Showing posts with label Jackson Pearce. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jackson Pearce. Show all posts

Friday, February 4, 2011

Defending Sisters Red


As you may have heard, On January 28, Bitch Magazine posted a list called 100 Young Adult Books for the Feminist Reader. Jackson Pearce's Sisters Red, which I devoted a long entry to back in June, was initially on the list, but it has since been removed. You will also find no trace of Margo Lanagan's Tender Morsels and Elizabeth Scott's Living Dead Girl either, even though both were included in the original list. And that's where the fun begins. The day after the list went up, a complaint surfaced in the comments about Sisters Red. User Pandora wrote, "I am surprised that you included Jackson Pearce's Sisters Red on the list, mainly because of the rape culture debate it brought about..." This refers to a review that appeared in the blog, The Book Smugglers shortly after the book's publication last summer. In this review, two readers complained of the book's supposed victim-blaming attitude towards survivors of rape.

Just in case, you're at sea about all this, Sisters Red is a refreshing take on the classic fairy tale, Little Red Riding Hood. It's about two sisters, Scarlett and Rosie, who survived a brutal werewolf attack when they were little girls. Now as young women, they hunt and kill "Fenris" (werewolf-type creatures who have a lot in common with sexual predators). Scarlett kept Rosie safe during the attack. She lost an eye and gained disfiguring scars as a result. Consequently, she lives for the hunt, even though Rosie wants a more normal life, especially after she falls for their childhood friend and fellow hunter, Silas. About halfway through the book, while out hunting, Scarlett stops outside of a club and sees a bunch of girls she refers to as "Dragonflies." Here's the passage:

"They’re adorned in glittery green rhinestones, shimmery turquoise and aquamarine powders streaked across their eyelids. Dragonfly girls. Their hair is all the same, long and streaked, spiralling down their backs to where the tiny strings holding their tops on are knotted tightly. Their skin glows under the neon lights – amber, ebony, cream – like shined metal, flawless and smooth. I press harder against the crumbly brick wall behind me, tugging my crimson cloak closer to my body. The scars on my shoulders show through fabric when I pull the cloak tight. Bumpy red hills in perfectly spaced lines.
The Dragonflies laugh, sweet, and bubbly, and I groan in exasperation. They toss their hair, stretch their legs, sway their hips, bat their eyes at the club’s bouncer, everything about them luring the Fenris. Inviting danger like some baby animal bleating its fool head off. Look at me, see how I dance, did you notice my hair, look again, desire me, I am perfect. Stupid, stupid Dragonflies. Here I am, saving your lives, bitten and scarred and wounded for you, and you don’t even know it. I should let the Fenris have one of you.
No, I didn’t mean that. I sigh and walk to the other side of the brick wall, letting my fingers tangle in the thick ivy. It’s dark on this side, shadowed from the neon lights of the street. I breathe slowly, watching the tree limbs sway, back lit by the lights of skyscrapers. Of course I didn’t mean it. Ignorance is no reason to die. They can’t help what they are, still happily unaware inside a cave of fake shadows. They exist in a world that’s beautiful normal, where people have jobs and dreams that don’t involve a hatchet. My world is parallel universe to their's – the same sights, same people, same city, yet the Fenris lurk, the evil creeps, the knowledge undeniably exists. If I hadn’t been thrown into this world, I could just as easily have been a Dragonfly." --Sisters Red, Jackson Pearce page 208


Shortly after this, Silas joins her and they have the following dialogue:

"His eyes narrow in something between disgust and intrigue, as though he’s not certain if he likes looking at them or not. I want to comment, but I stay quiet. Somehow it feels important to wait for his reaction. Silas finally turns to look at me in the shadows.
'It’s like they’re trying to be eaten, isn’t it?' he asks pointedly. 'Can I tell you how glad I am that you and Rosie aren’t like them?'
'No kidding.” I grin, relieved. “Rosie could be if she wanted, though. She’s beautiful like they are.'
'Beauty has nothing to do with it. Rosie could never be one of them. Do you really think they’d dress and act like that if they knew it was drawing wolves toward them
?'"

