If you do one thing this Halloween, watch Over the Garden Wall

When I was seven years old I threw my first Halloween party.

It was me, my friend Jenny, and my immediate family, who were there by default.  I made a pin-the-tail-on-the-black-cat game.  We bobbed for apples and then dipped them in caramel.

The year before, at the age of 6, instead of trying to form words in my daily journal at school, I drew ghosts, tombstones, haunted houses, jack-o-lanterns, spider webs, and witches, all throughout the month of October.  I couldn't write and I could barely read.  But the archetypes of Halloween possessed my pages.  Barely over five years earth-side and the symbols of the season resonated to my roots, like memories from a past life.

Indeed it is a kind of shared cultural memory: the burning autumn trees and pumpkin lanterns and hay rides.  It is a Halloween that exists on a different level of reality; it is a country that touches, or is a county within, Fairyland.  Its denizens and theirs commingle.

When I saw Over the Garden Wall, I recognised it immediately.  Here was my Halloween.  The invisible but palpable dream Halloween of my childhood, which sometimes crosses the threshold from its land into ours.  Crossroads, liminal seasons, leylines draw it, same attracting same.  This animated series is a profound and insightful work of art made with reverence and levity, at once a homage and a carrying on of the tradition of the Halloween of memory, the cultures, and peoples, and the traditions that have joined joined the soup; of the land of loose boundaries, of death and life, and what fairy tales mean.

I could write reams and reams about this series and how it earns its place in the canon of traditional fairy tales.  How it draws from the Grimms, and Americana, and the existential questions people ask themselves late at night when the fire dies down and the stars remain.  The superb acting talent absorbed into the story.  The reminiscent animation style, the humor, the character growth and arcs, the shared human antagonist--so embedded in the subconscious that we know him intimately, though we ever only see him fully for less than a second.

But I don't have time for that now.  I have lanterns to light and icons to dress and dead to pray for and anticipate.  So I'll just say this: if you do one thing this Halloween, watch Over the Garden Wall.

I Want Out of the Woods

A Review of Into the Woods

Admittedly, I know nothing of the musical Into the Woods besides a heavily edited high school performance seen well over a decade ago.  It didn't make an impression then either.  The premise of the story, an intertwining of plots and characters from several fairy tales (Grimm originals, to boot), seemed promising.  That and the the all-star cast line-up enticed me to click play while I was browsing Netflix one evening.

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The beginning is the best part of the whole film.  It only goes downhill from there.  The way the stories wove together were, well...passable.  And that's the best I can say about it.

I liked the setup, placing the baker and his wife into the Rapunzel tale.  The expectation of things coming together, especially the opening song, had my attention.  Emily Blunt performs very well as the Baker's Wife, combining musical dialogue with humor.  I'm fond of James Corden and pleased with his casting.  Little Red Riding Hood's introduction as the glutton is cute as well.  Interesting parallels there between her and the wolf.

As the movie played on, I felt a gaping lack of attachment to the characters--other than Mr. and Mrs. Baker: infertility is a profound struggle that touches far too many.  And Emily Blunt carried that for me.  The princes bored me to tears.  Rapunzel was a nobody; Cinderella was, as the witch says, merely "nice;" and the children are downright annoying.  Is the head-slapping relationship between Jack and his mother supposed to be endearing?

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Meryl Streep's character is meant to express moral ambiguity, I get it, but there should have been some sort of tie-in between the bakers' infertility and her kidnapping the baker's sister to be her adoptive daughter.  What we get is tiresome sung-exposition.  Insert the Willy Wonka Gene Wilder meme here:  Tell me again about the complex parent-child relationship that plays out in complex ways and is complex!!!!  The witch having never previously expressed a desire for a child and the total lack of screen time between her and her "daughter" killed the effectiveness of any would-be emotional impact.  We could have done with a little character development.

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In the end, the characters all work together and all get their wishes.

But--this musical wants to slap it into our heads as surely as Jack's mother--you should be careful what you wish for.  After the curtains close on the traditional endings, there is still another dragging hour of  movie left; during which, in-between trying to avoid the wrath of a giantess, they all come together to be communally unsatisfied.  A theme that feels heavy-handed and forced, desperate to join the lineup of postmodernist deconstructed fairy tales.  The deaths are stupid and pointless.  The ending utterly anti-climactic.  Into the Woods tries be profound and it's just not.  Somehow, that is worse than if they'd decided to say "sod it all!" and just make something fun and ridiculous.

