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Stepmothers are a common theme in fairy tales. Sometimes, as is the case with my most recent story The Six Swans, it’s a wicked mother-in-law but the themes and actions of the story are the same. I mentioned this thought to my friend Alabaster (you might remember her from this guest post) and she told me she’s made a study of wicked stepmothers and has some advice for those of my readers who might be interested in taking the wicked stepmother career path. I’m happy to say she volunteered for another guest post.
Alabaster Daisy
Mrs. Alabaster Daisy has been studying the residents of the enchanted forest for some years now. She has a FTB (Fairy Tale Bachelors) in the Habits of the Fairy Tale World, and has been featured in Forest Fairy Daily sharing her expert tips on life in a magical land. Let’s hear what she has to say.
Alright ladies, here is another post just for you! I know not all of you are going to find your true love, even if you follow the advice in my last post. Although I have no idea what it would be like to be alone and miserable, I do sympathize with you because I have a GREAT imagination! Being beautiful and loved isn’t for all of us, if you choose to follow a different path filled with lies and vengeful thoughts, to that I say, “you go girl!”
Here are my 4 tips to become a wicked stepmother
1. Get a stepchild
This is the most important step. Don’t worry if you have children of your own. In fact, you can use this to your advantage by setting your new and old children up against each other. It’s best if your stepchild is a daughter. Girls get a lot more sympathy from crowds. If you are tormenting a girl, your wicked rep will spread like wildfire. If the girl is pretty your chances are even better. Also no need to worry about the child’s father. You don’t have to like him. Seven out of ten fairy tale fathers die within the year after they remarry so chances are you won’t have to put up with him for long!
Being wicked for no reason at all can bring you some success, but Wicked Stepmother’s who are the most successful have a deeper drive that spurs them through any rough patches they encounter on their climb to ultimate wickedness. If your stepchildren are loving and well behaved, it can be a lot harder to keep your ultimate goal in mind. The greatest solution I’ve seen for this is to keep a burning fire of jealousy stoaked in your heart at all times. Examples of the most common jealousies include: jealousy of beauty, your husband’s attention, or your drive to elevate your own children above that of your stepchildren.
3. Use your Jealousy to spur you forward.
The actions for this step are a little more vague as what you do depends on what you have decided to become jealous of (see step 2). Being jealous of beauty, for example, gives you many options. Examples include:
a. Have the beautiful child work all day in rough and dirty conditions until she is ugly. Then you will shine all the brighter.
b. Send her away to a horrible place where you won’t have to look at her and where she will be miserable.
c. Do what you can to make her appear rude and haughty. People will look past her beauty and hate her all the more.
d. Or a classic move is to try to dispose of her by “other means” if you get my drift (lol ;).
As you can see, the possibilities are endless. Once you get to this step you are well on your way to becoming infamous for the wicked deeds you dream up. Nothing can stop you at this point…except one thing. That brings us to step 4.
4. Never EVER forgive anyone!
Forgiving even just one time can be a downward spiral into cheerful days full of light and flower gardens. Forgiveness brings a sense of freedom and joy. As a Wicked Stepmother you must not let the temptation to feel these things overtake you. It is very important to feel angry and have the sensation of carrying giant boulders on your shoulders (look that rhymes!). Use these feelings to take action. If you find your self feeling anything such as love, compassion, empathy, or freedom, you must take steps immediately. Here are some great actions you can take to thrust that happy feeling into the dirt and burry it for all eternity:
a. Yell at servants or minions when they don’t deserve it.
This will make you feel guilty. Guilt is a great way to keep yourself miserable.
b. Stay out of the sun.
The cheerful sunlight can bring a healthy glow to your skin and help clear your mind. Staying in the dark keeps you depressed. An underground lair is best for avoiding daylight but dark heavy curtains can be just as useful in a pinch.
c. Find a support group
There are more of these cropping up in the enchanted forest lately. I hear they are great for your wicked morale and can be full of ideas to keep you on track. To find a group near you visit manelleoliphant.com/wsa/.
That about wraps it up ladies! I wish you all the misery in the world as you pursue your dream of becoming a wicked stepmother!
he morning sun warmed my face and I opened my eyes. Blinking, I waited for my mind to wake up. I still felt tired after my night’s sleep. I remembered my long labor and my baby. I pulled the beautiful white blankets closer to me. The baby made a noise. I unwrapped him to get a look at the little perfect face I remembered from last night.
A pig.
It squealed and squirmed in my arms.
I almost cried out but stopped myself. My brothers counted on me. My breaths came quick and heavy like yesterday when I was in labor. I shook Albert awake.
He smiled up at me until he saw my face. He sat up. “What’s the matter?”
Still breathing heavy I shoved the blankets of pig at him. Where was my baby? I searched the bedding. He could still be here somewhere.
Albert glanced from the pig to me as I pulled the blankets onto the cold floor. No baby. My chubby baby boy wasn’t here. My strength failed and I knelt down. Silent tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t make a sound or my brothers would be swans all their lives.
Albert rang for the servants and gathered me into his arms. I felt warm and safe close to him.
The servants entered the room, followed by the Queen and her favorite advisor. “What’s wrong Albert dear?” Her voice smooth, with hard edges.
