June flew by, and I don’t know about you all, but there are a few posts I’d like to revisit and delve into a little more deeply. So much goodness in so few months — yes, we definitely need a recap by category, don’t we? So here’s your trusty Fae Awareness Post Index, and I hope it proves useful. At the very least, it might inspire something for your contest suggestion, right?

Fae Awareness Blog Posts: 2011

Literature.

Sam Kelly’s ongoing re-read of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke. When I think fae, I think of this book. How about you?

Sam also brought us an in-depth examination of Shakespeare’s fae in our inaugural post: ‘Tis Almost Fairy Time!

Louise Bohmer discussed writing about (and respecting) the fae with her cracking post on Peering into the Fickle Eye of Fae.

Cate Gardner was kind enough to let us reprint her beautiful modern fairy tale, “The Forest of Discarded Hearts”, from her Strange Men in Pinstripe Suits collection.

KV Taylor’s reviews of DC/Vertigo’s Books of Magic (Gaiman, Bolton, Hampton, Vess, Johnson) and spinoff Books of Faerie (Carlton and Gross parts, anyhow) TPB collections bring the fae to the comic world. [Ed note: yeah, that's me, I know.]

Sue Penkivech gave us a rundown of The Fae in American YA — quite a task, but she rose to it and went beyond! (We’re pulling for more of the same next year.)

Alexandra Seidel brought us an indepth look at Goethe’s “Der Erlkönig” and where it fits into Another Beginning: Fae, Death, and the Romantics. A corker!

Orrin Grey delved into Holly Black’s Spiderwick Chronicles, mostly as brought to the bigscreen, but also in general. We need to cover this one next year, yes?

D.S. Stephen compared Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess’s Stardust to the movie of the same name, with hilarious results.

Film.

KV Taylor reviewed the weird and wonderful Russo-Finnish epic, Jack Frost.

Mark Deniz gave nostalgia a talking to in his insightful look at The Dark Crystal.

Michelle Davidson Argyle proved that 80s cinema is a powerful modern force with her review of Legend and its influence.

Anita Howard brought us a deeper look at Labyrinth — and at what attracts us humans to the fae, no matter how aware we are of the danger.

Lisa Kessler tackled the reinvention of Tinkerbell, and defended fairy magic in general, in Disney’s wild adventure, Hook.

N.K. Kingston wove her knowledge of selkie myths into a thoughtful review of The Secret of Roan Inish and Ondine.

Sam Kelly kicked off our solstice party with Peter Hall’s delightful  adaptation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a great companion to his Shakespearean fae post earlier in the month.

Carrie Cuinn speaks of love and music and boys in her look at Were the World Mine. Who can resist?

Carole Lanham went after something beautiful and freaky when she broke down Snow White: A Tale of Terror for us.

Sue Penkivech pronounced The Brothers Grimm a story worthy of the Grimms themselves. Check it out and see why.

Meghan Brunner reminded us what it looks like when our world and the fae connect in her review of the haunting Pan’s Labyrinth.

D.S. Stephen’s review of the Stardust movie should go here, too, for the sake of completion! (Plus, it’s just that funny.)

And for bonus films, Orrin Grey’s review of  The Spiderwick Chronicles deserves another mention here, and we also got Alexandra Seidel to give us a preview of Karasu. Definite ringers for Fae Awareness 2012, wouldn’t you say?

Culture.

Alexandra Seidel’s rundown of several Japanese fae creatures and/or demons — complete with pretty pictures — in Fae From Afar and… Cucumbers?

Mark Deniz brought us, that’s right, gamer culture! He explored the nuances of the fabulous Beware the Fae (or at least the Quickling).

Jen St. Louis carried us over the Atlantic for a first-hand account of Iceland: land of fire, ice, and hidden people. Also, and I can’t say this enough: Elf Sex.

Meghan Brunner finished the month out with her very important PSA: A Final Word of Caution (aka Play Nice and Don’t Piss Them Off).

Which, as you will have noted, was quite the point of our little awareness drive! We’ll see you next year — with bells on. Or, if Alexa Seidel has her way, buttons. (Hint: she will probably have her way. And you could have yours, too! Enter! Win! Yay!)

And you know what July is, right? Here’s a hint: it bites even harder than a pissed off fairy.

 A Final Word of Caution (aka Play Nice And Don’t Piss Them Off)

People are by nature control freaks. They do not like things they can’t understand; just look at all the stories about the origin of humans, or a rainbow, or any number of naturally occurring things. Likewise, they don’t like it when something is beyond their influence, so there’s nothing like a superstition to point out a culture’s nagging worries.

People scoff at superstitions. They’re okay for primitives and children, sure, but what rational adult thinks that stepping on a crack will ACTUALLY break their mother’s back? Still, horror movies love to capitalize on those little nuggets, a healthy portion of the population still thinks twice before picking up a tails-up penny, and most tall buildings don’t have an elevator button for the thirteenth floor.

Better to be safe than sorry, after all.

And so the superstitions continue through generations, little precautions designed to ward off the otherwise uncontrollable: injury, death, misfortune, bad luck… and, frequently, the Fae.

These are not fluffy tea-party pixies flitting about Victorian gardens giggling and dressing themselves in flower petals. They’re capricious, powerful, and not to be trifled with. They might fix your shoes – but they might also curdle your milk or steal your children. (Heck, it’s well known that even Santa Claus, that “Jolly Old Elf”, might leave you coal!) Given that, it’s not surprising the host of folk wisdom on how to appease them or divert their attention from one’s self and loved ones. In Ireland, especially, the code of rules on how to interact with the Fae has developed almost into an art form… and anyone who doesn’t think that the Fae still have a vibrant presence in that culture has obviously not noticed that leprechauns seem to be the mascot of St. Patrick’s Day, second only to the shamrock.

