Fairytales for Wilde Girls by Allyse Near

Review

Fairytales for Wilde Girls is a book I went from being thoroughly engrossed in, to thinking it was overwritten, to admiring the luscious descriptions, to feeling a little put off by easy sentimentality, to absolutely loving the bubblegum-goth inspired descriptions, to cringing at a little too much heroine idolising. And yet, Fairytales is a glorious mish-mash of old and young, sweet and bitter, light and dark, classic and unique - so I guess my mixed feelings are quite adequate. Ultimately I quite admire it. It's the kind of writing I was doing and wanted to do in all my own creative writing uni classes, but always felt repressed by students and tutors who wanted serious, hip, navel-gazing statements - 'serious' writing that could only be taken 'seriously' if it was socially and culturally 'serious'. Meanwhile I was writing about trees that uprooted themselves and set off on magical adventures to find water. Fairytales for Wilde Girls speaks to the unadulterated, dreamer me who just wanted my writing to be beautiful.

I do admire creative license when it comes to writing, and lush, creative imagery - although a few instances throughout the book I thought, just a little, it was trying too hard. This relentless style of imagery does suck you in, though, added to the delicious contempo-magic world of Isola. Can a book be gothically sweet? Yes, this one is. It is very whimsical. Although I wish the author had pared back a little when it came to the ending, and tying the story together - it was overly-described, and thus I thought some of the beauty of it was lost.

Fairytales for Wilde Girls is set in among all the things I love - magic, gothic, fairytales, folklore, faerie creatures, coming of age, wicca, secrets, escaping to fantasy places. I love the idea of the six princes, and of having faerie confidants that no one else can communicate with. There are so many ideas here, and they are tied together in a very enthralling way.

The only sub-plot I didn't really care for was Edgar. So Isola got her happily ever after? But for a book that had a very strong feminine, female-orientated focus, I didn't really think the book needed to end with a love declaration to a male character. That is very paranormal-romance for me, and I believe Fairytales was Isola's personal growth story, not a love story.

I love that Random House (my own publishers) have the guts to publish something so unique, risky, and unusual. I don't know if I love it, but I love what it's all about

The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle

First published in 1968

The Last Unicorn is one of my absolutely favourite books. I think Peter S. Beagle is one of the finest writers around – an absolute master of beautiful language, unique characters, imagination, warmth, humour and magical storytelling. He is one of those writers who can sum up grand emotion in a succinct, unique line. If you love fantasy and children’s books, then Beagle is an author who must be read. He has many fine stories – but my favourite is the very gorgeous The Last Unicorn.

I have a journal where I keep passages or lines from books that I think are particularly fine or moving – those lines that give you shivers – and The Last Unicorn features prominently in it. What he does best is write lines that illustrate loneliness and confusion; that really reach down into those emotions we keep embedded and tease them out of us. But these lines are never sappy or trying to be quote-worthy – they are often whimsical and silly and simple, but the resonance sweeps through all the pages. Beagle understands mortality, and people’s fears, and the many different guises with which they hide them. I love how he shows us the cracks in all his characters – he does it with such profound beauty and understanding.

The Last Unicorn may read like a fairytale – it has a princess and a prince; it has a quest and adventures through all the hidden parts of the world; it has a baddie and a beast, and it has secrets and a wicked adversary who is as evil as they come. Even just as this, it is a great story. But it is also very clever, and Beagle uses a tone that makes fun of it all but never snarkily, always with affection. There is a great sensitivity woven through all the pages and a sense of fun that subverts the genre even as it faithfully follows all the tropes.

One of the greatest things which keep The Last Unicorn rollicking along is that it is genuinely funny. The characters; the situations they find themselves in; the double-crosses; the human folly; the fabulous one-liners that flow so effortlessly. The pure, dazzling silliness of it all. My particular favourites are the talking skull and the magician Schmendrick when he is called upon to get himself out of a sticky situation or is making fun of everyone around him. His wit is legendary.

