This is a selection of short stories in which fables and fairytales are written to center transgender characters, sliding them into tales with gendered prophecies – think Eowyn’s triumphant “I am no man!” moment, but let go of the gender binary. As a theme for a short story collection, it gets old pretty quickly, since the “ha, I’m neither man nor woman, watch me subvert your prophecy!” reveal is at the center of literally every story; however, given that there is almost nothing else out there that features trans characters in fairy tales, I appreciate the collection. The characters are variously trans, nonbinary, and genderfluid; the stories are uniformly sweet but not saccharine. Perfectly good reading but I did have to space the stories out a little for maximum enjoyment.
Tag: genre-fairytale
Six Crimson Cranes, by Elizabeth Lim
This is a take on the Wild Swans fairytale in which heroine Shiori, only daughter of the emperor, sees her brothers cursed into the shape of cranes by her magic-wielding stepmother. To cement the curse, her stepmother magics a bowl onto her head to hide her face, and threatens her brothers with death if she makes even the slightest sound. The only silver lining is that these events stave off Shiori’s unwanted arranged marriage. Naturally, things get even more complicated (almost too overly complicated) as she discovers that her stepmother may not even be the greatest threat to her father’s kingdom. Shiori is a fun heroine to read, brave and defiant despite everything working against her, and although the characterization of practically all the characters is a little one-sided, that’s par for the course in the relatively simplistic world of YA fantasy. First in a series.
Like Water for Chocolate, by Laura Esquivel
In the opening scene, main character Tita begins crying when her mother is chopping onions, and she is born on a tide of tears that, upon evaporating, leaves enough salt to fill a ten-pound sack. That is when you realize that you are reading a fairy tale, albeit one in which each chapter is centered around a specific recipe, and thus you forgive the one-dimensional wicked mother, the uncaring sister, the frankly unlikeable love interest, Tita’s questionable life choices, and the magical cooking in which every dish transmits the emotion of the cook to the diner (and there are oh so many emotions). I liked how cooking framed the story and many of the scenes were quite sweet, but in general so many of the characters’ decisions were so ridiculous and eye-rolling that it was hard for me to suspend disbelief and enjoy the story completely.
Seasonal Fears, by Seanan McGuire
Sequel to Middlegame, in that some of the same characters reoccur. This one deals with the embodiment of the seasons, in this case a pair of high school sweethearts too trope-y to be believed: a golden boy football star and his girlfriend the cheerleader. This is Seanan McGuire, though, so the characters are there both as symbols and as people: the football star is an embodiment of Summer, and his girlfriend becomes Winter; they find themselves catapulted into an all-or-nothing struggle to wear the seasonal crowns. McGuire does her best to keep the characters interesting, and her writing is gorgeous as usual… but really this is just a story about people who thought their lives were going to be normal, and who find out that they are actually myths: after a while, it’s hard to see them as entirely human, and therefore hard to care deeply about their journeys.
Freshwater, by Akwaeke Emezi
This book sits in an interesting spot, culturally. Basically when the main character Ada (or “the Ada” as the spirits inside call her) was born, the gate to the spirit world malfunctioned and the spirits inside her were never truly joined to her in a healthy way. As she experienced moments of trauma and isolation (sketched with beautiful language by Emezi), the spirits inside her took turns piloting her physical body; they took on aspects of strength and caring that helped her get through hard times, but also acted out in unhealthy ways. Because she moved from Nigeria to Virginia, from a world where she would have been considered god-touched to one where she was considered mentally ill, she sank further into dysfunction; after suicide attempts and panic attacks, she was only able to turn towards recovery by embracing her native culture. I found out later that this was autobiographical, which is… even more disturbing considering some of the stuff that went on in the book. If that’s true though, I’m glad Emezi has found a balance with their inner selves.
The Bride of the Blue Wind, by Victoria Goddard
Look, I had to immediately find another Victoria Goddard work, ok? This one is an action-packed novella, told like a fairy tale. In this retelling of the Bluebeard story, three sisters go forth to find their destiny; the first becomes a weaver of magic, the second a fierce warrior, and the third is swept away by a god who takes her as a wife. As the third daughter slowly becomes suspicious of her new husband’s ultimate motives, her sisters unite to ride to her rescue. Great strong female characters obv, and the language was just beautiful.
The Ghost Bride, by Yangsze Choo
Paints a lovely picture of life in colonial Malaya, gorgeous illustrations of the people and the society; I love the way she wrapped in ghosts and spirits from folklore. The main character is a drip, though, which is a bit of a letdown since her circumstances are so very interesting: a rich family is trying to marry her off to their extremely dead son, who is creepily courting her in her dreams and is not taking no for an answer.
The Stand, by Stephen King
For book club. I get why people call this an American post-apocalyptic classic, it’s the sheer ambitious scale of it. (Paradoxically, reading King’s pandemic actually made me feel a little better about our current pandemic, because ours is so much less deadly! yay?) King focuses on individual human stories to tell the story of a nationwide tragedy, and then gradually pivots to make it an even bigger story of good vs. pure evil. It really, really didn’t work for me though; it’s too obvious that King is a white guy writing from the whitest state of America. His people of color get to be stereotypes and/or stale tropes; I couldn’t even quietly envision myself in the cast, because if a character isn’t white or heterosexual, King will. point. it. out. The origins and government mismanagement of King’s pandemic also didn’t sit well with me; I know it wasn’t his intent at all, but to me, by painting the government as untrustworthy and inept in the face of a pandemic, it feels like he’s encouraging the real people who are prolonging this pandemic by ignoring the government’s advice on masking and vaccination, ugh. Bad timing, I guess. Also, despite a really patient and gradual buildup of good vs. evil, the climax of the conflict felt pointless and unsatisfying. In short: boy am I the wrong audience for this book.
Nightbitch, by Rachel Yoder
A woman who gave up her career to raise a baby at home feels her thwarted ambition and rage building up inside her, until it gradually turns her into a literal werewolf. Hilariously, her newfound lycanthropy doesn’t actually change much about her relationship with her mostly-absent and cheerfully oblivious husband (“I’m sure you’re not growing a tail, how silly. Are you sure it isn’t some kind of cyst? Have you made an appointment with your doctor?”), or the other mothers that she sees at baby activities (“I love your new look, very boho, very Mother Earth”). Her worries are also very mundane, as she searches for her symptoms on Google and stresses over the possibility that activities like chasing squirrels and eating raw meat might have a negative impact on her son’s development. Yoder’s character is really good at detailing her resentment and stress caused by modern motherhood (so many personal flashbacks to raising young children!), while never reflecting that resentment onto the baby that put her in this position. The lycanthropy thing actually happens pretty early on in the story and then the book’s pacing kind of flounders around in the middle, before abruptly finding its way to a satisfying ending.
Spirits Abroad, by Zen Cho
This is a collection of short stories full of Zen Cho’s sardonic characters, who encounter creatures out of Malay myth and still manage to be dry and ordinary about it all. I love all the stories, but especially the ones about the dragon who fell for the girl who is more focused on getting her university degree; the lion dance troupe whose side gig is to exorcise ghosts; and the high school pontianak (female vampire) who just wants to go to school without worrying about her interfering aunts. Absolutely delightful collection.