Okay. I have to admit, this exchange bothered me too when I first read the book, because it does sound like victim-blaming. There's the classic argument that when a woman is raped, it's because she somehow "asked for it" (through her clothing, behavior, the look in her eye, that unattended drink that was just begging for a Roofie). Never mind the fact that she said no. This argument always infuriates me because it suggests that if women are stupid enough to behave like anything other demure, tight-lipped little girls who have no idea what sex is, they deserve what they get. There seems to be this attitude in society that a silent contract exists between men and women. Men have a constant, violent sexual appetite that can only be kept in check by the virginal behavior of the women around them. As soon as a woman violates her end of the contract with her dress etc., the man is free to break his and rape her if necessary. Therefore, it's the woman's fault, not the man's. After all, men can't help themselves and women know the rules, dammit. Not only does this attitude ignore that men can be raped and women can be rapists, it's insulting to just about everyone and doesn't do anything to prevent rape or help rape victims. And women are just as guilty of it as men. I've heard one girl call another a slut because of her outfit so. many. times. It doesn't make sense. When a person is raped, it is the fault of the rapist and only the rapist. It is NEVER the victim's fault. Rape is not a fact of life that we have to deal with like Mondays or too much snow. It's a crime, and to blame the victim is to ignore its severity.

So does this mean I agree with The Book Smugglers? Was my unabashed enjoyment of Sisters Red based solely on its connection to one of my favorite fairy tales? No. I really liked Sisters Red and I stand by my original opinion of it. We'll get to that in a minute. Those at Bitch Magazine, however, did not stand by their opinion. On February 1, after Pandora's complaint and others like it, they posted this:

"A couple of us at the office read and re-read Sisters Red, Tender Morsels and Living Dead Girl this weekend. We've decided to remove these books from the list -- Sisters Red because of the victim-blaming scene that was discussed earlier in this post, Tender Morsels because of the way that the book validates (by failing to critique or discuss) characters who use rape as an act of vengeance, and Living Dead Girl because of its triggering nature. We still feel that these books have merit and would not hesitate to recommend them in certain instances, but we don't feel comfortable keeping them on this particular list....We've replaced these books with Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones, The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley and Tomorrow, When the War Began by John Marsden."

I do not think Pearce meant to "blame the victim." True, it bothered me at first, but I think it's supposed to bother the reader. We're not dealing with happy feelings here. The first passage is entirely from Scarlett's perspective, and it shows her mindset. Scarlett has one mission in life: to take down as many Fenris as possible. Unlike Rosie, she has no desire to fall in love or find a new interest, because only hunting matters to her. That doesn't stop her from observing the outside world. The Dragonfly scene, in my opinion, gives us access to Scarlett's vulnerability. When she looks at the Dragonflies, she can't help but think how different she is. She doesn't feel beautiful or desirable, and it bothers her. Not enough to make her give up hunting, but it does bother her. So when she sees pretty, flighty-seeming girls, made up for a night on the town and having fun, she projects her anger and regret onto them. It doesn't help that these are the girls she's fighting to protect and they get to live in oblivion while she has to live a life of constant responsibility. She understands her resentment is misplaced, but she can't help it, especially since she sees Rosie's Dragonfly potential. The only thing Scarlett cares about besides hunting is her relationship with Rosie, and to lose Rosie to the world of normality, represented by the Dragonflies, would be the worst kind of abandonment.

Which brings us to Silas and the second passage. At this point in the book, we know that Rosie and Silas are falling for each other and he's encouraging her to pursue interests that don't involve hunting. We know, but Scarlett doesn't (the sisters take turns narrating present-tense chapters). Scarlett isn't in love with Silas, (Pearce mercifully avoids the "sisters in love with the same guy" trope), but he is the person she's closest to besides Rosie. Silas has dialogue here, but the scene is still from Scarlett's perspective. She needs to see how he reacts to them. If he ever gets the urge for a normal life (again represented by the Dragonflies), she will lose him, because she will never be normal. When he dismisses the Dragonflies and talks about how glad he is Scarlett and Rosie aren't like "them," Scarlett is reassured. I interpreted Silas to have alternative motives here. He's going behind Scarlett's back, not being entirely honest and potentially threatening her relationship with Rosie, so he's appeasing her by telling her what she wants to hear. Which is essentially, who would want to be normal, when normality amounts to ignorance? He reinforces Scarlett's confidence, and keeps it all about hunting, letting her hold a higher ground. I don't see Silas as a devious character. He just wants to protect Scarlett from pain.

