Valentine Week: Fairytale Fantasy returns!

Each year, at the start of the week including Valentine’s Day, this blog reviews books based on fairytales. Yep, it’s FAIRYTALE FANTASY WEEK once more. This year’s theme:

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD

If you thought there would not be very many novels for ADULTS based on the fairytale popularly known as “Little Red Riding Hood,” you’d be wrong. With this caution: a lot of books based on this tale actually have more to do with Beauty and the Beast than Little Red. When you think about Red’s story, you’ll see how easy it is to make the transition from one of these stories to the other. A few of these novels are more YA than adult, and one is labeled as such. But they aren’t books for children.

A note about “fairytales”

The term “fairy tale” is misleading. What we typically call “fairy tales” are more accurately described as “folk tales,” or “traditional tales,” especially one coming from the oral tradition. All of the posts in this series are about fantasy novels (and sometimes other types) based on one or more of these tales.

A few cautions for readers expecting something different:

  • In spite of the word “fairy,” these posts do not review books necessarily about fairies, or the fae in any form. Fae fiction, especially in the very popular hybrid fantasy subgenre (romance subgenre?) known as romantasy, is a completely different animal. See my post about that HERE.
  • Although Walt Disney might spring to mind, this post will not deal with anything Disney. There’s the good Disney, the bad Disney, the downright ugly Disney, and occasionally there’s the brilliantly inspired Disney. All of it has its fans. I’m not going there, even though there are a few Red Riding Hood short takes by Disney.
  • This series of posts will only review Red Riding Hood-themed novels. In previous years, though, I have blogged about novels based on: fairytales from cultures world-wide, Cinderella and Rapunzel (two literary “fairytales”), and dance-themed fairytales. Click on the links to read those.

The tale itself: LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD

This folktale is familiar to most children growing up in Western cultures: a little girl is charged with taking a basket of food to her sick grandmother. She has to go through the woods to get to grandmother’s house. Her mother sternly warns her: “Whatever you do, stay on the path.” Little Red Riding Hood (called this because she wears a red hood) skips off down the path, but a wolf lures her off it. She is wary of him and resumes her journey up the path. but the sneaky wolf speeds through the forest to the grandmother’s house, eats the grandmother, puts on her clothes, and hops in her bed. When Little Red gets there, she notices something strange about her grandmother. “Why, Grandmother, what big eyes you have!” she marvels. “The better to see you with, my dear,” replies the disguised wolf. “Why, Grandmother, what big ears you have!” “The better to hear you with.” “Why, Grandmother, what big teeth you have!” The wolf springs out of bed. “The better to eat you with!” And then. . .he either gobbles up Little Red, making this a cautionary tale about obeying your mother, or a heroic woodcutter leaps into the hut to save her, making this an iconic damsel-in-distress tale, or. . .several other possible outcomes.

THE FOLKLORIC BASIS FOR LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD is more complicated than that, though. . .

Little Red Riding Hood was first popularized by Charles Perrault in one of his collections of folk tales, but it has many antecedents and shares similarities with other folk tales, especially one collected by the Brothers Grimm in Germany much later (19th century), Little Redcap. There are also possible forebears and parallels in Greek mythology, Nordic mythology, and African folk culture. By the way–I was struck with how many of the novels on my list this year employed a werewolf and/or shifter trope. I figured this is because the trope has become so popular in the last several years. Actually, the werewolf has been part of these Little Red folktales for centuries. Another of the tale’s most interesting aspects is its aura of repressed sexuality. You can read one take on that HERE.

I’m taking a look at six fantasy novels based on fairy tale and folktale elements, all fairly recently published–and this year, all about Little Red Riding Hood. Each day of Fairytale Fantasy Week, I’ll briefly summarize how the novel connects to the Red Riding Hood theme and then explain what I liked or maybe didn’t like so much about the book. You may disagree with any or all of what I have to say! To paraphrase Emily Dickinson, the heart wants the books it wants. And doesn’t want the books it doesn’t, I suppose–but even if a book is not to my particular personal taste, I almost always find it interesting. As a writer myself, I always wonder why another writer heads in a particular direction or creates a character in a particular way, especially since I’m finishing my own folktale-themed novel (inspired by the Children of Lir Irish folktale). So I almost always finish the books I start. Unless the writing sucks. That’s a hard no for me. In the final, seventh post of Fairytale Fantasy Week 2025, I’ll point you to some interesting outlier takes on the story of Little Red.

HERE ARE THE SIX:

Red Rider, by Kate Avery Ellison (2019, indie-published)—marketed as “a post-apocalyptic werewolf retelling of Red Riding Hood” and “Red Riding Hood meets the Handmaid’s Tale.” It is classified as YA.

Wolves and Daggers: A Red Riding Hood Retelling, by Melanie Karsak (2018, indie published–or anyway, by a boutique publishing company, Clockpunk Press, which seems to be owned by the author)—a gaslamp detective story take on the tale.