The advice starts with the most basic: what to call them, and a lot of it involves buttering them up. Some call them Folk Under The Hill or Wee Folk, but as not all of them are small or live under hills, this could prove a bit limiting. Some believe that even calling them “fairies” (or anything similar) will invoke their ire, and instead use They, Themselves, or Them That’s In It. When in doubt, Fair Family, Good People, Good Neighbors, and Kindly Ones are good appellations. After all, the Fae are always near and listen without being seen, so it behooves a person to speak well of them.

The next most important tip for staying on their good side: don’t get in their way. If they’re at work, don’t bother them. Never throw out water after dark without giving warning lest some land on an unsuspecting Fae’s head, and especially don’t build on a fairy mound or a fairy trod. The mounds are usually well identified in local legends, but staying clear of spontaneously occurring mushroom rings is a good idea as well. Fairy trods are the roads between the mounds and are seen as lines that are a different shade of green in the fields. Any structure erected on a trod is said to be “in the way” and often burns down. If the structure does survive, those in it (be they human or livestock) usually die shortly after taking up residence.

Of far more immediate concern (after all, how often is a house or barn built?) is fairy abduction. The Fae love all that is beautiful and don’t take rejection well; for this reason they often simply cart off with those things and people that catch their fancy. This is even more of a hazard on Fridays, as the Fae have special power on that day. Singing alone by a lake is flat-out tempting fate, as the Fae are tremendously fond of music and are even more likely to take an interest. It’s also important for no door to be left open after sunset on May eve, and young people should not go alone on the hills lest they be taken. Newlyweds must retire to bed at the same time so that the Fae do not steal the bride out of covetousness for her fine clothes. To protect infants, salt is tied in their dress or a branch over their cradle – alder for a boy and mountain ash for a girl. And for those who find themselves in Faerie must remember that eating or drinking anything offered will guarantee they can never return home. (That or they’ll have the second sight for the rest of their life… but who wants to take that gamble?)

This is not to say, of course, that the Fae have no redeeming qualities from a mortal’s perspective. Those Fae that attach themselves to a household are especially welcomed, as they help with the chores after everyone has gone to sleep. They’ve been known to mend shoes, churn butter, spin, bake, mend, and any other number of other tasks. Again, it’s important not to interrupt them at their work. Keep in mind, too, that they’re not servants or employees. Never leave wages for them. However, they appreciate kindnesses paid in turn and welcome fire in the grate and any food that is left out. Although they detest salt, they’re known to be partial to cakes, wine, apples, nuts, berries, honey, corn, flour, whiskey, butter, and milk. Such is their love for dairy that when a child spills milk it’s customary to simply say “That is to Themselves, leave it to Them and welcome” and never scold the child, for fear of invoking the Fae’s ire. Indeed, some farmers will refrain from milking one cow of their herd, leaving it for the Fae’s pleasure. (Other cows often get primroses tied onto their tails to discourage the Fae from raiding the rest of the herd as well.)

Most Fae have a weakness for pretty things, and sometimes they can’t help themselves from helping themselves to any lovely trinkets around the house. In most cases it’s wisest to take this as a compliment on one’s taste and let them have what they’ve taken. Often they’ll tire of it and return it in an unlikely spot when they’re finished. However, sometimes it’s imperative to have an item returned in a timely fashion. The Fae aren’t unreasonable, and a polite request and a trade will go a long way towards the reappearance of the missing object. Leaving out food they like is a good start, but faster results come if another sparkly (especially silver, moonstone, pearl, or quartz) is offered as well.

Ultimately, if you want them to be Good Neighbors, be a good neighbor in turn. It’s common sense that when the Fae cannot be avoided, it’s a good idea to play nice with them. They’re old, they have nearly infinite lifespans, and if you piss them off, they often have nothing better to do with the next couple centuries than harass the following seven generations of your bloodline.

Carry some iron for protection in emergencies, and don’t forget to check for buried power lines and fairy trods before digging.

BIBLIOGRAPHY:
Barry, Sheila Anne. Irish Cures, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions. New York: Sterling Pub., 1991. Print.
Knight, Sirona. Celtic Traditions: Druids, Faeries, and Wiccan Rituals. New York: Citadel/Kensington Pub., 2000. Print.

A Feast For Anime Lovers…And Everyone Else: KARAS

by Alexandra Seidel

Allow me, Dear Reader, to prepare your eyes for a feast in six courses: I want to tell you about Karas (“karasu”, which is Japanese for raven; the “u” is silent), a six part anime produced by Tatsunoko Production in 2005 to commemorate the 40^th anniversary of the company.

Karas starts off with one of the most impressive fight scenes I have ever seen in an anime. But the show’s visual brilliance does not end there. Traditional 2D and new 3D techniques have been fused to create an exciting symbiosis and watching this is pure joy, a constant tightrope walk between fathoming richly detailed dark frames and blindingly bright ones. Obvious at first glance is the effort and love the production team put into this.

The story it serves up is unusual, at least as far as traditional anime storylines go. Karas is about heroes but it is not just another ‘good vs. evil’ story. The hero, while he is not precisely an anti-hero is at least a darker version of hero. Lives are sacrificed without much gained, the damage and destruction seen here rivals the biggest Hollywood blockbusters. Two side characters remind us of Agents Mulder and Scully from The X-Files and everywhere, there are youkai.