I pulled my face from Alberts now wet shirt and looked at her. A smile played at the edges of her mouth. This was her latest effort to be rid of me.
Albert let go of me and ran toward his mother. “Mother, our baby is gone! This pig was put in it’s place. We must punish whoever has done this.”
The queen put his hand around her arm, and patted it. “My dear. I warned you something like this might happen. I’m afraid your little mute wife doesn’t have all her wits about her. She’s done this herself.”
They both looked at me. I imagined myself through their eyes. I must have looked crazy with my tear stained face, crumpled night gown, and my worn out body. We stared at each other for a split second. I shook my head. No. No. No. Not me! I pointed at the queen. She did it. I looked at Albert and pointed again. Your mother. She’s the one to blame.
She smiled at me. “See what I mean? If you insist on bringing home waifs from the woods and marrying them you also have to face the consequences.”
Albert looked from me to his mother. Did he believe her? She’d poisoned his mind against me for the last two years. I knew he loved me. I knew it. Why couldn’t he see her sinister intentions?
The queen smiled and met his gaze. “Think about it my boy. If someone kidnapped the new prince why replace him with a pig? I’m afraid your little wife has done this herself.”
The color drained from Albert’s face. He looked at me and his shoulders slumped.
No! I climbed across the bed toward him. I reached out. He mustn’t believe this awful thing of me. He looked at me for a second before he took my hand.
I looked at the queen. She gave me a wry smile. “Albert my dear, you must do something about this. You owe the kingdom more than a crazy queen. What if your children were to inherit her mind? It’s for the best this baby is gone.”
Albert looked at me. I could see through his eyes to his breaking heart. He believed her. My shoulders slumped. How to defend myself without talking? I opened my mouth. I could speak, prove I’m not crazy, but all these years of silence would be in vain. I shut my mouth and slumped onto the bed.
The queen continued. “She has killed her own child and must be tried.” She made a motion with her hand. “Lock her up until we decide what to do with her.”
A guard came toward me. If they locked me up how would I finish the shirts that would break the spell on my brothers? I looked to my husband again and begged with my hands.
He only looked unsure.
The guard pulled me out and toward the the lower floors. No! I needed to finish my work. I yanked my arm out of his and ran the other direction. I heard the queen yell for him to go after me. I found more energy and ran faster. I ran, up, up, up, until I reached my tower room where my work waited. I hurried inside. I locked the door and stood panting. I heard the guard reach the door. He knocked.
“Princess, open the door.”
I wouldn’t of course. I heard the queen’s voice. “I don’t care if she’s locked up here or in the dungeon. Stand guard and don’t let her out. After the trial we’ll decide what is to be done.”
I heard her walk away. The guard shuffled around for a minute until he got comfortable outside the door. Then silence.
I leaned on the door, exhausted. I thought of my husband whom I loved. Would he stand up for me? Where was my baby? I put my head in my hands and cried.
I couldn’t allow myself to wallow for long. My work waited. If they sentenced me to death I wanted my brothers to live as men. I worked through my tears. By dusk I finished weaving cloth I’d need for the last shirt. The bell rang in the square. It echoed off the buildings so anyone nearby would hear. They were about to pronounce my sentence.
At the window I could see the crier far below and people gathered to listen.
“Let it be known, this day, the princess Ingrid was found guilty of murder after killing her young son, the prince of this land! Her sentence is death. She will be burned in the morning!”
I wasn’t surprised. My mother-in-law needed to remove me before I could prove her guilt. I turned around and looked at my little room. My body cried out with pain and exhaustion, but if I didn’t finish by morning what would become of my brothers? I lit a candle and worked on.
Later I heard a knock at my door. I went over but didn’t open it. I heard my husband’s voice.
“Ingrid! I know you are awake. I hope you can hear me.”
I sat down and put my ear to the key hole.
“I’ve tried everything to save you, but we can’t find the baby. I have no power to stop things. Not until I come of age and the regency ends. Mother says I am bewitched by you and my word can’t be trusted. She has convinced everyone the kingdom’s future safety requires your death.”
My heart ached. I still loved him. If I could tell him everything maybe he could do something… but I couldn’t, not yet, not until my brothers stood beside me as humans again.
I heard him move and his voice got louder. “I don’t want to lose you, like I lost our son. I don’t know what to do.”
His voice sounded higher than normal. He was crying. I pushed my fingers under the door. This man, my husband, wasn’t perfect, but I loved him, and I wasn’t going to die angry. After a second his hand touched mine. We sat there for some time, but I needed to finish before daybreak. After a while I pulled my hand back and went to work.
The last shirt needed one more sleeve when the sun’s light shown through the window. I heard a commotion outside the door. Time for my execution. Maybe it would be okay without the sleeve. I gathered the shirts into my arms and unlocked the door. No point being difficult. The queen came in followed by three guards. Albert stood beside her with hair mashed up on one side. Did he sleep outside my door? Our eyes met as the they pulled me away.
Down, down, down to the courtyard where I faced my death. I wasn’t the only one who worked through the night. A thick wooden stake was surrounded by piles of wood and dry straw.
The guards pulled me forward. One tried to take the shirts but I fought him.
The queen stood on a balcony above the courtyard where she could watch. “Leave them. If the little witch wants to hold a bunch of ragged shirts while she burns what’s it to us?”
