Obedience–But With Backbone

Cinderella, in her traditional form, is a character who drives me absolutely up the wall.  Come on, woman—I know you lived in a pre-feminist culture, but don’t you have any backbone at all?  Your life’s awful—so do something about it!  And the fairy godmother—where was she all these years while Ella was being mistreated?  The fairy only shows up when the girl wants to go to a party?  (Because obviously that’s something of paramount importance.)

But, like all great fairy tales, Cinderella does have that spark of eternal appeal.  Who can’t relate to the dream of being lifted out of your ordinary or even unpleasant life, because that one person (the prince, the book editor, the boss for the dream job, the head of the club…fill in your own relevant personality) sees you and says, yes, you’re special above all others.  That’s the core of Cinderella.  But Cinderella herself is irritating.

So when you can take that eternal spark and improve on the character and the plausibility—well, as I said when discussing Wildwood Dancing, then you’ve got something.  And Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine is one of the best retellings of Cinderella I’ve ever read.

Ella is cursed at her christening—if anyone gives her a command (from “eat this cake” to “go jump off a roof”) she has to obey it.  And with that one brilliant stroke, Levine has a heroine who, like the traditional Cinderella, does everything her wicked stepfamily tells her to do—but who also has a mind of her own.  No one could accuse Levine’s Ella of lacking backbone.  She obeys, but I don’t think I’d describe her as obedient.  She can think for herself and, as much as she can around the limits of her curse, takes control of her own life.

There’s a good plot, with ogres and adventures and a kind of quest in Ella’s search for a way to overcome her curse, but I think what mostly stands out in my mind are the characters.  Ella, of course.  And her fairy godmothers—both of them—her more-than-usually complex wicked stepfamily, her absentee father, and, of course, Prince Charmont—because what’s a Cinderella story without a true love, right?

Ella Enchanted probably belongs in the juvenile category, rather than young adult.  But, kind of like the original Cinderella, it has a wide appeal, even if you’re not really the target age group.  So don’t be scared off just because it’s shelved in the kids section.

I unfortunately can’t quite just ignore the movie here.  There is one, but let’s all just pretend that there isn’t.  Don’t see it.  Really.  I did, and I think I spent most of it twitching and saying, “No, no, no, that’s wrong.”  Besides getting the details wrong, it got the spirit wrong, and while I can sometimes forgive a movie for changing the facts a little, it’s much harder to forgive a movie for maiming of the spirit of a story.

Because what Ella Enchanted really is is a very practical, plausible (once you accept the existence of magic) retelling of Cinderella.  The movie isn’t.  But the book is, and it’s well-worth the read.

Author’s site: http://www.gailcarsonlevine.com/

A Sunlit and Practical Camelot

Who was King Arthur’s greatest knight?  I haven’t polled anyone, but I have this feeling that if I did, the answer would come back as Lancelot.  But not if I asked Gerald Morris.  He’s of the opinion that it was Sir Gawain–and after reading his Camelot series, I’m in his camp on this one.

The first in the series is The Squire’s Tale.  The squire in question is Terence, and, as you no doubt expect, he is squire to Sir Gawain.  From Camelot to the fairy realm of the Other World, the two embark on a series of adventures, some hilarious and others suspenseful.

Terence is one of those heroes who is charmingly unassuming.  I’m sure it never occurs to him to think of himself as a hero–after all, he’s “only” a squire.  Sir Gawain probably knows he’s heroic–he’s got the horse and the armor and the sword, after all, along with the knighthood.  But he’s also wonderfully down to earth and practical.  For instance, when he encounters a knight who wants to fight anyone crossing a river, Gawain wants to know why, and doesn’t the man have anything better to do with his time?

I think I love Morris’ books, not only for the wonderful characters, but equally as much for the world they live in.  Morris tells Camelot the way it ought to be–Arthur is wise and noble, his knights are brave and loyal, there are recreant knights to fight at every crossroads, and mysterious magical beings (including one bearing a marked resemblance to Puck) lurk behind the trees.  And all of it with that practical bent that pokes a little fun at the more absurd parts of the legends.  I suppose there’s a place for stories of the darker side of Camelot, but I like Morris’ sunlit version.

And it’s not that there aren’t villians and danger, or that anyone is so saccharinely good that it gets dull.  The adventures are exciting, the characters are human, and watching Gawain and Terence grow as people and as friends adds more depth to the story too.  I love stories about comrades in arms–people who have fought together and struggled together and would die together if it came to that.  Except it probably won’t, because they’re good at what they do, and they’re even better together.  That’s why I like Star Trek too.  But that’s another review.

At the end of each book, Morris includes an author’s note about the Arthurian legends he drew on for his story.  Terence is original, but many of the other characters and plot elements come from older tales.  Some are familiar, and others are very surprising–especially some of those more absurd ones.

And if you’re wondering where the Green Knight is…that’s the second book in the series.  And another review.  🙂

Who Knew a Frog Could Be That Adorable?

I plan to cover good and bad books on this blog, but for a first post, I thought I’d start with a favorite.  Wildwood Dancing by Juliet Marillier is a wonderful fairy tale retold–two fairy tales, in fact, artfully combining “The Twelve Dancing Princesses” and “The Frog Prince.”

I love retellings of classic fairy tales.  The original classics tend to have…certain issues, like helpless heroines and not entirely coherent plot lines.  But they usually have some spark that fascinates us–which I imagine is why they became classics to begin with.  For “The Twelve Dancing Princesses,” perhaps it’s the idea that you can escape your ordinary life every full moon to go dancing in a magic land (though the magic land is more or less threatening in different versions).  For “The Frog Prince,” transformation stories, changing what is into something that’s better, have an eternal appeal.

So when you can take that essential spark and reshape a new story around it, one with a vivid and intricate plot, and with an appealing and capable heroine, then you’ve got something really good.

Wildwood Dancing is about Jena and her four sisters.  They live in rural Transylvania, at Piscul Dracului, and for nine years they have been slipping away in the night to dance at the fairy court every full moon.  Jena’s closest companion is Gogu, who’s quite sweet and charming, as well as being an enchanted frog.  Jena and her sisters encounter conflict in both the human and magical world, from mysterious strangers appearing in the Fairy Court, and from an overbearing cousin who seeks to take over Piscul Dracului.

With vivid characters and exciting turns in the plot, this book stays engaging throughout.  And, on the whole, it’s at least as sweet and charming as Gogu.  I can’t say the biggest “twist” of the book surprised me, but that may be me–I’m usually good at guessing twists that I think are supposed to be unexpected.  That’s not always a bad thing though–sometimes when a twist does surprise me, I end up feeling rather like a victim of “bait and switch.”  This book, on the other hand, feels as though everything came out perfectly, gloriously right.  I read the conclusion to the romance twice–and again just now.  It’s that cute.  🙂

Author’s website: http://www.julietmarillier.com/

And by the way, that’s my copy of Wildwood Dancing up in the banner–towards the right.