While I enjoyed the storyline a lot, I will admit that when I saw Karas for the first time, I had trouble following and seeing all the details, so be advised, this is something better watched twice. The reference to Japanese folklore might also pose problems for Westerners, but the well paced action should make up for that, and we all know what people say about broadening one’s horizon.

In Karas, love for detail can also be heard. The music was composed specifically for the show and works like a charm to build atmosphere, to contrast the traditional Japanese with modern influences. This dichotomy of old–new is perhaps the most important theme in Karas, and I was delighted to find that mirrored so perfectly in the soundtrack.

For all those who find their interest piqued, one last suggestion: watch Karas in its original Japanese version and turn the subtitles on. Even better, find a version that adds explanatory subtitles that give some insight in the folklore used throughout the plot–or check out my article here; if nothing else, Karas will illustrate the need for cucumbers.

Alexandra Seidel likes anime and reads manga, both preferably with a dark twist. She owns more manga than comics, but taken together, those dead trees marked with speech bubbles and fine ink fill shelves and shelves.

Alexandra is a writer and a poet, a poetry editor and a reviewer. Her work can be found at The Red Penny Papers, Strange Horizons, Mythic Delirium and others. Her blog has claws and stripes and writerly thoughts: http://tigerinthematchstickbox.blogspot.com

And then Alice in Wonderland.

But we will be back next June, and we need your help. If there’s a movie we’ve missed, a topic we haven’t covered, a poem you love, a book we really ought to have mentioned, an artist you adore, an academic paper people need — whatever you feel needs awareness raised, tell us!

Why should you? Well, for one thing, it means you get the early update as we’re prepping next May, and that means dibs on the movie and/or topic of your choice. It also means you’re helping your fellow hapless humans to become more aware of the dangers (and occasionally the pleasures) presented by the fae. Reward enough itself, right?

No?

Well, that’s all right. As part of our effort to raise awareness, we want to give out a prize that we think provides cautioning aplenty. (Yeah, I just said “aplenty”.) So if you put a Fae Awareness topic suggestion in the comments to this post between now and July 10th, you will be entered in a drawing to win the first three books in Seanan McGuire’s fabulous October Daye series!  So that’s Rosemary and Rue (#1), A Local Habitation (#2), and An Artificial Night (#3)– yes, all three, just for you.

What, you have the first one? Okay, how about #s 2, 3, and 4 (Late Eclipses)? Sorry, you gotta wait til September for One Salt Sea, or we might offer you 4, 5, and 6.

Wait, you have them all? Smart choice! Well, you have to admit, the early warning of next year’s event and the warm fuzzy feeling you get from helping hapless humanity is pretty good in itself, right?

… right.

So hit us up with ideas, y’all, and be sure and leave a valid email address in either the email field or the comment itself so we can find you if you win. We won’t be able to do all movies or all ideas, but we’ll try and strike a good balance, so don’t be shy. The drawing will be random after midnight on July 10, once the contest closes.

And an extra thank you to Seanan McGuire, who was cool with the idea of a Fae Awareness Toby giveaway. She rocks — and here’s your chance to find out why, if you don’t already know!

In 1998, DC Comics released a compilation of the four comics that comprised Stardust (Being A Romance Within The Realm of Faerie), as written by Neil Gaiman and illustrated by Charles Vess. In 2007, a movie based on Stardust was released, directed by Matthew Vaughn. Both works are perfect choices for Fae Awareness Month, since they contain magic and mystical elements that imply fae influence. Herein lies a summary of the book and the movie. I promise not to fall into the trap of denouncing the movie for the book (although, a warning – denouncing the movie on its own merit is fair game).

Stardust (Being A Romance Within The Realm Of Faerie) by Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess

The book Stardust is the story of a young man, Tristran Thorn, and his adventures in Faerie. It’s set in England during the mid-1800s in a universe parallel to our own, in that the narrator name-drops a young Queen Victoria and Charles Dickens, along with photographs and the creation of Morse code. That being established, we’re told of a town called Wall, named for the actual stone wall to which it’s in close proximity. This wall is guarded day and night, and acts as a barrier between England and the Realm of Faerie, a land of nymphs and satyrs, trolls, gnomes, and witches, where fairy tales are just tales. However, every nine years a fair is held in the part of Faerie just beyond the wall, and all and sundry flock to Wall to get the opportunity to cross through the sole gap in the border.

Tristan is half-fae himself, the child of a somewhat hapless young man and a woman of the fae who is bound in servitude to a witch until “the moon loses her daughter, if that occurs in a week when two Mondays come together.” We first meet his father, Dunstan Thorn, who wins the promise his heart’s desire from a gentlemen he houses prior to the fair in Faerie. That turns out to be the bewitching enslaved woman from Beyond the Wall. The two meet up after dark and do the horizontal, and less than a year later a basket housing an infant Tristran Thorn is found near the wall. Fast-forward eighteen years; Tristran is described as a shy lad utterly besotted with a young woman named Victoria Forester. He goes over to the other side of the wall to retrieve for Victoria a fallen star, with the hopes that on his return he and Victoria will marry. Tristan’s father, who has married and has a daughter as well, views Tristan’s journey to the Land Beyond the Wall inevitable. After forbidding Tristran’s venture into Faerie during the fairs, Dunstan accompanies his son to the border before sending him on his way.