He let me keep them. I searched the sky. Where were my brothers? Ropes were looped around my legs and middle and were pulled tight.
A hooded man with a torch stepped forward.
They always flew here at sunrise. Why be late today?
He lowered the torch and the straw at my feet caught fire.
Honk. Honk.
Here they were!
Honk. Honk.
Two of my brothers swooped down and scattered the twigs, which had caught fire. They pecked at the man with a torch until he backed away.
The queen shook her fist at the executioner and her guards. “Shoot those birds!”
My other four brothers held a blanket in their beaks. They circled low in the courtyard. When they passed the balcony, where my husband stood behind his mother, they set the blanket at his feet. I saw him bend to pick it up but smoke, feathers, and people blocked my view. My brothers fought now except the two who pecked at my ropes.
Honk! Honk! Honk!
The queen leaned out and shouted more, “What’s the matter with you?” Shoot them! Shoot them!”
A guard ran by with swans pecking at his face. “There are too many, my queen!”
I felt the ropes loosen.
Albert moved in front of his mother. “Quiet!” His voice carried over the crowd. “Halt the execution!” The commotion stopped.
“My son, we have gone through this. She is a murderer.”
He held up the blanket. “If she is a murderer, Mother, explain to me how my son is still alive.”
The queen’s face drained of color. “Still alive?”
The ropes fell at my feet.
I threw a shirt over the swan closest to me and he turned from bird to man. I heard the crowd gasp but ignored them. Again, and again, shirt on swan, bird to man. Soon all six of my brothers stood before me, men during the day for the first time since my birth. I put my hands up to the sun and spoke my first words since I learned of their curse. “My brothers!”
I gathered my human brothers into a big circle hug. My youngest had a wing for his left arm but he smiled at me. “We saved your baby from drowning.” He pointed at the advisor. “That man threw him down a well.”
My husbands voice carried around the courtyard with the authority of a king. “Guards, arrest my mother the queen, and her advisor, for attempted murder of the crown prince, and the princess.” The queen shrunk into herself but she didn’t protest as she was led away.
Albert ran down and put his arm around me. I stroked my baby’s head and smiled at Albert. “Hello.” It was the first word I’d ever said to him.
He pulled me close. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you.”
“It is forgiven.” Happy tears formed in my eyes. Years of silent lonely work were at an end. I saved my brothers, I could speak, and I had my family close. This wasn’t the time for holding grudges.
I’m writing from Palermo where I’ve been teaching a course on the legacy of Troy. Myths and fairy tales lie on all sides in this old island. It’s a landscape of stories and the past here runs a live wire into the present day. Within the same hour, I saw an amulet from Egypt from nearly 3000 years ago, and passed a young, passionate balladeer giving full voice in the street to a ballad about a young woman – la baronessa Laura di Carini – who was killed by her father in 1538. He and her husband had come upon her alone with a man whom they suspected to be her lover. As she fell under her father’s stabbing, she clung to the wall, and her hand made a bloody print that can still be seen in the castle at Carini – or so I was told. The cantastorie – the ballad singer – was giving the song his all. He was sincere and funny at the same time as he knelt and frowned, mimed and lamented.
The eye of Horus, or Wadjet, was found in a Carthaginian’s grave in the city and it is still painted on the prows of fishing boats, and worn as a charm all over the Mediterranean and the Middle East, in order to ward off dangers. This function is, I believe, one of the deepest reasons for telling stories in general, and fairy tales in particular: the fantasy of hope conjures an antidote to the pain the plots remember. The street singer was young, curly haired, and had spent some time in Liverpool, he told me later, but he was back home now, and his song was raising money for a street theatre called Ditirammu (dialect for Dithryamb), that performs on a tiny stage in the stables of an ]old palazzo in the district called the Kalsa. Using a mixture of puppetry, song, dance, and mime, the troupe give local saints’ legends, traditional tales of crusader paladins versus dastardly Moors, and pastiches of Pinocchio, Snow White, and Alice in Wonderland.
A balladeer in Palermo. Photograph taken by Marina Warner. Do not use without permission.
Their work captures the way fairy tales spread through different media and can be played, danced or painted and still remain recognisable: there are individual stories which keep shape-shifting across time, and there is also a fairytale quality which suffuses different forms of expression (even recent fashion designs have drawn on fairytale imagery and motifs). The Palermo theatre’s repertoire also reveals the kinship between some history and fairy tale: the hard facts enclosed and memorialised in the stories. Although the happy ending is a distinguishing feature of fairy tales, many of them remember the way things were – Bluebeard testifies to the kinds of marriages that killed Laura di Carini.
A few days after coming across the cantastorie in the street, I was taken to see the country villa on the crest of Capo d’Orlando overlooking the sea, where Casimiro Piccolo lived with his brother and sister. The Piccolo siblings were rich Sicilian landowners, peculiar survivals of a mixture of luxurious feudalism and austere monasticism. A dilettante and dabbler in the occult, Casimiro believed in fairies. He went out to see them at twilight, the hour recommended by experts such as William Blake, who reported he had seen a fairy funeral, and the Revd. Robert Kirk, who had the information on good authority from his parishioners in the Highlands, where fairy abductions, second sight, and changelings were a regular occurrence in the seventeenth century.