Wikipedia reports that the play's

basic insight ... is at heart, most fairy tales are about the loving yet embattled relationship between parents and children. Almost everything that goes wrong — which is to say, almost everything that can — arises from a failure of parental or filial duty, despite the best intentions.

Nothing that the original stories didn't already do, and do better.

What did you think of this film?  How does it compare to the musical?  Did I miss something essential that would have otherwise earmarked this a landmark production?

Krampusnacht Two

Enchanted Conversation, the fairy tale magazine, and World Weaver Press are soliciting stories for a second Krampus-themed publication.  The submission period is open until August 15th, so if you missed your chance for the last collection or are having some midsummer cravings for writing about winter, dive in.

Sirens from World Weaver Press

Hi, readers!  Look what showed up in my inbox the other day.  A new release, check it out!

Sirens are beautiful, dangerous, and musical, whether they come from the sea or the sky. Greek sirens were described as part-bird, part-woman, and Roman sirens more like mermaids, but both had a voice that could captivate and destroy the strongest man. The pages of this book contain the stories of the Sirens of old, but also allow for modern re-imaginings, plucking the sirens out of their natural elements and placing them at a high school football game, or in wartime London, or even into outer space.

Featuring stories by Kelly Sandoval, Amanda Kespohl, L.S. Johnson, Pat Flewwelling, Gabriel F. Cuellar, Randall G. Arnold, Micheal Leonberger, V. F. LeSann, Tamsin Showbrook, Simon Kewin, Cat McDonald, Sandra Wickham, K.T. Ivanrest, Adam L. Bealby, Eliza Chan, and Tabitha Lord, these siren songs will both exemplify and defy your expectations.  

Sirens will be available in trade paperback and ebook via Amazon.com, Barnesandnoble.com, Books-a-Million, Kobo, World Weaver Press, iBookstore, IndieBound and OmniLit, and for wholesale through Ingram.  

Snow Queen and the Huntsman?

I'm both intrigued by and worried about the upcoming Huntsman: Winter's War.  I have a soft spot in my thorny heart for Snow White and the Huntsman.  Besides being a gorgeous film, there were some vivid fairy tale archetypes and themes that hit my sweet spot: the waste land, the white stag, Ravenna as a crow queen and beauty as a weapon, etc.  It looks like this film is going to continue in that direction of powerful imagery, but I'm still hesitant to get my hopes too high.  At this point it's more of a general, nondescript feeling than a handful of solid reasons.

It's strange that the huntsman-part of the first film was made the series anchor.  At the end of SWATH, it felt like it was setting up for a sequel that would follow Snow, with a Snow White and the ____ title.  Ravenna was dead.  Okay, so they resurrected her.  I'll suspend disbelief.  But this is both a before and after with the supposedly defeated queen.  (Though I adored Charlize Theron's performance--that alone is worth watching!)

The adoption and expansion of the role of Hemsworth's huntsman will forever change our perception of the first film, and I don't like movies that do that.  I think it's sloppy story-telling, it changes the already-powerful and satisfyingly vague backstory of Ravenna in the first film.  I understand that they couldn't get Kristen Stewart back for a sequel, but they're creatives . . . they could have figured something out.  (For that matter, how about Emily Blunt in the role of Snow White?  She's a much better actress than Stewart.)

We've already had one Snow Queen disaster with Disney's Frozen.  Andersen's tale is my favorite, and I don't take kindly to loose or artless interpretations.  Emily Blunt's character could be done very well or not.   Though there is a symmetry in making the villain from Snow White and the Snow Queen related.  Come to think of it, wouldn't a better title have been Snow Queen and the Huntsman?

There's lots more that I'm wondering at; some of which make sense, I suppose, for entertainment purposes, but which doesn't please my demanding since of aesthetic!  I'm all over the map on this one, so enough from me.  What do you think?

Spindle as Sleight-of-Hand: A Book Review

The Sleeper and the Spindle by Neil Gaiman

This is my second attempt at reading Neil Gaiman's work.  I started, got half-way through, and then sort of trickled off from reading Stardust.  I got a bit further with the movie version but with ultimately the same fate.

I mention this in full disclosure, in case my first impression unfairly colored the second.

I'm fascinated with spinning, so one look at the title of this book and I had to read it.  I was also drawn by the atmospheric black, white, and gold illustrations, drawing tangents with alchemy.  Though Chris Riddell's style is less "pretty" than I (personally) like, its quiet irreverence goes well with the sardonic narration, and its intricacy reflects the tangles of thorns, thickets, and themes of the source fairy tales.

