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.
With hints of the coming revolution just starting to cast a shadow over France, Pollard vividly and powerfully evokes the tumult, passion, and creativity of this bygone era, crafting a tale that’s both timeless and timely.
Arranged as a series of stories within stories, each fairy tale as light as a bonbon yet cleverly revealing aspects of the teller’s situation, whether a violent husband, younger lover or jealous rival ... Pollard has great fun with these stories and with the gossip.