The Eye of Horus, By Marie-Lan Nguyen, Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.
Casimiro’s elder brother, Lucio, a poet who had a brief flash of fame in the Fifties, was as solitary, odd-looking, and idiosyncratic as himself, and the siblings lived alone with their twenty servants, in the midst of a park with rare shrubs and cacti from all over the world, their beautiful summer villa filled with a vast library of science, art, and literature, and marvellous things. They slept in beds as narrow as a discalced Carmelite’s, and never married. They loved their dogs, and gave them names that are mostly monosyllables, often sort of orientalised in a troubling way. They range from ‘Aladdin’ to ‘Mameluk’ to ‘Book’ and the brothers built them a cemetery of their own in the garden.
Casimiro was a follower of Paracelsus, who had distinguished the elemental beings as animating matter: gnomes, undines, sylphs and salamanders. Salamanders, in the form of darting, wriggling lizards, are plentiful on the baked stones of the south, but the others are the cousins of imps and elves, sprites and sirens, and they’re not so common. The journal Psychic News, to which Casimiro subscribed, inspired him to try to take photographs of the apparitions he saw in the park of exotic plants around the house. He also ordered various publications of the Society of Psychical Research and other bodies who tried to tap immaterial presences and energies. He was hoping for images like the famous Cottingley images of fairies sunbathing or dancing which Conan Doyle so admired. But he had no success. Instead, he painted: a fairy punt poled by a hobgoblin through the lily pads, a fairy doctor with a bag full of shining golden instruments taking the pulse of a turkey, four old gnomes consulting a huge grimoire held up by imps, etiolated genies, turbaned potentates, and eastern sages. He rarely left Sicily, or indeed, his family home, and he went on painting his sightings in soft, rich watercolour from 1943 to 1970 when he died.
Photograph by Marina Warner. Do not use without permission.
His work looks like Victorian or Edwardian fairy paintings. Had this reclusive Sicilian seen the crazed visions of Richard Dadd, or illustrations by Arthur Rackham or John Anster Fitzgerald? Or even Disney? Disney was looking very carefully at picture books when he formed the famous characters and stamped them with his own jokiness. Casimiro doesn’t seem to be in earnest, and the long-nosed dwarfs look a little bit like self-mockery. It is impossible to know what he meant, if he meant what he said, or what he believed. But the fact remains, for a grown man to believe in fairies strikes us now as pretty silly.
The Piccolo family’s cousin, close friend and regular visitor was Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, the author of The Leopard, and he wrote a mysterious and memorable short story about a classics professor who once spent a passionate summer with a mermaid. But tales of fairies, goblins, and gnomes seem to belong to an altogether different degree of absurdity from a classics professor meeting a siren.
And yet, the Piccolo brothers communicated with Yeats, who held all kinds of beliefs. He smelted his wonderful poems from a chaotic rubble of fairy lore, psychic theories, dream interpretation, divinatory methods, and Christian symbolism: “Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.”
Featured image credit: Capo d’Orlando, by Chtamina. CC-BY-SA-2.5 via Wikimedia Commons
year ago I promised my father I would marry a hedgehog. Today I married him.
Father met him when he was lost in the forest. It frightened him to meet a man all hedgehog on his top half, but the hedgehog introduced himself as Hans and helped him find his way. In return, Father promised to give the hedgehog the first thing he met when he arrived home. He thought it would be his dogs or one of the servants but I raced ahead, and sealed my fate.
As a princess, I knew it wasn’t likely I would marry for love. Only, marrying a royal stranger from a distant place to secure an alliance is easier to stomach than marrying someone not quite human.
When he arrived I watched from my tower room. He rode through the gate on his rooster and the guards admitted him to the castle. After about an hour my father sent up a message. All was in order and I was to prepare myself.
I dressed myself, hoping that by doing what’s right and keeping a promise, it would turn out well. I think that’s what faith is, doing what you know is right and trusting in God things will turn out well, even if it seems impossible they could.
Now I wait in my bedroom, wearing my night shift, the fire the only light. Hans enters. I see his silhouette in the doorway until he shuts the door.
“You are my wife now,” he says to me from the dark.
“It is true,” I say
“It is an ugly thing for a pretty girl like you to be married to me.”
I feel tears form behind my eyes but I blink them away. “Not as ugly as breaking a promise.”
I hear a little snort. “You are right, not so ugly as that.”
He takes a step closer. I see his large form in the firelight. I feel faint and place my hand on the mantel for support. He shakes and snorts and I see him slough off his coat of quills. He drops it in front of me. After a minute I kneel down and touch it. The quills are soft. I look up. A man stands in front of me, a normal, not-half-animal, man. I look at his eyes. They are brown and nice and pleading. The moment stretches out between us but he doesn’t speak. I open my mouth but he shakes his head.
He wants me to do something. I look around confused. I look back to him. He stands still, his brown eyes begging for something. I look at the coat of quills, the fire, and back to him. He looks relieved, and I know what he wants me to do. I grab the quills and throw them into the flames. As they burn he falls to the floor and cries out. I see his skin turning black.
Have I done wrong? I turn to pull the coat back out of the fire, but it’s burning fast and hot. The flames light up the whole room. Hans screams again, the black on his skin spreads. I glance around and see the wash basin by the bed. I grab it and pour it over the writhing man. For a second I am surrounded by steam. When it clears Hans is calm and the black has washed away. I kneel down next to him.