Which leads us to the characters in The Last Unicorn. They are all fabulous; nuanced; believable; entertaining; empathetic. I love the Unicorn and her motley crew – the lonely, sarcastic, jealous magician Schmendrick who cares too much; the bitter, no-nonsense Molly Grue with a heart of gold, and later, Prince Lir who believably and heart-breakingly emerges from a soft fool into a noble, hardened prince. The Unicorn herself, who is so brave and beautiful – but, for all her power, as full of doubts and weaknesses as her human companions.

But it doesn’t stop there. The baddies – most notably King Haggard and Mommy Fortuna – are glorious, complex characters who spit bitterness and hate but who, through a simple line from Beagle, reveal the fears and the insecurities that drive them to be so. And then all the other characters who float in and out of the pages – the talking cat, Captain Cully and Jack Jingly, the royal magician Mabruk, to name a few – are colourful, humorous creations, written with real warmth and imagination.

Imagination is where The Last Unicorn really wins for me. It is a wonderful concept in itself – being the last of your kind. The loneliness, the responsibility, the sadness in such an idea – I find this fascinating (which also tells me probably why I like Doctor Who so much – oh the adventures he has, but always and only ever, by himself). Everything that Beagle fills the pages with after this particular idea is just a bonus. The whole book just feels so graceful and enchanting – the kind of magic that you can’t shake off.

And really, it comes down to Beagle – his writing, his style. Read one of the first scenes between the Unicorn and a stray butterfly and you will understand something of his power. In this scene he uses words and ideas and emotions and weaves them together all so seamlessly, so powerfully, in the form of an erratic, dying butterfly. Brilliant. His writing is beautiful and effortless, and this, above all, is what makes The Last Unicorn such a triumphant children’s classic.

Previous entries, my fav Children's Books:

Number 20:  Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie

Number 19:  The Neverending Story by Michael Ende

Number 18:  Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt

Number 17:  The Toymaker by Jeremy de Quidt

Number 16: The Thirteen Clocks by James Thurber

Number 15: The Scarecrows by Robert Westall

Number 14: Watership Down by Richard Adams

The Forbidden Sea, by Sheila A Nielson

First published in 2010 by Scholastic

Lovely little story, with an old-fashioned feel to it that I rather enjoyed. I think for this reason many others may not enjoy it, but I found the time period it was set in really immersive, and the mer-mythology it was based around to have an appealing folklor-ish vibe.

The Forbidden Sea takes care to build up a complex history for lead character, Adrianne, and to give her cares and concerns outside being so utterly beguiled by her handsome love interest Denn, and falling in love with him. There is love, of course. But it feels less like the contemporary paranormal YA romance and more in the league of, say, Franny Billingsley. Because I love mythology and folklore, this appeals to me. If you like your teen para-love stories more contemporary, than perhaps you won't be as beguiled.

The Forbidden Sea has a little of the mystery I find so important for a story about mermaid/mermen. I just find these creatures so fascinating, most likely because the world they inhabit is so different and closed off to ours. This story goes a little of the way into giving merpeople a life away from, as I said, just being love interests. I also like how Nielson crafted Adrianne's interactions with the mermaid she thought was after her sister. It was a slow reveal. I love this. There was a palpable sense of being called to the sea -  yes, yes, that's what a mermaid story should be all about!

I do think Adrianne being 'so hard done by' was a little over the top, and yet the details of her family life were welcome and also done in a way that made me actually want to see her come out on top. It was a rags to riches story that I kind of knew would turn out alright in the end. But Nielson made it worthwhile getting there.

The writing was on the better side of some of the YA mermaid books I've read. I'm slowly making my way through all those mer books out there and The Forbidden Sea, so far, is one of my favs. I've heard it described as a fairytale Little Mermaid meets Cinderella. Pretty accurate. Like to see what Nielson writes next.

The 13 Clocks, by James Thurber

First published in 1950

When I first read James Thurber’s The 13 Clocks, my mind was blown. I was in my first year of Uni and the library had such an amazing collection of children’s books, especially old classics. Many of the books I read in this period have become some of my favourites, and are what really, really, made me have so much love for this genre.

One of these books was The 13 Clocks.

