Reprise: A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking

Since Karen's blog last week discussed several children's books by Ursula Vernon (aka T. Kingfisher), including A WIZARD'S GUIDE TO DEFENSIVE BAKING, I'm reprising my review of that book, which I first posted last year:

This YA fantasy novel set in a secondary world is quite different in tone and content from Kingfisher’s contemporary adult horror novels such as THE TWISTED ONES. The only obvious similarity consists of the heroines, first-person narrators with distinctive, witty voices and self-deprecating personalties.

Fourteen-year-old orphaned teenager Mona works in her aunt’s bakery. Mona’s baking talent encompasses more than mundane skills. In this world, many people have magical gifts, although more often small and specialized than big and flashy, and Mona can do amazing things with dough. She entertains customers by making gingerbread men dance, and she keeps one long-lived animated gingerbread figure as a sort of pet. Her other mascot is a bucket of sentient sourdough starter named Bob. He's confined to the basement because he has a habit of eating animals that stray within his reach.

On the morning when the story begins, Mona finds a dead girl on the bakery floor. Local law enforcement takes Mona into custody for questioning, and things get worse from there. Following her release after many hours, she’s attacked by ten-year-old Spindle, brother of the murdered girl. After Mona convinces him of her and her family’s innocence, the two of them team up to uncover the truth. A mysterious figure known as the Spring Green Man seems to be involved. Magic-users have been disappearing or dying. Aside from Mona herself, one of the few left in the city is Molly, a kindly but deranged woman with a gift of animating dead horses; she wanders around with a dried-up, nearly skeletal zombie horse. Meanwhile, their city-state is at war, and the authorities are cracking down on magical folk. In desperation, Mona and Spindle eventually sneak into the castle to appeal to the Duchess herself. As the plot thickens, Mona gets unwillingly involved in combat and discovers extraordinary uses for the baking magic she’s always considered minor and ordinary. While fast-paced and entertaining, with humorous bits, this novel also delves into issues such as the nature of responsibility and heroism.

Although it's certainly true that the female protagonists in Kingfisher/Vernon's fiction have a definite "type" -- to which Mona conforms -- I don't agree that ALL of them fall into that category. For instance, the Hamster Princess and the were-bear nun (in the Clocktaur universe) don't. Moreover, although the protagonists of THE TWISTED ONES and SNAKE-EATER, for example, find themselves in basically the same situation (a woman alone with her dog in a strange house), they have opposite personalities, the former confident in her career and competently taking charge of her late abusive, hoarder grandmother's house, the latter practically apologizing for daring to exist in the world. As for whether they're avatars of the author, I can't make a guess because I don't know anything about Ursula Vernon as an individual aside from the persona displayed in the afterwords to her novels. Of course, most fictional characters reflect facets of their creators, but otherwise it seems like a stretch to assume her protagonists "are" her.

Margaret L. Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

{Put This One on Your TBR List} Review of Children's Book Selections by T. Kingfisher/Ursula Vernon or Ode to Sourdough by Karen S. Wiesner

 

{Put This One on Your TBR List}

Review of Children's Book Selections by T. Kingfisher/Ursula Vernon

 or

Ode to Sourdough

by Karen S. Wiesner 

  Ursula Vernon aka T. Kingfisher 

Back on December 5, 2025, I posted my first review on the Alien Romances blog featuring four young adult fantasy stories by T. Kingfisher/Ursula Vernon, who is one and the same--a talented author, illustrator/artist, and gardener (which I really appreciate, as I aspire to someday call myself the same). The first book I ever read by her was A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking, in which 14-year-old Mona accidentally creates a sourdough starter "familiar" and later purposely animates gingerbread men and doughboy golem soldiers for an army in her quest to save the city from a corrupt wizard. 

From there, I went on to read and review nearly every book she's written under these two names--and pretty close to back-to-back, which, in retrospect, may have been a bit of a mistake (more on that later). As I've said many times before in my weekly posts, readers can enjoy any level of book they choose. I like children's stories just as much as I do young adult and adult fiction. There's everything to love about this author's children's book selections, regardless of whether they're written under her real name Ursula Vernon or her pen name T. Kingfisher. 

  Recently, I read the ebook of Summer in Orcus by T. Kingfisher. I found that there are two separate editions available (one published by Sofawolf Press with illustrations done by Lauren Henderson instead of the author herself; and another published as free web serial by the author's Red Wombat Tea Company--I'm not sure if Vernon did the illustrations herself for that one but I think she did). Both came out in 2017. This massive children's story (some editions have 386 pages!) features the fabled witch Baba Yaga. Summer is eleven years old and has little in her life that causes her joy, in part because her mother is so overly protective, Summer feels suffocated by her mom's overwhelming fear--of everything. She wants to do something--something unexpected and worthy. For good or ill, the witch sends her to the fascinating world of Orcus to do just that. I loved how bumbling but good-hearted Summer was. She's not quite sure she wanted an actual adventure, but she never wavered in wanting to help those less fortunate than herself--and, ultimately, she doesn't want her mom to worry about her too much (just like Dorothy realizes she doesn't want Auntie Em, who may not understand her but loves her all the same, to suffer without her). 

 Prior to that, I checked out the audiobook of Nine Goblins (manageable at only 161 pages, released in 2013), another Kingfisher children's story, in which a party of goblin warriors, commanded by Nessilka, are trapped behind enemy lines. One way or the other, the sergeant intends to get her people home. The tagline of "low fantasy, high mischief" was fun and captivating, as was the story itself. I expect I would have loved it more when I was younger, as a few of my eclectic favorites included How to Care for Your Monster (Norman Bridwell of Clifford fame); William Steig's one-of-a-kind Shrek!; and anything by Ruth Chew, who wrote about witches instead of the usual array of spoiled princesses, adorable mice who rode motorcycles, giant peaches, or mischievous monkeys--all of which, let's face it, I loved just as well.

Under her real name Ursula Vernon, she's published a whole slew of hybrid children's books/graphic novels/comics she both writes and illustrates: 

  Digger (series) is a wombat engineer trapped in a fantasy world. 

  Dragonbreath (series) features a dragon Danny, who's fielding and figuring out life at a school for reptiles and amphibians. 

  Hamster Princess (series) is a hamster that sits atop her battle quail (in lieu of a white horse, I guess) in twisted fairytale retellings.

 

  Nurk (standalone novel with 145 pages) highlights the (mis?)adventures of an anything-but-brave shrew who nevertheless puts on big-boy-panties and does the best job he's capable of in saving a kidnapped dragonfly prince. 

You quickly learn after you've read a few of this author's books that, regardless of whether she's writing children's or adult fiction, she has distinctive trademarks, namely:

1)    Off-the-wall humor and angsting.

2)    Never-read-anything-like-it-before unique perspectives and secondary characters.

3)    Heartfelt heroism that stems not (necessarily) from skill but from heaps of unflagging determination capable of saving the day (luckily but I'm not entirely sure it's a realistic sentiment).