Hans groans, and turns his head toward me. “Thank you wife. You have freed me from a life-long curse.”
I smile. “You’re welcome.”
Hans sits up. I help him to the bed and fetch more water. He nods his thanks as he takes it. Our eyes meet. His are still kind. I can see he is a good man and we will have a happy life. I can’t explain how I know this but I feel the truth of it inside me. I smile at him and take his hand. He smiles back.
The End
If you enjoyed this story I hope you’ll tell your friends.
Let me introduce you to our guest blogger Mrs. Alabaster Daisy.
Mrs. Daisy has been studying the residents of the enchanted forest some years now. She has a FTD in the Habits of the Fairy Tale World, and has been featured in Forest Fairy Daily sharing her expert tips on life in a magical land. She’s here today to share with the ladies her tips for romance. Take it away Alabaster!
True Love
True Love’s kiss is the best way to find your love however, not every maiden wants to wander about kissing frogs hoping for the best. (Or should I say hopping for the best? Sometimes I crack myself up!) There are other useful ways for a lady to know she’s found it. Why I myself met my true love after falling to my doom from the top of a mountain of doom right into his arms. Don’t miss your chance at “hoppiness” by not knowing what they are.
Good luck on your journey to love ladies.
Thanks Alabaster! I know our readers will find that advice very helpful, and I hope we can host you as a guest in the future.
Sorry about last Friday guys, I was unexpectedly in the hospital. It was a bummer. But I’m recovering well and I have a page for you this week. It’s Sleeping Beauty. Have fun coloring!
Over a year ago, I worked and finished a whimsical macabre children’s story called The Stumps of Flattop Hill. While my ultimate hope of publishing this into a book format hasn’t materialized yet, I decided to simply put it online for the world to enjoy.
So check it out and I hope you like it. Maybe one day we’ll still see The Stumps printed on a nice shiny hard bound.
There once were two lovely young girls, sisters in fact, who lived in a spacious abode that seemed, too often, to close in around them. They were two of four daughters, not the golden-brown edge ones, but the soft, fair-haired, middlest sisters, mixed and squeezed together so much that they couldn’t get along. In fact, they bickered constantly.
They bickered near, they bickered far
They argued things trivial, humdrum, and bizarre.
“I’m sick of your manners,” one would often yell.
“I don’t like your meddling or dubious smell”
The other undaunted, her resentments would list
And sometimes erupt in a tirade of fists
◊
Finally the lady of the manor (the loveliest, fairest maiden in the land) had had quite enough. She threatened, cajoled, and punished the two sisters. In frustration, she assigned them chores in the hopes of building teamwork. The clever mother’s schemes worked…but only for a season. For the enmity between the two sisters had grown as great and thick as their noble father’s ample chest hair.
He, the master of the house, was wise on his own account and took action to solve the embarrassing bickering once and for all. He tied the legs of the two sisters together with red silky ribbon, telling them to write down ten things each admired in the other. Only then would the ribbon be removed and their freedom attained.
He congratulated himself on his shrewdness and saw to the other important tasks of the manor, little knowing that the two cunning sisters conspired against him. Each composed a flowery list detailing their own most praiseworthy virtues, swapped scrolls, and beckoned their father back to their dungeon. So pleased was he that he released the two fair girls immediately with a tender kiss on each brow.
He boasted to his lovely wife in their bedchamber that night and wondered at how she could possibly resist his dashing charm. While choruses singing praise echoed inside his swollen head, the lady heard the familiar bicker, bicker, bicker from the other side of the door. The master and fine lady gave up! Would the two sisters ever be confidants or were they doomed to dwell in the moat of antipathy ever after?
Alas, one fine day, something came into their hands that brought the two together better than any silk ribbon ever could. It was warm, imaginative, and likable to both parties. They loved this thing, pondered it, and discussed it non-stop. Oft in the evenings, side by side they could be found on a blue, fluffy throne doing nothing but soak up the enjoyment of this thing…together. Yes, together.
An amazing light shone over the humble manor – the light of peace.
What was this wonderful thing of harmony, you ask? What could it possibly be? It was a book, then another, and another. It was literature that bound their squabbling hearts and imaginations together.
The lord of the manor, a brilliant novelist in his own mind, felt it important to pay tribute to one of the tomes that brought reconciliation to his home. To celebrate Divergent’s theatrical debut, I give you Virgil’s take on one of the wonderful works that put hatred asunder.
Not coming to a theater near you….
Artwork By Georgios Iakovidis (1853-1932)
Imitation Artwork yet unclaimed
10 Comments on The Bickering Sisters, last added: 3/21/2014
Thank you so much. And most of it (besides the chest hair) is true!
ksbeth said, on 3/20/2014 4:53:00 AM
great post, mark and i raised 3 daughters and was one of 3 daughters, along with a brother who came later. i am well acquainted with the world of bickering. well done )
Mark Myers said, on 3/20/2014 5:07:00 AM
I wish we could credit for solving the problem. We never found the common ground that a few books did. After a decade, the last year has been amazing.
This is open to everyone. I can't always afford shipping when it's going overseas but I do want international people to get recognized too. (I haven't forgotten about you guys!)
