The Rose and the Beast: Fairy Tales Retold by Francesca Lia Block, Suza Scalora (Illustrator)

From Barnes & Noble

Fairies and angels crafted by a master wordsmith. The postmodern city of Los Angeles has never been transformed more fantastically.

From the Publisher

Acclaimed author Francesca Lia Block weaves pure magic into this deftly constructed tale—a novel told in the form of linked stories. Echo is caught at the crossroads of a physical world full of hope and despair and the realm of the supernatural, where young men have wings and skeletons speak. On the way, she is graced by angels and gairies and haunted by ghosts, psychopomps, and vampires. But as Echo falls under the spell of demons who threaten to destroy her, she must finally look within to find the strength to survive.

Kliatt

Evocative.... [Block] weaves a spell over readers ready to enter her universe.

KLIATT

Evocative.... [Block] weaves a spell over readers ready to enter her universe.

Publishers Weekly

Block (The Rose and the Beast) moves to a new level of complexity without sacrificing accessibility for this exquisitely wrought coming-of-age story. The subjects, settings and semi-magical tone will be familiar to Block's readers as Echo, an artistic L.A. teenager, overcomes various forms of rejection in her search for selfhood and true love. Echo lives among angels, false and true, mythic and real, among them Echo's mother, whom Echo thinks is perfect but who appears blind or impervious to her daughter's needs; a famous-artist father whose love for his wife seems to leave no room for Echo; girls Echo wishes she could be; and a nameless, wounded boy who saves Echo from drowning and whose memory sustains Echo as she meets men incapable of loving her. As in previous works, death hangs heavily over the heroine: parents die young, vampires prey on the innocent, children fight terrible disease. Block's structure and imagery, however, manifest a new sophistication and subtlety, as passages and metaphors "echo" one another throughout. She delicately shifts the narrative to show different partners (the heroine's grandparents; the lovers of Echo's friends; a sibling pair) facing similar conflicts, but she quietly varies the individuals' responses. Lyrical passages, such as Echo's descriptions of her mother's extraordinary beauty ("She is like the da Vinci Madonna with a crescent moon hung on her mouth") ripple beneath Echo's life-and-death struggles. This begs not just to be read, but to be reread, and savored. All ages. (Aug.) Copyright 1999 Cahners Business Information.

Publishers Weekly

"Block moves to a new level of complexity without sacrificing accessibility for this exquisitely wrought coming-of-age story," wrote PW in a starred review. All ages. (Aug.)

Publishers Weekly

Block's (Weetzie Bat) contemporary novels have invariably borrowed elements from classic fairy tales; this time, the author pulls a switch. Setting out to revisit nine fairy tales, she fills her stories with gritty, even headline-grabbing issues. "Charm," for example, features a Sleeping Beauty who embraces the needle--because it delivers heroin. In "Bones," a serial killer who names himself Bluebeard is an L.A. hotshot; he throws huge parties and from among the guests selects his victims, rootless girls whose disappearance will attract no attention. One or two stories strain for effect ("Glass," loosely related to Cinderella, tends to belabor the storytelling prowess of its protagonist, whose glass shoes are "made from your words, the stories you have told like a blower with her torch forming the thinnest, most translucent sheets of light out of what was once sand"). But even these entries wield power, and the collection as a whole is close to intoxicating. Rendered in Block's inimitably lush prose, these works are heady, like the thick fragrance of the redolent gardens and perfect roses that figure here. The darkness of these conflicts and subjects proves the strength of the magic she describes: the transfiguring power of love. Ages 12-up. (Oct.) Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.

Children's Literature

Rather than a conventional story that runs from beginning to end with only one major character, this book is more of a lyrical journey following one woman in and out of other peoples' lives. Like an echo, Echo is a young woman who cannot see herself clearly. For the reader to see her, we must look into the minds of the other characters that know and love her: Eva, Smoke, Valentine and Thorn. Each character tells part of Echo's story to balance out her view of herself. They follow her from her promiscuous teen years to her drug filled young adult years and finally, to her painful struggle to define love, each character showing her beauty while she still believes herself to be ugly. Echo feels ignored by her parents. She believes the only way to find love with men is through her body. To mask her depression, she often turns to drugs, but as she gets older, she begins to look for love inside of herself and finally finds her true beauty. Reading this book is like reading an epic poem. It is full of vivid descriptions and spiritual metaphors and can be understood on many different levels. While it is easy to read, the story has many scenes that that deal explicitly with sex and drugs. Many women who suffer from depression, neglect and low self esteem turn to sex and drugs, and this book showcases that exceptionally well without preaching about it. 2001, HarperCollins, $14.99. Ages 15 up. Reviewer: Heather Robertson

