It’s that sort of book. It’s unique. It makes people happier, like ice cream.
Neil Gaiman is my unofficial authority on myths and fairy tales, mostly gained through his Sandman comics, but present I believe in most of his novels and stories, too. So when he declares that this is the best book in the world, he probably knows what he is talking about.
... and what do you know?
I have a big grin pasted on my face as I turn the last page of this James Thurber fairy tale, as I gaze at the last illustration by Marc Simont. I feel like I have discovered an alternative to my usual re-reads of The Princess Bride and the Discworld novels each year in December.
This year Christmas came a little early, and I hope I will never grow too old or too cynical for fairy tales. James Thurber agrees with me, as he explains how the story captured his imagination as he was busy with another project that was overdue for his publishers.
Unless modern Man wanders down these byways occasionally, I do not see how he can hope to preserve his sanity.
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Get ready then to meet the cold Duke who plots to keep the lovely and warm Princess Saralinda a prisoner in his Coffin Castle, where even the clocks have stopped measuring the passage of time:
Even the hands of his watch and the hands of all the thirteen clocks were frozen. They had all frozen at the same time, on a snowy night, seven years before, and after that it was always ten minutes to five in the castle. Travelers and mariners would look up at the gloomy castle on the lonely hill and say, “Time lies frozen there. It’s always Then. It’s never Now.”
Who will rescue the beautiful girl from the frozen clutches of the Duke? Many suitors have presented themselves at the gates of the castle, only to be thrown into the dungeons or to be set impossible tasks by the evil Duke. What hope is there for a ragged minstrel who dares to sing critical songs about the master of the realm?
“The Duke is seven feet, nine inches tall, and only twenty-eight years old, or in his prime,” a tosspot gurgled. “His hand is cold enough to stop a clock, and strong enough to choke a bull, and swift enough to catch the wind. He breaks up minstrels in his soup, like crackers.”
He’ll slit you from your gurgle to your zatch. warn the drunkards in the tavern, but what hero ever has let adversity stop him when there’s a fair maiden’s hand to be won over?
The minstrel, who might be a mighty prince in disguise, is set one of those impossible tasks by the Duke, but he has a secret and mysterious ally who goes by the name of the Golux. Together they must set out on a quest to find precious stones and to restart the 13 frozen clocks.
Along the way, they will learn the difference between tears of pain and tears of happiness, but will this be enough to break a witch’s spell and foil the dastardly plans of the cold Duke?
“There was an old coddle so molly,
He talked in a glot that was poly
His gaws were so gew
That his laps became dew,
And he ate only pops that were lolly.”
The story is meant to be read out loud, savoring the musicality, the rhythm of the phrasing. It is also meant to be held out in your hands as you explain the wonderful illustrations to a child or a loved one. If you love language and word-play, you will soon be ankle deep in diamonds and in rubies , just like the minstrel / prince and the Golux.
... and, as all the self-respecting fairy tales, there will be justice and a moral lesson to be gained at the end of the journey.
“No mortal man can murder time, and even if he could, there’s something else: a clockwork in a maiden’s heart, that strikes the hours of youth and love, and knows the southward swan from the winter snow, and summer afternoons from tulip time.”
It’s only a paper moon of a fantasy story, but what a therapeutic effect it has on the reader’s mind and sanity. Gaiman was right, of course: fairy tales are more than true, because they tell us not only that there are dangerous dragons out there, but that these dragons can be beaten.
“The Golux has a lot of friends,” said Hark. “I guess they give him horses when he needs them. But on the other hand, he may have made them up. He makes things up, you know.”
I may read more from James Thurber by this time next year, hopefully.