I have an ARC of The Elite up for grabs. I wanted to put this post up yesterday but alas, my laptop decided to do updates and then my battery went dead.
Thirty-five girls came to the palace to compete in the Selection. All but six have been sent home. And only one will get to marry Prince Maxon and be crowned princess of Illea. America still isn’t sure where her heart lies. When she’s with Maxon, she’s swept up in their new and breathless romance, and can’t dream of being with anyone else. But whenever she sees Aspen standing guard around the palace, and is overcome with memories of the life they planned to share. With the group narrowed down to the Elite, the other girls are even more determined to win Maxon over—and time is running out for America to decide. Just when America is sure she’s made her choice, a devastating loss makes her question everything again. And while she’s struggling to imagine her future, the violent rebels that are determined to overthrow the monarchy are growing stronger and their plans could destroy her chance at any kind of happy ending.
My favorite cartoon princess character is Pochahantas because she is just such a strong character and I've always been fascinated by Native Americans. Belle is my close second. :)
I loved the first one so much and I cant wait to read Elite. My favorite cartoon princess is Ariel. Ive always loved the ocean so naturally i love mermaids :)
Before the year 2012 slips away from me,I'd like to post my fiction favorites.
Two of the books that I was most looking forward to reading in 2012, did not disappoint me, and they are my 2012 favorites in fiction.
Starry River of the Sky The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There
The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There by Catherynne M. Valente (Macmillan) and in audio book by Brilliance Audio, is a follow-up to my favorite book of last year, The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of her own Making. In The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland, September returns to find and reunite with her shadow, Halloween, who has taken up residence in Fairyland Below as the Hollow Queen. After having learned the complicated rules of Fairyland in her last journey, September must now learn to navigate by the rules of Fairyland-Below:
Beware of dog Anything important comes in threes and sixes Do not steal queens A girl in the wild is worth two in chains Necessity is the mother of temptation Everything must be paid for sooner or later What goes down must come up
The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There is as good or better than its predecessor. The levels of Fairyland and their inhabitants are rich and wonderful and magical and utterly satisfying. I had the pleasure of alternately reading and listening to this one, and in an unusual occurrence, both versions were equally enjoyable. The voice of S.J. Tucker is perfectly suited for the fantastic world of Fairyland. Her voice has an unidentifiable quality which defies the listener's attempts to place a location on her accent. Although she is American, she could just as easily be Fairylander.
My library system classifies this book as a young adult novel, however, as with the first in the series, I find it suitable for both younger and older audiences.
I can't wait to read the third book in the Fairyland series!
For a slightly younger audience (though also entertaining for all ages) is Grace Lin's,
Starry River of the Sky (title links to my earlier review) (Little Brown). This is also a follow-up book, although in this case, Starry River is a stand-alone, "companion" book to the earlier Where the Mountain Meets the Moon(2009 Little Brown). Grace Lin always shows herself to be a gentle and thoughtful writer, and never more so than in Starry River.
This is a captivating story that, while holding deep meaning, may be enjoyed in many layers. A magical fantasy, a Chinese folktale, a tale of a boy lost and found, a love story, a mystery, a journey of self-discovery -- all may be found in the tiny and remote Village of Clear Sky.
(My review from the November 2012 edition of School Library Journal) The Land of Stories: The Wishing Spell. By Chris Colfer. 8 CDs. 8:59 hrs. Hachette Audio for AudioCo. 2012. ISBN 978-1-61969-125-4. $69.99.
Gr 4-7 - Like a kinder, gentler Inkheart, (Chicken House 2003), Chris Colfer's first novel (Little Brown, 2012) features a parallel world residing within the pages of a family book — a world whose inhabitants are, in general, ignorant of any world other than their own. Into this appropriately named "Land of Stories" fall 12-year-old twins, Alex and Connor. After the initial excitement of meeting the likes of Goldilocks, Sleeping Beauty, and other fairytale world denizens, the twins are anxious to return home. The way out, however, is not as simple as the way in. They must gather items from a cryptic riddle to perform the Wishing Spell, and soon discover they are not alone in seeking these items. A mysterious girl tracks them and perils await. The weighty danger and adventure is lightened by the wisecracking Connor, a perfect foil for Alex, his more serious sister. If the twins are a little too lucky and clueless at times (a well-read girl like Alex would surely know to avoid the gingerbread cottage in the woods), and phrasing is occasionally trite, it's a small price to pay for an otherwise satisfying adventure. As one might expect from Glee star, Chris Colfer, the narration is superb. His youthful voice is ideal for the roles of the young siblings as well as the large cast. He speaks conversationally in a pleasing voice, although the constant refrain of "he said," "she said," can become tiresome. Colfer's popularity and top-notch narration should ensure a fine reception for this first title in a projected series.
Keeping with the monochromatic pen and ink approach, a creepy approach to this week's Illustration Friday's subject : mirror. It made me think of Snow White, of course, and I discovered a new (to me) version of the fairytale in a poem by Anne Sexton - powerful.
It's been years since I reviewed The Fairy Tale Detectives, the first book in The Sisters Grimm series by Michael Buckley.
I've recently had the opportunity to review the audio book version of the ninth and final book in the series. It's been a good run.