VOYA

So she washed off the dust and ash and flour and mud and went to the dance where sure enough everyone whirled around her, entranced by the stories in which they recognized themselves, but in the stories they were always more than themselves and it always felt at the end fulfilled not meaningless and empty like life can sometimes feel. The reader who is captivated by this involved sentence will go on to love Block's new collection of revised fairy tales. For this sentence demonstrates not only Block's masterful ability to capture emotion and truth with a simple turn of phrase but also her distracting disregard for grammatical structure. It also captures the spirit of Block's retellings. Her fairy tales are not filled with the evil wizards and dragons of some yonder time, but with child molesters, abusive husbands, violent pimps, and other nightmares of present society. Block writes from a place deep within the psyches of her heroines, so that their experiences are, at times, gut-wrenching for the reader. Yet in each ending, everything is peacefully resolved. Traditional fairy tales have a subtle sexual undercurrent; evil malefactors overpower female victims until rescued. In Block's retellings, the sexual component is right out front. For example, Little Red Riding Hood races to her grandmother's house to escape the sexual abuse of her stepfather, and Sleeping Beauty is lost in a heroin stupor while she is repeatedly raped. Block's heroines are rescued by their own intuition or the wisdom of other women. The few likeable men in the stories tend to be feminine in nature. VOYA CODES: 3Q 5P J S (Readable without serious defects; Every YA (who reads) was dying to read it yesterday; JuniorHigh, defined as grades 7 to 9; Senior High, defined as grades 10 to 12). 2000, HarperCollins, 229p. Ages 13 to 18. Reviewer: Diane Masla VOYA, February 2001 (Vol. 23, No.6)

Julie Perdue - Alan Review

Young Echo wants to be noticed, to be appreciated, to be touched, and unconditionally accepted. Above all, she wants to find her place in the world. In Francesa Lia Block's latest novel, Echo, human longings are expressed as the essence of adolescence, and like the title character, they echo throughout the book. Each chapter of this compelling tale of Echo's search for herself is a story in and of itself. It is told either through Echo's own eyes, or the eyes of those who deeply affect her. Infused with a magical quality that blurs the line between reality and fantasy, Block's writing delivers detailed sensory descriptions that propel the reader on Echo's journey toward discovering who she really is. Often, though, that journey is muddled because the story line jumps back and forth in time, place, and setting, leaving the reader to figure out who is talking about what and when. Still, readers who enjoy Block's fantastical journeys through time and space, will enjoy this life affirming tale of hope, love and belief in oneself. 2001, HarperCollins, 215 pp.,

KLIATT

The author of the Weezie Bat books and other poetic, dark novels for YAs turns her talents to fairy tales here, retelling nine of them in her unique voice. The tales have pithy one-word titles, such as "Snow," "Wolf" and "Ice," and are often updated in unexpected ways. For example, "Charm" tells of an abused junkie in L.A., a sleeping beauty rescued by the love of Miss Charm, while "Bones" casts Bluebeard as a psychotic "big promoter guy, managed bands, owned some clubs and galleries." Some tales are more traditional; in "Rose," a handsome young man comes between the previously inseparable Rose White and Rose Red, while "Beast" sticks close to the familiar story, though it adds to the ending that "Beauty loved him more than anything, her Beast Boy, but, secretly, sometimes, she wished that he would have remained a Beast." Block's take on the fairy tales is often insightful; she brings out their psychological depths, and she is never dull. These are haunting, sometimes disturbing versions of old favorites. Some strong language and hints of sexual abuse make this more suitable for older readers. KLIATT Codes: SA—Recommended for senior high school students, advanced students, and adults. 2000, HarperCollins, 256p, $14.89. Ages 16 to adult. Reviewer: Paula Rohrlick; September 2000 (Vol. 34 No. 5)

School Library Journal

Gr 9 Up-In this new addition to the growing body of reworked fairy tales, Block writes modern situations into the framework of nine traditional tales. Her style is almost more poetry than prose as she interweaves contemporary life with common themes without losing the timeless feel; the stories could be happening anywhere, and to anyone. In "Wolf," the predator waiting at Grandma's house is a man who is sexually abusing the nameless Red Riding Hood character. The needle that pricks in "Charm" is not from a spindle, but from a heroin fix. All the young women change, deepen, and become strong through the difficulties they face. They learn to overcome physical differences, like the Thumbelina character in "Tiny," or realize a truth about relationships with the opposite sex, like the girl who escapes Derrick Blue (Bluebeard) in "Bones." Like "the fairy who was not old, not young, who was red roses, white snowfall, who was blind and saw everything, who sent stories resounding through the universe-," Block herself wields "-a torch to melt sand into something clear and bright."-Trish Anderson, Pinkerton Elementary School, Coppell, TX Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.|