4)    POV characters (usually female but not always) that are cut from the same cookie cutter--you meet one, you've met them all, and I believe all are based on the author herself. Names, settings, and skills have been altered, sure, but basically the main character "cookie" almost never changes from one book to the next. This author does like that character type almost to the point of it getting overwhelming sometimes because I’ve been reading them all back-to-back. Despite that I love her work, I highly recommend reading a book of hers here and there instead of binge-reading them all at once in the space of a couple weeks or months (as I have and mildly regret).

As a general rule, if you like this author, as I most certainly do, you'll like the majority of her work. If you don't, well, I'm sorry for you, and farewell, there are other writers in the sea. For my part, I became an instant fan with A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking. On that note, a little aside of my own in what I hope is true Kingfisher/Vernon style: 

Ode to Sourdough 

My husband, who's on the cusp of retiring in mid-2026, has decided that now is the perfect time for him to learn how to capture wild yeast, a.k.a. make bread from sourdough starter. We'll be living on a budget soon and bread is cheap. We're both lifelong fans of it. Can't hardly go wrong, right? Well… 

Apparently, this whole sourdough craze became a big trend during the height of the COVID pandemic, but many that started it then have since lost interest. (The luxury of being out and about in the world again is probably a contributing factor there. Who has time?) We didn't get on board then, instead waiting until now. Honestly, I thought I knew what sourdough was but, once I found out it's a way to ferment bread naturally, without commercial, industrially produced baker's yeast, just using the "wild yeast" in the air, I was amazed…and, admittedly, a little grossed out. I couldn't help thinking, "Soylent green is people!", or, more aptly, "Wild yeast is people!", as this lactobacillus bacteria is essentially made up of anything and everything in the natural environment of a household--you guessed it, bacteria, plant, animal, even human stuff. Eww! I just lost my appetite. Seriously. But it's also fascinating. The wild yeast element is what gives sourdough its unique tang. (Does that mean my husband and I have tang? I suppose it does. I repeat myself: Eww.) No two sourdoughs are ever the same, even from one loaf to the next. 

On December 30, 2025, my husband began experimenting and journaling his progress in the art of making sourdough. That night, he asked me what we should name our sourdough. My first thought was, "Ursula Vernon". (T. Kingfisher just doesn't have the same ring in becoming the personality of a sourdough starter--don't ask me why not.) He wrote in his journal that first night that we'd named our baby sourdough starter "Ursula Vernon" and wondered whether it was Ursula's birthday or conception day. He ultimately decided that line of thinking was a bit disturbing and backed way off. 

  Our healthy and happy little Ursula Vernon Sourdough Starter. Isn't she sweet with her belt around her waist, her little cap on? 

There have been a few misstarts, but, as of this writing in late January 2026, Ursula is thriving in her new home in the warmest nook of our dining room. She's produced several very tasty loaves of sourdough bread. My husband has determined that she likes to eat in the morning, and she much prefers to do her rising overnight, baking the next morning in a very rigid and sturdy, tall bread loaf pan rather than any proofing banneton or free-form sheet pan, as she's still much too delicate to be jostled around too much. (We still want to try a Dutch oven though.) 

  Ursula Vernon, Tall and Proud, Caught Loafing, as she should be 

Sourdough starter discards have also become a staple in our household, providing pancakes, muffins, rolls, pizza dough--you name it! My husband likes to say proudly, "If I feed Ursula Vernon, she feeds me." 

Somehow, I think this quirky author who's made herself very much at home at the top of my "to buy" and "to be read" piles would approve. That is my Ode to Sourdough and Ursula Vernon. 

~*~ 

Here both at the end of the author's current selection (which I've mostly read at this point) and at the beginning of a future in which I look forward to reading her new selections, the bottom line is that, whatever you read by T. Kingfisher/Ursula Vernon, whether for children, adults, or somewhere in-between, you'll find wacky, character-driven adventures that are entertaining, incredibly well written, and engaging. Can't hardly go wrong, I'd say. 

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of over 150 titles and 16 series.

Visit her website and blog here: https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/

and https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/karens-quill-blog

Visit her publisher here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/

{Put This One on Your TBR List} Review of Hemlock & Silver by T. Kingfisher by Karen S. Wiesner

 

{Put This One on Your TBR List}

Review of Hemlock & Silver by T. Kingfisher

by Karen S. Wiesner 

   Beware: May contain unintended spoilers! 

T. Kingfisher (the pen name of Ursula Vernon) is a versatile author, illustrator, and artist. Her novel Hemlock & Silver, published in August 2025, wasn't the first Snow White fairytale retelling she wrote. In the "Toad Words and Other Stories" collection (published in 2014), my favorite offering from it was "Boar & Apples", written specifically for the anthology, which contained a character named Snow. (I reviewed that collection recently on the Alien Romances blog.) In "Boar & Apples", Snow's path--in true Kingfisher style--leads her to boars instead of dwarves, but the basic components of the original story of Snow White were evident with a wicked, vain mother; a magic mirror; and a poisoned apple. I have much more to say about "Boar & Apples" but that will come later. First, I've give you a rundown of Hemlock & Silver. 

To begin with, keep in mind that Snow White is not the focus of this particular retelling--the poisoned apple is the star of this show, which is a very interesting twist on the original. In Hemlock & Silver, Anja is a healer, the daughter of a wealthy merchant. Anja will feel very familiar to Kingfisher fans because this is the typical character the author defaults to almost without fail--basically, you've met one of her heroines and you've met all of them (and I think all are based on the author herself). No big deal there. When someone Anja cared about died of poisoning while she was a child, her plight to find cures to poisons drove her to study and learn and, yes, poison herself in hopes of finding answers that might save other people. When the king of the land she lives in comes to her, begging her to cure his dying daughter, Snow, Anja can't refuse him (and not just because merchant daughters don't refuse kings). Note that, while I can't prove it, the world this story seems set in is similar (another region of?) to Kingfisher's World of the White Rat stories (which includes Swordheart, The Clocktaur War, and The Saint of Steel series). 

I'd say nearly a third of the book detailed the long and tedious journey to get Anja to the king's secluded "summer home" (not the palace) in the desert, where his daughter is convalescing. During that long trek, Anja spends a lot of time thinking about her pursuit of seeking cures to poisons. She grows close to her two bodyguards, Aaron and Javier. Honestly, at first I was convinced which of those bodyguards was slated to be Anja's love interest, though later it's the opposite one that becomes her partner in crime and the focus of the romantic interest she wrongly believes he doesn't want from her. (A silly misunderstanding intended to keep them apart.) 