Below is my review as it appeared it in the August 2012, edition of School Library Journal.
The Council of Mirrors: The Sisters Grimm, Book 9. By Michael Buckley. 6 cassettes or 6 CDs. 6:50 hrs. Recorded Books. 2012. cassette: ISBN 978-1-4640-3363-6, CD: ISBN 978-1-4640-3362-9. $66.75.
Gr 4-6--In the final book (Amulet Books, 2012) in Michael Buckley's series, the fate of Ferryport Landing, the Everafters, and the Grimm family are at stake as the Grimms join with former foes and gather a ragtag army of Everafters to face the nefarious Scarlet Hand led by Mirror, the evil looking glass who has taken human form and forcibly occupied the body of the Grimm Sisters' Granny Relda. The Hand, a group of malevolent fairy tale characters, including Prince Charming's brother Atticus, Mayor Heart, and Sheriff Nottingham, is intent on wreaking havoc and gaining freedom from the magical boundary that keeps Everafters imprisoned in Ferryport Landing. Magic mirrors loyal to the Grimms reveal in a prophecy that it is young Sabrina and Daphne Grimm who are destined to save the world from the rogue characters. Despite their friends' lack of confidence, Daphne and Sabrina lead Charming, Puck, Beauty, and the rest of the group into battle. The secret to winning the war will likely be a surprise. Like the finale of Harry Potter, Michael Buckley ends this popular series with a hint of romance and a peek at the future--a glimpse of the much older Daphne and Sabrina Grimm. L. J. Ganser, has been the voice of all nine books. What he lacks in adolescent feminine vocal range, he makes up for with superb diction and the ability to make clear distinctions between the dozens of characters. Overall, a satisfying listen.
Paterson, Katherine and John Paterson. 2011. The Flint Heart. Read by Ralph Lister. Brilliance Audio. 4 hrs. 9 min.
First written and published in 1910, by Eden Phillpotts, The Flint Heart is a re-telling of his fairytale by Newbery-winning author Katherine Paterson and her husband, John.
In the same vein as the better-known "one ring," from J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy, a heart of flint is forged, containing both evil and power. It survives for thousands of years, occasionally surfacing and disappearing, landing finally in a British moor, where it is unearthed by a kindly farmer who falls immediately under its wicked spell. With the help of fairyland creatures, the farmer's children, 12-year-old Charles, and 5-year-old Unity, undertake the task of finding the vile heart and ensuring that it does no more harm. Though they receive help from fairies, pixies, and the all-knowing Zagabog, their most delightful helper is the hot-water bottle, an ancillary character who will win your heart.
Ralph Lister's reading is decidedly British, both in accent and style, calling forth comparisons to English classics. Winnie the Pooh comes immediately to mind.
The audiobook book was nominated for an Audie Award, and the print version is beautifully illustrated by John Rocco. The audio version contains lengthy and interesting commentary by Katherine Paterson regarding the making of The Flint Heart.
This chapter book will make a great family read or listen-aloud, and will appeal to fans of British fantasies similar to The Chronicles of Narnia.
I picked this one up on our last trip to the library, and I'm so glad I did. What a fun story! I'm going to add it right away to my list of clean fantasy romances for growing girls.
I don't know how I missed it until now, but the timing is right, because I just saw that a sequel is forthcoming this Fall.
Here's my Book Review: Princess Annabelle, known as Annie, is the younger sister of Gwendolyn (aka Sleeping Beauty). When the beautiful Gwendolyn pricks her finger on a spinning wheel, everyone in the castle falls asleep. Everyone except Annie, that is.
Annie isn't affected by magic. In fact, any magic near her grows increasingly weaker. The other royals despise her because their magical gifts of beauty and grace fade in her presence. Even her parents keep their distance.
Annie sets out on a quest to find Gwendolyn's true love, so she can wake her family. One adventure proceeds another as she travels through fairy tales.
Along the way, the meet a Hansel-and-Gretel-esk witch, an enchanted prince who is in the form of a bear, a swamp prince who used to be a frog, and a prince holding contests to find a bride.
Baker flips many fairy tales on their heads in this creative adventure.
I thought the witch mentioned above was kind of creepy. She was fattening up a couple children to eat them. Of course, Annie outwitted her, saving the children, and creating a pretty funny and entertaining scene.
As you can imagine, there is also quite a bit of talk about kissing. After all, it IS the only way to wake a sleeping princess.
I read this to my 8 and 6 year olds. They both loved it. We finished it a few days ago, and today my 6 year old girl, Welly, said, "I just keep thinking about The Wide-Awake Princess. I can't believe that..." Sorry. I can't tell you the rest. It would spoil the ending. :)
1 Comments on The Wide-Awake Princess by E.D. Baker, last added: 4/30/2012
Very fun! I have seen this one and wanted to check it out. She also wrote "The Frog Princess" that the disney movie is loosely based on. I read that to the girls and they LOVED it. We are now in the middle of the second one. The thing I like about it is that Emma, the princess, doesn't just give her kisses away. We're going to talk about that a little bit as the book goes on. Also, Emma and Eadric are great characters with flaws that make them human, but also loveable.
