Prince of Darkness

I'm currently biting my nails over Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian, which is part-detective, part-horror fiction, about a group of scholars investigating the truth behind the legend of Vlad the Impaler, the cruel medieval ruler whose crimes formed the basis of the myth of Dracula.

Reading this book, prompted me to re-read Bram Stoker's Dracula. Coincidentally, two new versions of the classic tale arrived on my desk about a month ago: an illustrated edition, and a graphic novel.

Review by DAPHNE LEE

THE ILLUSTRATED DRACULA

By Bram Stoker

Illustrated by Jae Lee

Publisher: Studio, 400 pages

(ISBN: 978-0142005156)

PUFFIN GRAPHICS: BRAM STOKER’S DRACULA

Adapted by Gary Reed

Illustrated by Becky Cloonan

Publisher: Puffin, 176 pages

(ISBN: 978-0142405727)

AS my eldest sister (who is 13 years older than me) was a fan of the macabre, in particular vampire stories, I was familiar with the legend of Count Dracula from a tender age. My earliest brush with the aristocratic fanged one was even before I turned five. My sister took me with her to watch Christopher Lee in the Hammer House of Horror cult classic, Dracula. This was probably very silly of her, but, thankfully, I suffered no lasting damage from the experience. (Some may disagree though.)

I have next to no recollection of the movie (although I do remember Dracula’s blood-red eyes), but I understand that although it is based on Bram Stoker’s Dracula, the script is not faithful to the novel.

For example, the film begins with Jonathan Harker arriving at Castle Dracula with the intention of killing the vampire. Although he manages to destroy one of Dracula’s brides, he is overpowered by the Count and is turned into a vampire. His fiance meets the same fate and both are killed by vampire-hunter Van Helsing.

In the novel, Jonathan is a solicitor at the English law firm hired by Dracula to purchase property for him and when he arrives at Castle Dracula, he has no idea that his host is one of the undead. He manages to avoid being bitten, although he does end up very ill. Later, his fiance, Mina’s life and soul is threatened by Dracula when the vampire sets up home in Britain. However, Stoker allows the couple a happy ending.

I suspect the movie wasn’t too scary or I would have remembered more of it ... just as I remember The Exorcist. The book, on the other hand, is one of the creepiest tales of horror I have ever read. It comprises the various characters’ journal entries as well as log entries, letters and newspaper reports.

I’ve never been able to believe that anyone writes such detailed journals as they do here (or in Bridget Jones’s Diary for that matter), complete with dialogue, but that may just be me projecting my own sloth onto others. It doesn’t matter though, because the reader gets so drawn into the story that unfolds that he soon forgets its source and is simply swept along by the events described.

Like the best scary stories, the details are subtly drawn, relying on the power of suggestion and imagination to horrify and repulse. The scene in which Jonathan Harker looks out from his bedroom window, in Castle Dracula, and sees the Count crawling down the wall is one of the most powerful in gothic fiction.

Another episode that makes a lasting impression is set aboard the ship carrying Dracula to England. The account, from the ship captain’s log, is dark, despairing and heavy with fear, dread and nail-biting suspense: One by one, ship hands disappear and the first mate suspects the cause to be supernatural. When his worst fears are confirmed, the captain makes a brave and horrifying decision. The episode ends with a newspaper article about the arrival of the ship in port with the dead captain strapped to its wheel.

The report is written in a dispassionate and stark journalistic style, but the facts, as they stand, are ghastly enough to make your hair stand, your flesh crawl, and all the other signs and symptoms connected with having the daylights scared out of you.

Two new editions of this classic story were published last year: an illustrated version and a graphic novel. Marvel Comics regular Jae Lee provides the artwork for the former – mostly terribly slick and sophisticated portraits, in which the subjects look posed. It’s all very beautiful and very cold, and not terribly inspiring. I also expected more action-oriented studies, for example, of the infamous wall-scaling scene.

I prefer the illustrations in the graphic novel, drawn by Becky Cloonan, which, although rather amateurish, possess a liveliness missing in Lee’s work.

Gary Reed, scriptwriter for the graphic novel, has done an admirable job, too. Stoker’s fans will appreciate how he has condensed the story without losing any of the marvellous atmosphere of the original, while those unfamiliar with the novel cannot fail but be enticed to read it.

Lost and Found

From Tots to Teens, StarMag

PETER PAN IN SCARLET
By Gerladine McCaughrean
Publisher: Oxford University Press
(ISBN:978-0192726209)

WHEN dreams begin leaking out of Neverland into this world, Wendy Darling believes that there must be something wrong and proposes a visit to Peter Pan’s home so that the problem can be found and fixed.

But many years have passed since Wendy flew with Pan. She is a grown woman now, with a daughter of her own. Her brother Michael has perished in the war and John is a husband and father, as are most of the Old Boys – who were once Lost Boys, until they were adopted by Mr and Mrs Darling when they returned from Neverland.

