A Review of The False Princess by Eilis O'Neal

This book reminded me a little of Palace of Mirrors by Margaret Peterson Haddix, which also deals with the idea of decoy princesses. Here we meet Princess Nalia the day after she turns sixteen, when she learns that, despite her upbringing and training, she is not really a princess, let alone the heir to the throne of Thorvaldor. Because of a dire prophecy, she has been merely a placeholder until the real Nalia can be brought to the palace.

The king and queen scarcely do right by Nalia, now known by her birth name of Sinda. They send her to live with her aunt, who turns out to be a dyer in a small village. Sinda's aunt can hardly stand her, and that's even before Sinda turns out to be inept at the smallest task involved in creating dyes. Aunt Varil's hostility is only one of the reasons Sinda suffers in her new life: she misses her best friend, a young aristocrat named Kiernan. But she is so miserable about her suddenly-low status that when he comes looking for her, she turns him away with harsh words.

For a time it seems that Sinda will be comforted by a village boy named Tyr. Ultimately, however, what changes is that Sinda learns she has magical ability. She returns to the capital, hoping to study in the college of wizards. Instead she winds up working as a scribe/apprentice to an eccentric magic-maker named Philantha. In time Sinda reconnects with Kiernan and even meets her replacement. In doing so, she discovers a conspiracy so convoluted that it will require the help of her friends as well as her own efforts to untangle all the skeins. Along the way, her peril grows greater, as does the danger to everyone else involved—until the day comes when she must face the entire court and tell the truth without losing her life.

This is a good story, a sort of fairy tale for teens. It's interesting to see an inversion of that childhood fantasy, "Am I really a misplaced princess, adopted by these commoners?" Looked at the other way round, the question seems especially pertinent for teens, who worry, "Am I really anything special?" By the time this story is over, Sinda has made a new place for herself in the world, though not one she would have anticipated a few years or even a week or so earlier, when she was struggling to get along with her resentful aunt. In fact, she plays at least five distinct roles in The False Princess, reminding me a little of the way young adults change their college majors, let alone their life plans. I doubt this is what the author specifically had in mind, but I do think the book is well suited to representing the kind of transitional uncertainty often felt by, say, sixteen- to twenty-three-year-olds.

Because Sinda is pretty unhappy for large chunks of the book, she is sometimes a bit depressing to hang around with; however, she guts it out, and that makes her rather appealing. Here's Sinda arriving at her aunt's cottage:

My aunt was a tall, thin woman with an angular set to her bones. Her hair was light brown, with strands of gray running through it, and her nose was long and sharp. I didn't see much of myself in her. We studied each other for a moment, and then she exhaled a puff of breath through her nose.
"You look like her," she said. "Your mother."
In my mind, I saw the queen, who was all softness and grace, whereas I had always been small and dark.
As if she could see my thought, my aunt pursed her lips. "I mean your real mother." It was a dry voice; it reminded me of reeds clacking together.
"I hope..." I licked my lips to wet them. "I hope that I have not inconvenienced you too much. It seems that you are my only living relative, and they could not think where else to send me."
My aunt looked at me for a long time, then barked at the footman, "Bring her things in, if she has any." Then, to me: "Well, you might as well come inside, too."
She turned, the light from the lantern suddenly hidden behind her body, and I followed, wanting whatever scrap of brightness I could find to push back the dark.

Solving the mystery behind Sinda's role as a substitute princess takes us in various surprising directions, some of them more fast-paced than others. (The part about researching the prophecy dragged a little for me.) In general, one of the best things about this book is the plot twists, but I also enjoyed Sinda's friendship with Kiernan, which is obviously heading toward something more. Though I wasn't completely surprised to see it, I was still pleased to note that Sinda's change in station had absolutely no affect on Kiernan's loyalty and affection.

In addition, I was intrigued by Sinda's relationship with her adoptive mother, the queen, who must give Sinda up without looking back after raising her for sixteen years. The glimpses O'Neal chooses to show us of the queen's feelings are poignant, all the more so because the queen tries so hard to keep her struggles in this regard to herself. There's some nice character work in The False Princess, alongside pleasing dollops of magic, adventure, and romance.

Note for Worried Parents: You'll find a little oblique talk about sex and some kissing at one point in this book for teens.

A lot of bloggers have weighed in on this one. Here's a review at Charlotte's Library that provides links to a few other reviews.

Speaking of Fairy Tales...