Beauty and the Werewolf, by Mercedes Lackey (2011, Harlequin Nocturne)—part of Lackey’s A Tale of the Five Hundred Kingdoms interlocking series of books based on various fairytales.

Crimson Bound, by Rosamund Hodge (2015, HarperCollins)—a combination of the Red Riding Hood story, another folktale called The Girl With No Hands, and assorted mystical concepts.

Scarlet, by Marissa Meyer (2013, Macmillan)—a science fiction version of Little Red.

For the Wolf, by Hannah Whitten (2021, Orbit)—the marketing suggests this novel was based on Little Red Riding Hood, but it’s as much about Beauty and the Beast as anything else.

Valentine Week: Fairytale Fantasy #4

fairytale fantasy book review

CINDERELLA retelling number 1

JJA Harwood’s The Shadow in the Glass

If you missed the introduction to this year’s Fairytale Fantasy series of posts, find it HERE.

Harwood’s The Shadow in the Glass (HarperCollins, 2021) is billed as a “gothic” retelling of the Cinderella literary fairy tale by Charles Perrault (1697). The first European literary version of the story was, as in the case of Rapunzel, by Giambattista Basile (1634), and it was “collected” by the Brothers Grimm and titled Aschenputtel in 1812. Unlike the Rapunzel story, though, Cinderella’s origins are more grounded in folklore, so its inclusion by the Grimm Brothers makes more sense.

Harwood’s version, set in Victorian England, is grim indeed. Amazon.com actually subtitles it “the Extraordinary Fairytale Debut of 2021,” a tactic only traditional publishers can get away with (in its defense, the book’s title page carries no such marketing language), and its ad copy on Amazon quotes a reviewer calling the novel “deliciously dark.”

JJA Harwood, The Shadow in the Glass, fantasy novel cover
Find this book at Amazon.

Hmm. Sorry, “delicious” is not a word I’d use. It’s a very gloomy setting, and all the characters are morally gray. Do I mind that? In this case, I do, and I’m trying to figure out why. Who’s a more morally gray figure than Walter White, for example, and Breaking Bad is one of my favorite fictional experiences of all time. Who writes grimmer–and better–than Joe Abercrombie, where even the characters we love most are grim and morally gray? No one. Abercrombie is one of my favorite fantasy writers ever.

Hardly anyone in Harwood’s novel is a sympathetic character, especially the heroine, Ella (Eleanore), the orphaned Cinderella figure who is menaced and mistreated by her guardian. She is fiercely loyal to her friends and goes to great lengths to protect them–admirable. But at the same time, she engages in more and more dubious activities and makes more and more dubious decisions for herself. I suppose you could say the same of Tony Soprano. Or Walter White. Or almost anyone in any of Abercrombie’s novels. And it’s okay for a novelist to write about an unsympathetic main character. Actually, the writer I was most reminded of during my gloomy slog through Harwood’s novel is Theodore Dreiser, although Dreiser is very American and The Shadow in the Glass is a very British book. Dreiser’s Sister Carrie is a pretty unsympathetic character. This novel is kind of Bleak House Dickinsian without the humor and generosity. It’s Vanity Fair without the sharp satiric edge.

In the end, Harwood’s Ella strikes me as unsettlingly inconsistent in her principles. One minute she’s one way, another minute she’s something else. I’m just never sure how to take her. A good girl gone wrong? A person who was all about power from the get-go? And the “prince” character is a simpering idiot, so it’s hard to know why anyone would risk all for such a silly guy. I suppose she really doesn’t. I’m thinking in the end it’s all about the power.

Here’s the thing I really loved about Harwood’s novel: the Victorian setting. The novel is gloomy because those times and that London were gloomy. Everything in the novel is in a state of decay, mildew, and rot. I found that to be very realistic and interesting, and it’s clear Harwood knows what she’s talking about. I’ll mention just one detail out of many: dye colors in women’s dresses tended to run in wet weather–and so, given the weather in London, especially a London where industrialization had created rampant, toxic air pollution–women were in constant danger of having their elegant dresses go damp and runny on them. I found that a fascinating little fact, and I think Harwood does a great job of cooking it into the overall ambiance of the novel. I never had the feeling she was pushing her research into my face. All of it seemed organic to the novel. I really admired that.

Unfortunately, I think the very realism of the setting jarred, for me, with the improbable magic parts. By the end of the novel, those parts had come to seem more psychology than magic, and I wish Harwood had taken the novel more in that direction. I guess she couldn’t because she was too bound to the Cinderella story. I ended up wishing this book had been more like Sarah Perry’s The Essex Serpent or Melmoth. Harwood is really talented. I wish she’d write some kind of book relying on atmosphere with perhaps more of a magical realism twist than fantasy. In the end, I don’t think the Cinderella underpinnings of her novel do her any favors. Any favors for the reader, I should say, because apparently this was a savvy marketing decision. But maybe I’m just a cynical, grouchy reader. There’s always that.

NEXT UP: My discussion of L. Phillips’s Sometime After Midnight: A CinderFella Story