Once they arrive at the house in the desert, there are a lot of "looking for answers" pages in the book. Despite how I'm describing these first two parts, there wasn't anything specifically boring about it all. I enjoyed the story almost all the way through. But I will say the pace was extremely slow-moving, and there didn't seem to be a whole lot happening during a big chunk of time. I began to fear Anja was going to have to pack up and leave Snow to her fate until, in a convoluted bit of unrealistic and unfathomable clumsiness, Anja is chasing a one-eyed, narcissistic cat and ends up crashing into the big, creepy mirror in her room. From that point on, her hunt for answers turns to exploring the secret, dark realm beyond the magic mirror, where monsters could be allies and those you trust may well prove to be enemies. 

So I'll admit it: My favorite part of this story was the romance between Anja and one of her bodyguards, which is something I never thought I'd say when it comes to Kingfisher love stories. Her other offerings in this genre tend to be riddled with too many strained obstacles and "we want to, but we can't" blockades in advancing what, bottom line, is an incredibly awkward relationship--yet there's usually something sweet and wonderful about it anyway. There is a touch of that angsting here, as well, but luckily it wasn't overwhelming this time. 

I will also state that the last twenty-five pages or so, as the mystery was finally being solved and answers were served up, felt just a little muddled to me. Overall, I think this particular story needed a more visual medium to adequately portray it. The mirror aspects were tricky, and, for all her words, I don't think the author did an overwhelmingly thorough job of describing what was going on with and inside them. I frequently felt like I was given little or nothing familiar enough to make her explanations plausible so I could grasp the mind-picture she was trying to conjure by throwing a lot of detail at me. However, that said, I was very satisfied by the conclusion of the story. I wouldn't mind if the author gave us more of Anja, her new love interest, and her snake and rooster pets--and maybe the not-quite-a-cat can tag along, too. I'd be interested if Kingfisher wants to tell Anja's sister's story. Or Aaron's. Hint, hint! 

Now, on to more about Kingfisher's other Snow White offering. At the time I was reading "Toad Words", I realized Hemlock & Silver was also a Snow White reimagining and, given that there was a character named Snow in it, I (naively) assumed there must be a connection between the two stories. More than that, I was hoping there would be a connection. I spent more than half of Hemlock & Silver convinced that "Boar & Apples" must be a prequel to it. It seemed possible that the father of Snow, who was absent for most of "Boar & Apples" (off trying to locate a new wife who could bear him a male heir) returned just in time to find out his current wife (Snow's wicked mother, who was influenced by the demonic mirror) had poisoned and tried to murder their only daughter. Snow, at one point after eating the poisoned apple, had gone into a kind of coma that her winsome swine friends feared she'd never wake from. Hemlock & Silver dovetailed into that. 

Interestingly, a friend of mine had recently read Hemlock & Silver before I did, and, when I mentioned to her that I'd originally thought it was the sequel to "Boar & Apples", a lively discussion ensued between us. She went back and re-read the short story, something she hadn't done in years, concluding she didn't see any link between the two stories, and they had a vastly different "feel" to her. I'm convinced the reason for that is a direct correlation to the order in which we read them. I agreed that, having read the novel first (and not having read the short story in many years), it made sense that she saw no ties to the previous story and therefore no thought was given to the two of them being connected. I, on the other hand, had read both recently and the short story was read first, the novel not too long afterward. I myself didn’t notice a hugely drastic feel between the stories in the order I read them in, in part because I assumed Hemlock & Silver was being told from a new point-of-view, continuing where the short story left off previously--with Snow in some kind of coma. I assumed from there that Anja would then heal her. I admit, the ending of “Boar & Apples” didn’t make a lasting impact on me. I can’t remember and/or I simply couldn’t understand in the reading of it (the latter strikes me as more probable) whether Snow ever woke up from eating the poisoned apple in the short story. All these elements pooled together spelled "sequel" to me when I went to read Hemlock & Silver. Ultimately, it was the mention of a younger sibling in Hemlock & Silver that made me realize the two stories probably weren't connected. Aww! 

To be clear, I’m not bothered that the author took the same fairytale and retold it twice. I enjoyed both "Boar & Apples" and Hemlock & Silver, so there’s no reason for me to be upset about that. A reviewer on Goodreads posted an irate diatribe about the author "recycling" the Thornhedge plot within Hemlock & Silver. I wasn't persuaded that actually was the case, or, more to the point, whether it mattered if the two stories did include similar elements. How different is it, really, to, say, write about vampires your whole career or various renditions of "Snow White"? Each can be unique in their ways, despite having a similar touchstone that crops up in each one. Even if Kingfisher did reuse a subplot element from one book to the next, I believe she put a fresh spin on it in each. 

No, what I did take issue with was that it seemed to me the author either purposely or accidentally created a lot of similarities and/or ties between her two "Snow White" stories--even beyond the theme of them both being based on the same fairytale retelling. The opportunity for connection seemed possible with "Boar & Apples" and Hemlock & Silver, like the author was reaching toward an obvious connection, then, at the last minute, she yanked the thread that could have brought them together harmoniously. A part of me felt set up by the author for disappointment because of this. As a reader, I yearn for links between an author’s stories--the more the better! Beyond that, I would love to understand what drove Kingfisher to write a second version of the original fairytale premise; whether Hemlock & Silver was borne out of some sense on the author's part that "Boar & Apples" didn't satisfy her Snow White craving in one way or another; or if all this was just random chaos in the life of a writer. 

Additionally, in nearly every Kingfisher book I've ever read, she's included an afterword, telling readers what inspired the story that may or may not include connections with past, present, or future offerings. The author did include an afterword in Hemlock & Silver, but there she talked about the feline inspiration, along with some other things that had nothing to do with the first Snow White story she wrote. As a result, the avoidance of "Boar & Apples" came off like side-stepping to me. But, I concede now, that was probably just my own disappointment talking. 

In Kingfisher's defense, she wrote the short story "Boar & Apples" long in advance of Hemlock & Silver (I think anyway--I could be wrong about that, as this author tends to be writing several books simultaneously and some of them take many, many, long years to complete; case in point, Daggerbound, the second Swordheart novel, which I believe the author started just after she finished Swordheart, which was first published in 2018, and will only just be published August 2026). Kingfisher no doubt forgot a lot of what happened in "Boar & Apples", remembered badly, or clean forgot about that story altogether (I suspect that's closest to the case). 

Sigh. Given that I’m reading all Kingfisher's work back-to-back and reviewing them here on the Alien Romances blog, I suppose I'm perceiving things like this that readers who’ve been following her all along (as well as with the author herself) may miss or never see the same way I am—in large part because Kingfisher and her long-time readers haven’t read these older tales recently, so none of my anguish would ever occur to them. I wish it wasn't the case, but all this did affect my overall enjoyment of Hemlock & Silver, though I'm at the stage in my grief where I can admit I'm at fault for the majority of that and not necessarily the author. 

In any case, don't get hung up on these albeit minor dissatisfactions. The vast majority of T. Kingfisher's stories are extremely good. No reader should pass up her unpredictably unique style of making every story a brand-new adventure, unlike anything that's been experienced previously. For that reason, Hemlock & Silver--as well as its unconnected Snow White predecessor "Boar & Apples"--are not to be missed.