We are next introduced to the other players in the story: the brothers of Stormhold, the Lilim, and a star. The eighty-first Lord of Stormhold and his seven sons, named sequentially in order of birth, four deceased (as ghosts) and three alive (Primus, Tertius, and Septimus). The succession of Stormhold only goes to the sole surviving son, so as his sons weren’t able to whittle their ranks down the Lord of Stormhold declares whomever first procures a topaz that contains the Power of Stormhold will be the next ruler. He throws the topaz across the sky and falls dead (otherwise known as “pulling a Jean Grey”), and the three brothers depart. The Power of Stormhold, during its epic trek through the air, seems to knock a star out of the sky. The Lilim, three ancient witches, sense the star’s dislodgement and choose one from among them to pursue it and retrieve its heart. It seems that consuming the heart of a star will revive the Lilim’s youth, and the Lilim who leaves ingests the last bit of youth remaining in order to gain power for her journey. Last, we meet the star, a woman who, quite understandably (and hilariously), says “fuck.”

We return to Tristran, who runs into the “hairy little man” (“HLM” hereafter), a creature who had met Tristran’s father back nineteen years prior in Wall. The HLM immediately picks up something odd about Tristran’s heritage (“I was thinkin’ more of a grandmother who was a famous enchantress, or an uncle who was a prominent warlock, or a brace of fairies somewhere in the family tree.”) The two have a run in with homicidal trees, and Tristan’s newfound ability to find paths and locations in the land beyond Wall saves both their lives. Thankful, HLM gives Tristran new clothing, a chain made of “cat’s breath and fish scales, and moonlight on a mill-pond, melted and smithied and forged by the dwarfs,” and a candle that acts like seven league boots.

The journey on the road continues. Septimus proves his deviousness by killing Tertius by way of poisoned wine, brought to Tertius by a hapless chambermaid prior to a tryst. Primus is established as the more compassionate of the fratricidal pair when he makes sure Tertius’s body is returned to Stormhold before continuing on after the Power of Stormhold. The Lilim, on the other hand, proves herself to be a very bad dime indeed, transforming a poor boy into a goat to make a pair to draw her carriage.

Tristran lights his candle and travels leagues in second. He quickly finds the fallen star, an understandably bitter and angry woman, but he’s unable to get her to go with him before his candle putters out, leaving the two strained about six months of travel away from Wall. He uses the chain that the HLM gifted to him to bind her, and they end up walking (in the case of the star, having broken her leg, limping) towards Wall. During their walk they see a lion and a unicorn engaged in bloody battle, and Tristran, remembering what he’d always believed to be nursery rhyme, saves the unicorn’s life by locating the crown they were fighting over and giving it to the lion. Tristran unbinds himself from the star to go locate food, and it’s on the back of the unicorn that the star escapes.

The Lilim ends up setting up the means for the survival of Tristran and the star after running into the witch who enslaved the fae woman from the beginning of the story, Madame Semele. Madame Semele tricks the Lilim into sharing her knowledge of the fallen star and the youth that can be retained from consuming the star’s heart, and in retaliation the Lilim curses Madame Semele to not be able to perceive any part of the star and to treat her future guests with more respect. The Lilim’s act of vengeance sows her own failure later on, as we find out.

Tristran ends up traveling with Primus thanks to the intervention of a sympathetic wood nymph. They stop for the night themselves at an inn that was magicked into existence by the Lilim in order to capture the star, stymieing the witch’s plans. The inn is at a mountain pass, magicked into existence by the Lilim with the hopes of catching her and cutting out her heart. The unicorn uncovers the Lilim’s murder plot and warns Tristran, but not before the Lilim kills Primus. Tristran manages to salvage the dregs of his candle, thrusting his hands into a fire and badly burning himself before transporting him and the star out of immediate danger.

The candle escape leaves the two trapped in a cloud. Yvaine and Tristran meet the sky ship captain, Captain Johannes Alberic. Yvaine, the star, shares her name with Tristran for the first time. The two tag along with the captain and his friendly lightening-hunting crew for a bit, getting their respective injuries tended. When they depart the narrator relays in brief a number of adventures Tristran and Yvaine have along their way to Wall. They then run into Madame Semele and her multi-colored bird. Madame Semele, under the influence of the Lilim’s curse, doesn’t see or interact with Yvaine. Semele changes Tristran into a dormouse and transports him and unbeknownst to Semele, Yvaine, to Wall. The two have a close call when Semele crosses paths with the Lilim (who killed Septimus, the last remaining Stormhold prince), but the Lilim’s curse prevents Semele from acknowledging or speaking of Yvaine’s presence in her carriage and the Lilim cannot seem to sense the star.

It’s revealed that Yvaine must deliver the Power of Stormhold to its rightful owner, and that the multi-colored bird was the same woman who was bound to Madame Semele back in the beginning of the story. Tristran goes back through the Wall to his town, where he meets with Victoria. Victoria tells him she is engaged to Mr. Monday and didn’t think Tristran would leave Wall to look for the star. Tristran leaves her to her marriage and husband and then goes to reunite with his family. Yvaine speaks with Victoria on the other side of the Wall (“Your fame precedes you.”) and briefly contemplates suicide by transfiguration into stone (as stars that leave Faerie turn into a meteorite) when she thinks Victoria and Tristran are going to get married. But Victoria then introduces Yvaine to her fiancée with the announcement that “on [the Friday of the wedding breakfast] there will be two Mondays together!”

