Midsummer Eve 2024! Time for some FAE FICTION

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What better time to read this kind of book than on Midsummer Eve? The summer solstice has anciently and always been associated with the fair folk, the day the fairies all come out to play. This year–TODAY!– the magical day falls on June 19th. Tomorrow, June 20th, summer officially begins with the summer solstice.

Q&A:

Who are the fae? Isn’t “fae” just a fancy way to say “fairy”?

Fae does not necessarily mean fairy, not if you’re thinking of cute winged Tinkerbell creatures. The fae go by many names worldwide: the sidhe, the seelie, the fair folk, the sprites. In a book of mine, I’m using the Celtic name aos si. These magical beings inhabit the world alongside us ordinary folk but stay mostly hidden from us. They wield a powerful magic. They may have long pointy ears. They may be winged. They’re not necessarily good–some may be outright evil, outright scary. Novels about them form their own subgenre in fantasy, what I’m calling fae fantasy, but more and more, they feature largely in a newly-named hybrid genre, romantasy.

What is fae fiction?

Fiction that is set in the world of the fae, but not necessarily. A novel may have major fae characters, but these could be depicted as strangers or visitors to the world of the novel. An urban fantasy novel, for example, may feature a fae main character, but the setting is our own world.

What about Lord of the Rings? Huh? HUH? What about Legolas, and. . .

Well, okay, but Lord of the Rings is more what I’d consider “fantasy of the kinds.” Yes, there are fae. But there are also hobbits, orcs, wizards, whatever, and a big part of the fascination of this type of novel is seeing how all the kinds interact and cooperate with or oppose each other. Regretfully, I’m eliminating Lord of the Rings from this post. Convince me I’m wrong! (Not even touching all those other books Tolkien wrote. . .)

What is romantasy?

“Romantasy” is a recently-invented term to describe a combination of the fantasy genre and the romance genre, with favorite tropes from each (“the Chosen One saving the world” plus “enemies to lovers,” as an example). Often, this type of book features the fae, and often, this type of book is pretty steamy. Sometimes very steamy, all the way up to erotica.

In honor of the season, here are five novels of the fae to get you started.

Go HERE to find out more.

Sarah Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses (2015, Bloomsbury)

I could have picked just about any novel in this series by Sarah Maas, the current doyenne of fae romantasy, but if you haven’t read any of her books yet, start with this one (she has written other books in other subgenres: urban fantasy, epic fantasy). I actually didn’t like this book much when I first read it. It was too much “damsel in distress” for me. A friend urged me to continue at least to the second book of the series. I did that, and found I liked it a lot better than the first. I ended by reading the entire series. I liked the novels. I didn’t just love them. There were strange things about them that yanked me out of the fae world. For example: the fae have cozy sweaters they could have gotten at the Gap. They have nice bathrooms that gleam with fixtures seemingly by Kohler. But these books are emphatically not urban fantasy, and there’s no hint of an explanation why such world-elements are sitting around cheek-by-jowl with enormous sexy bat creatures, swordplay, poor beautiful human girls in rags who venture bravely from their hovels to cross walls into dangerous fae magical lands, and so on and so forth. On the up side, the novels have great sex scenes (graphic ones, so be warned if you don’t like that), even as each novel in the series gets more improbable and angsty than the last. These books are enormously popular.

A NOTE: In spite of the steamy sex, the novels in this series are listed by booksellers as YA, which in these times has caused a certain amount of controversy. At least here in the U.S., school librarians have taken them–or been forced to take them–off their shelves. Have these censorious folk met any actual 21st century teenagers? those willing to be honest with the adults in their lives about what they know and how they act on what they know? Just asking. Maybe these adults think they can put the genie back into the bottle, but hellooooo???? That genie has been out since we all lived in caves.

On my scientifically developed fairyometer, I’d place these fae books by Sarah Maas HERE:

Find out more HERE.

Naomi Novik, Spinning Silver (2018, Del Rey)

This compelling book is part historical fiction, part fae fantasy, part fairytale retelling. In this novel inspired by the Rumpelstiltskin fairy tale and eastern European and Russian folk tales, as well as by real events and cultural forces in those parts of the world, the Staryk is the name the author gives the fae, and the trope of the human girl forced into proximity with these scary otherworldly creatures is the main focus. But the book is more complex than that, and beautifully written. See my review of it during Fairytale Fiction Week 2022. Excluding the classics at the end, this novel is my favorite of all the ones I’m reviewing in this post.