In other words, these passages, in my opinion, aren't about the Dragonflies or what makes the Fenris attack. It's about Scarlett and her feelings of isolation. The Book Smugglers criticized Sisters Red for suggesting that warrior women like Scarlett should be celebrated, while women who care about their appearance and like attention are lesser than. This ignores the fact that...

SPOILER

SPOILER WARNING

Rosie chooses a more normal life at the end of the book, even though Scarlett continues to hunt. They understand that they will always love each other no matter what, and they don’t need to want the same things out of life. They are both strong, capable young women, and their choices don’t change that. In other words, Rosie is not portrayed as weak for being pretty and wanting love. She chooses the world represented by the Dragonflies, and Scarlett accepts this. I really loved this about Sisters Red. I appreciated that Rosie got what she wanted, and Scarlett didn’t need to be “fixed.” I’m so glad there was no makeover scene, but I’m equally glad Rosie didn’t sacrifice her desires to make Scarlett happy.

END OF SPOILERS

There’s also the fact that nobody gets raped in Sisters Red. Even though I haven’t read them, I know Tender Morsels and Living Dead Girl both deal explicitly with rape. Sisters Red does not. The Fenris kill their victims, but they don’t rape them. That said, it’s naïve to expect a reader not to be reminded of rape when reading Sisters Red. Little Red Riding Hood has long been associated with sexuality, and the Fenris come across as metaphorical sexual predators. Their transformation from men to monsters is rooted in lust and they target young girls. However, this controversy seems to have marked Sisters Red as a novel specifically about rape, and it isn’t. This misinformation has seeped into the dialogue surrounding its removal. One anonymous Bitch Magazine commenter acknowledged that she hadn’t read the book, but had “heard” it glorified the pretty sister who hadn’t been raped, and negatively portrayed the sister who had been. True, she admitted she hadn’t read it but that’s not Sisters Red.

I’m not Jackson Pearce, so I can’t say for sure what she intended. Of course, everybody is entitled to his or her own opinion. All I’m saying is that a character’s opinion is not necessarily the opinion of the author or the message that author is trying to put forth in her book. Authors trust their readers to think for themselves. If Pandora, the Book Smugglers and other readers were offended by the Dragonfly scene, that's their prerogative. Likewise, Bitch Magazine can do whatever it wants, but I don't agree with their decision to remove these books from their list. Neither did a mess of YA authors, including Scott Westerfeld and Justine Larbalestier, who wrote in, requesting their books be removed as well. It feels like a very cowardly move on Bitch Magazine’s part. It's also confusing because these three books are not the only ones that deal with difficult issues. Laurie Halse Anderson's Speak, which had to fight against being banned last September because of its frankness about date rape, has the number 4 spot. Wintergirls also by Anderson, has been cited as potentially triggering for people suffering from eating disorders, and it's still on the list. So why these three? Because they started the loudest fireworks? It’s kowtowing, plain and simple. In their eagerness to please and not offend, the staffers at Bitch Magazine made themselves look foolish. Obviously, the list has no impact on the availability of these books, but it does stuff them in a closet, potentially hiding them from readers who might have found comfort and understanding in them, and that’s a shame.

I feel bad for Bitch Magazine because they were trying to do a good thing here. It’s impossible to please everyone with a list like this, because as this controversy proves, whether or not a book has value from a feminist standpoint often depends on the reader. I’ve heard the much-maligned Twilight saga championed as a feminist narrative because even though Bella Swan chooses immortality with her boyfriend over a human life, that’s her choice and it’s perfectly valid. And even though Katniss Everdeen of The Hunger Games is a hardened survivor who risks her life to save her sister, she still spends much of the series trying to decide between two guys. So is there such a thing as the perfect feminist narrative or heroine? I don’t think so. Does loving Disney princesses and fairy tales make me a bad feminist? I can give you plenty of reasons why it doesn’t, but I’m sure some of you could give me just as many reasons why it does. I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree. In the meantime, I’m on Jackson’s side.