I had never come across anything like it before. I remember marvelling at the cleverness of it, and being delighted and then moved by the characters (especially that most wicked of Dukes), and just being so completely taken in by the ease with which Thurber used language in such creative and challenging ways.

The 13 Clocks is a fractured fairytale. It begins with Once Upon a Time and ends with Happily Ever After but everything that comes in between is about as original as you can get.  Thurber subverts the genre in much the same way as Shrek and The Princess Bride do, but overall I find the irony to have a bit more of a bite.

The Prince, with the help of the Golux, must bring back the evil Duke one thousand jewels within nine and ninety hours or he will be ‘slit from his guggle to his zatch’, fed to the Todal, and lose Princess Saralinda to the wicked ways of the Duke. Sounds straightforward, and indeed, the tale is a good one. But the fun, and the brilliance of the story, can really be found in the wonderfully weird and wacky way Thurber tells it.

I think a love and understanding of fairytales, language and writing helped me develop the huge amount of admiration I have for this book. If a plot device can be exploited, it will be; if a sly aside or knowing wink can be dropped, it will be; if stylistic language choices can be made fun of, or drawn attention to, they will be (A morning glory that had never opened, opened in the courtyard. A cock that never crowed, began to crow. The light of morning stained the windows, and in the walls the cold Duke moaned, “I hear the sound of time;” and if character names can be outrageously self-referential, they will be.

This is why I love The 13 Clocks – because it is, I think, above all about a love of language. Amongst all the sly cleverness there are some lovely thoughts, passages, and imagery – like clocks being murdered and spilling their cogs and springs onto the stairs. The story in itself is also a rollicking adventure, with a few twists and reveals and high stakes. But it is also so gloriously silly, with things happening just because they can. One of my favourites is:

“A purple ball with gold stars on it came slowly bouncing down the iron stairs and winked and twinkled, like a naked child saluting priests. “What insolence is this?” the Duke demanded. “What is that thing?”

“A ball,” said Hark.

“I know that!” screamed the Duke. “But why? What does its ghastly presence signify?”

All sorts of irrelevant objects and happenstances are placed into the story in such an affectionate self-referential way. The story has fun with itself. The language has such fun with itself – for example the story will switch in and out of rhyme, and even when it doesn’t rhyme, there is an obvious metre used, a rhythm to what words are used and when. And all of it just completely sweeps you up and takes you away.

And yet the characters, for all their silliness, and the relative shortness of the book, feel familiar almost straight away. I found myself becoming invested in them and getting sucked into their crazy existence. I think where The 13 Clocks really wowed me was that Thurber, even among all the silliness, can tweak emotions so very subtly. A lot is revealed about the characters through just one line, or thought.

The Duke is particularly well done. He is so very mean and cruel – “We all have flaws ... Mine is being wicked” – his dark humours are hilariously appalling, and he is gloriously tempestuous. But he is also sad. And lonely. Thurber shows this in his obsession with slaying time, his thoughtless repetition of commands, the way he slashes “his sword at silence and at nothing.” Princess Saralinda and the Prince give the books its fun, the Duke’s henchmen give it comic relief, and the Golux gives it all its mischief and silliness. But I have always found, perhaps strangely, the evil Duke to give the book its heart.

I couldn’t love The 13 Clocks more if I tried. It is hard to find these days, but there is a newish wonderful hardback, illustrated edition with an introduction by Neil Gaiman, published by the New York Review Children’s Collection. If you can find it, this book will be well worth your time.

The Wicked Wood (Tales from the Tower) Volume 2, Edited by Nan McNab & Isobelle Carmody

First published in 2011 by Allen & Unwin

I was very impressed with Volume 1 of Tales from the Tower (The Forbidden Eye), and so have been looking forward to Volume 2: The Wicked Wood ever since. The fairytales in Volume 2 are not as well known, and some are just folk-tales rather than classic fairytale re-imaginings. There is still the same creativity, mix of dark beauty/terror and great writing from Australian authors – but I didn’t find it as ‘bewitching’ an experience as Volume 1. I don’t know if the fantastic concept had just worn off a little, or if the stories just weren’t as good. Maybe a bit of both.

