The Modern Fairies - Softcover

Pollard, Clare

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1668049422 ISBN 13: 9781668049426

Verlag: Simon & Schuster Nederland B.V., 2025

Inhaltsangabe

Winner of the Tadeusz Bradecki Prize • A BookPage Best Historical Fiction Book of the Year • “Artfully composed…keenly alive…this memorable novel reminds the reader of the enduring power of storytelling to transform and even save lives.” —The New York Times

Lauren Groff’s Matrix meets Ophelia Field’s The Favourite in this wry and “bawdy” (Los Angeles Times) historical novel—inspired by true events—featuring an elite group of Paris intellectuals who perform fairy tales that put both the storytellers and their closely kept secrets in grave danger.

Why don’t they tell you it is the beautiful princess who becomes the evil queen; that they are just the same person at different points in their story?

At a safe distance from the intrigues of courtly life at Louis XIV’s Versailles, an intellectual crowd of mostly women have been gathering in a Parisian home to share what hostess Marie D’Aulnoy herself has christened contes de fées: fairy tales. Recently ousted from court and still raw from the death of his beloved wife, Charles Perrault finds companionship and creative camaraderie at the salon, where he eagerly joins the storytellers. Their hostess is impressive, fiercely intelligent, but somehow unreadable. She is harboring secrets of her own: sold off as a child in marriage to a brutal baron, imprisonment, scandal. Despite the vicious Versailles gossip, Marie has mysteriously been allowed to return to polite society and establish her salon in the heart of Paris.

A devastating winter soon sweeps in, bringing with it all kinds of rumors and fears. A spate of poisonings at Versailles has led to several arrests, and no matter how high born the suspect, it seems no one is safe. Paranoia stokes the King’s insecurities, and there is a wolf among the salon’s members—someone more dangerous than any force they could conjure in their own tales, watching and waiting, reporting on the secret goings-on, and threatening to destroy them one by one.

“Clever and glittering” (Kirkus Reviews), witty and wise, Modern Fairies is a dazzling novel of stories within stories, familiar tales spun with fresh and provocative meaning, perfect for fans of Jenny Offill, Italo Calvino, and Angela Carter.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Clare Pollard is an award-winning poet and playwright based in London. She is the author of five poetry collections and the former editor of the Modern Poetry in Translation magazine. Her acclaimed first novel, Delphi, was a Guardian Best Book of 2022. The Modern Fairies is her second novel.

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Chapter 1: The Tale of Donkey-Skin, Part One – 1 – The Tale of Donkey-Skin, Part One
“There was once an omnipotent king. Perhaps, some said, the most powerful ruler there had ever been. They said, too—of course they did—that he managed to be both just in peacetime, and in wartime utterly terrifying. His subjects were completely content, whilst his enemies shuddered with fear. And this king had—of course he had—the most charming and beautiful wife imaginable, and their little girl was the most darling little doll. Really, one might say that their lives were perfect.”

So Charles Perrault begins to tell the tale of “Donkey-Skin.” So, too, we begin our story.

In Madame d’Aulnoy’s salon, Perrault’s small audience sit forward keenly in their seats to hear what inevitable disaster will strike this faultless family. For the energy that lies behind all stories is a destructive energy—the urge to burn down what is for what might be. It is late autumn in the late seventeenth century, in the time of the reign of Louis XIV. The gathering is in a fine room on the Rue Saint-Benoît, in Paris, snugly luxurious with heavy, embroidered coral-coloured brocade; candles dance close to every hem.

Earlier, Charles Perrault was introduced to various members of the elite, intellectual crowd who have been meeting here regularly, for the purpose of sharing what at this time are still largely known as Mother Goose tales—although some know them as tales of the stork, or even Donkey-Skin tales. Or perhaps you know them by the newer name, contes de fées or fairy tales? Well, it is Madame d’Aulnoy herself who has coined this term, and in the process made quite a craze of them.

Though Charles is usually good at people’s names, scanning around again he realizes a couple have slipped his mind already. There is his cousin, Marie-Jeanne L’Héritier de Villandon, ardent and a touch pious—who he cannot help but like, though he is also slightly wary of the manner in which her ordinary face so shines with good intentions. His cousin is his point of entry into this circle, thinking to be the one to lift his present gloom. She has asked that he call her Télésille within this context—it has become the fashion to have a salon name, and hers is after a Greek poet who led women into battle, something that he finds mildly preposterous but is trying to remember in politeness.

