309 pages
English language
Published Jan. 6, 1994 by Ace Books.
When her growing beauty begins to resemble her mother's too closely, Princess Lissar must flee her father's wrath, and, in doing so, she unlocks a door into a world of magic. As Princess Lissar reaches womanhood, it is clear to all the kingdom that in her breathtaking beauty she is the mirror image of her mother, the queen--but this seeming blessing forces her to flee from her father's wrath. With her loyal dog, Lissar discovers a world of magic where she finds the key to her own survival.
Content warning Sexual abuse
This is the most well written fairy tale centered on how a violent rape causes severe trauma to the heroines mind. The magic bits thrown in feel raw, emotional, and powerful as they should for such a dark tale. It is a beautiful story. I wish I had read this many years ago.
Content warning Vague mentions of incest and rape. Spoilers for a literally ancient fairytale.
(I'm writing this review because I'm currently reading "Sunshine" by the same author. I like this one much better, but I'll expand on that later.)
It's strange that fairytales have this reputation of being deeply regressive, patriarchal and un-feminist stories, isn't it? Especially when you step outside of the Disney princess canon, you're met with a bevy of female protagonists who - besides having the virtue of long-suffering kindness - are brave, persevering, clever and prudent (a word used too little by English-speakers for a virtue that's not lauded enough either). Honestly, at this point I'd wager there are more feminist subversions of the typical prince-slays-dragon-rescues-princess-in-tower story, than there actually are fairytales with that kind of plot. And in many old school fairytales, the girl saves the boy. If not the love interest, then at least her brother(s).
Basically, what I'm saying, depending on your perspective, feminist fairytales are either a match made in heaven or a bit of an oxymoron. Either way, at this point they are practically a genre unto themselves. And this is one of the best of them. It uses its novel format to add much-needed depth and emotional connection to one of the darkest fairytales, while still keeping that archetypical, symbolic charm that lends so much layered complexity to stories that can often be told in only a few sentences.
For those who are unfamiliar, Deerskin is a retelling of Allerleirauh, a fairytale about a king who will not remarry, unless his new bride looks exactly like his dead wife. A requirement filled only by their daughter. Rather than marry her father, the girl flees into the wilderness wearing a cloak made of all kinds of different furs as a disguise. (Funny thing is, as dark as this tale already is, young me's lack of reading comprehension somehow managed to make it even darker by misinterpreting a few ambiguously written sentences. So, at the time that I read this book, I actually believed the plot was a bit of a cop out, because for the longest time I believed that the story ends with the princess giving in and marrying her father. (Spoiler, [spoiler] she does not marry her father in this book. Or the actual fairytale.[/spoiler]) You can't imagine how much time I spent trying to figure out the moral of this story.)
This book treats its dark subject matter with more weight and dignity than most books in the fantasy genre - or indeed, any other. A large portion is devoted to our main character's struggle with overcoming what has been done to her - by her own father. These chapters are haunting and introspective, and make full use of the opportunities that fantasy surrealism provides in illustrating internal psychological processes. And of course, it ties it all up in a happy fairytale ending bow, but one that feels earned and earnest. She doesn't marry the prince because that's just how a fairytale ends, but because love can and will exist after such traumatic events and it's as important to show that side of the story as it is to show the difficult journey towards that happy ending.
I don't think I've reread this one since high school. Revisiting it was intense, because it's a very intense book: trauma and recovery and myth and pain, but it's all rendered so beautifully.
Nobody else writes fairytales the way McKinley writes fairytales. Her worlds are so utterly the Fairyland of fairy tales, and yet they don't seem generic in the way that many do. Her prose is so exquisitely suited to fairytale retellings, and the way she draws a scene is so delicious.
I really don't think that this book would be published as a YA novel today, both because of its subject matter (the cesspit that is YA Twitter would freak the hell out) and because McKinley's prose and style is too intricate and...dense, in a good way. How can she write so clearly and straightforwardly and yet also feel dense? I don't know, but I love it. …
I don't think I've reread this one since high school. Revisiting it was intense, because it's a very intense book: trauma and recovery and myth and pain, but it's all rendered so beautifully.
Nobody else writes fairytales the way McKinley writes fairytales. Her worlds are so utterly the Fairyland of fairy tales, and yet they don't seem generic in the way that many do. Her prose is so exquisitely suited to fairytale retellings, and the way she draws a scene is so delicious.
I really don't think that this book would be published as a YA novel today, both because of its subject matter (the cesspit that is YA Twitter would freak the hell out) and because McKinley's prose and style is too intricate and...dense, in a good way. How can she write so clearly and straightforwardly and yet also feel dense? I don't know, but I love it. I'd forgotten how long and twisty her sentences can be; I was aware that I love long and twisty sentences, but I don't think I realized till this reread of this particular book just how much that must be the result of imprinting on McKinley's prose so much as a kid. (Does that mean I can thank McKinley for my love of Faulkner? What a funny thought!)
There's always a worry when you reread an author you loved as a kid that her works won't hold up now that you're an adult. It's such a relief to know that McKinley still won't let me down.
(Also I gasped out loud when I saw the reference to Aerin. I'd forgotten that was there!)
(Also also: McKinley pretty much only knows how to write one climactic scene, but I can forgive her for that because it's always pretty cathartic. She certainly has her leitmotifs, and if you don't like one of her books, you probably won't like any of them; fortunately for me, I share many of her hangups and the ones I don't share, I can go along with.)