The six rewritten fairytales in this book are The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids; Cinderella; The Little Mermaid; and the remaining three from slightly more obscure folk tales, including one based on a story from one of favourite mythologies, the Irish Tir-na-nog. To be honest, across the two collections I liked the stories more when they were based on the well-known fairytales, just because these tales are so familiar that it’s so interesting to see how these authors interpret and update them.

I was so delighted to see Victor Kelleher in this collection, rewriting an Irish folktale, Birthing. Practically every library trip I took as a teen, I would hunt down any of his books, and he has written one of my all time fav YA novels, Parkland. When I was thirteen years old, I had never read anything like the worlds he created, and the emotion in these stories was so often spot on. Birthing was an engaging story, although not one of my favourites in the collection, and I only knew the original story because I have quite a fondness for British and Irish folklore, and this is kind of the quintessential faerie story. Kelleher sets up the scene and the concept with lots of intrigue and peril, and the final showdown is very satisfying, if a little short. But I just love seeing Kelleher in this collection, and if you have a chance to unearth any of his older YA books I think it will definitely be worth your while.

Catherine Bateson’s Learning the Tango (The Little Mermaid) and Maureen McCarthy’s The Ugly Sisters (Cinderella) are the stories that come closest to their classic fairytale counterparts. I loved Learning the Tango, and think it just fantastic and also awesome of the publishers that Bateson wrote her version in free verse. It takes a bit to get into the style, but once there, it is very accessible and some beautiful insights can be found from the prince, the Little Mermaid, and her sisters. It has all the lovely sadness of the original but with a nice, sparky ending. Some of the lines I underlined just because they were so gorgeous. Loved it. The Ugly Sisters was great to hear from the perspective of the two sisters, and the mother, but I found them as characters just really horrible and couldn’t warm to the story. Even Cinders started to bug me at the end, although McCarthy did have a few great moments where she subtly let the father figure show a bit of backbone. And there was some great menacing action by the black birds in the backyard. But ultimately I found the birds the most enjoyable characters, and their watchful presence over the household the most exciting thing that happened.

I couldn’t really warm to Nan McNab’s Glutted, also based on a slightly obscure folktale. It made me feel rather queasy, and the ‘love interest’ character I found repulsive – I guess that’s a sign of writing well done, though, if the story can invoke such strong emotions. And I did like the ‘mother’ character. The style of it reminded me a bit of Margo Lanagan’s ‘The Goosle’ – it has that same abject feel to it.

Kate Thompson’s Glamour did not quite fit comfortably into the book as a whole. It was well-written, and had a lovely reflective quality, but it was also distinctly adult in flavour and felt like a bit of an outsider. Actually on the whole the stories in Volume 2 have a much more adult feel than in Volume 1. Which is fine but I feel like the audiences for the two different volumes are slightly different.

Cate Kennedy’s Seventy-two Derwents (Wolf and the Seven Little Kids) was just lovely. This is the story that gets it most right emotion-wise, and is a great example of how such a short and simple fairytale can be re-imagined and picked apart and built upon to create a whole new emotive meaning. The central character is gorgeous – I couldn’t help but wish for anything but a happy ending for her, and the relationship she has with her sister is a great example of how a great writer can show complexity and love in such a small amount of words. I found it really clever how Kennedy transferred the story across into the contemporary world. Probably my favourite story in Volume 2.

Once again, was interesting to see how the authors had interpreted the original stories in the ‘Afterwords’. And, unlike the first Volume, I did not have a problem with overly sentimental happy endings – the endings for these stories were more of the bittersweet kind – another favourite of mine.

On the whole I think publishing the Tales from the Tower concept was a brilliant idea, and it was really fantastic to have that kind of calibre of Australian writers in one collection. Some of the stories were hit and miss, and I do wish that all the stories had been based on classic fairytales, as I think it would give the collection a greater sense of unity. But still wonderful. And absolutely gorgeously designed too.

