Last month I reviewed "The Story of the Little Merman" by Ethel Reader. This story received a new print edition in 1979, but when it was originally released in 1909, it was part of a volume with a second story, "The Queen of the Gnomes and the True Prince," also illustrated by Frank Cheyne Papé. This one was apparently never re-released, although the 1979 edition of "The Little Merman" still contains Reader's original foreword with references to it. Luckily, I was able to track down a 1909 edition. Having enjoyed "The Little Merman," I was eager to see what the companion story had to offer; however, unfortunately, this ended up being where the cracks begin to show.
The story begins with a king and queen having a baby daughter. At her christening, they fail to invite a certain old witch. The witch, angered, curses her so that she will spend her life underground in the realm of the gnomes. A good fairy, however, adds that a prince will come to rescue her. After some years, the witch's machinations ensure that the young princess is lured out of her protected castle and whisked away to the gnome realm. The gnomes are all men, having worked their wives to death. The gnome king intends to marry the princess. She sees the humans they have carried off to be their slaves in the mines, and meets the king's son: a good-natured, mischievous imp known as the Goblin. As the princess grows up underground, waiting for her prince to slay the guardian dragon and free her, she becomes close friends with the Goblin. He works on her behalf, trying to find her prince for her, but the princes who arrive never quite measure up. (One of the story's funniest moments is when a tough, imposing he-man of a prince sees the dragon and immediately, sheepishly leaves.) Finally the Goblin takes matters into his own hands and faces the dragon. He's badly wounded, but manages to kill it so that the princess and all the enslaved humans can escape. When the princess kisses him, her love transforms him into a handsome prince and they return home to rule her kingdom. The Goblin is a pretty delightful hero, and I enjoyed his gradual development from seeking other princes to saying "Fine, I'll do it myself." I was honestly sad when all the magic went away at the end - gnomes transmuted into ordinary humans, dragons into mundane animals, and the Goblin into a handsome prince (although he keeps his quirky personality). This story feels in many ways like "The Story of the Little Merman." They are written to mimic and deconstruct classic fairytales, and they have a very specific Edwardian feel. There's the same whimsical, tongue-in-cheek style. There is a princess waiting for a prince to save her and her people. There is an unconventional hero who takes up the role, faces the dragon, and nearly gives his life in the process. It's not as clearly linked to any particular fairy tale; there are, of course, shades of "Sleeping Beauty," and dragon-slayer tales, and maybe - maybe - George MacDonald's The Princess and the Goblin. However, it never reaches the same level as The Little Merman. Many of the same themes are here, but it doesn't have the same examination of morality and self-sacrifice. On the one hand, I had a much deeper appreciation for the Merman story after studying "The Little Mermaid." On the other hand, only one of these stories got a reprint, so maybe editors agreed with me. Both stories rely deeply on the tropes of the dragon-slayer and the damsel in distress, although with faint twists. These dragon-slayers get beaten within an inch of their life. And the damsels get their own moments to shine - the Merman's princess when she cares for the Merman's wounds and then dives into legal matters and uses her political education to save him, and the Queen of the Gnomes when she cares for the Goblin's wounds and... actually that's pretty much it. That's the issue. You see the Merman's princess trying to work against her circumstances herself and the way her love for her people inspires the Merman. The Queen of the Gnomes shares these traits - kindness, generosity, patience, the impulse to help the disadvantaged - but it feels like a slightly subpar repeat. We get a sense of the Merman's princess's rage and frustration when she is blocked from helping her people. There is a key moment where, as a child, she tries to stand up to her uncle and is consequently sent away. She doesn't return until much later in the book. In contrast, the Queen of the Gnomes is centered in her story, so we stay with her perspective the whole time, and she doesn't really do anything. She just waits. Both stories are subversive. (Note, in particular, the plotline of the wicked goblins, who are shamed by the narrative for wearing down their wives with endless housework, while the Goblin, our hero, is willing to pitch in with chores like dishwashing.) The Merman and the Goblin are intriguing heroes. They're sensitive and gentle. They are explicitly described as not traditionally attractive, and they step in when the more traditional hero types fail to show up. But they're both still born to royalty, and that is in large part why they get the princess. Gardeners' sons and mailmen need not apply, even if they are kind or brave or childhood friends of the princess. It doesn't stand out so much if you only read one story, but reading them back-to-back, it starts to form a pattern. (For comparison, in The Princess and the Goblin series, the princess eventually marries a miner. That was published in 1872.) There is some meta commentary throughout The Queen of the Gnomes, even more than in The Little Merman. They need a prince to slay the dragon because that's what happens in this kind of story. The princess waits because that's what the story demands. The Goblin knows that he is not a traditional prince and that this means the dragon may just kill him. But while reading The Queen of the Gnomes, I was definitely wishing the meta could stretch a little farther and get a little more creative. Maybe because The Little Merman set me up to expect just slightly more. Overall, The Little Merman is a stronger story. Although it's not perfect, it has a deeper examination of its themes. The Queen of the Gnomes feels a little like a retread or an early draft of the same plot.
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(This review contains spoilers.)