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of over 150 titles and 16 series.

Visit her website and blog here: https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/

and https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/karens-quill-blog

Visit her publisher here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/

Hemlock & Silver, by T. Kingfisher

This author never disappoints me, and I especially love her adaptations of fairy tales and classic literature. HEMLOCK & SILVER (sic) is based on “Snow White,” with elements of Alice’s trip through the looking glass. It involves a possibly evil queen, a poisoned princess, enchanted sleep (apparently, anyway), apples, creepy mirrors, portal fantasy, a doppelganger dimension, and a talking cat. The opening sentence is irresistible: “I had just taken poison when the king arrived to inform me that he had murdered his wife.” Narrator/protagonist Anja experiments on herself with carefully measured doses of poisons to study their attributes and discover antidotes. She also uses roosters as experimental subjects, since chicken breeders often have a surplus of them. And she keeps a snake, which she describes as more of a colleague than a pet, for the useful qualities of its venom. The king’s unheralded arrival in her solitary workshop throws her into confusion. After all, she isn’t nobility, only a prosperous merchant’s daughter. The monarch killed his queen when he caught her in the act of cutting out their daughter’s heart. Now his surviving daughter, twelve-year-old Snow, suffers from a mysterious chronic illness. Grief and depression? Some kind of food or drink sickening her? Or poison? Having heard of Anja’s expertise in the latter field, the king asks her to tackle the problem because she has no court entanglements.

A royal request, however affably presented, amounts to a command, so despite her trepidation Anja packs up, snake and rooster in tow, to travel to the palace. How will the king react if she fails to solve the case? Suppose Snow really is being poisoned and Anja becomes a target, if the culprit sees through her guise of being the princess’s new natural history tutor? Whom can she trust? It quickly becomes clear that Snow isn’t deliberately making herself sick, yet Anja believes she knows more than she’s admitting. The girl’s volatile adolescent moods complicate the investigation. Anja methodically sets up procedures for ruling out possible causes, employing the scientific method she excels at and enjoys. On the other hand, she finds attendance at court dinners an ordeal. Dealing with people has always been hard for her, especially since her typical conversation focuses on poisonous and venomous plants and animals along with other bizarre natural phenomena that fascinate her. According to the Healer who’d been her beloved mentor, most members of their profession regard cases as people with problems; Anja, although she’s sincerely driven to find cures, sees a case as a problem with a person inconveniently attached.

When she discovers the strange mirrors made of sand from the late queen’s native country, Anja is baffled. She doesn’t believe in magic. Therefore, she addresses the conundrum of the mirrors and the other world inside them with the same experimental rigor she applies to poisons. She gets help from one of the local bodyguards assigned to her as well as a one-eyed, talking cat who has no patience with answering tedious human questions. The solution to the mystery and the connection between the mirror realm and Snow’s illness will astonish most readers as thoroughly as it does Anja. Although still unwilling to believe in magic, she keeps an open mind. Between her lack of confidence outside the boundaries of her profession and her bodyguard’s taciturn manner, it takes her a while to begin to recognize their mutual attraction. Its gradual development from friendship to passion is charmingly awkward. The supercilious, enigmatic feline is also a constant delight. (According to the afterword, by the way, he’s based on the author’s own one-eyed cat.) As usual with Kingfisher’s first-person narrators, Anja is an entertaining character whose combined intelligence and vulnerability can’t fail to engage the reader’s sympathy. I'm especially taken with her because I suspect she's meant to be at least slightly neurodivergent.

Margaret L. Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

{Put This One on Your TBR List} Review of Jackalope Wives and Other Stories by T. Kingfisher/Ursula Vernon by Karen S. Wiesner

 

{Put This One on Your TBR List} Review of Jackalope Wives and Other Stories by T. Kingfisher/Ursula Vernon

by Karen S. Wiesner 

  Beware: May contain unintended spoilers! 

T. Kingfisher (the pen name of Ursula Vernon) is a versatile author, illustrator, and artist. She has a page on her Red Wombat website labeled "Short Stories" that includes links to her short stories, poems, articles, and essays, some of which are included in a variety of different anthologies. In this collection, she's assembled a bunch of them, some that I've already reviewed, but will included my previous reviews here so you don't have to keep jumping around to find them. The author also did the lovely artwork on and inside this volume. 

Note that "The Tomato Thief" came after "Telling the Bees" within the anthology, but I placed them together here because they're part of a "series". 

"Godmother": According to the author, this offering was the catalyst for Nettle & Bone (which I've already reviewed on this blog). Here, a godmother defends her reason for helping one child over the other. There's something poetic about this flash-fiction that evokes lovely images cast in shadows and, honestly, equal amounts of confusion for me. 

"Jackalope Wives" and "The Tomato Thief": This duo features Grandma Harken, a clever old woman who is far more than who…and what… she seems. She lives in a house with its back to the desert, and she understands this harsh environment much better than most. Her biting humor and compelling way of looking at the world around her make both stories irresistible.

In "Jackalope Wives", Grandma Harken's daughter Eve has a very foolish son who's, unfortunately, much beloved by females. However, he's only attracted to a jackalope wife. This shy being has the capability of removing her skin to dance under moonbeams. The boy does something stupid to obtain one, and Grandma Harken has to set things right. This very unusual folktale has an interesting message: "You get over what you can't have faster than you get over what you could. And we shouldn't always get what we think we want." Strange things happen in the desert, indeed!

In "The Tomato Thief", Grandma Harken is determined to find out who's daring to steal her famous, homegrown tomatoes. The answer surprises her and forces her to act. If she doesn't, those living in the desert will be in grave danger. It's very hard not to fall in love with a story with lines like these two gems: "Sometimes the best cure for life was a ripe tomato" and "…there was no telling how low a body would sink once they'd started down the road of tomato theft."

I loved both of these stories. I'm left wanting more of Grandma Harken and her hilarious wisdom. 

"Wooden Feathers": When artists invest too much of themselves in their craft, what can go wrong? There was something a bit terrifying in this story's answer to that question. 

"Editing": This short essay is something all readers should read--and heed! 

"Bird Bones": Something weird is going on with the birds in this tale. The underlying message derived (possibly not the author's intention?) is a bit sinister! 

"That Time With Bob and the Unicorn": Um, what in the weirdness is this!? A sexist named Bob wants to capture a unicorn, but, not being a virgin, how does one go about such a thing? Yeah, what the heck is this? The whole story really is just crazy, crazy, and more crazy!

"Razorback": So a witch meets a boar with a taste for magic, and the outcome boils down to what insane things one person will do to avenge someone they love. This story is classic Kingfisher. 