Kirkus Reviews

Nine fairytales are given shimmering and scary shape in very modern dress, with Block's luminescent, darkling prose. The one-word titles evoke but do not prescribe. In"Snow," a screaming child who quiets in the arms of the gardener is given over by him to a houseful of self-described freaks—seven men with the names of animals, who are not-quite-fathers to her. It is the gardener who awakens Snow from her poisoned sleep, but she rejects him to choose the life she knows with the seven."Wolf" reconfigures the Red Riding Hood story in a harrowing tale of incest and sorrow;"Rose" is a powerful metaphor of the bond between sisters, Rose White and Rose Red, and how emergent eroticism looses that tie."Bones" recasts Bluebeard as a sinister L.A. promoter. The place of California dreams, desert light, and movieland glitz familiar in other Block books is her fairy landscape, repopulated with girls who have rose tattoos and remember River Phoenix. She uses language like a jeweled sword, glittering as it cuts to the heart. Readers who thrilled to Donohue's Kissing the Witch (1997) and Donna Jo Napoli's Zel (1996) will find similar dark magic here. (Fiction. YA)

Product Details

• Interviews & Essays
• Read an Excerpt

Interviews & Essays

Q. What first gave you the idea to take fairy stories and to retell them in a whole new way?

A. I have always loved fairy tales, and when I was looking around for ideas for a new book it seemed natural that I turn to these stories as an inspiration. At the same time, I wanted to make them new because I find contemporary settings very dynamic and because so many of the themes are very relevant to my life. I had just gone through some difficult things, and I didn't want to deal with them directly. It was easier to use a universal story structure as a way to express deeply personal experiences.

Q. How did you choose which fairy tales to retell?

A. I just started writing, using the stories that had the most significance for me and that I remembered best. Then I reread some others to refresh my memory and to use as source material.

Q. How did you "get to know" the characters of these fairy tales?

A. I put myself into the character, imagining how I would feel if I were Tiny or if my life were threatened or if I found a lost love. Then I just kept writing and something magical happened. The characters began to take on their own voices, to create their own situations. I can't fully explain it but I think it has to do with freeing up the unconscious mind, not censoring what comes, listening. I also believe that this alchemy attests to the universal potency of the original stories.

Q. What is the most challenging part of being a writer for you?

A. In the past, it was spending so much time alone -- because even though I enjoy writing, I got somewhat lonely. Now that I have a baby, it is finding the time to write! Also, it can be very exposing and it can hurt to be judged when you express your most personal realities.

Q. We are all told fairy tales as children but remain fascinated by them even as adults. Why do they wrest their way into our psyche like this?

A. The elements of love and terror that fill fairy tales are so primal.

Q. What would you say to someone who dismissed fairy stories as "old-fashioned" or "childish"?

A. I almost hate to answer this because I don't feel it necessary to defend stories that have haunted our collective imagination with their passion from childhood through adulthood for centuries.

Q. When you write -- particularly in a book such as The Rose and the Beast -- to what extent are you telling a story with all the magic and lyricism that is part of storytelling; and to what extent are you using that story as a metaphor to express a deeper truth or message?

A. I usually begin with the poetry of the language and by trying to create vivid characters. Later, certain truths are revealed to me, and I often go back and work on bringing them out more fully in the story. In some ways, starting with the fairy tales made my job easier because the truths are already inherent in the original work. I just had to find a way to apply it to my life.

Q. Your language is imbued with the richness of life -- not the possessions, the "want to collect" like the sisters in "Glass" -- but the richness of sense and experience: the "curtains of dawn," the rose "open, glowing, pink, white, fragrant ...," the sense of freedom smelled on one's skin. Do you feel this, and is it only people who are alive to this who can touch the "magic" of possibility?

A. For me, magic comes out of fully experiencing the sensory world, I believe that love is the ultimate magic wand and love's spirituality can be found in a flower, the sky, a work of art, a baby.

Q. Finally, what are you working on now? Are there more fairy tales to come?

A. No more fairy tales right now. I just finished a book called echo that is a novel told in short stories. I am also developing a series for MTV called Shadow Grove. And I'm writing about my daughter whenever I get the chance.
Q&A courtesy of HarperCollins Publishers.