I've posted here about the demise of the picture book fairy tale or folktale, and I'm not the only one who's commented on the trend. Now Disney, the great princess profiteer, is joining the club with an announced determination not to make any more movies based on fairy tales. It's the end of an era, as well as a reflection of trends in children's literature. The L.A. Times article reads in part:

So why has the clock struck midnight for Disney's fairy tales?
Among girls, princesses and the romanticized ideal they represent — revolving around finding the man of your dreams — have a limited shelf life. With the advent of "tween" TV, the tiara-wearing ideal of femininity has been supplanted by new adolescent role models such as the Disney Channel's Selena Gomez and Nickelodeon's Miranda Cosgrove.
"By the time they're 5 or 6, they're not interested in being princesses," said Dafna Lemish, chairwoman of the radio and TV department at Southern Illinois University and an expert in the role of media in children's lives. "They're interested in being hot, in being cool. Clearly, they see this is what society values."

I think the part that gets me is that small girls are already looking at "being hot" and taking on adolescent role models.

Granted, Disney will continue to make money from its library of princess classics for the next three or four hundred years.

And in the world of children's literature, while the fairy tale is no longer being made into picture books, it seems to have morphed into the fairy tale retelling for middle grade and young adult readers.

Still, Disney divorcing the princess? What a strange and sobering thought!

Update #1: Amy has followed up on this post with a great riff on princesses, her favorite childhood book characters, and just how Disney (and pop culture) gets it wrong over at Amy's Library of Rock.

Update #2: See also this post at Once Upon a Blog on Disney's decision, especially in connection with the box office success of Tangled. Thanks to Enchanted Inkpot author Marissa Meyer for the link!

A Review of The Birthday Ball by Lois Lowry

Princess Patricia Priscilla is bored, bored, bored—both right this minute as the book begins and by the thought of the upcoming royal ball. When the almost-16-year-old finds out she is expected to choose among three (well, four) royal suitors, she is aghast, and with good reason. Not only is she uninterested in the idea of marriage just yet, but the suitors are uniformly horrible.

I shouldn't say "uniformly." Lowry's greatest creations in this book are these suitors, who would fit nicely in a lineup with Roald Dahl's most appallingly icky characters. Actually, you may not be surprised to learn that the book is illustrated by Jules Feiffer, America's answer to Quentin Blake.

Suitor #1 is Duke Desmond, who is so hideous that no mirrors are allowed in his presence. Duke Desmond has issues with dental hygiene, and with hygiene in general. Even his hair is a menace, a coarse whip-like tuft that has been known to brain people who are foolish enough to get in its path.

Duke Desmond abuses his power and wealth, but he seems pleasant in comparison to Prince Percival of Pustula, who dresses in black, adorns his dyed black hair with grease, and stares in the mirror constantly, murmuring compliments to his own pecs and thighs. The prince has a habit of spraying saliva when he says words that start with P. Here's how Lowry introduces Prince Percival:

Black matched the darkness of his moods—he was always depressed—and, in fact, the color matched his heart. Percival was a black-hearted man who hated his subjects, the Pustulans, the populace of his domain; who hated his own family (he had sentenced his own mother to a minimum-security prison seven years before and he did not venture there on visiting days, never had, not once, and on the most recent Father's Day he had given his aged father a tarantula); and who, in truth, hated everyone but himself.

Quite the romantic, Percival figures that he and Princess Patricia Priscilla will be a good match because they both have a lot of P's in their names.

I'll leave it to you to discover the third, or rather third and fourth suitors, for yourselves. Suffice it to say that you wouldn't want your daughter to go on a date with any of these guys, let alone marry one of them.

But the princess has found a way to distract herself from the upcoming ball, as well as from her everyday ennui. She trades clothes with her maid and sneaks out to go to school in the village, calling herself simply "Pat." There she notices that the young schoolmaster is rather appealing. (I was happy to see that school and reading are presented as privileges in this book.)

The Birthday Ball represents a departure from double Newbery winner Lowry's dystopian works for older readers. Turns out Lowry can write comic fantasy, although I'll admit I was on the alert for social satire at the very least. I did find it, but more than anything, this book is just a rollicking, goofy read.

Lowry has fun with fantasy tropes, let alone plain old human nature. For example, Patricia may have changed her clothes, but she has no idea how to act like a commoner and puzzles everyone she meets with her strange pronouncements, all the while thinking to herself that she's pulling it off just fine.

We also get three singing servant girls, the princess's spoiled cat, and a romance between Patricia's maid and the pulley boy. Not to mention a king who collects butterflies and a nice nod to Lewis Carroll.

At 186 pages, The Birthday Ball isn't a very long book, but that should add to its appeal for reluctant readers. It is such an absurdly delicious read, with little surprises tucked in among the well-chosen fairy tale tropes, that I can recommend it to readers of Dahl and fairy tales and everything in between.

Note for Worried Parents: The Birthday Ball is middle grade fiction. There's a little mild bathroom talk from some of the princes, who are meant to be repulsive.

FYI: I requested a copy of this book from the Amazon Vine program. The Birthday Ball will be available on April 12th.