"The Dryad's Shoe": In this Cinderella reimagined story, there's a fairy godbird (a tufted titmouse) that kind of works for a dryad (an oak nymph or spirit) that lives in Hannah's family garden. This poor titmouse tries so hard to get Hannah set up for a good life, especially after her father remarries a woman with two daughters about Hannah's age. Hannah loves nothing more than to work in the garden, to raise bees, and to grow things. She has no interest whatsoever in balls, gowns, dancing, or pompous Dukes. Growing her own oranges, though--now that would be something! This story is totally unexpected…which is something I now always expect from T. Kingfisher. The stepmother isn't particularly evil, and the stepsisters are just trying to make their way in life so there are no hard feelings between the sisters. Way to turn an old tale on its head. Very enjoyably so at that. 

"Let Pass the Horses Black": A sister attempts to rescue her brother from the Queen of Fairies. This is an offering I felt like I really didn't understand. We were thrust into what was supposed to be a suspenseful scene without any setup. I never really got caught up enough to follow it. I left with the impression the sister didn't really care for the brother and was only doing what she was told to in trying to get him back after he's kidnapped. Then the not-so-evil fairy queen jarred her out of the notion that she had to be her brother's champion. For this reader, much more development was needed to make a cohesive narrative that could come out to a satisfactory resolution. 

"This Vote is Legally Binding": This poem is in support of the solidarity of women. 

"Telling the Bees": First published in Cicada (Cricket Magazine), this story is about the known superstition that bees must be informed once the owner of a house is dead. I found this short tale to be gruesome and a bit shocking when considering that the audience was younger readers. I'm also feeling highly superstitious now and believe I need to go talk to the bees as soon as possible. 

"In Questionable Taste": A poem about why planting a seed shouldn't result in a (free) yield but miraculously it does. 

"Origin Story": In this disturbing tale, a fairy works in a charnel house, taking apart dead beasts and creating something new. Not surprisingly, the humans find her creepy. You'll need a strong stomach and solid backbone to get through this one. I would be surprised if you don't get a chill, as I did, at the end of the story. 

"Pocosin": What this title means is a raised peat ecosystem--a rare thing that's becoming endangered in our world. The fictional aspect focuses on a woman (who seems more than just an ordinary human) trying to help a "god" possum from falling into the wrong hands when it's injured. This main character in all ways seemed (to me) identical to Grandma Harken in the Jackalope and Tomato stories. I wish it had been her instead because I probably would have enjoyed it much more if told through that lens.

"It Was a Day": This funny little poem celebrates the uniqueness of success and segues nicely into the acknowledgements that you really shouldn't miss, as it tells the author's story of winning an Alfie Award (created by George R. R. Martin) for "Jackalope Wives". 

~*~

Overall, I didn't like this collection as much as the previous one by Kingfisher (reviewed last week), although the stories featuring Grandma Harken are actually my favorites of both. Fans of this author will certainly find a mixed bag of intriguing randomness, perfect for those days when you just don't know what you want to read and you're willing to invite what you settle on to surprise you. Kingfisher, more than most people (writers in particular), certainly looks at the world very differently. I, for one, am always interested in her very compelling perspective. 

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of over 150 titles and 16 series.

Visit her website and blog here: https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/

and https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/karens-quill-blog

Visit her publisher here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/

{Put This One on Your TBR List} Review Toad Words and Other Stories by T. Kingfisher/Ursula Vernon by Karen S. Wiesner

 

{Put This One on Your TBR List}

Review Toad Words and Other Stories by T. Kingfisher/Ursula Vernon

by Karen S. Wiesner 

  Beware: May contain unintended spoilers! 

T. Kingfisher (the pen name of Ursula Vernon) is a versatile author, illustrator, and artist. She has a page on her Red Wombat website labeled "Short Stories" that includes links to her short stories, poems, articles, and essays, some of which are included in a variety of different anthologies. In this collection, she's assembled a bunch of them, some that I've already reviewed. I'll include my previous reviews here just so you don't have to keep jumping around on the blog to find them. Note that the author also did the lovely artwork contained on and in this volume. Before she begins with the stories, she includes some fun potpourri. There are a few reviews offered for one of her other books that the author hilariously comments on herself. The introduction to the collection is must-read for the wit and wisdom included in it. Finally, there's a wonderful little poem about the magic and mayhem of fairy tales. 

In "Toad Words", there are two sisters. One begets gold and gems whenever she speaks. The other produces toads and frogs. A fairy godmother--who intends to retire and devote herself to long sea cruises--explains that it's a curse that may or may not have a gold-lining. The message of this unexpectedly fun story is: Use your gifts, even if they don't initially seem useful. 

"The Wolf and the Woodman" is one of the most unique retellings of Little Red Riding Hood I've ever encountered. Let's just say that this twist went so far around the bend, it turned into an upside-down roller-coast ride--something that I'd normally avoid like the plague, but I really loved it in this crazy little ditty. 

"Bluebeard's Wife" focuses on Pirate Bluebeard's notorious, bloodthirsty reputation with women and the fact that it doesn't faze Althea. She believes the best of her new husband and no one can speak a bad word about him in her presence. I won't ruin it completely, beyond saying, sometimes rumors have a basis in truth. I enjoyed the story written very vividly in Althea's point of view--with her rose-colored glasses on…until they're rudely knocked clean off her face. 

"Loathly" started out with a good premise of a curse that turns a woman into a bear but, for me, this story got repetitious and long (despite only being ten pages in length), seemingly stuck in a loop that came out in a surprising end that actually made a bit of sense when you consider human nature. 

"The Sea Witch Sets the Record Straight" isn't really a story. It's Ursula the Sea Witch from The Little Mermaid defending her actions in stealing Ariel's voice. Apparently, Ariel is a dumb bunny, and Ursula is either a lot more altruistic than we ever knew or she's lying. The truth is probably somewhere in-between. Oh, the mind of Kingfisher! There's none other like it. 

"Never" is the behind-the-scenes companion to Peter Pan's story, only in this perspective, Peter is painted as a selfish villain who keeps everyone a starved prisoner until he can no longer prevent them from growing up. As I've never cared for the original novel, it wasn't like there were any favorite characters here that were besmirched for me. 

"Bait" seems to be a poem inspired by T. Kingfisher's The Raven and the Reindeer story, which I've reviewed on this blog in the past. 

"Night" left me confused. I couldn't figure out what it was or was intended to be. I must have missed something. 

"Boar & Apples" is a retelling of the Snow White fairytale and surprised me a great deal, as the author's novel Hemlock & Silver was just released in August 2025, and it's also a Snow White reimagining containing a character named Snow. I think "Boar & Apples" might be the prequel to that, though I don't know that for sure, as it's not really reported anywhere as such. That doesn't surprise me, since authors and publishers can't be relied on these days to provide connections between stories. If this is a prequel, cool! Here, the Wicked Queen is Snow's witchy mother, the mirror is possessed by a demon, and Snow's path leads her to boars instead of dwarves. Kingfisher really makes the story her own with a plucky heroine, a dashing huntsman who could be a hero, and a handful of winsome swine. I really, really have to get hold of Hemlock & Silver--and soon! 