In brief summary, a sort of Snow White, now queen, is reported to by three of her dwarfs.  A sleeping sickness is spreading throughout the next door kingdom.  She decides she must go, leaving on the eve of her marriage donning armor and sword rather than a wedding gown.  The dwarfs lead her under the mountain ranges that no one can climb over, to the cursed kingdom, where they are advanced upon by zombie-like sleepers, until they reach the thorn-covered castle.  The queen burns the roses and thorns, they ascend the highest tower, find a cranky old woman and a beautiful sleeper.  The queen (Snow White) knows what to do . . . but when the kissed sleeper wakes, it turns out she was the witch, who used the spindle (no spinning wheel in this version) to steal the life and sleep from the princess, now aged and senile, and from the surrounding kingdom.  The queen refuses the offer to work for the beautiful witch, gives the spindle back to the old princess; the old princess stabs the youthful witch, undoing the sleeping spell on all the land, but not restoring the lost youth of herself.  Rather than returning home to the inevitable wedding, the queen and her dwarfs turn away toward unknown lands and further adventures.

I was intrigued by several elements in the story, such as the nature of the spell over the sleeping civilians, who appeared to speak out loud the slumbering princess's dreams; the impassibility of the mountain range; the fact that only the spiders were un-sleeping (later rendered less mysterious by the mention of moths and maggots); that the spindle alone was the culprit of enchantment; the Snow White and the Huntsman type heroine, who makes me curious to know the version of her own tale.

Despite its potential--namely, its expert selection of fairy tale archetypes--The Sleeper and the Spindle lacks impact.  The telling is bland and slow; the narrator's asides feel forced; motivations were obscure, yet somehow it lacked mystery.  

Then there is this irksome plot hole: why is the old princess able to kill the youthful witch at the end but not before then?  We are told that the witch's spell prevented her from harm, but how has it suddenly stopped working?  Even the witch seems confused by this, muttering, "It was only a scratch," as she crumbles to ashes.

Another plot hole: why wasn't the princess's youth returned along with her people's wakefulness?  These things are not explained, and not in the what-did-Bluebeard's-first-wife-do-to-get-killed kind of way.

I knew the sleeping beauty and the old woman were reversed roles, probably because I expected this sort of plot twist from the outset.  The woman-rescuing-woman element has grown trite, becoming the kind of thing one expects from a post-modernist fairy story.  At the end, I felt cheated: what interested in this story was mere sleight-of-hand, distracting from the fact that there really wasn't much happening.

There was a moment of fairy tale maturity, like a strong, high note in the story, when the queen withstands "temptation" to serve the young and beautiful witch because she has "learned to feel her own feelings."  When did that happen?  And how?  Wouldn't it have been so much more powerful to express that tangibly, rather than in narration, in some visible sign, some outward rejection manifesting itself physically in reality?  What experience in the original story caused this revelation?

I want to read that story.

The Sleeper and the Spindle gives the impression of trying a bit too hard; and in the end, though it is entertaining, it is neither very new nor captivating.

Good Things Come in Sevens: A Book Review

Seven Tales by G.C. McRae

My days are pretty much spoken for, what with an autistic four-year-old and an eight-month-old baby.  So it couldn't be a better time for a collection of short and enjoyable reads, to snatch up whenever I am able to collect a handful of minutes; thankfully, G.C. McRae kindly delivered!

You may have already read one or two of his tales, such as "The Sneaking Girl and the Other Queen," "The Dollmaker's Daughter," or "The Wishing Oak."  Now these original fairy tales are published with others in a collection titled Seven Tales.  (A simple title yet significant, like a pair of shoes or a ball of thread in a folk tale!)

Just when we'd imagined all possible fairy tales discovered, a brand new bunch proves their timelessness and immortality.  First, a discovery of tales a hundred years old, only recently released to the public; and now the charming collection by G.C. McRae, which remain true to fairy tale form but from the mind of a single author.

The most noteworthy impression left on reading Seven Tales is that I didn't notice they were making an impression!  It was all too easy to sink into them, following the intricate threads and the arrivals of characters old as time and common as rocks, but who spring out unexpected and un-called for, as true fairy tale people tend to do.

My favorite tale is "The Seven Sisters," in which seven princesses each pretend to be the same person in order to placate a queen who hates children, which keeps you guessing 'til the end and is pure entertainment.

These tales are also refreshingly devoid of deconstruction and schools of criticism.  And while I know we fairy tale scholars like to go on about our theories and models, all our chatter would be for naught if the normal people hadn't (blessedly!) ignored us and just told their good tales, as McRae has done.

I read these stories out loud to my children.  It seemed only appropriate.

