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juushikaTitle: Rose Daughter
Author: Robin McKinley
Published: New York: Ace, 1998 (1997)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 290
Total Page Count: 189,550
Text Number: 555
Read Because: reread, borrowed from Dee
Review: A retelling of Beauty and the Beast, about three lively sisters and a cottage covered in roses. Once upon a time, this was one of the first McKinley novels I read—and, after Deerskin, it felt insubstantial. But I've read more McKinley since, and come to appreciate her breadth of style. This was much better upon reread, cozy and charming and enchanting; the haunted atmosphere of the Beast's castle is particularly well done. McKinley has knack for finding definitive moments, and Beauty's monologues, as she gives herself voice and carves her own experience out of her fairytale setting, are the unequivocal highlight of the book. The ending is half that: beautiful, intimate, character-driven; but it's also half talky, confusing, and largely divorced from the core plot and characters, which sours things. This isn't my favorite of McKinley's retellings (that would be Spindle's End)—I see too many flaws in it, and its messages lack personal appeal. But it's lovely comfort reading, as McKinley often is, and I recommend it.
About a million years ago, this was my second McKinley novel; and after Deerskin's dark and heavy tone it felt insubstantial, and I held that against it; but I've read a lot of McKinley since, and have greater appreciation for her breadth of style—my favorite of her novels is actually Spindle's End, which is similarly charming, whimsical, domestic, a direct retelling with a playful and empathetic tone. I don't think Rose Daughter does these things quite so well as Spindle's End—I find it a little frivolous, silly instead of creative; or perhaps the emotional aspect just isn't as personally appealing as is the lucid strength of Spindle's End. But Rose Daughter boasts a superb magical castle and Beauty's monologues, stumbled and self-conscious and honest, the voice she gives herself to fill the castle's silence as she narrates and so defines her own path, are perfect.
I have a longer feelings about styles of retellings, the archetypal vs the lampshaded vs the framing narrative for independent characters/arcs vs the ideal culmination of all the above where the fairy tale becomes metadata for the story happening now, an extended allusion that provides depth and contrast; but no ability to marshal those thoughts into coherent argument just now.
Author: Robin McKinley
Published: New York: Ace, 1998 (1997)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 290
Total Page Count: 189,550
Text Number: 555
Read Because: reread, borrowed from Dee
Review: A retelling of Beauty and the Beast, about three lively sisters and a cottage covered in roses. Once upon a time, this was one of the first McKinley novels I read—and, after Deerskin, it felt insubstantial. But I've read more McKinley since, and come to appreciate her breadth of style. This was much better upon reread, cozy and charming and enchanting; the haunted atmosphere of the Beast's castle is particularly well done. McKinley has knack for finding definitive moments, and Beauty's monologues, as she gives herself voice and carves her own experience out of her fairytale setting, are the unequivocal highlight of the book. The ending is half that: beautiful, intimate, character-driven; but it's also half talky, confusing, and largely divorced from the core plot and characters, which sours things. This isn't my favorite of McKinley's retellings (that would be Spindle's End)—I see too many flaws in it, and its messages lack personal appeal. But it's lovely comfort reading, as McKinley often is, and I recommend it.
"Is that all that matters?" she whispered, as if the Numen might hear and answer her. "This is a story like any nursery tale of magic? Where any maiden will do, any—any—monster, any hero, so long as they meet the right mysterious old women and discover the right enchanted doors during the right haunted midnights..."
[...] With a tremendous effort she opened her eyes again and spoke aloud, although her voice was not quite steady. "Well, I cannot know that, can I? I can only do what I can do—what I can guess to try—because I am the one who is here. I am the one who is here. Perhaps it will make a good nursery tale someday."
About a million years ago, this was my second McKinley novel; and after Deerskin's dark and heavy tone it felt insubstantial, and I held that against it; but I've read a lot of McKinley since, and have greater appreciation for her breadth of style—my favorite of her novels is actually Spindle's End, which is similarly charming, whimsical, domestic, a direct retelling with a playful and empathetic tone. I don't think Rose Daughter does these things quite so well as Spindle's End—I find it a little frivolous, silly instead of creative; or perhaps the emotional aspect just isn't as personally appealing as is the lucid strength of Spindle's End. But Rose Daughter boasts a superb magical castle and Beauty's monologues, stumbled and self-conscious and honest, the voice she gives herself to fill the castle's silence as she narrates and so defines her own path, are perfect.
I have a longer feelings about styles of retellings, the archetypal vs the lampshaded vs the framing narrative for independent characters/arcs vs the ideal culmination of all the above where the fairy tale becomes metadata for the story happening now, an extended allusion that provides depth and contrast; but no ability to marshal those thoughts into coherent argument just now.