My Movie Picks for 2012

So I love films almost as much as books, and although I enjoy a good indie or drama, the films that I really love are those made for the cinematic experience - epic, action-packed, fantasy or supernatural-based, lots to look at, lots to be blown away by. So the below are my picks for 2012. Actually, most of them are based on books and fairytales. Can't wait to see how they come up on screen.

THE AVENGERS

Can't wait to see how all the big superheroes play together - and it helps that their individual movies have been the pick of the Marvel lot as well.


Snow White and the Huntsman

Any film based on fairytales, I'm going to check out. Good cast - I love Charlize, and have always thought Kristen Stewart is a great little actress ever since I saw her in the gorgeous Speak. Really looking forward to this.

HUGO

The book has been huge so am interested to see what they do with it. Goods like lovely, good old-fashioned fun.

The Hunger Games

One of the biggest YA books shaping up to be one of the biggest movies in 2012. I think the trailer is very intriguing, and love Jennifer Lawrence.

PROMETHEUS

It looks epic and creepy and action-packed and full of thrills. Loving the cast too.

WRATH OF THE TITANS

I actually really enjoyed the first one, and this looks more of the same. Lots of beasties and mythology and battles - my kind of thing.

JACK THE GIANT KILLER

Good cast and once again, anything based on a fairytale I'm inclined to check out.

THE HOBBIT

Lord of the Rings is one of my absolute favourite books and movies, but I always loved The Hobbit just a little bit more because it had a great sense of adventure and fun. Can't wait to visit Middle Earth again and see what PJ comes up with this time around. Love when they start singing in the trailer.


I'm also quite curious about Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, but cannot find a trailer anywhere.

The Wilful Eye (Tales from the Tower) Edited by Nan McNab & Isobelle Carmody

First published in 2011 by Allen & Unwin

I wanted this book from the moment I heard about it – the concept of it is just fantastic, it had some of my favourite Australian authors rewriting fairytales, and it was described as dark and lush and bewitching and sensuous. I couldn’t wait to read it. The Wilful Eye doesn’t disappoint.

The six rewritten fairytales in this book are The Tinderbox; Rumpelstiltskin; The Ice Queen; Beauty and the Beast; Babes in the Wood and The Steadfast Tin Soldier. There are six more to come in the next book – if they are as lovely and clever and provocative as these six, then readers are really in for a treat.

Some of the stories did work better than others. Some kept most of the original settings and twisted them around a bit, or added darker elements to them. Some were full on re-imaginings. Martine Murray’s One Window and Margaret Mahy’s Wolf Night were two that took the heart and basic plot of the original stories and crafted completely new worlds and characters out of them. I did not enjoy Mahy’s as much as the others – maybe it is because I am not as familiar and attached to Babes in the Wood as the other stories, but something just didn’t click into place for me with this one, and I thought references to the original were too self-referential. I think I also enjoyed her writing style the least; I felt it jumped over the place a little with a lot of background info included that seemed to have little to do with the story. Still, she manages to create some good atmosphere and a genuine fear for the characters in ‘the Woodlands’.

Murray’s One Window, based on The Steadfast Tin Solider, took a while to grow on me; in fact I didn’t really like it to begin with. But it ended up being my favourite. References to the original are so subtly and cleverly done and none of the original’s heart is lost. Such pithy insights into people and the way we see the world; and huge, complex bubbles of emotion so succinctly captured in a single sentence – this is what I enjoy about her novels and other works, and it is once again on display here. Murray has a real knack for capturing the human experience in a few words, especially the outsider’s experience, and by the end her retelling had thoroughly won me over.

Richard Harland’s Heart of the Beast (Beauty and the Beast) and Isobelle Carmody’s Moth’s Tale (Rumpelstiltskin) are the stories that stick the closest to their originals. I enjoyed Moth’s Tale up until the ending – I know it’s a fairytale, but I struggle when things end so neatly and everyone gets what they want. Actually, overall I was a bit iffy about the endings these stories had. I felt they were sometimes weak, letting down these fantastic stories that so far had packed such a brilliant, hefty punch. Sometimes it felt like the author knew they were nearing the end of the word limit and so hastily tied everything up; sometimes it was like they just lost interest in what the guts of the story had been about and the ideas petered out; and then sometimes it was just so typically ‘happily ever after’. And I know these are fairytales. They’re meant to end like that. I know. But when the subject material has been taken and twisted and sensualised and deepened, this kind of ending doesn’t quite sit right. That is my only complaint.

