Cabinet des Fées: A Fairy Tale Journal, #2

Cabinet des Fées is a relatively new publication from established fantasy and science fiction small press, Prime Books. The publication has an online manifestation that has run for some time, but this is only the second issue of three expected in print this year. Nonetheless, Cabinet des Fées has already established a strong reputation as a leading publication in the fantasy field, if at the more literary end of the genre spectrum. Cabinet des Fées‘ concern for literary values are reflected in its presentation as a fairy tale journal in the academic fashion, and about a third of the publication is dedicated to essays examining various perspectives on the study of fairy tales—although these are not reviewed here.

“Katabasis” by Sonya Taaffe is a text that leaves itself open to interpretation by the reader. The title provides the key to the central theme of descent, around which Taaffe riffs a multiplicity of interpretations: the passage of day into night, the progress of time and atrophy, emotional states of loss and grieving. Not quite a story in conventional terms, the form of “Katabasis” is closer to that of a prose poem, using language to build imagery, layer upon layer, and relying on the imagination of the reader to excavate the meaning. Whilst this dense prose style will not appeal to some readers, those willing to bring their own imagination to bear on “Katabasis” might find the story of the end of the entire world, or of one person’s grief and loss, however they choose.

R.W. Day returns the reader to the ancient tradition of the saga with the Nordic-inspired “Stranger at the Wedding.” Ingvarr Osvalsrsson falls prey to the allure of sea-nymph Kolga Aegirsdottir despite warnings to the contrary, and in classical fashion, the end results in tragedy. All the elements you would expect from the milieu are present here, and the tale is sculpted with expert precision by Day. Rich with the voice of a grand narrator, it is easy to picture in the mind’s eye the tale being boomed out in a Norse feasting hall. But the traditional narrative style of “Stranger at the Wedding” is also a weakness. The story is told, rather than shown, and the distanced viewpoint will make it difficult for many readers to empathise with the thoughts and feelings of the characters.

“The Devil Factory” by Bret Fetzer departs from the traditional locales of fairy tale and roots itself instead in the milieu of an early 20th Century rural America, and in both its setting and themes, the story is reminiscent of the best work of Ray Bradbury. Annabell grows up poor and loves her mommy but is not so certain about her dirty, drunken layabout of a father. When Annabell is offered the opportunity to earn six shinny pennies with a little factory work, she jumps at the chance, even when she discovers the factory is far underground, inhabited by demonic gnomes, and the work involves building her very own devil, which becomes intent on possessing her. “The Devil Factory” opens up a disturbing seam of meaning around the vulnerability and abuse of children that Fetzer mines skillfully, demonstrating the ability of fantasy literature to tackle sophisticated and edgy themes in ways that realist fiction might struggle to match. With its skilled telling and Fetzer’s willingness to take risks, “The Devil Factory” stands out as one of the strongest stories in the journal.

Horror is one of fairy tale’s many descendants, and the genre is well represented in Cabinet des Fées with “The Hiker’s Tale” by Mike Allen. The Hiker is one of life’s loners, a sullen, Nine Inch Nails-t-shirt-wearing young man who goes by the nickname of Panther. He has dropped out college and taken off on a hike through the American wilderness. Panther is a Melungeon, a rare ethnic background that gives him a strange appearance and, as he comes to learn, strange abilities. Around the story of a missing boy, Panther encounters a number of odd characters and is forced to face his own heritage. “The Hiker’s Tale” mixes a coming-of-age tale with its horror story to produce an effective, memorable piece.

It may not have occurred to you to wonder about the ethical and moral consequences of the actions of fairy-tale heroes, but A.C. Wise does exactly this as she takes on the aftermath of Jack and the Beanstalk in “Giantkiller.” Helena is the orphaned daughter of the fairy-tale giant. After surviving the fall of the castle following the felling of the beanstalk, Helena sets out to locate Jack, the Giantkiller himself, and take bloody revenge. It would have been easy for this concept to fall into parody and simple humour, but instead, Wise crafts a dark and clever tale. Jack and the Beanstalk is a prototypical male coming-of-age story, which in “Giantkiller” is inverted into a tale of female growth and development. Helena has many of the characteristics of a modern teenager: a simplistic black and white worldview, driven by anger and frustration, and a father complex second to none. To blend into the human world, Helena must have her giant body surgically reduced to normal proportions, a bloody and painful procedure with echoes of teenage self harm. This is a fascinating piece of storytelling that well deserves its place in the journal, even if at times the writing style is a little loose.

“The Tower” by JoSelle Vanderhooft re-imagines another classic fairy-tale trope, in this case the princess awaiting rescue from her high tower. Gazing out from her lofty perch, Vanderhooft’s nameless princess is witness to an endless parade of knights struggling through the thorns and briars to her aid. Of course the question arises: why do these brave warriors come so unquestioningly to the maiden’s rescue? Vanderhooft arrives at possibly the darkest explanation yet conceived for the phenomenon, and one which neatly encapsulates the stories themes of desire and sexuality. “The Tower” is written in a dense prose style that employs many poetic devices, and while Vanderhooft clearly has great skill with language, some readers will find that the style overwhelms the substance. Others of course will love every twisted syllable.

“Lost or Forgotten” is the most experimental piece in Cabinet des Fées, at least in terms of form and structure. Janni Lee Simner intertwines two parallel versions of the same story. A long time ago, a unicorn falls in love with a maiden. In our time, a young man loves a young woman. From this point, the story traces the consequences of this love and the secrets it conceals. This is an ambitious piece of storytelling that, however, doesn’t quite deliver on its promise. The complex, unfolding narratives are squeezed into a word count far to small to properly contain them, meaning that despite its strengths, “Lost or Forgotten” reads more like a plot synopsis than a complete story. Still, there is a great deal to be taken from it; it is worth taking the time to unpick this complex piece of writing.

Amal El-Mohtar attacks her contribution to the fairy tale journal with a razor sharp whit and wonderful humour. “Night of the Girl Goblin” is a joyous romp that styles itself as a children’s story and would work brilliantly read aloud to younger children, but there is plenty here to keep adults engaged as well. Gobdolyn is our feisty heroine, a girl goblin with beauty “too profound and esoteric for human understanding,” exemplified by her “pleasantly kept fangs” and a figure with the grace of “an expertly hewn stone brick.” Although many love her desperately, Gobdolyn is not yet ready for marriage. Nonetheless, her father organises a contest for would-be grooms. Three goblin brothers, Goblegak, Gobledegeek, and Gobledegook step up to win their love’s hand in marriage, and general humour ensues. As with all great comedy, there is as much meaning in “Night of the Girl Goblin” as you choose to find, and the story is utterly charming and very funny.

Of all the classic fairy tales, Cinderella is one of the best known and most often re-imagined. The archetypal relationships between wicked stepmother and downtrodden stepdaughter reappear again and again in classic and modern literature, but the relationship between the daughter and her father are less often examined. “The Cat-Skin Coat” by Jessica Paige Wick takes the father/daughter relationship as its starting point and from there, crafts an intriguing and unsettling story. Blanche’s mother dies in child birth, and motherless Blanche grows up as a boy. When her father, Mr. King, remarries, Blanche is forced to dress as a girl by wearing a coat made from the skins of cats. Mr. King finds his daughter’s new feminine appearance sexually irresistible and forces himself on Blanche, leaving her deeply traumatised. Blanche flees the house and retreats to wearing her cat-skin coat, which makes her invisible. Jessica Page Wick writes the story with an uncompromising matter-of-factness that does credit to the difficult subject matter. But taken together with the story’s oblique symbolism, this creates a very distanced narrative that is as frustrating as it is intriguing. “The Cat-Skin Coat” reads like an unanswered riddle but also like a story with something missing, a key to meaning that Wick has not included in the story. Whether this is deliberate or unintentional, it leaves the story short of what it could have been.

This issue of Cabinet des Fées closes with “Vox” by Kimberley DeCina. This story also takes on a common fairy-tale trope, but in this case, the focus of attention is not the motherless daughter, but the very much mothered ugly stepsister. Amalia grows to her late teens in the common surroundings of a traveller’s inn, under a domineering mother who controls her life after her father dies. Into this life comes the Trader, a gentle man who marries the mother and brings with him his own daughter, Catarine. Where Amalia is plain and dull, Catarine is beautiful, fair of hair and skin, a “thing of lace and veils, just as much as she was made of leaves and twilight.” As might be expected, the beautiful Catarine becomes the object of envy and is abused by the mother. The real story however is the developing relationship between Amalia and Catarine, which unfolds as a sexual rather than sisterly love. The two girls share baths together and a bed. But Amalia’s envy, encouraged by her mother, cannot be contained, and she eventually emerges as the wicked stepsister she was bred to be.

“This is what makes a wicked stepsister: to ache for beauty in all things but to know yourself ugly, to beg for a pure heart but feel yourself twisted and malformed from within. To reach out for a bit of grace, so forbidden to the likes of you that to preserve it and yourself you must hate it instead.”

Whilst very few people will ever know the terrors of having great, pure beauty as Catarine does, the flaws and imperfections of Amalia, and the terrible jealousies they create, are far more familiar to us all. In “Vox,” DeCina finds that the Cinderella story’s human centre lies with the character of the ugly sister, from where she is able to construct a powerful and profound story about the complex nature of love and betrayal. Whilst the story has some technical flaws— the narrative voice is not entirely consistent and the pacing is far from perfect— for its strengths and intelligence, “Vox” stands out as one of the strongest stories in this issue of Cabinet des Fées.

A few common themes present themselves throughout Cabinet des Fées, all derived from its focus on the fairy tale. One of the great strengths of classical fairy tales is their origins in the oral tradition. Fairy tales are stories that are made to be spoken aloud, and much of their richness lies in the voice of the teller. This can make them challenging to capture in print, especially for modern readers who are conditioned to absorbing stories that unfold scene by scene, in dialogue, and through the eyes of the characters, rather than through a distanced narrator. In this regard, Cabinet des Fées is not always successful, and many of the stories demand a great deal of effort from the reader.

Fairy tales are also stories that have evolved in the telling and are packed with some of our most fundamental cultural archetypes. Tapping into these archetypes is the real value of drawing on fairy tales as source material, and in this regard Cabinet des Fées is a great success. All the stories demonstrate exceptionally skilled storytelling, with “The Devil Factory,” “Night of the Girl Goblin,” and “Vox” in particular marking their authors out as talents to look for in the future.

Cabinet des Fées is also a valuable addition to the ever-growing presence of female writers in the speculative fiction field. Fairy tales have a long tradition of representing female characters in fiction and were for centuries passed down through families by women, before being captured by the likes of the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen. Cabinet des Fées brings that older female tradition into the 21st Century and with it, a host of talented, contemporary female writers.