together, I think, but thematically they compliment each other — and the Fairy Godmother is someone you’ll recognise if you’ve read Poison…
This is a difficult book to decide about, for me. I like the narration, the way it’s written; it’s deceptively simply written, with that fairytale likThis is a difficult book to decide about, for me. I like the narration, the way it’s written; it’s deceptively simply written, with that fairytale like tone, and yet there’s a lot of rewriting going on. It’s not just the sexual content, but also the ambivalent attitude to the same. There’s casual sex, sex for power, shameful sex… You’d think it would be sex positive, with the powerful figures of Snow White and Lilith, but it really isn’t; sex is a thing that people seem to use to control each other, it’s just taking of power.
I’m not a big fan of all that, though I’m thinking that probably wasn’t what the author wanted a reader to take away from the story. But the ambivalence isn’t just about the portrayal of sex: it’s also about Lilith, the wicked stepmother. She’s young, she used to laugh, and Snow wants to get through to her… but she’s transforming into something wicked. There’s a commentary there on power and powerlessness, too. Sometimes it seems like we’re meant to pity Lilith, to believe she’s doing things wrong but wishing she could get them right. Sometimes she just seems hateful. The line isn’t walked delicately enough to keep both sides in sight.
There’s also all the allusions to other stories — Aladdin, Hansel and Gretel — which felt too obtrusive to be clever, to me.
I’m planning to read Charm, and maybe Beauty as well, and that might help me figure out what to think.
I actually bought this initially, but the Netgalley page said something about it being an updated version, so I went for it. I originally picked it upI actually bought this initially, but the Netgalley page said something about it being an updated version, so I went for it. I originally picked it up for the promise of a heroic little hedgehog, and I was very happy with that aspect — the hedgehog is brave, helpful, clever, and funny. It can’t speak, so it communicates with the protagonist via miming and yes/no answers. It sounded so cute. I want one!
The story itself, aside from the hedgehogs, is a nice reimagining of a Bluebeard fairytale — but darker, really, because instead of death, the antagonist steals things of worth from the women he marries — their voices, their eyes, their ability to die — and leaves them alive. I found the tone somewhat at odds with the perceived historical/mythological time it was set in; the protagonist was too modern in thought and sensibility in some ways, it seemed. But overall, I found it very enjoyable, and I loved the way it treated the other characters. The other wives, for example, are each different, some very strange, and each of them copes with what has happened to them in a different way. As people do.
I originally received this to review, but I bought a copy in the end anyway. I was actually a little bit nervous about doing so, as Throne of Glass diI originally received this to review, but I bought a copy in the end anyway. I was actually a little bit nervous about doing so, as Throne of Glass didn’t wow me the way it did so many other people, but in fact I liked this even more. The writing style is slightly more mature — as is the romance content, actually, but that doesn’t matter much to me — and it engages with fairytales/folktales I love. There’s a bit of Beauty and the Beast (with some of the now-traditional elements like the library making an appearance in a slightly different way), a bit of Tam Lin, some fae lore in general, and something that’s just for this book. I enjoyed the way it pulled in those elements, made those references, but made its own story.
Every time I thought I’d figured out what I thought about a character, there’d be another aspect revealed: Alis’ forthrightness, Lucien’s slow coming to terms with Feyre’s presence, Rhysand’s character… it was very satisfying to have the characters developing/changing/growing all the way through.
Feyre herself is really cool. She’s capable, strong, but only because she has to be. She taught herself to hunt, to swim, to protect her family. She’s not Celaena 2.0; she has different interests, a whole different focus. I enjoyed that the book was pretty sex-positive and reasonable about that kind of thing: no random fits of horrible jealousy over things which don’t mean that much, no implication that all previous relationships were wrong…
I’m not sure what I hope for with other books. I’d like to see how Elain and Nesta are getting on; I’d like to see how Feyre goes forward from the end of this book; I’d be equally happy following Rhysand or Lucien… I’m looking forward to it, regardless — and that little bit more eager to get onto reading Crown of Midnight, too.
I’ve been meaning to read this for ages — I love the idea of a retelling of the Twelve Dancing Princesses set in the world of Manhattan during prohibiI’ve been meaning to read this for ages — I love the idea of a retelling of the Twelve Dancing Princesses set in the world of Manhattan during prohibition. It just sounded fascinating: how could it be transformed, how would it play out? The answer is: fairly loosely. That’s not a criticism — I think sticking too rigidly to the story would have killed this book. Instead of sticking to a particular version, it makes its own, with other fairytale elements coming in: the wicked father, the dead mother, the twelve unwanted and unseen daughters, it’s all the stuff of fables. I think the transformation worked really well.
On the level of the characters and plot apart from the retelling — which can sometimes be enjoyable just for its own sake — I loved the way it picks out a few of the girls and makes them distinct, different, disparate people all trapped together. Most of it is limited to Jo’s point of view: she’s the older sister, and she’s used to making sacrifices for the others, and to her sisters regarding her as the unbending ‘General’, rather than a feeling person. This is done really well, especially in the section after they escape: Jo has to learn how to deal with life without having eleven other people to think of, and she doesn’t know what to do — without them relying on her, who is she?
Overall, I enjoyed it a lot; I think the only thing that would’ve made it better was maybe more time with some of the other sisters, even if it was only the more clearly drawn ones like Lou, Doris and Ella. That would have given a different and closer perspective on the girls, been a way to get to know them in other ways. Nonetheless, it makes sense that there wasn’t space for it — and I wouldn’t want this book to get bloated, since I thought it was perfectly paced.
Read this one for the Cardiff SFF Book Club. I’m not the biggest fan of Angela Carter, having read a couple of her books back during my BA, but I do lRead this one for the Cardiff SFF Book Club. I’m not the biggest fan of Angela Carter, having read a couple of her books back during my BA, but I do love fairy tales, so I was ready to give it a go anyway. Turns out, it isn’t a book of fairy tales by Angela Carter (which to be fair, having read The Bloody Chamber, wouldn’t be unexpected), but edited by her. She wrote a fairly scholarly introduction to it, acknowledging colonial bias, etc, etc, and commenting on the content. I’m… probably going to read that again before the book club meeting to see if I want to discuss anything from that angle.
Then comes the collection. The ordering is roughly thematic, although some stories would fit in multiple categories. Despite Carter’s acknowledgement of the limitations of her collection (due to her lack of linguistic skills), it is a pretty diverse collection, with fairy and folk tales from all kinds of cultures and time periods. It’s not just the traditional ones, but variations thereof and whole new stories that are more foreign to a Western audience in their preoccupations (I was a bit puzzled by the mothers turning into lionnesses and dogs forming from their saliva, for example). It can get a little repetitive — a Cinderella story is, ultimately, a Cinderella story: many cultures have it, and we know how it typically goes — but it probably didn’t help that I read this in the space of two days. The tellings chosen are usually fairly clear, and Carter avoided editorialising them too much, so it’s not a chore to read at all. My version does have some proofing errors like missing quotation marks, which was kind of irritating, especially when you’re trying to figure out which character is saying what in some of the more dialogue-heavy sections.
Overall, though, it’s an enjoyable read, and one I’ll keep around. Fairy tales are such a fun way to tell a story: they’ve been evolving so long, so they’re flexible, and they’re so familiar that when you make a change, it’s obvious what that change was and what you want to highlight. It can be a way to write marginalised people back into society, etc… They’re so rich and full of possibility.