Consulting the fairyometer about Spinning Silver. . . .

Go HERE to find out more.

Analeigh Sbrana, Lore of the Wilds (2024, Harper Voyager)

A YA Afro-centric romantasy, casting aside the stereotype of the Eurocentric medievalistic fantasy setting. The magic system and the world-building are well-done. The novel uses the typical YA romance trope of a young woman torn between two hot young men–in this iteration of the trope, brave human woman venturing into the territory of scary but buff fae men–plus a nice male best friend. There are hints of steamy sex. Unfortunately, it crosses a line into my personal hard NO: it has a big, bad cliffhanger ending. A little cliffhanger? Okay. . . I mean, it’s part of a series. But a cliff with a drop-off this steep? As a reader, I feel snookered. I bought a novel; turns out I only received half a novel. I can only think other readers must love this stuff, because it seems like a big publishing trend. If hard cliffhanger endings don’t bother you, you might like this novel. I won’t go on with the series.

Fairyometer, please:

Go HERE for more information.

Saara El-Arifi, Faebound (Del Rey, 2024)

Another example of fae fiction that is not only non-Eurocentric, it’s non-heteronormative. It also straddles the line between epic fantasy and romantasy. It’s a good, exciting read about a brutal war pitting elves against fae, so it doesn’t serve up the usual humans vs. fae trope that rules the subgenre. There’s a lot to like here: sisterhood, friendship, power, loyalty, a main character anything but a damsel in distress, love, hate, magical creatures, magical battle methods. It’s the first book in a series, but instead of a cliffhanger ending, it wraps up nicely, and then there’s an epilogue with a bridge to the next book. In this reader’s opinion, that’s a good strategy for the first book in a series.

On the fairyometer, I’d place this novel HERE:

One place to find it: HERE.

K. M. Waller, All’s Fairy in Love and Murder (2019, self-published)

As you move through this post, you may be wondering, WHERE ARE THE CUTE FAIRIES? WHERE ARE THE FUN FAIRIES? Right here! Waller’s cozy fairy mystery is a lot of fun. The main character is a fairy princess who aspires to be a fairy godmother. She gets an assignment to solve a mystery for a human. A grouchy human with a first-responder background and responsibility for a cute niece (many romance tropes there). Shenanigans and warm cozy animal vibes ensue. I love reading a good indie author, too, especially one who has produced a well-edited book (especially since I’m an indie author myself).

The fairyometer says:

Image by Dina Dee from Pixabay

And for the literary-minded, three towering fae classics

(probably more in other cultures but alas, I only read English):

William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Source: William Blake, Oberon, Tate Britain, Wikmedia Commons, in the public domain.

Well. . .some of the fairies are cute. Peaseblossom. Mustardseed. But Titania and Oberon? definitely scary fae. “Ill-met by moonlight, fair Titania.” Brrrrr. I think the actors who play them should have big, sharp, maybe steel-tipped teeth.

Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene

Walter Crane, Britomart viewing Artegal, illustration in an 1895–1897 edition.

Warning to would-be readers: don’t try this at home. Get a little help with it, all’s I’m saying, or you may flounder. In this magnificent Renaissance epic, the human and the fae are so entwined you often can’t tell the difference-“Arthur before he is king” is definitely human, the Faerie Queene is fae. . .or Queen Elizabeth, or the personification of England itself, or. . . But, on balance, I’d call this one for. . .

Sir Orfeo, by . . .nobody really knows

If you don’t read Middle English, Tolkien’s translation is nice. It appears to be hard to find right now. Amazon lists an expensive hardback and claims the paperback is no longer available, but you should be able to find it used. Tolkien published it with two other translations, of the Middle English poems Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and Pearl. In this medieval version of the Greek Orpheus and Eurydice myth, the fae in this amazing poetic narrative are absolutely

LOOKING BACK AT THIS POST, I’d say the consensus in fae lit is “scary fae”–at least in books meant for adult/young adult readers. Happy Midsummer Eve!