Seven Tales is published by Ingram and will be available from all major booksellers on October 7th.

Some Cinderella Reviews

Just popping in with a few links.  I haven't got a chance to see the new Cinderella movie yet, so pending a review, here are some excellent thoughts by excellent people:

Wait and Be Rescued?  Thoughts on Heroic Boys and Damsels in Distress

Maleficent vs. Cinderella and the Heroes We Give Our Children

Charity Has Power and How Disney Didn't Ruin Cinderella

Enjoy!

Very! Inspiring

Well, what do you know?  I disappear for nine months and win an award!  I should go MIA more often!

Gypsy from Once Upon a Blog nominated me for The Very Inspiring Blogger Award.  Thanks, Gypsy!  Now I'm supposed to list seven things my readers may or may not know about me.

1. You might have guessed at the significance of a nine month absence--that's right, I had another baby!  It takes me all nine to ten months (still not sure how that works) to make a baby, during which time I am dead to the world because of illness, fatigue, and otherwise disinterest in a will to live.  It's all worth it in the end.  My second child was born on January 14, a little boy!
2. His name is Roan Reuel, and yes, Reuel is for the family name inherited and passed along to the descendants of JRR Tolkien.  No, we're not related (alas!).
3. I have naturally curly hair, like a hobbit.
4. I once held human bones that I picked out of the dirt in an excavation site beneath a church in Rome--a fraction of a skull and a vertebrae.  May he (or she, or they) rest in peace!
5. My rival hobby to fairy tales and writing is photography, and I've started my own small business here.
6. I'm a loyal Catholic.  Astute readers might have picked up on this already.
7. My older son (4 years old) has Autism.  I'm just bumbling among and figuring things out, but if you want to talk or have any resources to share, I'm here.

Now I'm supposed to nominate other bloggers for the Award, of which there is absolutely no obligation for them to participate.  I nominate:

• A.L. Loveday of The Honey-Coloured View
• Masha of Cyganeria
• Jenna of A Light Inside
• Anna of Don't Forget the Avocados
• Kelly of The Middle Page

I hope this is the beginning of a more regular posting schedule in 2015.  Thanks for sticking with me!

Bored to Death

A Review of Disney's Maleficent

The first thing I do after watching a movie is to head over to Rotten Tomatoes to peruse the film reviews by proper critics.  The second thing I do, if it is a fairy tale movie, is to hit up all my fairy tale blog peeps for a more balanced perspective.  Sadly, my colleagues have been rather silent on the matter, with a few exceptions, so I suppose I ought to help get the ball rolling.

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Before we go on, let us first note:  Here there be spoilers.

We've been hearing about Maleficent for years, but in the end my experience of the film can be summed up in one word: bored.  I don't know if I'm the best judge of entertainment, since I have a peculiar and finicky taste, but from the opening voice-over to the ending credits, I found little to hold my attention.  If it had not been for the pretty costuming and talented actresses, I might have lost interest entirely.  It was just all very tepid, underneath the fancy CG.  I didn't feel there was much at stake.  Maleficent lost her wings, and her love, but she was good and happy before she met Stefan and during his absence.  If she could walk into the castle to curse a baby, surely she could have retrieved her wings while she was at it.  Even the curse is tamed to a sleep-like death, without a desperate, last minute intervention from a good fairy.

"Mom, is that you?", source

The supporting characters are boiled down to their lowest common denominators, becoming tedious distractions rather than tools to help the story along.  Certainly not characters in their own rights, with complexities and inner goings-on.  

Stefan  is a kind of caricature born out of the necessity for a villain, and his motivation is weak.  The filmmakers need to give us a little bit more to work with if they want us to meet them in the middle; it's hard enough to believe that a kind boy, who would throw away his iron ring because it hurt a magical creature he only just met, would then become so heartlessly ambitious so as to turn around and try to kill the same creature, someone he cared for enough to have spent time growing up with her.

The pet raven is given a speaking voice by occasionally taking the form of a human but still doesn't have much to say.

In the end, Maleficent and Aurora alone are given room for growth and exploration, while the other characters and plot developments move around like props.  But even poor Aurora's character is charming and bland.  Her greatest moment is when she speaks out to the witch hiding in the shadows and does not recoil from her.  Not much of a monumental and memorable game-changer.

For me, the most engaging moment of the whole movie was when Maleficent stands over the sleeping Aurora and wills her curse undone, only to have it thrown back in her face.  And I credit all that to Ms. Jolie's powerful acting.  (Also done well in the moment she realizes her wings have been taken from her.  Maybe a tad melodramatic, but so wrenching and real that it made me hurt for her!)