Read an Excerpt

When she was born her mother was so young, still a girl herself, still didn't know what to do with her. She screamed and screamed--the child. Her mother sat crying in the garden. The gardener came by to dig up the sod. It was winter. The child was frost-colored. The gardener stood before the cold winter sun, blocking the light with his broad shoulders. The mother looked like a broken rose bush.

Take her please, the mother cried. The gardener sat beside her. She was shaking. The child would not stop screaming. When the mother put her in his arms, the child was quiet.

Take her, the mother said. I can't keep her. She will devour me.

The child wrapped her tiny fingers around the gardener's large brown thumb. She stared up at him with her eyes like black rose petals in her snowy face. He said to the mother, Are you sure? And she stood up and ran into the house, sobbing.

Are you sure are you sure? She was sure. Take it away, she prayed, it will devour me.

The gardener wrapped the child in a clean towel and put her in his truck and drove her west to the canyon. There was no way he could keep her himself, was there? (He imagined her growing up, long and slim, those lips and eyes.) No, but he knew who could.

The seven brothers lived in a house they had built themselves, built deep into the side of the canyon among the trees. They had built it without chopping down one tree, so it was an odd-shaped house with towers and twisting hallways and jagged staircases. It looked like part of the canyon itself, as if it hadsprung up there. It smelled of woodsmoke and leaves. From the highest point you could see thesea lilting and shining in the distance.

This was where the gardener brought the child. He knew these men from work they had all done together on a house by the ocean. He was fascinated by the way they worked. They made the gardener feel slow and awkward and much too tall. Also, lonely.

Bear answered the door. Like all the brothers he had a fine, handsome face, burnished skin, huge brown eyes that regarded everyone as if they were the beloved. lie was slightly heavier than the others and his hair was soft, thick, close cropped. He shook the gardener's hand and welcomed him inside, politely avoiding the bundle in the gardener's arms until the gardener said, I don't know where to take her.

Bear brought him into the kitchen where Fox, Tiger, and Buck were eating their lunch of vegetable stew and rice, baked apples and blueberry gingerbread. They asked the gardener to join them. When Bear told them why he was there, they allowed themselves to turn their benevolent gazes to the child in his arms. She stared back at them and the gardener heard an unmistakable burbling coo coming from her mouth.

Buck held her in his muscular arms. She nestled against him and closed her eyes-dark lash tassels. Buck looked down his fine, sculpted nose at her and whispered, Where does she come from?

The gardener told him, From the valley, her mother can't take care of her. He said he was afraid she would be hurt if he left her there. The mother wasn't well. The brothers gathered around. They knew then that she was the love they had been seeking in every face forever before this. Bear said, we will keep her. And the gardener knew he had done the right thing bringing her here.

The other brothers, Otter, Lynx, and Ram, came home that evening. They also loved her right away, as if they had been waiting forever for her to come. They named her Snow and gave her everything they had.

Bear and Ram built her a room among the trees overlooking the sea. Tiger built her a music-box cradle that rocked and played melodies. Buck sewed her lace dresses and made her tiny boots like the ones he and his brothers wore. They cooked for her, the finest, the healthiest foods, most of which they grew themselves, and she was always surrounded by the flowers Lynx picked from their garden, the candles Fox dipped in the cellar, and the melon scented soaps that Otter made in his workroom.

She grew up there in the canyon--the only Snow. It was warm in the canyon most days--sometimes winds and rains but never whiteness on the ground. She was their Snow, unbearably white and crystal sweet. She began to grow into a woman and although sometimes this worried them a bit-they were not used to women, especially one like this who was their daughter and yet not--they learned not to be afraid, how to show her as much love as they had when she was a baby and yet give her a distance that was necessary for them as well as for her. As they had given her everything, she gave to them--she learned to hammer and build, cook, sew, and garden. She could do anything. They had given her something else, too--the belief in herself, instilled by seven fathers who had had to learn it. Sometimes at night, gathered around the long wooden table finishing the peach-spice or apple-ginger pies and raspberry tea, they would tell stories of their youth--the things they had suffered separately when they went out alone to try the world. The stories were of freak shows and loneliness and too much liquor or powders and the shame of deformity. They wanted her to know what they had suffered but not to be afraid of it, they wanted her to have everything--the world, too. And to be able to return to them, to safety, whenever she needed. They knew, though, she would not suffer as they had suffered. She was perfect. They were scarred.