I loved Beauty’s taming of the Beast in Harland’s story. There is a real sense of menace and some beautiful writing as they bring out the best in each other. Beauty and the Beast is one of my favourite fairytales (my other is The Little Mermaid – to come in the next book) so I’m glad Harland’s update was very fine.

Rosie Borella’s Eternity (The Ice Queen) confused me at times – I think perhaps there was too much metaphor and meaning packed into it – but I still found it clever and the snow-dusted landscapes chillingly lovely. This story is infused with this sense of the underworld and the other, and it makes for compelling reading.

Margo Lanagan’s Catastrophic Disruption of the Head (The Tinderbox) was the story I was most looking forward to reading, and it has her usual beautiful, lilting prose, her darkness, her wonderful distorted sense of imagination. Her writing is like this wondrous, terrible wasteland, and stepping into the worlds she creates is always such a rewarding experience.

Points also for the Afterwords given by each author, explaining how and why they wrote the story. This was almost as interesting as the stories themselves.

So basically, The Wilful Eye is an awesome idea brilliantly executed. And it shines a welcome light on short stories, which I am always grateful for. Can’t wait for the next volume.

Happy Easter

HAPPY EASTER TO ONE AND ALL


Regardless of whether you celebrate it or not, I wish everyone a lovely day.


And briefly, I am reading this wonderful collection over the Easter break, The Wilful Eye (Tales from the Tower), a beautiful volume of classic fairytales retold and reinterpreted by six Australian authors. I knew I had to have this as soon as I heard about it - what a great idea and am really enjoying it so far. Can't wait for the second volume. Will be writing a review shortly.


I have also added a new page to my blog, which basically concerns my own writing. I will be updating it with anything to do with my own writing. You can access it by the tab at the top of the page.


And R.I.P to my grandmother, who died today. Much love always XXX

Beastly, by Alex Flinn

First published in 2007 by Harper Collins

A retelling of classic tale Beauty and the Beast, Alex Flinn’s Beastly places the characters in modern-day high school and lets the scenario play out among teen hierarchies, the internet and neglected-child syndrome. It is one of the better fairytale retellings I’ve read for teens, and I have read some pretty woeful ones that make me so cross over the fact someone could create such a hackneyed and uninspired story from the classics I love so much.

That being said, Beastly never really kicked into gear for me until Part 5, which comes about two thirds of the way into the book. It was pretty generic up until then. The main character was a bit of a tosspot. I wasn’t feeling the fairytale magic. But when Lindy came into Kyle/Adrian’s house and the relationship began to develop, I was turning the pages pretty fast, till the point even where I read it as I walked home from the bus. I haven’t done THAT in ages.

I think part of the appeal is that I knew how the story would play out, but rather than reducing my enjoyment of the book it made me more interested to see how the author would go about it – how would she twist it, make it her own, how high would she make the stakes. You know it is going to end but you want to see the Beast get his happily ever after. So that actually worked in Beastly’s favour.

Some parts I didn’t like – number one, the ‘IM chats’ between the parts. I don’t know if this was an attempt to make it more relevent to a modern teen audience, or just to play around with the novelty of other well-known fairytale characters using the internet. I didn’t find it clever, and it didn’t add anything to the plot/story. Pointless, really.

Adrian/Kyle/the Beast is attracted to Lindy – I get this. Flinn did the whole ‘coming round to trusting him after initially hating his guts’ pretty decently. But I still didn’t really get what attracted him so much to her – apart from the fact that she was really the only girl he had been in contact with for a long time. The whole ‘love story’ felt more just like what would inevitably happen when two people get pushed together; it didn’t go really that deeply into the psychology of it, more just touched the surface. Something didn’t quite click. Although there were a few cute moments between them.