Take Charlotte’s Web, Carl Hiassen’s Hoot, and toss in a dash of The Frog Prince, and what do you get? The charming middle grade novel The Hop (Disney Hyperion 2012) by Sharelle Byars Moranville. The story begins with young Tad the toad: The loamy tunnel had fallen around Tad during the long night of winter and padded him like a brown blanket. But now the earth was stirring. And even three feet down, the young hopper felt it. Maybe it was the footsteps of people in the garden, or the deep, seepy drip of warm rain. Maybe it was the chorus of spring peepers. But Tad’s winter slumber has been troubled by strange dreams, dreams that foretell the potential doom of his home, Toadville-by-Tumbledown. He learns he must kiss the Queen of the Hop in order to save his home and his people. But how can he find this Queen. Tad reminds me a bit of Frodo–humble, fearful of the big wide world, and destined to go on a perilous quest. Enter Taylor, a girl who’s life has been turned upside down by her grandma’s chemotherapy and by the sale of the pond and acreage next to her grandma’s house. Gone are her regular afternoons at grandma’s [...]
3 Comments on Fun Middle Grade: The Hop by Sharelle Byars Moranville, last added: 3/30/2012
Cinderella goes steampunk. It’s a sexy concept, and from the cover you might expect some kind of femme fatale Cinderella who can punch out baddies in a single blow without missing a step in the waltz. Marissa Meyer’s imagining, however, is far more human.
Cinder is a cyborg in a futuristic Earth where the human race is served by machines and cyborgs are feared and revolted. Cinder is entirely the legal property of her stepmother, Linh Adri. She is also the best mechanic in New Beijing – so much so that Prince Kai, royal heart-throb, seeks her services. As she is drawn further into Prince Kai’s world Cinder is desperate to keep her “deformity” hidden.
Prince Kai’s problems are far greater – he is struggling to maintain peace with the race of Lunars that inhabit the Moon, and to find a cure for letumosis, the plague-like disease ravaging Earth.
Sound complicated? Cinder does feel overloaded with plot at times and sophisticated readers will see, like a cyborg’s parts, the mechanics at work.
What saves Cinder is the strength of its characters. Cinder’s struggle to accept herself and her efforts to carve a space in the world for the people (and androids) she loves is easily relatable. Iko, the WALL-E-esque sidekick, provides heart as well as comic relief. And it’s a pleasure to see Adri given more depth and nuance than most stepmother tropes.
Cinder is an easy and enjoyable read. It’s Meyer’s debut novel and the first in The Lunar Chronicles – with three subsequent titles already slated for release, the future looks promising.
i've been meaning to upload this sketch here for the last few days, but the time got away from me....
anyway, this is next up. and i shall be completing it in the next few nights because i have some customers waiting on some prints of her:)
here is a link to my etsy shop www.enchantedeasel.etsy.com where a print of snow white and ariel can be found...and purchased! hopefully if time allows, i will be able to get some more of these disney princesses done. but it'll have to wait til after the holidays.
next, is another story/illustration for the wonderful stories for children magazine http://www.storiesforchildrenmagazine.com/ entitled rainclouds and rainbows. can't wait to start sketching....
btw, she is my all time favorite princess. sweet and sassy...and SMART! that's my kind of girl;)
Description: In this thrilling story full of adventure and romance, Sleeping Beauty is more than just a lonely princess waiting for her prince—she's a brave, tenacious girl who never backs down from a challenge. With vampire-slaying talents that she practices in secret, Sleeping Beauty puts her courage to the test in the dark of night, fighting evil as she searches for a way to break the spell that has cut her off from her family. In a special twist, readers have the opportunity to make key decisions for Sleeping Beauty and decide where she goes next—but no matter the choice; the result is a story unlike any fairy tale you've ever read!Sleeping Beauty: Vampire Slayer is an entirely new type of fairy tale–one that will keep today's kids guessing and offer them hours of magical fun.
Review:
What I Didn't Like
It's marketed as a book for young adults, but I think the language is more on the middle grade level. Just my opinion.
It got silly at times throughout the novel.
The "choose your own adventure" part of the book has you thinking for Lucette rather than Lucette thinking for herself.
What I Liked
Ms. McGowan gives an interesting twist to a classic fairy tale. I love the "fractured" fairy tale...some more so than the classics.
What I liked about the "choose your own adventure" bit was the fact that it made you a part of the story, despite the fact that you did the thinking
0 Comments on ARC Review: Sleeping Beauty: Vampire Slayer as of 1/1/1900
Click the link below to download.
Cinderella goes steampunk. It’s a sexy concept, and from the cover you might expect some kind of femme fatale Cinderella who can punch out baddies in a single blow without missing a step in the waltz. Marissa Meyer’s imagining, however, is far more human.
super post……………#wordpress!
Thank you so much. And most of it (besides the chest hair) is true!
great post, mark and i raised 3 daughters and was one of 3 daughters, along with a brother who came later. i am well acquainted with the world of bickering. well done )
I wish we could credit for solving the problem. We never found the common ground that a few books did. After a decade, the last year has been amazing.
Reblogged this on Barbara C Rowe Author.
How wonderful books are!
Indeed, on many levels.
Thank you for sharing the story, Barbara.
Very funny stuff. Girls, well, for my money they are about 100 X harder to raise than boys and the drama is the stuff of good theater.
Not always ‘good’ theater. But there is a lot of drama for sure