Looking around, he can also see one of the king’s illegitimate daughters, the Princesse de Conti, who always sits forward with the easy casualness of wealth, as though her legs are open beneath her skirts. A clear-skinned blonde with a strong jaw, she wears no wig or make-up. Is attractive, but in the manner of a dashing young prince rather than a princess—she smokes tobacco rakishly from a pipe.

Wealthy heiress Madame Angélique Tiquet he recognizes at once—she sprawls louchely in the soft chair at the left, wearing a pink shepherdess’s frock rummaged out of the salon’s fancy-dress box (having acted along to an earlier tale), and is still holding her crook like a sceptre. Angélique Tiquet is the sort of woman who spills from every dress that she wears despite her age; sugar crystals bedeck the corners of her sumptuous mouth, with its rotten front tooth. She has a white cat with a jewelled collar that she often carries under her arm.

There, too, is a rare man who has been allowed into the circle—Abbé Cotin, a mediocre clergyman and scribbler known for his tedious sonnets. Beside him, her narrow nose flaring at the abbé’s mere presence, is sharp-tongued Madame Henriette de Murat. Then pretty, posy Charlotte-Rose Caumont… de La something—Force, that was it—in the latest fashions, who he recognizes as a lady-in-waiting from the court. The others, though. Minor aristocrats. Who is that tall young man with long lashes?

Thick hot chocolate is being served in very beautiful china with a pale green glaze. Women carefully check their teeth and upper lips with their tongues after each sip, for tidemarks.

This is Perrault’s first time at the salon, and he means to charm, for his cousin’s sake as well as his own. The tale of “Donkey-Skin”—“Peau d’Ane”—is one that has always delighted him, since his nurse told it to him by the fire’s embers. As one of the esteemed forty members of the Académie Française, that council pertaining to the French language, known as “les immortels” after the academy’s motto “À l’immortalité” (“To Immortality”), he thinks he knows how to woo a small, literary audience such as this—the tale must be brief and sparkling: a glass of champagne you have finished before you even realize it’s in your hand.

Those who take a moment to admire Perrault see a man in his fifties, under a brown wig that puts one in mind of a handsome spaniel. It is often said that he has grown into his face, which is open, with lucent eyes that cannot help but tend towards merry. He is one of those men of the world with real charisma, who have the great gift of being interested in everyone, from the Dauphin to the cook. To be held in his attention for a few gleaming moments is usually to like him, an effect which he internally, humbly acknowledges.

“Imagine their magnificent palace!” he continues. “Courtiers from all around the globe come to see their paintings by Rubens and Leonardo, their statues by Bernini, their lavish hall of mirrors…” This raises another chuckle, the audience aware that he is describing the Galerie des Glaces in Louis XIV’s magnificent palace at Versailles, one of the wonders of the Western world—the room Charles Perrault himself furnished with over three hundred large mirrors. Perhaps the most famous room in France, it is an Aladdin’s cave crowded with flatteringly lit beauties, gazing at versions upon versions of themselves. But in acknowledging it, Perrault means also to acknowledge what everyone here surely knows—that since his friend Colbert’s death he has fallen out of favour with Louis XIV. He doesn’t want anyone to think they must tiptoe around him on the subject of Versailles. He still has a pension after all; is proud of what he achieved there. It is no shame to move on.

Perrault makes sure of eye contact with Madame d’Aulnoy as he speaks, hoping to delight his hostess most of all. He was impressed by her recent novel, the society sensation The Story of Hypolitus, Count of Douglas, so is keen to get to know the writer behind it—although there is something cool and slippery about her gaze. For a moment, Perrault pictures a turret with glass walls and himself as a knight-errant, struggling slightly to catch his footing. It is not a feeling he is very familiar with. He is trying to establish a playful tone, but he realizes that it feels new and unnerving to him, to be encouraged to talk lightly of kings and palaces this way. Is this why they tell fairy tales in here? To slip rebellious thoughts past the censors, in the guise of nursery stories?

But all verbal storytelling is a kind of improvisation, done on nerve, and his instincts tell him that he must get on with the plot. “The king’s stables boasted steeds of every description,” Perrault continues. “But something shocked those who entered the stables, though they hardly dared...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Simon & Schuster Nederland B.V.
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2025
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1668049422
• ISBN 13: 9781668049426
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Auflage: 1
• Anzahl der Seiten: 249
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Libri GmbH; gpsr@libri.de; ; Europaallee 1; Bad Hersfeld; Hessen; Deutschland