"Odd Season" is another not-sure-what-to-make-of-this inclusion. 

~*~

Although there are a lot of random things that defy description packed into this collection, most of them are well-worth your time and money. My favorites were "Boar & Apples" and "The Wolf and the Woodsman". As I've said before of this author, nearly all the heroines in this collection of stories are, I believe, the author herself in various fictional settings. 

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of over 150 titles and 16 series.

Visit her website and blog here: https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/

and https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/karens-quill-blog

Visit her publisher here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/

{Put This One on Your TBR List} Review of Snake-Eater by T. Kingfisher by Karen S. Wiesner

 

{Put This One on Your TBR List}

Review of Snake-Eater by T. Kingfisher

by Karen S. Wiesner 

  Beware: May contain unintended spoilers! 

So on T. Kingfisher's website, she has a page that includes links to her short stories and articles, some of which are included in a variety of different anthologies (her own and others) and, from this page, you can read these offerings free. Two stories that I absolutely adored--"Jackalope Wives" and "The Tomato Thief" (oddly, written under her real name Ursula Vernon)--can be read from there at no charge. What a bargain! 

In both of these stories, Grandma Harken is the protagonist--a clever old woman who is far more than who and what she seems. She lives in a house with its back to the desert (strange things happen in the desert!), and she understands this harsh environment better than most. Her biting humor and compelling way of looking at the world make these tales irresistible. In both stories, there's a little bit of "magic" because, in the desert, there are spirits, not quite deities, but definitely not human either. I wanted more of this world, more of Grandma Harken, after I finished reading these two shorts. You can find my reviews for them by putting "T. Kingfisher" or the story titles into the search engine here on the Alien Romances blog. 

In Snake-Eater, we have Grandma Billy, who is, for all intents and purposes, Grandma Harken, only going by another name. I don't think Kingfisher intended that, but anyone who's read all these stories would probably agree with me. Full disclosure, I found myself deeply disappointed that the author didn’t have Grandma Harken reprise her role in Snake-Eater instead of creating the new, shockingly similar Grandma Billy. All three of these stories felt very connected to me--I read them within a few weeks of each other. I flat-out refuse to believe they weren't set in the same world, though possibly in a nearby region of it and not the exact same one. I would have loved to visit Grandma Harken again. While Grandma Billy was enjoyable, new quirks to Grandma Harken's already quirky personality could easily have fit the bill. The opportunity for connection was there, but it seemed like it was deliberately missed. As a reader, I yearn for links between an author’s stories--the more the better! In the same way, these three stories felt like they could have been connected, like the author was reaching toward an obvious tie, then, at the last minute, she yanked the thread that could have brought it all together harmoniously. A part of me felt set up by the author for disappointment because of this. I was left wishing the world Kingfisher created here could become a wider thing with many more stories to come. As I said, Snake-Eater basically has the same setting as the two Grandma Harken stories, here called Quartz Creek, with the addition of a few other characters, including a Catholic priest who (for once in modern fiction) turns out to be a pretty good guy. 

The author injected someone named Selena into Snake-Eater with a black lab dog named Copper. In my opinion, these characters are a regurgitation of Mouse and her coon dog Bongo from Kingfisher's 2019 horror The Twisted Ones. As I said in my review of that novel, Kingfisher is always Kingfisher, and I think all her main characters are essentially her. Whatever is the case, she defaults to a character type that she has reused over and over in her fiction almost from the beginning--whether those heroines are young, old, or somewhere in-between. The names and details have been swapped out, but, almost all across the board, T. Kingfisher is always the heroine in her own tales. That's not necessarily a bad thing. If you like her, you'll probably always like her. If you don't, well, then I guess that's the one drawback. Not every author can be skilled in every area, but T. Kingfisher/Ursula Vernon is a fantastic writer, despite that her characters tend to be static cookie-cutter types, and she only rarely disappoints me. 

In Snake-Eater, Selena's lost her mother, whom she wasn't all that close to anyway, and ran away from a relationship that was destroying her. With little more than twenty bucks in her pocket, she flees to the desert town Quartz Creek, where her Aunt Amelia lives and is always inviting her to visit. Only Amelia is gone. Her home, Jackrabbit Hole House, is still there with no one to claim it because those daring enough to inhabit the very small, struggling but close-knit town knew how to contact a next of kin. Long story short, Selena is welcomed to move in and make the house her own by the mayor/postmistress/fire chief/many other hats of the town. 

On her way to the place, Selena meets Grandma Billy, her eccentric, to say the least, neighbor. Strange things happen in the desert, and, even as Selena finds herself settling into a place that feels like home and people that feel like family, odd things begin to happen--like the appearance of fetches--supernatural apparitions which are bad omens. This all culminates in a few roadrunners (something that looks like a dinosaur instead of the cartoon character readers are familiar with) stalking Selene for a reason she can't understand. 

Grandma Billy and Father Aguirre have some theories that her aunt created the fetches herself. According to Grandma Billy, Amelia was prone to taking in drifters. One such stray she'd befriended (and might have be-lover-ed) was Snake-Eater, a not-human, not-deity thing Amelia had become close with. This one, Grandma Billy had never taken a shine to. If he's showing up again suddenly, it can't be good. So what does he want? And, if Selena and her new friends can make him go away, should she and Copper make Quartz Creek and Jackrabbit Hole House their home permanently? 

Snake-Eater was written in very typical Kingfisher style, and I enjoyed every minute of it, despite that it was a bit slow-moving and frequently felt like there was little or nothing actually happening (luckily, I like character studies just as much as I do action and adventure in a story). Again, as I did with the Grandma Harken stories, I want more of this world. I hope in the future that Kingfisher will own up to what could be construed as a rehash of her past characters and settings and make this a full-on series instead of random, repurposed bits that somehow cropped up in this standalone novel.

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of over 150 titles and 16 series.

Visit her website and blog here: https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/

and https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/karens-quill-blog

Visit her publisher here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/

Snake-Eater

In anticipation of Karen's upcoming review of SNAKE-EATER, by T. Kingfisher, I'm posting mine now (in advance, because I have limited internet access this week and plan a different topic for next week).

In Kingfisher's afterword to SNAKE-EATER, she summarizes the “platonic ideal” of her horror fiction as “a woman and her dog alone in a house full of creepy family secrets,” which perfectly describes her first horror novel, THE TWISTED ONES. While her others don’t necessarily include dogs, the protagonists do tend to be women returning home in emotionally fraught circumstances, for a certain value of home. In the case of SNAKE-EATER, Selena flees with her black Lab, Copper, from her overbearing long-time lover, Walter -- who dominates and criticizes her only "for her own good," of course -- to her aunt’s home in the tiny town of Quartz Creek, an arid western milieu totally different from anything Selena has known. For decades her only contact with her aunt has come through occasional postcards. Still, a vague invitation to visit sometime makes Quartz Creek Selena’s only possible refuge. The shock of learning her aunt died the year before devastates her, but she can’t consider returning to Walter. He would indulgently take her back, and her abortive escape would become one more time “Selena Had Done Something Foolish and Walter Saved Her.” Selena plans to stay in her aunt’s vacant home, “Jackrabbit Hole House,” for one night, then for a few days, then maybe for a few weeks, while she decides how to move forward.