Adam of Fairy Tale Fandom writes,

[Maleficent is] about two people and how their hearts become darkened by ambition, anger, bitterness and revenge. It’s also about how one of them starts to regain some light through exposure to someone who is good and innocent.

and I think he's absolutely right.  But I feel like the key relationship, between Maleficent and Aurora, is not given any time to develop, what between Maleficent watching her in her sleep and Aurora playing in the Moors with the magical creatures which are all show and no soul--the eeriness of Faerie is lost in this film, and I'd like to think I've cultivated a good radar for it.  In Brave, for instance, that otherworldliness remains intact.  It's hard for me to suspend disbelief and get behind Aurora's running away to the magical Moors forever, when it's just.  So.  Boring.

laughing and twirling and playing with magical creatures can only entertain me for so long
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Besides that, there were a lot of other little frustrations.  How did the writers choose which elements of their original movie to keep?  When does one draw the line?

"We won't have Maleficent turn into a dragon, but we still need a dragon, so we'll have someone else be it."

Or, "there's no need for thorns around the castle, but it's such a major element to the original, so we'll have thorns protecting Faerie instead."

Even the spinning wheel is chosen because Maleficent happens to see it when placing the curse.  I much prefer the mystery of not knowing to that.  Why would a benign fairy even be named Maleficent, for that matter?  I hoped it would be a name she took on, as she did her new staff and cloak.  But apparently her parents had a strange sense of humor, or else didn't have a dictionary on hand at her christening.

irrelevent but still interesting, source

When I was a little girl, I lived and breathed Sleeping Beauty.  It was my absolute favorite Disney movie.  I wanted to be Aurora/Briar Rose.  And I never wanted or needed an explanation for the, well, maleficence of Maleficent.

While I'm all for revisionist re-imaginings and villainous back stories, I worry this new trend is overlooking an important aspect of fairy tales: the fact that there is evil and ugliness in the world, just as there is hope and unspeakable beauty.  To try to reason away these things (or, as the case may be, relegate them to a bland, mortal antagonist) steals a little bit of their wonder, and it robs us of one of the great consolations of fairy tales.  Whatever the reasons may be for them, dragons exist, and so do wicked fairies.  Yet there is always hope: a low door in the wall, a maiden's tears; a magic circle, a fairy godmother; a hole in the spell, one last gift-bearer overlooked and forgotten.  The bad is not absolute, though it may seem impenetrable as a wall of thorns.

And even death becomes only sleep in the end.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and souls deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Family, Feuds, and Fairy Tales

Reading up recently on The Mabinogi has reminded me of the strong role of family in fairy tales and the sagas that came before them.  The Saga of Hrolf Kraki is a veritable family drama-fest, with brothers stealing each others' wives, and wives betraying husbands, and blood feuds, and boons and curses passing over generations.

Family ties were of utmost import in these pre-Christian societies, so that the slight of a kinsman was considered a grievous offense against one's person.  The same loyalty could start a war or keep a dangerous man from justice.  Often, disputes would arise between one's spouse and one's family member.  In my reading, the side of the blood-relative is almost always taken over that of the spouse.  And children, being tainted by half their blood, might suffer or be spared for the offending parent.

In the Mabinogi, Branwen, sister of the high king of Britain, is betrothed to the king of Ireland to keep peace between the two lands.  Branwen's other brother, however, finds insult in not being consulted about the marriage, and in a fit, slaughters the Irish king's horses.  The high king, Bran the Blessed, is himself greatly offended by their brother's doings, but rather than punish or disown him, offers recompense to the Irish king.  The Irish king takes the gifts and his bride, but does not forget the slight, and a series of events unfold that lead to the scouring of two mighty lands.  Branwen loses her child and dies of a broken heart before the end of it.

Branwen releasing a starling to send a message to her brother of her mistreatment at the hands of the Irish king, source

A similar deterioration occurs in late Arthurian legend, when Arthur will not--or cannot--decry the adultery between his wife and Sir Lancelot, a brother in honor and oath--since the arrival of Christianity, an even stronger bond than blood.  The adultery weakens the kingdom, and in this weakness, King Arthur's nephews are able to overthrow and mortally wound him.

Alan Lee,  the head of Bran the Blessed

I used to pinch the covers of my books in frustration at Bran and Arthur--surely, they could have avoided such tragedy by a firm decision and a swift act.  But the truth is that their situations are universal and entirely relevant.  The conflict of family loyalty and honor is as alive now as it was then.  And in the news on the television, and in our own personal lives, we too often encounter those who let toxic family relationships destroy all hope for happiness.