A retelling of Sleeping Beauty. Toadling, a changeling child raised by water monsters known as greenteeth, has grown into a strange-looking being with a propensity for turning into a toad. She is sent back to the human realm to a small kingdom, to attend the baby princess's christening and bestow a blessing on her. Two hundred years later, Toadling guards what's left of the castle inside a protective hedge of thorns, containing the threat within, until one day a kindhearted knight rides up, searching for the legendary sleeping princess. This was a short read - I finished it in an hour. I enjoyed it a lot (I've enjoyed all of T. Kingfisher's books that I've read). It's nice to read books about unabashedly good and kind heroes. Toadling's relationship with Halim is very sweet. There are also lots of references to fairy lore. (My favorite section was a brief exploration of the idea that fairies steal milk from cows.) The main idea of the novel is the changeling myth. Toadling is actually the true child of the king and queen, having grown up in the fairy realm where time doesn't match up with ours. And the princess, Fayette, is her fae counterpart—a juvenile version of the cruel, heartless fairies who will vaporize humans without a second thought. The older Fayette gets, the more dangerous she becomes. The most heartbreaking part is the character of the queen, who loves her daughter fiercely and does her best to protect Fayette while also coming to realize that Fayette is a monster who must be stopped. She never suspects her real relationship to Toadling, who never breathes a word. There is no grand resolution for her character. It's pretty bleak. In the afterword, Kingfisher explains that she had the idea while working on Harriet the Invincible, also a fractured fairy tale retelling of Sleeping Beauty (in which the princess is an indomitable hamster, cursed to prick her finger on a hamster wheel on her twelfth birthday, who fights back against the curse and visits some other fairy tales). If you're looking for a short and sweet retelling of Sleeping Beauty, definitely give this one a read. I first saw the news about this book being published a while ago and knew I had to pick it up. Issunboshi by Ryan Lang is an “epic graphic novel retelling” of the Japanese fairytale of Issunboshi, one of the most famous versions of ATU type 700. The publishing and printing were funded through Kickstarter. It took a while to get my hands on a copy, but here we are!
This retelling gives Issunboshi a more elaborate backstory. The gods used the Ame No Nuhoko, the Heavenly Spear, in the creation of the world. Afterwards, the spear was broken into four parts: the shaft, mount, blade, and spirit. One day an oni came across a piece of the spear. Gaining its power, he began collecting the other pieces and gathering a demon army with the goal of conquering the entire world. The spirit of the spear, searching for a way to stop things, found a childless couple who wished for a son even if he was only as tall as a thumb. The spirit took physical form as the tiny son they wished for, and they named him Issunboshi. The story proper starts with Issunboshi, now a young man six inches tall, living with his parents in their village. Although tiny, he’s stronger than most ordinary humans, and segues between riding on a pet owl or toting heavy buckets around. The story sets up Issunboshi’s feelings of inadequacy (he is approximately as tall as a toothbrush, after all) and his parents’ steady encouragement that he can be great. Then Issunboshi is kidnapped by a tengu or crow demon. Finding himself in the monster-haunted wilderness with only his old needle-sword for protection, he is rescued by a group of warriors who fight monsters and are preparing for a war against the Oni. Issunboshi’s new mentor tells him of his true past and begins training him for an epic confrontation. Issunboshi, small as he is, is the only one who can stop the oni from bringing on an apocalypse. This was a quick read with a simple, straightforward story. There are no big surprises from the plot, and characters don’t get a ton of depth or development. It’s tropey, or archetypal, or whatever you want to call it. There was some comic relief, but the jokes didn’t really land much. I did have a minor quibble with the theme. The book’s message, stated very clearly several times, is that even someone small can do great things (like save the world, fight a giant monster in a hand-to-hand battle, etc.). Although Issunboshi is small, he has near-godlike powers. His mentor tells him immediately that he’s the key to defeating the oni. Training montages and a stumble on the journey help offset this, but still feel quick or even rushed (a larger issue with the middle of the story, between a good beginning and ending). The message comes across okay, but it might have hit harder if Issunboshi wasn’t the amazingly strong incarnation of an all-powerful weapon, but just… a little guy. Ryan Lang is an animator and visual development artist who's worked at Disney and Dreamworks, and you can see that style strongly in his art here. Although everything is in grayscale, the characters are all very vibrant and expressive with unique designs. It also feels very cinematic, and the panels and word bubbles aren't always very dynamic, leaving the effect of storyboards or screenshots from an animated film. However, it is very pretty. There are lots of full-page splashes and spreads, showing off beautiful art. The book is advertised as epic, and it definitely pulls that off. The fairytale of Issun-boshi stands out among thumbling stories; it’s a coming-of-age tale, where Issun-boshi moves out of his parents’ home, finds a wife, and literally and metaphorically grows up—unlike most Western thumbling narratives, where the hero remains a child. I would say that Issun-boshi is, narratively speaking, one of the strongest and most compelling examples of ATU 700. Lang's graphic novel keeps the coming-of-age theme, but is focused on Issun-boshi’s clash with the oni. Instead of a chance encounter near the end of the story, this is a battle Issunboshi was always destined for. The book includes some pieces of concept art at the end, including one that looks like early drafts might have skewed closer to the original fairytale, with Issunboshi meeting a young noblewoman. There’s no romance or equivalent to that character in this retelling. Another big difference is replacing the magic hammer (uchide no kozuchi) of the fairy tale with the spear from an unrelated Shinto creation myth. There are echoes of some typical thumbling motifs, such as when Issunboshi is carried off by a bird or rides on a horse’s head. Overall, it was great to see a new adaptation of one of my favorite thumbling stories. While the story could be stronger, it’s still enjoyable and the art is fantastic. Definitely worth checking out. Further reading
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Researching folktales and fairies, with a focus on common tale types. Archives
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