UPDATE: On February 5, Bitch Magazine posted this. It's not a retraction or an apology, but you can tell they're feeling antsy.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

My Ten Favorite Books of 2010


December was a dark abyss, my friends. A dark abyss of Christmas carols, room cleaning and general laziness. Hence my harsh abandonment. But I have returned and what better way to resurrect this self-indulgent soundboard than with...a LIST!!!Yes. A List of my ten favorite books of 2010. Books I loved and gushed about to friends and strangers alike. Everybody neat and pretty? Then on with the show!


10. Princess of the Midnight Ball by Jessica Day George

A classic fairy tale. A hero who knits. And the loveliest description of black sand I have ever read. All around wonderful. Also rescued me from one hell of a reading rut. THREE months of so-so books and then this. Magic.

9. The Diaries of Adam and Eve by Mark Twain

Twain presents the parents of mankind as a pair of (seemingly) mismatched kids who have no choice but to face the fledgling world together. One of those books that wins your heart with humor and then tears it shreds. Funniest part: Adam trying to explain to Eve why they can’t domesticate a dinosaur.

8. Sisters Red by Jackson Pearce

Take Little Red Riding Hood. Now craft her into TWO teenage heroines who know how to fight. Now take the Big Bad Wolf and turn him into a species of scary, sex criminalish man-wolves. See who makes it out alive.

7. The Ivy Tree by Mary Stewart

The Parent Trap in Northumberland. Only with murder, ballads and a hot Irish sociopath. Am I over-simplifying? Hells yes. But don’t tell me you aren’t intrigued.

6. The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins (I’m counting them as one!)

Kids fighting to the death on live TV. Is it any mystery why this series is so popular? These books are brutal, bleak and unbelievably addictive. And of course, there's an impossibly perfect love interest.

5. The Collector by John Fowles

A butterfly collector kidnaps the young woman he’s stalked for years and keeps her locked in his basement as his “guest.” He wants her to fall in love with him. She keeps a diary. They talk about The Catcher in the Rye. What starts as a provocative character study subtly evolves into a meditation on life, God and humanity.

4. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner

A love letter to stream-of-consciousness and the scent of honeysuckle. Three brothers, each with his own issues (mental disability; sexual neurosis; all-around awfulness), narrate the story of their sister Caddy's “moral downfall.” I had to read a good amount aloud just to figure out what was going on, but I had the time of my life. It's all a metaphor for the post-Civil War South, but the unsung tragedy is that Caddy Compson never gets to speak for herself. Her brothers have to tell her story for her, and as fascinating as they are, it speaks to how women have been and continue to be silenced for their transgressions. Intellectually and emotionally satisfying, this is one classic that deserves the title.

3. Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis

Powerful. A book that reduced me to tears not only because it’s sad, but because it’s so beautifully written. The Greek myth of Cupid and Psyche retold by Orual, the archetypal “ugly stepsister.” One of the best and most meaningful books I’ve ever read.

2. We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

Is it wrong that I want to have dinner with a family decimated by poison? Maybe, but Jackson is just that good at what she does here. Our narrator, Merricat has an ucannily eerie voice that somehow manages to be familiar and oddly welcoming. Provided you’re not her cousin Charles, that is. Post scriptum? Best title ever.

1. The Good Thief by Hannah Tinti

I love this book for many reasons.

A. It's a wonderful book. A great adventure yarn about storytelling (and grave robbery!) that evokes Robert Louis Stevenson and Charles Dickens, but does it in 19th century America. Great characters, excellent writing, and a story that is both fun and very moving. (Whaling gets a shout out too!) In short, just an all around pleasurable reading experience.

B. I read it in Disneyland, my favorite place on Earth (and the Happiest, as you may have heard).

C. It is the luckiest book in the world. After I finished it, I looked up the author and discovered she co-founded a magazine called One Story that just happened to be sponsoring a summer Writing Workshop. I applied and got in and it was a great experience. It also led to a writing fever that got me to finally finish my story, "Slut." The story that eventually got published. So yeah. The Good Thief is the luckiest book in the world. And a great, great read.


