THE SPINNER AND THE SLIPPER, Camryn Lockhart

Brace yourself, dearies: it’s a fusion retelling! Rumpelstiltskin meets Cinderella! Yes, I’m about to review a fairytale re-imagining involving a favorite fairy tale of mine. In reviews like these, sometimes I find myself on the brink of maniacal laughter. Why? Because my readers are no doubt sick of seeing yet another book review focused on Rumpelstiltskin. And I’m too villainous to stop. Cue evil laughter.

Maybe I wouldn’t make a credible villain, but at least I’d be a memorable one, unlike those in Camryn Lockhart’s The Spinner and the Slipper. If you think I’m referring to Rumpelstiltskin, the titular Spinner, you’d be quite mistaken. Now, I enjoy a non-villainous Rumpel portrayal as much as—well, more than most people—but I also like my Rumpel intriguing, complex, and sympathetic as well as flawed. This Rumpel is …  a little too tame for my taste. Given his role in this Rumpelstiltskin/Cinderella crossover, it’s understandable why he comes our more “hero” than “trickster.” As for Cinderella, well, better start from the top. There’s a lot more to cover with her.

We open with a parent death scene. Ah, a classic fairy tale trope that will never die. How ironic. Said death is centered on the mother of this story’s Cinderella. Eliana, our soon-to-be-orphaned heroine, is only a child at this point, but she understands that her kind mother is breathing her last, and she desperately hopes for a miracle to save her. Instead, as a parting gift, her mother bequeaths a necklace and ring that seem to be made of gold. She explains that while these will be precious tokens of her love, Eliana must be willing to give them up when asked. Why? Uhhhh … no time to explain. Must die now!

GRENDEL, John Gardner

Greetings, Anglo-Saxon poetry fans and postmodern monster lovers alike. That’s a combination of readers I didn’t expect to come across in my fantasy excavations. Sure, there are plenty of contemporary fantasy works featuring monsters from gothic literature—e.g. vampires and werewolves—and folklore—e.g. fairies, witches and werewolves again (?)—that give the monsters a sympathetic perspective. Heck, more and more we get revamped fairy tales that turn classic villains into heroes or anti-heroes. So, what makes John Gardner’s Grendel stand out?

Let’s start with the fact that you probably know Grendel’s original source, the epic poem Beowulf, from one of three sources: your high school literature class, the 2007 3D-animated film with Angelina Jolie as Grendel’s mostly naked lizard mother, or the Wishbone book adaptation Be A Wolf! (Okay, maybe that last one only applies to me.) The point is that Grendel is the monster that the titular hero of Beowulf faces and defeats with pure strength and will. He serves mainly as a superhuman threat to King Hrothgar and the Danes, prompting Beowulf to show up for some old-fashioned monster slaying. Typical mythic story. Yet, to be fair, even in the original poem, the lines of good and evil are not so clearly defined.

A throwaway reference is made that Grendel may be a descendant of Cain, the murderous son of Adam and Eve who offed his brother Abel out of envy for God’s favor. This allusion paints Grendel as something inherently diabolic beyond his ghastly attacks on the king’s hall. His actions result in many a dead man, thus Beowulf’s efforts to kill Grendel seem doubly noble. That said, during the mano-a-mano fight, the poem portrays Beowulf as a monstrous creature, too, perhaps akin to Grendel.

The similarities drawn between Grendel and Beowulf could be enough to write a reversed-perspective story that explores them, and I did expect a stronger focus on Beowulf in Gardner’s novel. Instead, much of the novel centers purely on Grendel’s existential angst, and not in a bad way. Just a mind-tripping one.

MISS PEREGRINE'S HOME FOR PECULIAR CHILDREN, Ransom Riggs

Yay, I managed to meet my “probably in April” deadline! For a review that’s seven months past relevance (when the film adaptation hit theaters). Actually, no. Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children will have relevance well after people have forgotten the Tim Burton version, banished to the same memory cupboard as Dark Shadows and Alice Through the Looking Glass. The novel itself is five years older than its film counterpart, but thanks to its two sequels, there’s more meat to eventually dive into. So, where does this grand adventure populated by remarkable and somewhat frightening children begin?

Florida.

Well, if you need to start in a non-magical place full of its own peculiarities, might as well be Florida.

In truth, Ransom Riggs’ opening falls in line with the impulse of many fantasy writers setting up ordinary heroes before entering the extraordinary world. That is, his version of Florida is, for the most part, benignly mundane. Sort of a shame. I mean, where are all the alligators? Instead, we get right to Jake Portman, the teenage protagonist. He’s going about a typical day at a job he doesn’t want, living with a family that doesn’t appreciate or understand him. A familiar beginning, but let’s proceed.

I Can Explain

The long and the short: I fell off the bandwagon. I blame Comic Con and Nanowrimo. And my terrible attention span.

But good news: I want to get back into reviews.

Bad news: I probably won't maintain the weekly updates, even with a backlog. I need to work on some of my own stories. That said, doing this blog has encouraged me to read more. As a writer, that's an important habit. So the reviews will resume, just at a reduced post rate. The next review will probably be up in April. After that, it'll be one review per month. Maybe I'll increase it to two a month. We'll see.

For those of you who keep checking in, thank you! Please feel free to comment!