You Know You're a Fairy Tale Blogger When

Kristin from Tales of Faerie and Gypsy from Once Upon a Blog have instigated a bloggy carnival of fairy tale goodness and invited me to join!  Some of my admissions aren't a result of being a blogger so much as a general lover (and a passionate lover I am at that!), but blogging certainly aggravates the pre-existing condition.  So, without further ado:

You know you're a fairy tale blogger when . . .

• you always check the backs of wardrobes, just in case
• you tell your child not to pick flowers or kick rocks in the woods because "the fairies wouldn't like that"
• you ruin Disney viewings with friends with this helpful introduction: "in the original/oldest version of the tale. . ."
• you're on alert for even the slightest fairy tale tropes and underlying themes in modern movies and television shows
• ditto books
• you judge which television series to watch next on Netflix according to two criteria: (1) is this a fairy tale show? and (2) can I blog about it?  (see post on Ever After High here)
• you tell Grimm and Anderson versions of Disney movies whenever an opportunity arises (I told Anderson's The Little Mermaid to a seven-year-old while washing dishes)
• you swear you keep seeing Ents on your evening walks
• you dedicate an entire Pinterest account to collecting fairy tale art and images
• collecting and organizing those images take up an unwholesome amount of your time
• you pen letters (or want to) with a quill and ink
• you resolve to read the Harry Potter series because it's such a major player in the mythic/fairy tale genre
• you never tire of the observation that there are next to no fairies in fairy tales but plenty of fairies in folktales
• you write your college senior project on fairy tales
• you have more than one blog, and wrestle with simplifying by combining them, but just can't drop your fairy tale blog, even if it means less time and more work for you
• you know the difference between dwarfs, elves, goblins, pixies, gnomes, and fairies
• you know the difference between "dwarfs" and "dwarves"
• you sometimes "lose" fairy tale library books which are no longer in print (but they were so lonely and hadn't been checked out since 1968!)
• you leave cake out on All Hallows' Eve, to welcome lonely spirits, but would only ever admit this on a blog!
• the names Gerda and Kai and Hansel and Gretel are on your list of potential future baby names--bonus points for twins
• you're a bit of a snob about prissy boutiques and their cutesy "happily ever after" pillows and frogs-in-crowns cartoons on hand towels; like, what, are fairy tales a joke to you?
• and think, "they have no idea what a real fairy tale is" and "if only they knew they're creating the opposite of their desired effect!"
• you tire of the phrase "real life Cinderella," because you doubt there were any fairy godmothers or magical birds involved
• it's been said already but bears saying again: your Amazon wishlist is hurting for it!
• you learn to spin on a drop spindle on the sole merit of spinning's popularity in fairy tales
• you want to purchase a spinning wheel some day
• and fully intend to use it, not just for decoration
• your dream home is just short of a gingerbread house in the woods
• and you decorate your current home like one!
• you have a love-hate relationship with fairy tale interpretations because they are so interesting but because just the fairy tales themselves are more powerful than our attempts to understand them
• you make G.K. Chesterton the patron saint of your blog
• you write a fairy tale novel approximately ten years in the making
• you consider the admonition "you're living in a fairy tale!" a supreme compliment

I better stop before I use up everyone else's.  But I promise all of the above is true!  Other posts in the series so far by

Kristin from Tales of Faerie
Gypsy from Once Upon a Blog
Heidi of SurLaLune
Adam of Fairy Tale Fandom
Tahlia from Diamonds and Toads and Timeless Tales
Kate at Enchanted Conversation
Kristina at Twice Upon a Time
Reilly, co-founder of the Australian Fairy Tales Society

Reilly tagged me, and now I tag Megan of The Dark Forest!

Saint Walpurgis Eve

Saint Walpurga
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(please note: accuracy of article questionable)

Hallowe'en is a popular modern holiday evolved from the medieval festival, with roots in pre-Christian Europe.  But the average person doesn't celebrate, let alone know about, Hallows Eve's opposite and counterpart, St. Walpurgis Eve, the night before May Day, whose ancient name is Beltane.

Here in Wales, the holy day of May 1st survives only as a disembodied bank holiday, floating around the days of the week depending on the calendar year.  But that wasn't always the case.  It used to be a night of bonfires and blessings, drinking and feasting, of ritualistic acknowledgement of the changing seasons, and a celebration to usher in the fullness of spring.