Sunday, June 20, 2010

Out of the Darkness, Into the Light: A Look at Sisters Red by Jackson Pearce


Strangers never walk down this road, the sisters thought in unison as the man trudged toward them.” –Sisters Red, The Prologue

Little Red Riding Hood and I go way back. I've spent many, many hours fawning over my copy of Grimms’ Fairy Tales and no matter how old I get or how many times I've read it, that immortal bedside dialogue always makes my breath quicken and my heart beat faster. Every single time. Nothing makes me regress faster, in fact, except Disney movies. When I was nine, my grandmother (of course, my grandmother) made me a red hooded cloak which I still have. I know Roald Dahl’s kickass Revolting Rhymes version by heart and occasionally recite it on command at family parties (I could do it at eight and I think the family’s amused that over ten years later, I haven’t forgotten it so they still request it). When I was twelve, I saw the movie version of The Company of Wolves (mostly between my fingers), which introduced me to Angela Carter who is now one of my favorite authors. It was one of the first fairy tales I learned to read in German, and for better or worse, it’s the first thing I think of whenever I step off the bike path in the park—even if it’s just to answer my phone! So yeah, I dig Little Red Riding Hood. I am emotionally invested in its existence as a folktale that continues to influence literature, pop culture et all. This doesn’t grant me any particular authority, but I do know a bit about its history and the story definitely means a lot to me.

So. Now that that’s all out in the open, let me get on with what I came here to say: Sisters Red is one of THE BEST Little Red-inspired things I’ve ever read. Period.

I found this book completely by accident. It came out literally last week. I was on SurLaLune, an online cornucopia of fairy tale awesomeness, and looked, as I always do, at their advertisements for newly released fairy tale books. My eye immediately went to the above cover which is probably one of the most effective covers I’ve seen in a long time. No dimly obscured heroine vaguely touching something here. No terrifying corsets or completely inaccurate character renderings. Nope. Just a shocker of red/black/white magic that knocks you between the eyes and practically forces you to open the cover. Didn’t get a good look at it before? Scroll back up. I’ll wait.

See. Moving right along.

Now seeing as how not everybody has the same involved relationship with Little Red Riding Hood that I do, here’s a brief synopsis of the tale itself just in case it’s been awhile. Our Heroine, a little girl defined by the red cloak (or cap in some versions) she always wears, ventures off into the woods to visit her sick grandmother. Before she leaves, she promises her mother that she WILL NOT STRAY FROM THE PATH. That’s a gun over the fireplace if ever there was one. Along the way, she meets a Wolf who sweet talks her off the path and into a nearby meadow where she wastes time picking flowers while he sneaks off to Granny’s. He promptly eats the old woman, dresses in her clothes, and hops into bed, eager to enjoy the little girl as well. When Little Red arrives, she falls for this impregnable ruse, sensing something is amiss but unable to put her finger on what specifically. She and the Wolf engage in the aforementioned dialogue (“‘What big eyes you have’ ‘The better to see you with, my dear’” etc.) and then the Wolf eats her. Now depending on the version you read, the story either ends here (Charles Perrault) or with a huntsman/woodcutter coming in, cutting open the Wolf’s stomach, and freeing the devoured duo, paving the way for a happy ending (the Brothers Grimm). There have, of course, been versions that make this savior come in just before the Wolf eats Little Red as well as versions where the Wolf instead of eating Granny, locks her in a closet (???) Roald Dahl and James Thurber both had Little Red pull out a gun and shoot him. Angela Carter had her sleep with him. But at the end of the day, when talking canon, Perrault’s and the Grimms’ are considered the versions to go by.

Today the moral of the story is generally said to be "See kids, this is why you don't talk to strangers." However, back in Perrault's time it was more along the lines of "See girls, men are bad. They are basically animals who only want one thing. And they will stoop to dressing up like your grandmother to get it. And if they succeed, you might as well be dead because no other man will want to marry you. So always be obedient and never stray from the path society has chartered for you." Even the Grimms' happy ending reeks of moral clean up. In their version, if the Wolf is the man who will lead you astray, then the huntsman/woodcutter is the man who will save you (most likely your father). Despite the more sanitized versions that reign supreme nowadays, it probably doesn't take an exceptionally vivid imagination / dirty mind to recognize the story's history as a sexual morality tale, tracing one little girl's downfall from trusting innocent to wolfmeat. Never stray, indeed.