Tristran and Yvaine, having both met with the continued catalyst of the story and having realized they had a “meet-cute” for a reason, now come together and kiss. This concludes the final portion of Madame Semele’s slave woman’s rules for freedom, and she then announces that she is Lady Una, only daughter of the eighty-first Lord of Stormhold. Lady Una introduces herself to Tristran as his mother, tells him that he is the eighty-second Lord of Stormhold.

Yvaine runs into the Lilim, who is now a shriveled old woman now that she’s used so much of her power. It turns out that the Lilim couldn’t sense Yvaine because Yvaine’s heart was given over to Tristran. The two part with a kiss and go off on their separate ways.

Tristran and Yvaine decide to wander Faerie and have adventures for a number of years, leaving Tristran’s mother as regent until their return. Yvaine, being a star and quite long-lived, rules Stormhold after Tristran’s death. And the story concludes on a bittersweet note, with Yvaine standing on the highest precipice of Stormhold, looking up at her star sisters in the sky.

Stardust, Directed by Matthew Vaughn. Also: Wherein The Writer Apologies In Advance For Snark

The movie establishes at the beginning by way of graphics and voiceover that belief in fae is not widespread (maybe that’s what the letter Dunstan sends to them is inquiring about? It’s not made very clear, perhaps an omen for the rest of the movie). The town of Wall is located in England, within some proximity to the stone wall from which it takes its name. The Land Beyond the Wall, Stormhold, is particularly intriguing to young Dunstan Thorn, who ends up running past a lone elderly guard into a bustling market. The contents of the market are wondrous (mini-elephants in a cage!), but Dunstan finds himself most enamored with a dark-haired woman tending a cache of crystal flowers for an older woman. The dark-haired woman announces that she is an enslaved princess, who cannot be freed until her captor is dead. When Dunstan asks how he can help console her, the woman takes him into her wagon with amorous intent (“if this wagon is a’rockin…” although one does wonder where the woman’s captor is during this interlude). Soon after (in movie-time), Dunstan is presented with a baby Tristan (because the extra “r” must have irked the studio) Thorn.

The older Tristan we meet an undetermined time in the future is comically awkward and unpopular, even though he’s movie star handsome. He gets relationship advice from his horribly aged father, who’s aware of Tristan’s infatuation with one Victoria Forester, and one would suppose that’s why Tristan ends up outside Victoria’s window with a picnic basket and a bottle of champagne in the wee hours of the morning. In a typical logic-less twist, Victoria goes from a girl who mocks Tristan to one who goes out to dine with him in the wee hours of the morning (pity-fueled midnight picnics?). It’s while the two are imbibing that they see a falling star, and Tristan pledges to bring the star back for Victoria if she’ll promise to marry him. Victoria agrees, and gives Tristan one week to return with the star in tow.

We also meet with the eighty-second Lord of Stormhold and his seven children (four alive, three dead), and three ancient witches. The Lord of Stormhold presents the Ruby of Stormhold, proclaiming that only the rightful heir can change the ruby back to its true form (rubies work better than topazes; who knew?). Only three of his sons (Primus, Tertius, and Septimus) end up leaving the Lord of Stormhold’s chamber in search of the star; Septimus is established as a bad mofo when he pushes Secundus out of a window to his death while the Lord of Stormhold laughs. Tertius meets his end in the palace before then even leave to hunt down the Ruby, poisoned by Septimus while Primus narrowly misses his own death. Michelle Pfeiffer gets screen time next in old crone makeup as one of the witches, speaking with a distractingly bad British accent. She de-ages herself with her sister’s approval and runs off to hunt down the star.

Back in Wall, Tristan goes to his father and tells him of his intention to leave for Stormhold after Tristan’s attempt to leave by way of the gap in the wall comes to naught (old guardian guy has apparently learnt martial arts in the eighteen plus years between Thorn escape attempts; old guardian guy has also aged tons better than Dunstan Thorn). Dunstan tells Tristan that his mother is enslaved somewhere over in Stormhold and that she left him gifts of a BABYLON CANDLE, a chain that can ensnare almost anything, and the crystal flower Dunstan had attempted to purchase all those years prior. Dunstan lights the candle and is immediately transported to the star, who turns out to be Claire Danes in a long blond wig.

Tristan and the star bicker off-and-on for a few scenes. There is a lot of bickering. It’s obvious they’re going to fall madly for one another. The formerly old witch with the bad accent (named Lamia) transfigures a cart led by two goats, and meets up with the witch that has captured Tristan’s mother. The witch, Ditchwater Sal, double-crosses Lamia, and gets cursed. Meanwhile, Septimus continues to demonstrate he’s a bad mofo and kills an old guy.

Tristan ties the star to a tree using the magic binding chain, then goes to find food. A unicorn appears from the forest and frees the star, and the two canter off into the forest. When Tristan comes back to find himself alone he’s more emo than ever. It’s established that Tristan knows the star’s name to be Yvaine because he yells it when he comes back and notices she’s gone. Tristan cries silent tears and curls up under a tree to sleep, but is awakened by the voice of a star who warns him that he must save Yvaine from Lamia. Tristan then has a “meet-cute” with Primus, and the two become travel-buddies.

Yvaine makes her way to Lamia’s transfigured inn-trap, unaware of the danger to her well being (and also her heart). Right before Lamia actually does the deed Primus and Tristan roll up asking for shelter. She then leaves Yvaine and goes to see to her new boarders, because the movie needs to build suspense. Things go as in the book: the unicorn uncovers the trap, Tristan runs in to warn Primus, Primus is killed by Lamia (bleeding blue blood, because I guess a fount of red fluid gushing from carotids would have caused the PG rating to change to a R?), Tristan transports with Yvaine into the clouds using the BABYLON CANDLE (which is apparently a big thing, because it’s been mentioned at least three times by various characters).