The dialogue was also a bit eugh. Didn’t ring true. Flinn relied quite a lot on cliché, and then kind of tried to worm her way out of it by having Adrian/Kyle think something like ‘Ugh, I can’t believe I just did/said that, what am I thinking?’ Sorry, but you can’t get out of it that easily. It just made me completely detached from the text.

Still, I enjoyed Beastly well enough. And I’m quite keen to see the movie.

The Undrowned Child, by Michelle Lovric

First published in hardback by Orion Children's Books, (Hachette) 2009.



The Undrowned Child is a book that makes me excited about books – about the art of story-telling, about imagination, about the cleverness and beauty of the English language, about great characters and about the ability of a story to transport you someplace else. It was the best kids book I read last year, and I only happened onto it because I was searching for kids/YA books that had mermaids in them, and this one came up. It is a shame it doesn’t seem to be well-known (as far as I can tell, in Australia). Maybe the release of the second in the series, The Mourning Emporium, will change that – I hope so, because The Undrowned Child has all the qualities that made Harry Potter so popular and successful – wit, humour, adventure, genuine chills, complex, appealing characters and story-telling that is completely immersive.

We have our lead, Teo, a girl who, although she is supposedly Napoletana, feels a strong attraction to Venice. There is Renzo, a charming Venetian boy who seems determined to upstage her at every turn. There is Maria, Teo’s snooty arch-nemesis. Then we throw in the grand, mysterious canals and architecture of Venice; beautiful mermaids (yes!) with hearts of gold but mouths on them like rough-as-guts sailors; a Kraken-like creature who is poisoning the water that surrounds the city; a variety of ghosts, some wishing to redeem themselves, some hopelessly given up, some looking to wreak a little more havoc; an array of fantastic and mythical creatures (including winged lions and vampire eels); scientists racing against time to save their beloved Venice; and a mystery which Teo, with Renzo’s help, must figure out – how to stop the malignant spirit of Bajamonte Tiepolo from coming to power again and bringing about a repeat of one of the most tragic days in Venetian history.

The Undrowned Child is a fantastic mix of real Venetian history, fascinating mythology/fairy-tale and a subtle coming-of-age story concerning Teo, our heroine. The sub-plot involving her feelings for the infuriating Renzo is touching and beautifully done, her attitude towards their whole relationship spot-on for the no-longer-child but not-quite-teen. Teo is flawed and she and Renzo make mistakes in their mission to save Venice, but this makes their endearing characters realistic and us empathetic to their many dilemmas.

I was enthralled by just about every character in The Undrowned Child, whether they play a big part or small. Lovric has a way with characterisation and their encounters with each other are a joy to read. I loved Lovric’s take on mermaids, and her hierarchy of ghosts. Her ‘evil’ characters are genuinely scary and she creates some awesome atmosphere with many of her set-pieces.

Where The Undrowned Child really sucked me in was that it is genuinely witty and sharp, thanks in part to Teo’s way of seeing the world. Her dialogue is some of the best I’ve read in a children’s book, and her characters come out with such funny and interesting ways of expressing themselves. I did notice that she seems to have a disregard for using the word said – all her characters exclaim, or talk despondently, or sob, or exclaim snootily, and so on. This goes against just about everything I’ve been taught about writing, but you know what? For this book, I think it works. It’s all part of the book’s quirky charm.

Love, love, loved The Undrowned Child. Maybe not suitable for younger readers – but this in intelligent, amusing, captivating story-telling, and I only hope Lovric gets the recognition she deserves.

The Three Loves of Persimmon, by Cassandra Golds

Published by Penguin, 2010

Persimmon is a young lady devoted to her florist shop, at the top of the Botanical Gardens Railway Station. She has been disowned by her family for following the flower profession, and although clever and kind, is rather lonely. Epiphany is a mouse who believes there must be more to the world than the confines of Platform One. Each must undergo their own trials of love, heartbreak, imagination and adventure before they can find the place where they truly belong.