I think there’s a reason why you don’t see a lot of novels based on Little Red Riding Hood, even though it’s been the subject of countless poems and short stories. There just isn’t that much there in terms of length. In terms of depth, sure, but not length. Any retelling worth its salt should comment in some way on its source material whether to reinterpret it or satirize it or whatever the author wants to do. The brilliance of Sisters Red lies in the fact that it does this while also telling its own story. Sisters Red isn’t so much a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood (except, perhaps, for the prologue, which is worth the cost of the book all by itself) as it is a fantasy-horror novel rooted in Little Red imagery and mythology that tells its own story while also making an empowering statement about the fairy tale that inspired it. No small feat.

Since they were little girls, Scarlett and Rosie March have lived with one all-consuming purpose: to hunt and kill as many Fenris as possible. What’s a Fenris? You and I might call them werewolves, but we would be wrong. They’re Fenris and they’re scary as hell. These attractive, seemingly ordinary men seduce young girls (the younger the better) into trusting them. Once they have their victims isolated and vulnerable, they transform into monstrous wolves and viciously devour them. As children, Scarlett and Rosie barely survived the Fenris attack that left their grandmother dead, Scarlett brutally injured, and the knowledge of this big bad evil alive and well inside them. With the help of their friend and neighbor Silas, a woodsman’s son, they track down, lure, and kill as many of these monsters as they can in their small Georgia village. The crux of the action takes place seven years after the attack. Scarlett, now eighteen-years old, lives for hunting. It is her passion and the only thing, apart from her sister, that sustains her. She also sees it as her responsibility. How can she do anything else knowing that the Fenris are out there? Sixteen-year-old Rosie, however, is starting to itch for a more “normal” life. She wants to stand by her sister, but she also wants to fall in love and go to school and enjoy herself, and a life dedicated to hunting leaves no room for that. This conflict tests the bond between these devoted but utterly different sisters as they leave their small town for the big city of Atlanta where Fenris are literally everywhere. It’s a story about a lot of things: responsibility, guilt, normalcy, love, fear, passion, why we make the choices we make, and what it means to live in the light while others live in darkness. But most of all, it’s about sisters.

Scarlett and Rosie are achingly real characters. I loved them and identified with them both even though they are vastly different. They take turns narrating in first-person chapters and when the book ended, I wanted them to go on confiding in me, which is always a wonderful feeling. I felt like I knew them. They’re badass in the best sense, able to fight and destroy Fenris with hatchets, knives, and their womanly wiles, but they’re also vulnerable and their bond is heart wrenching. Pearce wittily evokes the iconic imagery of the fairy tale by dressing her heroines in red hooded cloaks for their hunts. The color red, appropriately, gets the Fenris’ juices flowing faster than Pavlov’s bell, echoing the long-held interpretation that Little Red’s cloak symbolizes the sexual desire she supposedly stirs in the Wolf. Waiting in the wings for the fight to begin is Silas, also a very well-drawn character. He’s a good guy. He cares about the girls and fights alongside them, but he is not, thank God, the savior that his folkloric ancestor is. That said, I am grateful that Sisters Red is not the kind of book where the Patented Generic Strong Female Lead whips her hair back and says, “I don’t NEED a man’s help.” I always appreciate guys and gals working together on an equal plane and Sisters Red delivers that.

I also really enjoyed the world of the book. It’s the real world with a twist, a world where Scarlett and Rosie can wear red cloaks everywhere they go and not raise eyebrows; where Silas can come from a long line of woodsmen; and where pretty, flirty girls are known as Dragonflies. It’s basically the world of the fairy tale set in the 21st century. Fittingly, their small Southern neighborhood lies on the edge of a forest, but you can meet a bad guy just as easily in the city as in the country. The book is so fast-paced I finished it almost without realizing and I was utterly absorbed throughout. The characters reveal themselves subtly through conversation and action. The fight scenes are well-orchestrated, suspenseful, and they ALL contribute significantly to the plot, though the girls’ interactions with the Fenris before they transformed were what really frightened me.