Valentine Week, Day Two: Fairytale Fantasy

This year, DANCE your way to Valentine’s Day! Novels based on fairytales and folktales featuring dance.

In preceding years (you can find all the posts archived on my blog, btw–just look for February!), I have posted novels based on worldwide fairytales and folk tales, and on two “literary” fairytales (Cinderella and Rapunzel). This year, I’m featuring a whole week of novels based on fairytales and folktales involving dance. Here are the posts:

Day Three: Valentine’s Day itself! The amazing fantasy novel Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, by Susanna Clarke–a novel with a strong dancing subplot.

Day Four: House of Salt and Sorrows, by Erin A. Craig–another novel based on “The Twelve Dancing Princesses.”

Day Five: Dark Breaks the Dawn, by Sara B. Larson–a novel based on the fairytale ballet Swan Lake.

Day Six: Sexing the Cherry, by Jeanette Winterson–a final choice based on “The Twelve Dancing Princesses,” but be warned–it’s nothing like the others.

Day Seven: A wrap-up and a special exploration of the “dance mania” of the medieval period, plus a free download.

TODAY, a review of Midnight in Everwood, by M. A. Kuzniar

Midnight in Everwood, fantasy novel based on the Nutcracker ballet
Find it on your Kobo app or at the Kobo store, or other ebook sellers as well as at bricks and mortar bookstores.

Midnight in Everwood (2022), by M. A. Kunziar, published by HQ (an imprint of Harper Collins), bills itself as an “historical romance.” It’s set in Edwardian England, and the author has clearly and well researched the era. References abound to all things of the era, and to the locale of the (realistic) part of the story, Nottingham, England. They are sprinkled everywhere. As an admirer of historical fiction, I appreciated the authenticity, although I have to admit these references were sometimes not smoothly integrated into the narrative but kind of stuck in there to signal that we’re reading about a real place and time. That’s important, though, because the novel gives us the realistic setting as a wrapper around (forgive me for giving in to the impulse!) a candy center set in a candy fantasyland. The story centers on Marietta, a young woman committed to her passion and talent for dancing ballet. Unfortunately for her, she is the daughter of a very proper and upwardly-striving Edwardian family. They’ll never let her dance professionally, and they insist that she marry, or they’ll cut her off from her inheritance. If you love Regency romance, you know this means social death to a young lady. Marietta’s last chance to dance will be at her parents’ annual Christmas Eve ball, where a family friend has erected an elaborate stage set. The friend, the mysterious and wealthy Dr. Drosselmeier, is also Marietta’s suitor. When Marietta flees backstage from Drosselmeier’s unwelcome advances, she hides in–get this–a wardrobe, which leads into a magical snow-kingdom. This is where the novel moves from romance–historical romance, at that–into fantasy.

Recapping what I mean by “fairytale”: No fairies are necessarily involved. The term has evolved to refer to a particular magical type of folk tale that may involve fairies, princesses, and the like, but may not. (A subgenre of fantasy, involving the fae, is an entirely different matter). And sometimes, what readers have come to know as “fairytales” aren’t any such thing–not folklore, passed down anonymously through the generations and centuries, often by word of mouth, but literary creations by artists hoping to mimic the fairytale aura. I should also mention that my blog posts on this subject won’t refer to anything Disney, except in passing. The Disney take on fairytales occurs in a whole world of its own, it has its faithful fans, and I don’t intrude there.

The Nutcracker ballet, with music by Tchaikovsky (and, traditionally, choreography by Marius Petipa), was first performed in 1892 and has become one of the most famed and beloved in the Western canon. You can watch a version here. The ballet is based on a tale, “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King” (1819), by the German author E. T. A. Hoffmann, a writer who specialized in what we often now term “literary fairytales.” There might be some folk underpinnings, but Hoffman made these stories up, so they are not true folk tales (a.k.a. fairytales). But generations of readers and viewers have regarded them as fairytales anyhow, the same way they regard Cinderella and Rapunzel, two other literary creations. The ballet is actually based on a retelling of Hoffmann’s story by Alexandre Dumas, the famous author of such fat, beloved novels as The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers. So the Nutcracker story has great artistic chops, and it has been adapted in many different ways and in many different forms over the years.