There are four seasonal festivals that have been celebrated, in some shape or form, for over 2,000 years in the west: Hallowe'en/All Souls Day and Christmas Eve/Christmas survived the test of time, but Saint Walpurgis/May Day and Midsummer's Eve/Day, for some reason, lost their potency.  Their remnants are found in our cultural traditions.  Midsummer's Night was fortunate to be memorialized by Shakespeare's play, but vintage pictures of maypoles and skimming literary references keep May Day buzzing in the back of our consciousnesses, like static low on the television.  Even still, they are better known than the all-but-forgotten Saint Brigid's Day and Lamas Day, celebrated on February 1st and August 1st, respectively.

Ida Waugh, source

Some of these holy days mark the middle of the seasons rather than the beginning of them.  The summer and winter solstices recognize the approximate time when the lengthening or shortening of the days reverse or, as we know now, when the earth stands still and pauses before it starts to tilt in reverse direction.  But the ancient Gaelic festivals were somewhere between the end of one season and the beginning of another; associated with transitions, in all their forms, as thresholds where one is neither in nor out, neither here nor there.

The difference in calendars and the reckoning of seasons is difficult to grasp; I can hardly get my bearings on them myself.  I grew up with the popular seasonal groupings of spring (March, April, May), summer (June, July, August), autumn (September, October, November), and winter (December, January, February), but the ancient holy days suggest a different kind of division--especially in the remaining Catholic tradition of a the vigil, in which a new day begins at nightfall rather than sunrise.  By celestial time-keeping, however, all the seasons are bumped forward about a month.  By this reckoning, autumn starts in October, winter in January, etc.  Look up the "first day of autumn" and "the first day of winter" in your calendar diary, and you'll see what I mean!*

neo-Pagan "wheel of the year," source

Awareness of the season and where one is in the calendar is integral to folklore and fairy tales.  Brushes with the otherworld were most likely to occur on the liminal days (equinoxes), and even Midsummer could mean trouble for maidens and wandering children.  We can see how the seasonal waxing and waning, dying and awakening of the earth inspired folk traditions and daily living.  The seasonal changes weren't just about the weather.  They were near--and sometimes dear--realities.  Just like fairy tales.



*Tolkien adapted and elaborated on the seasons and the folk traditions to engineer personalized calendars for the races populating Middle Earth--right down to the Leap Days!

Sweetness and Bite: A Book Review

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making by Catherynne M. Valente

Turning to the fist page of The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland is like stepping into the midnight garden of the initiated--those who tenderly love fairy tales and Know What They're About, all sweetness and bite and none of the Disney sanitation.  The very first line of the novel is fair warning to the casual wader:

Once upon a time, a girl named September grew very tired indeed of her parents house, where she washed the same pink-and-yellow teacups and matching gravy boats every day, slept on the same embroidered pillow, and played with the same small and amiable dog.

And if there were any hint of doubt left, the sentence immediately following casts it aside:

Because she had been born in May, and because she had a mole on her left cheek, and because her feet were very large and ungainly, the Green Wind took pity on her and flew to her window one evening just after her twelfth birthday.

Here, in two sentences, is the bone and sinew of fairy tale: something ordinary expectedly-unexpectedly intercepting the extraordinary.  This knowing tone--the expected unexpectedness--is carried through the story seamlessly and with much obvious enjoyment by Ms. Valente, making it a delight to read and a sort of wink aside to fairy tale enthusiasts.

Ann Lambert, source

The story itself is not complex and takes the form of the hero's journey, but the characters, respectful attention to fairy tale tradition, and exquisitely crafted syntax make for a heady feast.  Ms. Valente chooses to circumvent the cultural-specific folkore and go straight for the idea-of-fairytale-personified: the Strange Country, the universal otherworld.  This mix of folkloric traditions might be jarring if it wasn't done so thoroughly.  There's a pooka, or pwca from the Welsh (love it!!); spriggans from Cornwall; a marid from Indian mythology; glashtyn from the Manx; the tsukumogami of Japanese tradition, and witches.  All tied together into an exotic bouquet with a steel wire of steampunk.  I love that September's mother works at a factory and sports the greasy muscles of Rosy the Riveter.

September's relationship with her parents is an example of how Valente skilfully works the Victorian narration.  A lot of the character development and revelation is secondary--not part of the action but disclosed to us in prose.  It's done extremely well, by the curious technique of witholding knowledge.  We get the impression in early chapters that September is a disloyal child, but we are given a glimpse into her growth as time goes on, only becoming aware of it as September does.  I'm finding it hard to describe, but if anyone who has read the book and has something to add, let's discuss it in the comments!

artist? [not credited in my copy]
September going "native" in the country of Autumn.

