Book Review: Deerskin by Robin McKinley
Apr. 28th, 2010 11:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
juushikaTitle: Deerskin
Author: Robin McKinley
Published: New York: Ace Books, 2005 (1993)
Rating: 5 of 5
Page Count: 375
Total Page Count: 87,718
Text Number: 252
Read Because: personal enjoyment, borrowed from the library
Review: Princess Lissar, daughter of a handsome king and the most beautiful woman in seven kingdoms, has little interest in the court. But her mother's death brings a gift and a curse: Ash, her dog and loyal companion; and her father's lust which forces her to flee her kingdom for a journey of survival, self-discovery, and healing. Deerskin is a fairy tale in the form of a novel, finding every benefit in both of these aspects. From the first page the book reads like a fable: the fairy tale (based on Perrault's "Donkeyskin") provides premise and archetypes, the bare bones of a tale which, complimented by McKinley's austere and romantic narration, give the story a sense of timelessness and a magic that far exceeds simple dragons and princely tasks. But McKinley is never content with a fairy tale's simplicity of characterization and narration: in the length and breadth of a novel she finds nuance and detail for every aspect, creating complex characters, realistic emotion, and above all a finely-wrought uncertainty which touches each aspect of the book, denying easy categorization and resolution, insisting instead on the unsettling authenticity of imperfection.
As a result Deerskin is at once dreamy and harsh, at once archetypal and intensely personal, and suffused always with a subtlety that brings life to the protagonist and strength to her story—especially in the book's conclusion. Which is not to say that the book is without fault—Ash, Lissar's canine companion, is touched by a little too much magic and so sometimes seems unbelievable, and the pacing in the final third of the book grows swift, throwing the imagery and magic of the conclusion into a tummult—but a book need not be faultless to be sublime, and any concerns grown as the book comes to a close are assuaged by the beauty, strength, and imperfection of the last few pages. Deerskin is absorbing at its onset and compelling throughout its length, a beauty and a delight without ever shirking its darkest and most difficult aspects, and I enjoyed it utterly. I recommend it to all readers—and perhaps most to those that love a fairy tale retold with all the depth that can be built upon an archetype.
Review posted here on Amazon.com.
Author: Robin McKinley
Published: New York: Ace Books, 2005 (1993)
Rating: 5 of 5
Page Count: 375
Total Page Count: 87,718
Text Number: 252
Read Because: personal enjoyment, borrowed from the library
Review: Princess Lissar, daughter of a handsome king and the most beautiful woman in seven kingdoms, has little interest in the court. But her mother's death brings a gift and a curse: Ash, her dog and loyal companion; and her father's lust which forces her to flee her kingdom for a journey of survival, self-discovery, and healing. Deerskin is a fairy tale in the form of a novel, finding every benefit in both of these aspects. From the first page the book reads like a fable: the fairy tale (based on Perrault's "Donkeyskin") provides premise and archetypes, the bare bones of a tale which, complimented by McKinley's austere and romantic narration, give the story a sense of timelessness and a magic that far exceeds simple dragons and princely tasks. But McKinley is never content with a fairy tale's simplicity of characterization and narration: in the length and breadth of a novel she finds nuance and detail for every aspect, creating complex characters, realistic emotion, and above all a finely-wrought uncertainty which touches each aspect of the book, denying easy categorization and resolution, insisting instead on the unsettling authenticity of imperfection.
As a result Deerskin is at once dreamy and harsh, at once archetypal and intensely personal, and suffused always with a subtlety that brings life to the protagonist and strength to her story—especially in the book's conclusion. Which is not to say that the book is without fault—Ash, Lissar's canine companion, is touched by a little too much magic and so sometimes seems unbelievable, and the pacing in the final third of the book grows swift, throwing the imagery and magic of the conclusion into a tummult—but a book need not be faultless to be sublime, and any concerns grown as the book comes to a close are assuaged by the beauty, strength, and imperfection of the last few pages. Deerskin is absorbing at its onset and compelling throughout its length, a beauty and a delight without ever shirking its darkest and most difficult aspects, and I enjoyed it utterly. I recommend it to all readers—and perhaps most to those that love a fairy tale retold with all the depth that can be built upon an archetype.
Review posted here on Amazon.com.