Then some editing intern gets his/her hands on the reels and splices in twenty-five minutes of a vaguely intriguing sky pirate movie into Matthew Vaughn’s adaptation of Stardust. That is the only way to explain the presence of Robert DeNiro’s transvestite Captain Shakespeare and his literally dirty crew of kind-hearted rapscallions. It’s like the only way they could get DeNiro in the movie was to heavily bulk up the role of Captain Alberic from the book, creating an effeminate fashionisto working though paternal issues. The more I ponder it, the more I see the idea behind a character like Shakespeare fascinating on a certain level, but the execution was often painful at best. It seems that the introduction of Shakespeare, in addition to being a vessel for Robert DeNiro to play a pirate in the spirit of Johnny Depp, is a long-winded montage-laden way to show Yvaine and Tristan that they shouldn’t hide who they are and/or their feelings for one another. However, the sky captain section became just that, the Sky Captain section. The little bit of story coherency, in my opinion, was lost to advance the plot (via montages) and the protagonists (one week deadline to make it back to Wall).

Shakespeare gifts Tristan with lightening before dropping them off about two days journey outside of Wall (not before a forgettable appearance by Ricky Gervais), which means they’ll get to Wall with just enough time for Tristan to find Victoria and marry her (Tristan has grown long hair and learned how to fight within five days). Dishwater Sal meets up with Tristan and Yvaine, changes Tristan into a dormouse, and takes them close to Wall. During the journey to Wall Yvaine confesses her love for Tristan. When he’s transformed back into a human Tristan at first seems like he might not remember Yvaine’s confession, but he does!

Then Yvaine and Tristan have sex. But the movie is PG-13 so it’s implied and occurs off-camera. It’s also implied that Tristan is amazing in bed, because Yvaine says she’s had her first night of restful sleep since reaching land. But it turns out she’s speaking to herself, because Tristan’s gone, having left a ambiguous message for Yvaine with the innkeeper telling her than Tristan’s going to Victoria and he’s found his one true love. Because the movie needs angst Yvaine thinks Tristan is leaving her for Victoria, so she heads off towards Wall. Not realizing that she’ll turn into a rock on the other side. Angst! Angst!

Tristan, after going to Victoria and showing her how much hotter he now is than her current boyfriend, also realizes that Yvaine will turn into a meteorite if she leaves Stormhold. Cue the slow-motion run of Tristan, Tristan’s mother, Septimus, and Lamia, towards Yvaine. Yvaine’s venture out of Stormhold is halted, there’s a skirmish at the border, Dishwater Sal is killed, and Tristan’s mom and Yvaine are taken to the witches’ home.

Septimus and Tristan join forces to storm the castle. Tristan meets his mother for the first time, she reunites with her brother Septimus, and they all gather together just in time for Lamia to torture Septimus to death in a rather grotesque scene. Cue boss battle: Lamia vs. Tristan. They fight, Lamia pulls a fake out where she says she quits, and she totally doesn’t quit. Yvaine kills Lamia after she and Tristan hug it out (I don’t even; I’m guessing the test audiences weren’t happy unless the baddie got her comeuppance). Tristan’s revealed as the heir to Stormhold, it’s voice-overed that he and Yvaine live forever (I’m guessing Tristan dying and leaving Yvaine all alone didn’t fly with test audiences either). And as a coronation present Tristan’s mother gives him and Yvaine a BABYLON CANDLE (she must have stockpiles of the things; also, didn’t Dishwater Sal say they were black magic? (Tristan’s mom = sekrit Big Bad!)

Cue credits.
The End

The Books of Magic, a now-defunct DC-Vertigo comic series, sprouted from Neil Gaiman’s mystical miniseries of the same name, which I went on about at length in a previous post this month. The book on which I concentrated, Book III: The Land of Summer Twilight, details Timothy Hunter’s[1] journey with Dr. Occult through Faerie. It’s a particularly relevant book for the ongoing series (well, okay, they all are), and directly spawned the stories peopling The Books of Faerie: Auberon’s Tale and The Books of Faerie, still available in trade paperback collections[2].

In order to discuss these pretty little TPBs, I’m going to have to spoil Gaiman’s Books of Magic a touch. Not plot wise, but a single line from Titania that could be interpreted in several ways (imagine that!). It will by no means ruin your enjoyment of the GN if you pick it up, as it has zero bearing on the plot, but you’ve been warned.

While both collections consist of pure Books of Magic pre-history and side-plots, I’m sticking to the history stories — all of which were written by Bronwyn Carlton and drawn by Peter Gross (with Vince Locke in Auberon’s Tale). They amount to a kind of double fanfiction: stories based on Gaiman’s cryptic Titania from BoM, and stories based on a more directly Shakespearian concept of Oberon and Titania. The stories are bent to suit and explain the world of the ongoing BoM books, but stand alone as objects of interest to fae lovers.

I’ll start with Auberon’s Tale, to move chronologically — not in order of publication. It begins with Book I: The Regicide, in which King Magnus, a bit of a drunken idiot with a pureblood fairy superiority complex, insists that he compete in the tourney — against a lovable idiot of a troll. (Note that no one tries to stop him.) Obviously, this ends badly, and seeing as fairies don’t reproduce very often, the kingdom is left without an obvious heir. There is the king’s brother, Duke Huonnor, and there is the son of the king’s older sister, little Auberon. The king’s cousin Obrey and a courtier with a deeper connection to Magnus, Amadan, conspire to set Auberon on the throne as a puppet. You can see them talking in the shadows up there, as a matter of fact, in the doorway behind goofily grinning little Aubie, as his aunt and guardian Dymphna calls him.