I am divided about this book. On one hand, there were moments of such cleverness and loveliness that is just charmed the socks off me. There are some pithy insights about people and the world around us, beautiful moments of both reflection and descriptive prose, and some genuinely delightful, funny lines, particularly from Persimmon’s ornamental cabbage Rose. I love fairytales, and I love what this book is trying to be. I love the innocence of it. I love how every creature, every action, is made to feel important, is never derivative in comparison to something else. There is a gorgeous mix of the quirky and the real.

Yet I feel like that whatever the book is going for, it isn’t quite there yet. I think some parts are overwritten and overstated, which ruins whatever lovely thing the author has just described or had her characters say. Similarly, the way characters speak, the way events play out, sometimes it feels like they are designed to have a particular effect. This insults the reader’s integrity. There is, perhaps, a little too much telling instead of showing. And although this is certainly a unique book, parts feel derivative – a little too sentimental, a little too neat. What I really wanted was just for Golds to let her story breathe – everything is there, it’s just the way she chooses to tell it.

Parts I particularly enjoyed were the development of Persimmon’s three loves – it  is great to see a young adult/children’s author dealing with the idea that love is not always perfect, that it must develop, that it takes many trys with many significant others to get it right. I LOVED the stuff about Walter and the theatre, having a fondness for the theatre and the theatre life myself. Rose was a great character, with many cabbagey intricacies. And the train station setting, especially Persimmon’s florist shop, was gorgeous. The devotion both she and Epiphany have to flowers (both literally and figuratively) is a delight to read.

"This flower's petals were as red as blood and the fold upon fold of them made a mysterious kind of face that was turned towards her and, it seemed to Epiphany, smiling the gentlest, most beautific smile ... Epiphany extended her trembling whiskered nose into the tips of the petals ... she gazed and gazed into the heart of the rose."

Wildwood Dancing, by Juliet Marillier

Published in 2007 by Pan Macmillan

Gorgeous, gorgeous book. Really does the fairytale re-telling genre justice. I used to read a lot of adult fantasy in my early and mid-teens and then stopped once I got into YA and children’s books. Wildwood Dancing makes me want to get into it again – it is sumptuous, vividly told and seamlessly incorporates many elements of folklore and fantasy fiction.

Jena, her five sisters and faithful companion, the frog she calls Gogu, live in a crumbling castle on the fringe of a wildwood in Transylvania. They have shared a secret for nine years – the existence of a hidden portal that allows them to travel through the Wildwood to the other Kingdom, on the evening of a full moon. Their father falls ill and must escape the winter cold to regain his health. When he leaves, the girls’ cousin Cezar gradually assumes overbearing control and creates trouble for them. Their secret is threatened and Jena must embark on a dark and perilous quest into the fantastic realms to save the lives of those she loves.

The world of Wildwood Dancing is sophisticated and intriguing. Dwelling among all these fantastic occurrences is the harsh light of reality and a story of a young girl forced to grow up and assume responsibility. This grounding in realism makes the existence of another world both tangible and engaging. Marillier writes with such belief in her story, and with such story-telling prowess, that Wildwood Dancing is one of those books that can be enjoyed by all ages.

The Transylvanian backdrop is stunning, each location infused with a pearly magic, swathed with the silent, watching presence of the moon and the forest and the frost. There is a seamless blend of Romanian vampire lore, Celtic faerie tradition and classic fairytales. The supporting characters, generally fay creatures, are well-drawn. The villain of the story is a complex and layered character, easy to loathe but easier to understand.

Wildwood Dancing is also about love and longing, and Marillier generally does it well. Tati and Sorrow’s relationship has a lovely ethereal quality. Jena’s own love story is played out skillfully; there is a great sense that her and her partner are true soul mates. The fact that we are introduced to him as a frog only makes it more agreeable.  My only qualm was the final scene, the ‘happy ending’. I think this was a teeny bit overwrought and it made me go ‘ick’, but as this is a fairytale I guess I can make allowances.

This is a beautiful book, a sprawling, shimmering work of art. I could find a few things to nitpick – a few moments of twee sentimentality, a bit of draggy prose, some frustration with Jena – but as a whole it is utterly charming. Love the cover as well.