Other things I enjoyed about The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making:

• the vocabulary.  I learned several new words, no lie.
• the Victorian chapter introductions--clever, whimsical, and functional!
• the ridiculously long title
• the subtle love story.  I don't think Saturday's name would have worked as well without it.  As a pair with September, though, it makes sense.
• September's love of Halloween.  Valente nails the autumn mood and suspense the same as Ray Bradbury, and that's saying something!
• A-Through-L, the Wyverary.  I've been cultivating my own type of book-loving dragon since learning about the my high school's literary magazine the Pendragon

I'm looking forward to reading the sequels and sharing the stories with my son as he grows.  The Fairyland series is a modern classic, and is an luscious addition to any fairy tale library.

A few closing notes:

I can't emphasize enough how much Ms. Valente knows her stuff.   It's delightful to read an author who has so carefully studied Faerie--and as is the way with Faerie (and fairy tales) this book isn't simpering and innocent.  There must be blood is one of the sovereign rules of Fairyland.  There's also lying, witches, blood tithes, and unsympathetic creatures.  But the fickle, dangerous, and mysteriously ordered otherworld of folklore and human memory is intact and recognizable. The witticisms abound, and are somewhere between fact and nonsense--which means it's probably, as is the way with literary things, truth.  Such as the assertion that children have no hearts, which is what makes them terribly thoughtless, reckless, and selfish, and that we grow hearts as we age.   It's biting but beautiful observation, and put in a way that maybe skims the truth of the matter far better than psychoanalysis.

This is a book of Fairy, and sojourners should expect to get messy; charmed; ravished; and even lose their hearts. . .

{If you liked this review, please consider supporting this blog by purchasing the books via my Amazon Affiliate links.  Thanks for your support!}

Non-Disney Princesses II

{Read the original Non-Disney Princesses? article here.}

Remember the "good old days" of franchise-launched fantasy cartoons centered on toys, such as My Little Ponies, Strawberry Shortcake, Care Bears, Lady Lovely Locks, and Rainbow Brite?  (Children of the 80's, you know what I mean.)  Some are getting modern-day makeovers, but there are also some new kids on the block.  Out of curiosity, I clicked on a mini-series called Ever After High on Netflix, and it just goes to show that fairy tales will never, ever get old . . . or lose their potential for advertising!

From left to right: Briar Beauty, Apple White, Raven Queen, and Madeline (Maddie) Hatter

Ever After High is like Clueless meets Ponyville: where the children of famous fairy tale characters dress like themed lolitas and talk in insufferable puns while gushing about shoes, secret parties, and the dating scene.  It's where Hogwarts gets a run for its money with adult authority figures such as Headmaster Grimm, Baba Yaga, and Professor Rumplestiltskin.  It's also where they're expected to fulfill their pre-written destinies by following in their parents' footsteps.  Enter the main series conflict.
Ever After High: The Storybook of Legends
It's interesting to see what types of fairy tale trends take hold in this Barbie-esque multiverse.  There is the super-sugary blonde goody-goody befriending the antagonist-presented-as-protagonist misfit (Wicked); crossover characters from literary fantasies, such as Alice in Wonderland and Robin Hood (Once); and the forbidden romance between Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf (every supernatural romance ever).

Something else I found interesting was the choice to make Apple White, Snow White's daughter, a blonde.  Though this was probably a purely aesthetic choice to make her contrast the daughter of the wicked queen, Raven Queen.

Will he rescue Snow White or Red Riding Hood?

There are some clearly problematic things that naturally arise when combining fairy tales that were not addressed in the series.  Such as, in which story does Hunter Huntsman belong?  Or is the Huntsman, his father, the archetypal character that plays one role in many stories.  If the princes Daring and Dexter Charming are the sons of King Charming, aren't they also the brothers of Cinderella's daughter, Ashlyn, and even Apple, making the pre-determined pairing of Apple and Daring incestuous?  If the Evil Queen is Snow White's stepmother, then Apple and Raven should be a generation apart, and Raven effectively Apple's aunt (Raven's mother is Apple's mother's stepmother).  How far back do the generations go, exactly?  Is there a line of hundreds of Goldilocks, or just the two, Goldie Locks and her daughter Blondie?

There's nothing of really deep, lasting substance here, but Ever After High can't help but to stumble upon the roots of what haunts in fairy tales; too bad it doesn't care to water them and see how they grow.  Perhaps, the opportunity for delving is better humored in storybook format: Shannon Hale, acclaimed author of The Goose Girl, is authoring an Ever After High fiction series, with several books currently published.

Ever After High: The Storybook of Legends