Even before the sweet, liberal-minded boy can be installed, the machinations begin. Amadan tries to turn Obrey against Auberon, Auberon’s aunt Dymphna becomes engaged to Obrey, Huonnor goes to war with Obrey (who supposedly fights in Auberon’s name), and the whole thing becomes a sticky political mess worthy of the fae. As if it wasn’t enough, Amadan reveals that Magnus was trying to solve the fairy reproductive issue with what some consider less-than-savory experiments.

Anyone familiar with tales of the fae will guess that yes, humans are involved.

It’s a good read, and I think it highlights the slightly more human qualities of the fae here, as opposed to the frighteningly mercurial Gaiman Titania (though Auberon isn’t in BoM), and the sort of otherworldly yet simultaneously earthy fae Shakespeare envisioned. They certainly have the Shakespearean element of jealousy, though. Oh, and as a bonus, you get a really cute short about little Aubie meeting his friend, the magnificent little pink fotch he’s got on a leash on the cover up there.

Titania’s story, told in the collected The Books of Faerie TPB, begins with Book I: The Foundling’s Tale. There’s a sort of prologue, in which we see BoM frontman (frontboy?) Tim Hunter confronting a fully grown King Auberon and Queen Titania, claiming to be Titania’s son. Remember that thing I said about spoiling a single line of the Gaiman story? I said in my previous post on BoM that “…Titania’s parting words, for us alone, lead us to believe Tim will always be tied to Faerie in ways he can’t yet imagine.” Because what she said was, “And will you also hatch out worlds, my son?”

Take it how you like–and oh, Gaiman’s left it open–but Bronwyn Carlton’s backstory for Titania takes it literally. This goes one step beyond A Midsummer Night’s Dream‘s adopted Indian boy changeling, but it’s cool that the entire tale works as a nod to it, even as it fills in a gap in the BoM mythos. (The double fanfiction element strikes!)

The story really begins with a little girl called Maryrose being led into Faerie in spite of her gran’s warnings. The then-queen of Faerie, Dymphna, takes her under her wing and keeps her along with her little elf handmaidens, and treats her as a daughter. And then, King Obrey, whose machinations only seem to have gotten more ridiculous (oh yes, Lord Amadan is still there, if in a slightly, ah, altered form), comes home from war… and falls for little Maryrose, never knowing she was once mortal.

It’s a more character-driven story than Auberon’s, Maryrose’s journey from innocent to fae courtier, and what she’s willing to sacrifice to be a queen. Almost the moment she achieves this goal, Auberon finally defeats his cousin, Obrey the Usurper, and returns to Faerie to reclaim his crown… and offers Titania a deal, in the name of peace and prosperity for his people. She accepts, and yet, she’s never happy, caught between what she is and what she’s trying to be. Even Tamlin the Falconer can only make her happy for a short time, and that, well, as the above panel implies, spawns a mess.

Naturally it’s more complicated than all that, full of ins and outs and political madness, but that’s the gist. Titania’s tale has that same, slightly more human aspect, which . She’s at once strong and willing to sacrifice, but also swings to vulnerability and regret. Her main conflict stems from the continued emphasis on the importance of fairy blood, and her lack thereof. In that way, it’s this sort of typical fantasy story about queenship, womb control, and domestic complications. She’s not the Titania I expected, but she’s satisfying, if problematic, as a character, all the same.

The other stories in these collections, the side-plots from the ongoing series, are very cool too–and there’s another TPB collection called The Books of Faerie: Molly’s Story (which I’ve not been able to find, but are beyond the scope of this post, anyhow, as they feature the BoM ongoing character, Molly O’Reilly). I like the art; it’s expressive and easy on the eyes, though not perhaps as otherworldly as Charles Vess’s original Land of Summer Twilight work. The covers, reproduced as full-paged panels as with most TPB collections, are uniformly gorgeous.

Pan’s Labyrinth

by Meghan Brunner

The story of Pan’s Labyrinth would fit in any collection of fairy tales. Young Ofelia and her pregnant mother are moving in with her step-father, a facist captain of the Spanish army. He is, predictably, is the villain of the piece and an unabashed bully. This was no marriage of passion. Ofelia’s mother found herself widowed and agreed to his proposal because she saw no other option to support herself and her child. (It can be inferred that the captain is the cause of her widowhood, though it’s never stated outright.) Now she must make do as best she can, trying to reconcile Ofelia to her new father and make it through what is obviously a troubled pregnancy.

It doesn’t take long for Ofelia to discover labyrinth on the property’s edge – and, with it, the labyrinth’s keeper: a faun (translated as “Pan” in the English subtitles, though he seems but a distant cousin of the Pan that inhabits Greek mythos). He tells her of her heritage: she’s a fairy princess and must complete three tasks in a magic book he gives her in order to return home. Believing in fairies is one thing; finding out you ARE one is quite another, of course. She is understandably skeptical at first, but as evidence mounts and her home life worsens, Ofelia warms to the idea.

By the end of the movie Ofelia certainly must have envied Cinderella’s task to pick lentils from the ashes. The challenges she is given pit her against not only the difficulty intrinsic to the assignment, but come into conflict with what is expected of her at home.

As to the ending… whether it’s happy or sad is a matter of perspective, but it certainly isn’t clean.