Jackson Pearce deserves an award simply for the Fenris. Nowadays, when fiction is dominated by the “monster that cares,” it was perversely refreshing to meet creatures so unapologetically evil. The Fenris are literally soulless. There’s no “maybe we can reason with them,” or “let my love tame the beast inside you” here. No, these are monsters who will track you, charm you into submission, frighten you for their own pleasure, and finally, brutally, kill you. The prologue—I know I mentioned the prologue already, but seriously, it’s amazing—sent a shiver up my spine. I’m talking gooseflesh and I read it safe and sound under the bright lights of my office’s break room, surrounded by people. I’ve read many retellings of Little Red and met a lot of Big Bad Wolves, but that son of a bitch in the prologue put them all to shame in terms of pure fear factor. The best fantasy, in my opinion, acts as an allegory for real life; what makes the Fenris so frightening is how eerily real they are. Little Red’s Wolf has often been interpreted as a sexual predator, and the Fenris are basically sexual predators. Their change from men to monsters is triggered by lust, rage, and the need to dominate. They see their victims first as playthings and finally as meat. Many scenes in Sisters Red are genuinely unnerving, tapping into something primal in the subconscious, which is what good fantasy is supposed to do.

Sisters Red does not abide by the “rules” set down in the folktale. Nobody dresses up like anybody’s grandmother. Nobody waits to be rescued. It has an emotional relationship at its heart that the folktale doesn’t: Little Red doesn’t have a sister. Best of all, unlike the most well-known versions of the story, Sisters Red is not a lesson in moral downfall or a cautionary tale about how easily girls can fall victim to dangerous men. Instead, it’s about young women being empowered enough to acknowledge the evil around them, look it in the face, and decide they’re not going to let it beat them, and this idea, it turns out, might be truer to the spirit of Little Red Riding Hood than even the Perrault and Grimm versions. See, Little Red Riding Hood has gone down in history as a naïve, foolish little girl who falls right into the hands of a predator, but that was not always the case.

There’s a little-known version of the folktale called The Story of Grandmother. Though it was first printed in 1885, 73 years after the Grimms’ version and almost 200 years after Perrault’s, it lived a long and healthy life in the French oral tradition, dating probably as far back as the Middle Ages. In this version, the heroine, a young woman of indeterminate age, sets off to take bread and milk to her grandmother, but she never dons a symbolic cloak or promises not to stray from the path. This tale is blatantly more sexual than your better known versions. When the heroine arrives at the house to find a wolf in her grandmother’s bed, she is not fooled for a minute. She does, however, perform a striptease for him, removing all her clothing at his command until she’s naked, and nothing remains except to climb in bed beside him. Before the Wolf has a chance to devour her (make of that what you will), she tricks him into letting her go outside to go to the bathroom, promising to keep a rope tied around her foot so he can hold onto her. Once outside, of course, she unties the rope and runs like hell, leaving the Wolf all by his lonesome. This story was passed down from generation to generation across the French countryside as young girls grew up and prepared for courtship. It was still treated as a cautionary tale, warning them of men with unsavory intentions, but it did not treat sex or sexuality as the key to a lady's undoing, literal or otherwise. In The Story of Grandmother, the heroine uses her sexuality and quick thinking to outsmart the Wolf. No moralizing death or male savior here; she saves herself. What I love best about Sisters Red is that it’s a glorious return to this idea. Scarlett and Rosie are, as Angela Carter once put it, nobody’s meat. They’re not afraid or ashamed of their sexuality; they’re empowered by it, knowing they can use it to attract the Fenris. They’re smart, they’re powerful, they can fight, they love each other, and they are survivors, which gives them all the strength they need. And that’s pretty awesome, actually.

Do yourself a favor and read Sisters Red. It’s the best thing to happen to Little Red Riding Hood in a long time. Even if you haven’t read Little Red Riding Hood since you were five and your kindergarten teacher forced you to sit through it during Story Time when you just wanted to play with the trucks, read it. It’s a damn good book.

P.S. For further information about Little Red Riding Hood’s vast history, I highly recommend Yvonne Verdier’s “Little Red Riding Hood in Oral Tradition,” Jack Zipes’s The Trials and Tribulations of Little Red Riding Hood, and Maria Tatar’s The Annotated Classic Fairy Tales, all of which aided me in the writing of this rather lengthy blog entry. And here's SurLaLune...because you know you want to. http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/


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