MISS DERMARK'S LITERARY RAMBLES: REVIEW

After their mother, the dashing, adventurous Queen Laurelia of Kalia dies in a freak accident, her 12 daughters are imprisoned in their black-draped bedroom by a bereaved King Alberto, who confiscates all of their distractions. For the twelve princesses, the Queen's demise is a disaster beyond losing a mother; she was the one to encourage all of them to follow their passions. Their father, King Alberto, cannot bear the idea of the princesses ever being in danger, and decides his daughters must be kept safe at all costs. Those costs include their lessons, their possessions and, most importantly, their freedom.
Alberto rules a kingdom in mourning, where females are not valued. After his wife’s untimely death and, now that Laurelia isn’t around to manage their education, having been raised in an all-male environment and now even more brooding with sorrow for his lost lenore, Alberto simply doesn’t know what to do with his daughters. The 12 princesses, all with distinct personalities and gifts (unlike in the original fairy tale of The Twelve Dancing Princesses, of which this story is a retelling, where they were all interchangeable paper cutouts) discover a spiral stairway in the wall, down to a strange colourful forest underworld where the princesses find the tree palace, and within, anthropomorphic animals and a magical party.
Every night, the princesses return to the underworld palace, where they dance to jazz and eat glistening pyramids of doughnuts, pavlovas, and roast chickens. Yet, every day, when they return home to far more austere halls on the surface, they have danced so much that their shoes are worn through. The King is determined to find out what the princesses are doing, but what will happen when he does?
On their side, the Restless Girls have one special possession in common that their high father can't wrest from them: THE POWER OF IMAGINATION. And so, with little but wits and ingenuity to rely on, a dozen royal sisters begin their fight to be allowed to LIVE.
Jessie Burton’s first book for children is a wonderful, magic-realist feminist fantasy of which there are translations into Italian and French (sadly, not into Spanish), perfectly balanced with the soft magic of Angela Barrett’s illustrations. It’s particularly delightful to see 12 dark-skinned princesses depicted, representing girls that are dynamic, well differentiated, and invested in the action of the story.

The first thing that called my attention to this retelling, aside from the race-lift, was the Roaring 20s or interbellum setting - now, other 12DP retellings/adaptations have chosen the same time period for a backdrop as well, but generally these are set in the real-life US (due to the whole prohibition and mafia factor); while the kingdom of Kalia, where The Restless Girls is set, is a Latina/Caribbean counterpart culture full of luscious flora, brightly-coloured façades and fashion, and interracial relationships (the titular heroines are mixed-race: Afro-descendants on their mother's side and of Spanish descent on their father's). Outside Princess and the Frog (in real-life Louisiana) and Elena of Avalor (in another Caribbean counterpart culture), I know no other fairytales with such an interbellum post-colonial setting. And the result is fresh-air-revolutionary.

The late Queen and the overprotective King, and the palace above in mourning to contrast with a vibrant underworld, are remarkable similarities with other 12DP adaptations. For instance, the doll-toyetic Mainframe version of 2006 The 12 Dancing Princesses, an animated feature with an 18th-century setting, which also had an ambitious governess micromanaging the sisters' lives in a way that makes Fräulein Rottenmeyer look like a 60s flowerchild... while tampering with the widower's drink little by little (I always yelled across the fourth wall to Randolf that he should stop taking afternoon tea)... The suitor was here the royal shoemaker (a single attractive 20sth, notch), and there was an outright badass climax with the older sisters fighting off mook guards while the youngest of them all, blond toddler Lacie, put a phial of water from the underworld lake to Randolf's lips and saved his life in extremis!! The girls had previously discovered that the lake had healing properties, exactly what they needed to set everything right (PS: the themes of this sibling batch were birthstones and flowers). Similarly, generally the Prohibition-setting historical fiction retellings of 12DP feature the same austerity and discipline above the surface and the same overprotective-parent catalysts.