Only children can fly to Neverland, though, and so the adults don their children’s clothes and become young again. It’s a case of clothes literally making the man ... and child. And it is a theme that is repeated throughout Geraldine McCaughrean’s official sequel to J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan, released worlwide on Oct 5.

Although I have always enjoyed McCaughrean’s books, I didn’t count on liking Peter Pan in Scarlet. However, I was spellbound from ... no, not the first page, but very soon after.

The story builds up slowly: We meet Wendy and the Old Boys and learn a little about their lives post-Peter; our memories of Neverland (red-skins and mermaids, crocodiles and cutlasses) are stirred; we are taken on an expedition to Kensington Park; babies are stalked and a fairy is caught. (It is possible that the fairy, Fireflyer, might just be even more annoying than Tinker Bell.)

The book blossoms once the “children” take off and head for Neverland: “second to the right and straight on till morning.” How things have changed though: Neverland has lost its eternal summer foliage and is now an “ocean of golden orange, and scarlet trees”; Peter wears blood red Virginia creeper and maple leaves, and has forgotten Wendy. He is “dying of boredom”; Tinker Bell has “run off”; the Lost Boys (those who came after the original gang) are all culled for “breaking the rules”.

But with Wendy once again in Neverland, the boy is raring to go, while Wendy and the others, now that they are once again children, forget why they have come back in the first place. Fixing problems is the last thing on their young minds; adventures and quests are uppermost!

And so, The League of Pan go in search of thrills and spills and the story unfolds to reveal secrets and wonders, horrors and terrors, dark deeds and deep disappointments. (By the way, if you can, re-read Peter Pan, the novel, and marvel at the way a seemingly minor although evocative detail at the end of the book has been developed into an important and powerful part of Scarlet’s plot.)

This stunning book celebrates and honours Barrie’s original work by staying true to his ideas and voice. It is also a triumph of McCaughrean’s imagination and inventiveness.

Like Barrie’s tale, this one is magical and exciting, full of action, suspense and danger, high jinks, fun and frolics. But it is also suffused with sadness and anger, resentment and regret.

The best of the action centres around an intriguing new character, the ringmaster Ravello, who comes to work as Peter’s valet when his circus is torched to the ground. He proves to be the key to the mystery of the changes in Neverland, and he himself is the greatest mystery of all. When all is revealed, don’t be surprised if you actually hear the pieces clicking satisfyingly into place.

As for the ending, it is one all mothers (or mothers of Mrs Darling’s ilk, at any rate) will love McCaughrean for. Think reunions and resolutions, closure and comfort. Think a book that is destined to be a classic. Barrie would be proud.

A Real Princess

From StarMag

THE PRINCESS AND THE PEA
Written, illustrated and constructed by Lauren Child
Captured by Polly Borland
Publisher: Puffin Books
(ISBN: 978-0141381381)

EVERYONE knows the story of The Princess and the Pea. It’s a silly, absurd, snobbish story about a wishy-washy prince, his overbred parents and a dimwit of a girl who should have died of pneumonia but, unfortunately, probably married the said prince and bore many unassertive, indecisive, rather idiotic haemophiliac children.

OK, so you’ve guessed that it’s not one of my favourite fairytales. When I was in primary school, this older girl whom I hero-worshipped won a storytelling contest with it and it made me think less of her. Like, couldn’t she have chosen something less dumb? A real princess? Gimme a break! Boy, it really bothered my blossoming socialist sentiments ...

You see, in most versions of the story, there’s never any explanation as to what is meant by “real” princess. The queen and king are simply determined that their precious (paunchy and balding) son should marry a “real” princess. As opposed to a ... social upstart? A divorced princess-by-marriage? A foreign and not-so-real princess? A pop star whose first name happens to be Princess?

Whatever the case, the king and queen just sound totally, typically royal and stuck-up and fuddy-duddy! And their son seems like a spineless chap, happy to go along with their wishes so long as he can hunt and shoot and play billiards till the cows come home.

In the latest version of the fairytale, by Lauren Child, the prince doesn’t argue either, but at least it’s made clear that he doesn’t actually care about whether or not his wife is a real princess. This prince just agrees because he knows he will never get any peace unless he does. Ahhh! A man who knows how to compromise. He is also, writes Child, handsome (but “not too handsome, just handsome enough”), nice and romantic.

And his parents, the king and queen, are more reasonable than they usually are. This royal couple attempts to explain what it means to be a “real” princess. Above all, a “real” princess must have ? not beauty or wealth or status, but ? manners. “‘No one should ever travel without them,’ said the King.”

Oh, is that what being a real princess is all about? Well, that’s all right then.

Another mark of a true princess, according to the king, is that they never read their post (not so terribly well-mannered then).