Meanwhile, she meets engagingly quirky local characters -- another typical feature of Kingfisher novels -- including Jenny, mayor as well as postmistress, fire chief, and police chief; Grandma Billy, who keeps a flock of chickens and a guard peacock; and Catholic priest Father Aguirre, who’s surprisingly respectful toward the local desert gods/spirits (the distinction is fuzzy). Selena, as more than one person points out to her, apologizes too much. She’s paralyzingly afraid of doing the wrong thing and certain her new neighbors, who gift her with fresh produce and (in Grandma Billy’s case) a daily bounty of eggs, will perceive her as a “moocher.” She’s even reluctant to “impose” on the weekly community potluck dinner. At first I thought her need to memorize “scripts” for every social interaction depicts her as mildly autistic, but it soon becomes clear that she simply lacks any shred of self-esteem. Over a lifetime, her confidence has been systematically beaten down by a domineering mother and a gaslighting fiancé. Reluctantly getting used to life in Quartz Creek, she soon realizes she wants to stay. Granted, though, the local people’s matter-of-fact belief in supernatural entities strikes her as peculiar, and she suspects Grandma Billy of being downright crazy. Moreover, as we learn later in the story, Father Aguirre has his own secret.

Selena begins to accept the truth only when she witnesses such things as a timid squash spirit in the vegetable garden -- unless she’s losing her mind. But she has to acknowledge the reality of the spirit realm when she learns of her aunt’s relationship with Snake-Eater, the roadrunner god. As both the narrative and the author’s afterword emphasize, real-world roadrunners don’t resemble the cartoon bird. They’re more like two-foot-tall dinosaurs, which Selena discovers when she balks at filling her aunt’s former role and Snake-Eater won’t take “no” for an answer. Similarly to the heroine of THE TWISTED ONES, Selena (with the help of Grandma Billy and Father Aguirre) follows her dog through a portal into another realm, where she has to face the gods of the desert. Ultimately, she triumphs over Snake-Eater not through combat, physical or magical, but through open-mindedness, friendship, her bond with Copper, and her kindness to creatures such as the squash god in the garden and scorpions in the house. The denouement includes a delightful confrontation that sends the insufferable Walter packing.

I do have one reservation about the novel, in agreement with a review I read: Its setting around or soon after 2050 seems irrelevant and unnecessary. Aside from passing allusions to near-future technology, little of which reaches Quartz Creek, we learn the approximate year only from the age of Father Aguirre’s truck. Why does the author include this pointless distraction? Her afterword doesn’t say.

Margaret L. Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

Oldies But Goodies {Put This One on Your TBR List} The Raven and the Reindeer by T. Kingfisher by Karen S. Wiesner

 

Oldies But Goodies

{Put This One on Your TBR List}

The Raven and the Reindeer by T. Kingfisher

by Karen S. Wiesner 

  Beware major spoilers (you'll get pretty much the whole story here)! 

Of late on the Alien Romances Blog, I've been reviewing "reimagined and unconventional fairytales" written by T. Kingfisher. In my first take on Kingfisher's loose renderings of fairytales, I reviewed Nettle & Bone, which is basically a subversion of everything that's been done in a fairytale all rolled into one, along with Bryony and Roses ("Beauty and the Beast") and Thornhedge ("Sleeping Beauty"). After that, I reviewed The Seventh Bride ("Mr. Fox"/"The Robber Bridegroom", and other aberrations) by itself followed by A Sorceress Comes to Call ("The Goose Girl"). 

In preparation for reading The Raven and the Reindeer, a 2016 LGBTQ fantasy release, I re-read the 1844 original Danish tale "The Snow Queen" published in New Fairy Tales, First Volume by Hans Christian Andersen. You can find it online free in many different places. Unlike most of these fairytales, this one is presented in seven long, mostly boring chapters in which a lot of crap that doesn't matter in the least is included and the stuff that's really important is unforgivably skated over (more about that later). Some inventive adaptations of the original that most people will know include C. S. Lewis's The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe and Disney's Frozen. 

So the basic story in "The Snow Queen" is that the devil makes a magic mirror that reflects only the worst aspects of everyone and everything. When it shatters, pieces of it fall and get stuck in people's eyes and hearts, forcing them to become cold and bitter. Gerda and Kai (both names are spelled differently from one variation to the next) are children who grow up next door to each other. Gerda is in love with Kai, he kisses her, but then splinters of the mirror get in his eye and heart, changing him. The Snow Queen comes to town and takes Kai away with her. Gerda is determined to rescue him and goes through a whole lot to do that, though mainly we're forced to endure a lot of boring prose that does nothing to further the tale. All the aspects of "magic" and the supernatural that are the point of this whole story are offered up as short, simple facts, a presumption of acceptance is thrown down like a gauntlet, and readers dare not question the plausibility of anything. Boiled down, the series of events Gerda goes through are:

1)    Gerda is enchanted by a witch who puts her to work in her garden for an endless amount of time until she's able to wake up…you know, somehow.

2)    A crow Gerda can talk to tells her he might have seen Kai in a palace--but it's not him, so it was a big waste of time even going there.

3)    Gerda is kidnapped by a band of robbers, but the robber girl and her reindeer decide to help Gerda instead.

4)    Traveling north, they meet two women. The second tells the reindeer that Gerda has special power that can save Kai--her sweet and innocent child's heart. If she can't figure it out from there, well, that's her problem!

5)    They get to the Snow Queen's palace and enter easily. This is where Kai has been put to work on a Mirror of Reason puzzle that enchants him to stay where he is forever. Gerda rushes to him and kisses him, the spell is broken, and her tears melt the splinters in his heart and eye.

6)    Happily ever after. I said, happily ever after, sir! Just accept it, okay? How, what, when, where, why? you splutter. It just is. I don't know what happened to the crow or the robber girl or the reindeer. Gerda and Kai get away--the Snow Queen apparently was getting her hair done or something, and they're free to leave, go home, and Grandma reads a passage from the Bible about changing and becoming as little children to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. I'm confused. What just happened? Does any of this make the slightest bit of sense? The bigger question, to me, is, how did this story become such a popular one? I mentioned two popular retellings, but there are dozens in existence. Unfathomably. In Kingfisher's acknowledgements, she wonders about that as well. Maybe because it was done so incompletely and poorly?

