I have long been a reader of fairytales and fantasy, and last week I was lucky enough to find a book that combines both beautifully: Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier. This book is one of the best fantasy-romances I’ve read in a very long time. It follows many fairytale traditions, but in particular is based on the Grimm fairytale ‘The Six Swans’. In this version, set in medieval Ireland, Sorcha’s widowed father remarries, making a sorceress, Oona, stepmother to Sorcha and her six brothers. Oona’s attempts to gain power in the family result in a curse on Sorcha’s family, that only she can lift in completing a horrendously difficult task.

This book reminded me hugely of another book that I first read about five years ago: Beauty, by Robin McKinley. I’ve been dying to write about it for ages, as it is a much thumbed favourite: its pages are thoroughly dog-eared and watermarked. (I’m certain I dropped it in the bath once.) This book has always been marketed for children, but I read it at eighteen and loved it. It’s a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, and is much, much shorter than Daughter of the Forest, but it is gorgeously written, very sweetly romantic, with brilliant descriptions of place that make it a sublime piece of escapism. It is also, and I know this will sound a bit odd, a very sincere book. Beauty does not consider herself to be so, and it is the Beast’s love that gives her confidence, not just the other way around. As a fairytale adaptation, it is very light, and very quick read, but nonetheless a lovely dip into another world. By the end of the book, I always want to move into the Beast’s castle. Despite its shortness, the place and characters always stick in my head.

Daughter of the Forest is a much darker book. In many ways, it finds the truth in the story: the Grimm fairytales originated in folklore that often dated back to the medieval period, so the issues at stake still work well with the historical setting. Actually, it’s hard to see this as a fantasy novel, so strong is the historical context: in many ways, it drives the whole story. The presence of the fae, and subsequent magic, is really the only fantasy element. It is crucial to the story, but is certainly not present throughout: most of the time the characters just get on with living. Equally, a lot of pretty nasty things happen that would certainly have occurred historically: Oona’s clearing away of the Sevenwaters family to make room for her own child, in a time when inheritance was everything, and Sorcha’s varied sexual ill treatment at the hands of men not only feature in fairytales (see the original version of Sleeping Beauty, in which the prince rapes and impregnates Beauty while she is asleep), but are brought fully into the light in Marillier’s version. Motivations are thoroughly explored, as they are not in the original fairytales, as are the consequences. One hallmark of any fairytale is the absolute simplicity of the storytelling, with little or no focus on character other than stereotype, which are always assumed and never explored. Marillier repairs this considerably, while maintaining the heart of the original story.

The book is driven by tension, a tension that almost springs you forward through almost seven hundred pages. Marillier puts a lot at stake: the reader’s attention is held by our knowledge of Sorcha’s brothers’ suffering, our desire to see them reunited, but also at the romance between the Irish Sorcha and British Hugh (Red). In one way or another, each of these themes touches on something real: the fantasy elements never detract from the story’s emotional truth. This is even more so because of the touching realism of the characters. This is never truer than of the romance. McKinley’s romance between Beauty and the Beast is not even remotely realistic, and possibly because of its brevity, this is to the book’s credit. It’s wonderful to escape to a place where such a thing could happen, and is told so beautifully. The building relationship between Red and Sorcha is far more complex, and the emotions very accurately represent what people falling in love feel every day. Beauty and the Beast’s romance is not, actually, very complicated: Sorcha and Red’s is, as love generally is in life. The happy ending, when it comes, is thoroughly satisfying: the tension builds to a climax Marillier sees it through. You care completely, all the way through, so it is a relief when all comes good in the end.

The one real criticism I would make of this book is the use of the character Simon, brother to Red/Hugh, Sorcha’s ultimate love interest. He is, I would say, largely unnecessary. He is given a significant story arc at the start of the book, when actually his role in the final plot resolution isn’t huge: he matters, but the pages given over to him early on just confuse things. He is never really resolved as a romantic interest, nor are his feelings for Sorcha or hers for him fully explored. Its a bit annoying, since this is a book that generally resolves things so well (with the exception of Lady Oona, who slips away into the night, and the lingering suggestion that there is more to be done between the Brits and the Celts), that a character is not really dealt with properly.

I do, however, love both of these books, and they will both definitely make it onto my burgeoning bookshelf for future rereading. In both these books, as with many fairytales, a journey must be taken, into the woods, into the mysterious and away from the familiar. Both Marillier and McKinley pay brilliant tribute to their fairytale-writing predecessors, but refuse to be bound by their conventions and flaws. These are two gorgeous takes on fairytale.

Right! Next up will be The Rose of Sebastopol (no, I don’t know where that is either) by Katherine McMahon. TTFL!