That’s just the plot, though. The most striking feature of Pan’s Labyrinth is its realism. This might seem like a strange dominating feature for a fairy tale, but from the first it is utterly believable. It’s not set in some vaguely unspecified long-ago-and-far-away, but in 1944 post-war Spain. Under most circumstances this would put the movie in the contemporary fantasy sub-genre, but it feels too natural for that label. It doesn’t feel like fantasy. This is Magick, it’s real, and it has consequences. Even the film’s lighting is dark, the colors muted, adding a sense of gloom and hopelessness.

The Fae are varied in appearance, but whether beautiful or horrible (or both), they are consistently otherworldly. Even the manner in which they move emphasizes that they aren’t human – or like any other animal humans are used to seeing. Some seem happy to help; others are obviously a threat. The faun himself is mercurial, benevolent and terrifying by turns.

None of the tasks set to Ofelia are easy, all of them are messy, and there is a real sense that she might not survive them. Each requires a sacrifice, though she doesn’t always realize it initially. Nor does she pass all of them with flying colors. During the second task, in particular, she does not heed the faun’s warning and pays a high price. She might not understand the reason for the rules of this gauntlet, but they are not suggestions – and excuses will not save her.

What will strike many most forcefully, however, is that the violence is much more graphic than in American movies. This is not improbable amounts of blood spurting from a severed limb as the victim screams well past when he should’ve bled out. When someone’s face is smashed in by repeated bludgeoning, it looks like it’s been smashed in – not just bruised, a little bloody, and one eye swollen shut. When one of the less pleasant creatures begins eating the smaller Fae, it’s stringy and brutal. There is nothing subtle about any of it, and while it will make many viewers squirm… well, maybe it should.

After all, life is not Disney.

And Pan’s Labyrinth is a return to that reality.

Holly Black and The Spiderwick Chronicles

By Orrin Grey

http://www.orringrey.com

Nobody does fairies better than Holy Black.

Yeah, that’s a pretty bold statement, especially right in the middle of Fae Awareness Month, but it’s probably also true, at least for my money. I first encountered Holly Black’s writing through her YA novels Tithe, Valiant, and Ironside; modern stories that captured all the menace, caprice, and alien allure of the fae exactly as I had always imagined them.

To be fair, Holly Black has since become one of my favorite authors, full stop, and proven that she’s just as adept at writing stories about werewolves, the walking dead, and curse-magic con artists. Still, whenever I think of her, I always think of fairies first.

But in spite of having spent two paragraphs doing so, I’m not actually here to talk about Holly Black’s books, though they’re certainly worth talking about at much greater length. No, today I’m here to talk about The Spiderwick Chronicles movie, circa 2008, based on the kids book series of the same name, written by Holly Black with able assists and numerous illustrations by Tony DiTerlizzi. The movie stars Freddie Highmore, Mary-Louise Parker, David Strathairn, Nick Nolte, and the voices of Seth Rogen and Martin short, and is directed by Mark Waters.

Waters is mostly known for directing romantic comedies and movies like Mean Girls and Freaky Friday (and most recently the forthcoming Mr. Popper’s Penguins, which I try not to think about), so he doesn’t exactly seem like a likely candidate to helm what would become my favorite movie of the year, especially in a year as crowded with interesting films as 2008 was. But that’s just what Spiderwick did.

So what makes it so great? The short answer is that Spiderwick is fun. There’s a big spooky house, complete with hidden rooms and a dumbwaiter. There are sword fights. There’s an underground tunnel. There are lots and lots and lots of monsters. I remember reading a review in my local paper when the movie came out that claimed that kids would leave the theatre swashbuckling with imaginary goblins and yes, that, exactly! What more could you possibly ask for from a movie like this?

Spiderwick is a kids movie—and an adventure movie—unapologetically and all the way, but it also doesn’t require you to give up thinking in order to enjoy it. In spite of a few gags to the contrary, it doesn’t pander. There are themes running through the film, about kids dealing with divorce, about issues of anger, about the power and price of knowledge, etc. They’re there, and they’re important, and they give the film a heft and a solidity that’s lacking in so many movies, for kids and adults both, but they also never suck the pure joy out of watching a house under siege by scores of goblins.

It’s in the integration of these themes, and in the delightful unpredictability of the various creatures, that Holly Black’s writing shines through in the movie the most. Though I was already a fan of her other work by the time the movie came out, I didn’t actually get around to reading the books until after I’d seen the movie, thereby avoiding the usual “the book was better” reaction. Comparing them both now, I think there are places where each is stronger than the other.

The performances are all quite good. Freddie Highmore plays twin brothers Jared and Simon, and the effect is pretty much flawless, to the extent that I’ve seen people online asking if they were, in fact, both played by the same person. Seth Rogen, who had not yet really taken the star turn he has since, turns the character of Hogsqueal from the character most likely to grate on adult audiences to probably the funniest thing in the film.

The creatures often steal the show, in fact. The designs by DiTerlizzi are wonderful, especially the froglike goblins who, in the film’s bravura sequence, stage a full-on attack on the house that would’ve been right at home in a Joe Dante film. If the special effects sometimes don’t quite hold up to the promise of the ideas, then it’s only an occasional setback, and most of the time they’re more than up to the task.

Spiderwick is by no means a perfect movie, but it is a perfectly entertaining one; breezy and fun, but with enough substance that it doesn’t just melt in your mouth. A great movie for anyone who ever dreamed of finding secret passages in their house, or who ever swashbuckled with imaginary goblins (or wanted to).