So, here's my big gripe: Nearly all old fairytales present a story that's almost always rife with unbelievable magic or events that are in no way explained, justifiable, or even particularly detailed. More like's it's presented as if readers are expected to go along with it, like, "Oh, it's magic/unbelievable/crazy. So that happened. Okay, I believe it. Onward!" Except you can't quite believe it because there's no basis for justification. You either move forward, accept that it's all silly and just keep reading because period…or you don't. It's as if the authors didn't feel the need to get their audience to accept the plausibility of their tales. You'd think they would or could have at least tried to provide some kind of elucidation. So often, they didn't bother. Don't ask me why not, or why the publishers didn't make it a requirement then. I can't even imagine. 

I realize most of you already know what the literary concept of "suspension of disbelief" is, but I'll reiterate the gist of it here just to make sure everyone's on the same page, since that's the foundation of this review. In essence, a valid explanation is introduced early in the story that gives the readers what they need to accept something fantastically implausible. If a reader isn't given this justification, it's almost impossible for them to immerse themselves in the story at any point. It's too unbelievable. I'd add that readers who aren't given something convincing enough in this regard either chuck the book over the side of the boat or they spend the rest of the narration in the booing section, shouting snide comments like, "And how exactly did they do that?" every few seconds. 

The original fairytale "The Snow Queen" is one of the worst I've ever seen when it comes to the author not giving even the slightest hint of something that would allow suspension of disbelief. Readers are moved from one situation to the next and, if the writer had done the slightest bit of work (hey, that's part of the craft!), maybe those situation could have been exciting and worthwhile. Instead, we're just left to muddle our way through a thicket of dense forest in the dark with no idea what's important and what's not. We're relieved when it's over, sure, but not for the reason I suspect the author intended. 

T. Kingfisher's rendition, The Raven and the Reindeer, went through every single chapter of Anderson's pitiful, poorly constructed story and gave us worthy justifications that allowed for suspension of disbelief from start to finish. As I read "The Snow Queen", the same question kept come back from one scenario to the next: "How in the world did that work?" I never found out. The author had a really good idea for a story, but he didn't bother to write anything but this skeleton that was bloated with unsightly and painful boils. Mainly, he got sidetracked by silliness that does not story construction make. 

So now I'll tell you how Kingfisher told this tale: Gerta is in love with Kay, and though they're friends, he doesn't seem to know what to make of their relationship, though he does kiss her once--something that confuses her, as well it should. They grew up as neighbors. He's a strange boy who likes puzzles, but she doesn't mind his oddities, though she's put off by them sometimes, internalizing them. She has a nightmare one night, in which Kay is kidnapped by a frost queen in a sled. The next morning, she sees something is definitely going on because the boy she's known all her life has become cold and cruel. Not long later, Kay goes missing and Gerta realizes, after talking to her very knowledgeable grandmother, that it was the Snow Queen who took him. Gerta is determined to get him back. She thinks she may be in love with him, but she isn't sure about that. She sets off and doesn't really know where to go or how to get there, which is probably why she fumbles through so many bad episodes along the way. Boiled down, the series of events Gerta follows after this point are:

1)    Gerta is enchanted by a witch who isn't evil or particularly powerful, just lonely. She puts her under an enchantment. Every day Gerta works in her garden. Seven months pass. A memory of Kay jars Gerta so she wakes up to realize something bad is happening to her. She talks to the flowers in the garden, who tell her Kay can't be dead because, being one with the whole earth, they would know if his body joined theirs. Gerta confronts the witch, who repents and gives her the basic supplies she needs to survive her journey.

2)    A raven named Mousebones that Gerda can talk to joins her on the road. He's loyal and very helpful in his way, when he wants to be, but he's also sharp-tongued. Fun!

3)    Gerta is kidnapped by a band of robbers who want to eat her, but the robber girl with them, Janna, is also a prisoner of sorts. She and her reindeer (who Gerta can also talk to) decide to help Gerta instead. In fact, the reindeer is so old and lonely for a herd that he offers up his skin so Gerta can walk the reindeer road, which is the only way Gerta can get into the Snow Queen's realm. (In essence, the reindeer willingly gives up his skin so Gerta can wear it and become a reindeer.) When Janna kisses Gerta, she becomes very confused about her feelings for Kay.

4)    Traveling north, they meet an old storyteller who tells them to find Livli, a Lutheran and one who understands reindeer and cold in ways few others can.

5)    They find a tunnel into the Snow Queen's palace and, thanks to the very friendly and adorable otters that pull her sled, they're able to find Kay. The otters don't feel much loyalty to the monster they're forced to serve. Kay's been put to work on a puzzle all this time, and he's anything but friendly toward Gerta. He believes she's wasted her time trying to find him. Gerda has been wondering herself why she went to all this trouble. But she's reminded that he has ice splinters in his heart and eye, causing him to be cold and cruel to her and her new friends.

6)    The Snow Queen shows up, and she blasts Gerta with her icy powers. Gerta is, for all intents and purposes, dead--but remember how Gerta could talk to the flowers because they're connected with all things of the earth? Well, now semi-dead, Gerta is also of the earth and "Mother Nature" can talk to her directly. She tells Mother Nature that she's been under the Snow Queen's enchantment all this time, forestalling spring, and causing animals and other things of nature to go hungry, etc. This enrages Mother Nature, and she's coaxed into fighting back against this evil being. Gerta asks if she can be sent back to the world of the living, to Kay, sure, and her animal friends, but mostly to Janna, whom she's fallen in love with and intends to spend the rest of her life with just as soon as Kay is delivered home to his family. The friendly, flying otters are happy to assist now that they're also free. 

Even on the basis of this summary, I think you can imagine that this was a very well-constructed, tense, worthwhile story that has a more fitting and appropriate happily ever after than whatever the heck that was in the original tale. 

The Raven and the Reindeer takes the rattling bones of Anderson's bad, bad, bad story and makes it something unexpected, fully human, and intriguing. It's almost like a literal retelling in which all the important areas of the original that were foolishly left out are finally explained and logically played out. Gerta isn't someone who really understands herself or the world around her (like, at all), so she falls into a lot of traps, like believing she must be destined to end up with Kay as her soulmate, assuming everyone is honest and above-board, and taking so long to realize that her innate abilities are the very ones she needs to succeed in her quest. The character building here was fairly complex, unlike the original. To round all this out, we're treated to Kingfisher's trademark, animated, loveable creatures. In my opinion, they're what really made this particular story something special. 

The author herself (under her real name Ursula Vernon) designed the very cool and stunning cover art. 

I'm still hoping to get hold of Hemlock & Silver ("Snow White") soon to complete the circle of review of T. Kingfisher's fairytale retellings. 

Karen Wiesner is an award-winning, multi-genre author of over 150 titles and 16 series.

Visit her website and blog here: https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/

and https://karenwiesner.weebly.com/karens-quill-blog

Visit her publisher here: https://www.writers-exchange.com/Karen-Wiesner/