In Hoffmann’s tale (and Dumas’s retelling), a mysterious toymaker named Drosselmeyer brings toys to the family of a young girl, Clara (in some versions called Marie). The girl is drawn to an ingenious nutcracker dressed like a toy soldier (by now a fixture in Christmas pop culture). The girl has a dream in which toy soldiers led by the valiant nutcracker battle an army of mice. She is whisked to a magical forest, where the nutcracker turns into a human prince and gives her a marvelous tour of the Land of Sweets. Details of the story vary from version to version, but those are the basics.

Christmas nutcracker soldiers

This novel tries so hard. The historical details are authentic, although they tend to be shoved in the reader’s face. The ballet details. . .let’s just say I don’t know much about ballet, but I believed every word. I think this is the place the novel shines. Others more knowledgeable than I am may have a more informed opinion. Send in a comment if you’ve read the book and agree/disagree/want to add more. But anyway, I loved the combination of ballet as an art and practice with the re-envisioning of a beloved ballet’s story.

When Marietta gets to the land of sweets, though, the book goes a little sour on me. I mean, every single piece of candy, slice of pie, whip of meringue that can possibly be described. . .is described. My cavities began to ache. Again, though–especially in romance literature, there’s an entire subgenre of baking romance. No, seriously. So there are readers who may love this whole aspect of the novel even if I didn’t.

The main reason the novel fails to win me over is its writing style, however–so overly formal it tilts into awkward, and then at times floridly over the top. This novel does have its fans, though. You, dear reader, know yourself. You might just love it.

Did you notice that Marietta goes through a wardrobe to get from the real world to the fantasy world? Wow. Shades of C. S. Lewis. “Portal fantasy” in which characters make that transition use similar devices all the time–think of Harry Potter and the train station–but a wardrobe? I only know of one other, the one in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and its siblings. I tried looking up this plot point to see if anyone had ever noticed and discussed the similarity, but I didn’t get very far. Again, readers, if you know more than I do, let me know in the comments.

  1. Ok, don’t give this novel to a very young teen to read, at least not without thinking about your teen’s level of maturity. Partly, the book is fantasy. Partly, it’s romance. If you know anything about romance novels, you know they come in flavors: “sweet,” “clean,” and “low-spice,” but also “hot,” “spicy,” all the way to erotica. In a “low-spice” romance novel, there may be a sex scene or two, but these scenes are either “closed door” (as in, you know what’s going on behind the door but the writer doesn’t spell it out) or “fade to black,” as in a sedate movie that looks away from the naughty bits. There’s a scene in this novel that is not really spicy and explicit, but not exactly closed-door or fade-to-black. Just saying, for those who worry about these things. I actually don’t (as evidenced by my own novels, which are not. . .quite. . .YA. . .enough sometimes), but some may.
  2. Toothache.

My experience buying this book:

I read this book through the Kobo app on my iPad. Getting the book, for me, wasn’t as straightforward as buying a book for my Kindle device, but it was pretty easy, or would have been if not for a glitch in the app. I’m sure if I had a Kobo reading device, buying the book there would have been just as easy as buying on my Kindle. As it was, I needed to go to the Kobo web site and buy it from there (note–I’m using the U.S. site. Your experience may be different if you are reading from a country other than the U.S.). By the way, you can enroll in the Kobo Plus subscription service to read many ebooks free.

Once I had purchased from the Kobo web site, the book appeared on my iPad’s Kobo app–or would have, if not for one glitch, when nearly all of my books on Kobo disappeared from the app. I had to delete the app and re-install it to see my books. That was a pita. The problem, though, is not Kobo’s. It’s a problem Apple created when it ensured that only its own iBooks store could process ebook sales directly from the app. That’s good for Apple’s bottom line, not so great for readers who get their books elsewhere.

One solution: buy a paperback or hardback copy from your local independent bookstore! (oh, all right, from a chain big box bookstore, I guess, if you just have to.) I myself am hooked on the convenience of ebooks, but you don’t have to be. AND THE LIBRARY. In the U.S., your public library is full of free-to-read ebooks. I’m not sure about library policies elsewhere.