Says the author herself:
"I wanted The Restless Girls to retain the unbridled joy of the original, because what had held firm for me over the gap of 30 years was the sisters' ingenuity, style and energy - and the power of a secret that nourished them all.
I wanted to build on those irresistible ingredients, to write a tale fit for a modern child. I wanted humour and resistance - vital qualities in navigating the difficult, confusing world in which we live.
My princesses are assertive, but there is more than a dollop of kindness here. Smart mouths and smart thinking are rewarded, but so are collaboration, thoughtfulness, and heart. Every princess has a name, a life, a world inside her own imagination. There's also a peacock maître d', a motor car, an aeroplane, and a lot of elderflower fizz!
I knew those girls were restless in the first place for a reason, because once upon a time, I was like them, too. It's their story: not the king's, not the suitor's. They still go dancing - every night! - except no young girl swirling in the lights will be punished for her joy.
That's some feeling, let me tell you. Put simply: it feels right."

Due to the nature of the ensemble cast and the need to flesh each character out to distinguish them from one another (what Save the Cat calls giving them "a limp and an eyepatch"), the sister teams in 12DP retellings often have a theme - zodiac, flower, and birthstone themes being extremely popular, while Vita Murrow's "Star and the 12 Dancers" had spices (and the first co-ed/equal-opportunity batch of royal siblings!), the titular character's full name being Star Anise... -- In feministically girl-power-themed The Restless Girls (even more feministic and girl-power-themed than the 2006 animated film!), the theme that unites and diversifies the ensemble cast is pastimes or passions, so this far wider diversity gives one an even more ample berth to find someone to identify themselves with.
My favourites among this dozen sisters are and were, of course, Bellina, who taught herself five languages; and Flora, always reading a book, a newspaper, or the side of a biscuit box (italics quotes straight from their character establishment in Chapter One). Of course I spent the whole novel following the character arcs of, and rooting for, the polyglot and the reader (whose character establishment reminds me of Cervantes, who even read "scraps of paper he found on the streets!") in this sibling ensemble for obvious reasons.

In the where-are-they-now epilogue at the end of the final Chapter Eight, we do see Bellina in foreign service; to quote: Bellina is chief of foreign affairs, and since her appointment Kalia’s wars with neighbouring kingdoms have ended. (Just like Ling in the Waterfire Saga; foreign service happens to be every polyglot's career dream, but not all of us are that lucky as our fictional counterparts with that quirk, so we have to dream on); and Flora... (jot down what Flora does at the end -- librarian, minister of culture, something literary non-writer? The youngest sister Agnes was the one with writing as a hobby, and she is credited with becoming a novelist, her first work being of course her own rendition of this story). Let's say I nailed it when guessing "librarian;" - Flora is the palace librarian, and people flock from miles around to come and find a cosy nook, where they while away the hours with her excellent choice of books.

The happier life when Mum was alive (above) and the boating across an underworld lake, something like the Styx (below).

The austere, Dickensian bedchamber in mourning has an orphanage atmosphere; the only note of colour in this barren sepia-tone hall is the portrait of the late Queen, who seems to be encouraging her daughters from the afterlife.

Firstborn, future Queen, and de facto leader Frida (centre stage in the previous illustration, the one in the bedchamber) rebels by tearing away a mourning curtain to let the light in.

The descent down the spiral stairs into the underworld

A long line of suitors, all single males of different age and rank, queue before the palace gate; not an unfamiliar scene in any engagement challenge tale. Yet this dozen damsels need no hero to save their days!

Frida finally calls the old man out and has him abdicate the throne; time for a new, younger ruler to take over -- and like mother like daughter (notice also her masculine, casual adventurer's outfit)!!

Last of all, the icing on this cake are definitely the lavish illustrations by Angela Barrett; I have already been wowed by the pastels and the textures of her lavish B&tB and Snow Queen, both of them set in Victorian European kingdoms - so here are a few samples of her takes on those two tales to see what I mean:

Cover art for Beauty and the Beast: what a beastly bush is lurking behind our shero!

The Master of the castle captures Mr. Fortune, a businessman home from town, who had stopped to pick a red rose from the garden for his daughter. You know how this will go down...

Belle Fortune has a heart-to-heart with her catlike beast in the royal gardens.

The palace grounds have it all that Belle could wish: libraries, aviaries, music rooms, English gardens, French gardens, a lake...

She returns to help him out in his hour of need...

Kissing the disenchanted prince under the roses.

https://kinita.livejournal.com/14940.html

And as we have said before her Snow Queen is as evocative as her B&tB: