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 fâees: 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.
Pollard cleverly animates the art of storytelling and its roots in French history ... It’s a lot to follow at times, and the fairy-tale form can constrain the chapters into short, sometimes elliptical fragments, making it harder for the novel to sustain its broader arc. More compelling than the plot and characters is Pollard’s vibrant language ... This memorable novel reminds the reader of the enduring power of storytelling to transform and even save lives, then and now.
The novel’s most important storyteller is also its most frustrating element ... Inconsistent — and patronizing — use of translation ... Worse, Pollard keeps us completely in the dark about just who this narrator is until the final chapter, a grave mistake ... Can feel furiously grotesque ... Encouragingly, the book’s third act is its strongest ... She sticks the landing.
Pollard’s sure touch, seamlessly blending humour and disgust ... It’s the book’s energy that keeps the pages turning rather than plot. This is a novel with oodles of charm.