Child’s princess lives in a tree house, has beautiful black hair and is fond of moonlight. Her home looks enchanting, a hollowed-out tree, with window all lit up and golden, cut in the bark. In her thank you note, Child mentions finding the piece of wood that serves as the princess’s house. The author/illustrator, whose picture books are usually a mixture of drawings and paintings, photographs and collages, goes 3-D in The Princess and the Pea.

Every picture in the book was painstakingly reconstructed using cereal boxes, paint and dollhouse furniture and accessories, some of which she made herself.

The characters are paper dolls, dressed in layers of paper and posed in the 3-D interiors. Each scene was then photographed by Polly Borland. The results are beautiful and awe-inspiring. And if you have always wanted a dollhouse, you will wish doubly hard for one after reading this book.

So I will be sexist and say that Child’s The Princess and the Pea will appeal especially to little girls – because of the dollhouse look of it, because of the paper doll characters; because it’s about a mesmerising princess. However, if you have raised your sons with open, curious minds, they will enjoy it too. My nine-year-old boy does. He thinks it’s jolly funny and insists that the pea must be enchanted since it manages to cause so much pain even through all those mattresses!

As for me, I am converted. From now on, this is the only version of the fairytale I’m allowing on my bookshelf!

P.S. 2nd August 2008 I have just one thing to add. I lent this book to two talented illustrators, both in their very-early 20s and both of them noticed that it's implied in the book that girls who read are boring. I never noticed, but now I do and I think that this is the one flaw of Lauren Child's version of this classic fairytale.

Tales Rooted in Real Life

From StarMag, 16th January, 2005

Review by DAPHNE LEE

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN FAIRY TALES

Translated by Tiina Nunnally

Edited and introduced by Jackie Wullschlager

Publisher: Penguin, 437 pages

THIS new collection of fairytales by Hans Christian Andersen was published late last year, in time for Christmas as well as the Danish writer’s 200th anniversary (in April this year). It’s a very handsome edition with rich red covers, gold-edged pages and a silky bookmark, and will make a beautiful gift for anyone, of any age.

In addition to the 30 stories (familiar and obscure) compiled here, there is also a chronology of Andersen’s life, an introduction by his most recent biographer, suggested further reading, a translator’s note, a note on the illustrations, and notes on the stories themselves. Therefore, you not only have a cache of wonderful stories, but a wealth of background information to enhance your pleasure of them.

For example, the brief synopsis of Andersen’s life included in the introduction offers the reader a revealing glimpse of a man who triumphed over the disadvantages of his working class background, yet was never able to totally shake off the stigma of his vulgar birth and upbringing. It affected all aspects of his life, most significantly his sexuality, and his stories reflect his constant struggle to be accepted by others and himself.

Anyone acquainted with Andersen’s stories is aware that they are often about pain and suffering, with no reward or redemption. Unlike the Grimm Brothers, Andersen did not always provide a happy ending and his characters are frequently tragically overcome by both desire and impotence (the little mermaid; Kai in The Snow Queen), destroyed by their own folly (the fir tree, Karen in The Red Shoes), or are tragic victims of social circumstance (the little match girl, the scholar in The Shadow). Even for those who are blessed with a rosy future (the ugly duckling, Elisa in The Wild Swans), great personal misery must first be endured.

Some might thus prefer Disney’s schmaltzy version of The Little Mermaid to Andersen’s heartbreaking original; might even consider the latter too dark and cruel for the consumption of little ones – sensitive souls will certainly have a good cry over the mermaid dancing despite feeling as though her feet are being pierced by hundreds of sharp knives.

In fact, Tiina Nunnally writes, in the translator’s Note, that the earliest translators of Andersen’s tales censored aspects that they deemed inappropriate for children. English versions were actually often translated, not from the original Danish, but from German translations that were themselves inaccurate.

As I don’t read Danish, I can’t tell how close Nunnally’s English rendering is to Andersen’s style and language, but experts have declared her work a great success. According to Jackie Wullschlager, a respected authority on Andersen, “(Nunnally’s) feel for Andersen’s slightly eccentric yet beautifully fluent and easy use of language makes this translation at once accurate, loyal to the original, and a joy to read.”

For instance, Nunnally is the first translator to use the preposition on, in The Princess on the Pea, which is more precise than The Princess and the Pea, and conveys more effectively the absurdity of the story.

I think she has indeed done Andersen justice because I can’t remember being as captivated by previous translations and adaptations of his tales. The writing is simple and graceful, crisp and lively, at times with an undertone of cheekiness, irony, sarcasm or menace.

Savour this book. Read one story per day, to yourself or a child. Read it aloud to enjoy fully the sound and effect of the words that paint vivid pictures full of colour, shadows and light.

If you’re a squeamish parent who trembles at the thought of exposing her children to descriptions of grief, violence and pain, rest assured that Andersen doesn’t always end his tales on an unhappy note. To be sure, in his world, the road to happily-ever-after is invariably strewn with thorns. But I believe that this roots the stories in real life and makes their magic even more a thing of wonder.