The Princess is Dead, Long Live the Princess!
From word-of-mouth storytelling to printed texts to cinematic adaptations, the princess has been defined and redefined in remarkable ways.
July 2011 (Issue 52)
Welcome to issue fifty-two of Fantasy Magazine! Here’s what we’ve got on tap this month … Fiction: “Union Falls” by J. S. Breukelaar, “The Machine” by M. Rickert, “The Wolves of Brooklyn” by Catherynne M. Valente, “Swans” by Kelly Link. Nonfiction: “When Wizards Rock” by Wendy N. Wagner, “Feature Interview: Jacqueline Carey” by Hannah Strom-Martin, “Conversations With Wolves” by Lauren Davis, “The Princess is Dead, Long Live the Princess!” by Hannah Pilinovsky.
Author Spotlight: Kelly Link
I’m usually borrowing from more than one source. Maybe I ought to try reworking a fairy tale while sticking strictly to one narrative.
Swans
My name is Emma Bear, and I am eleven years old. I live on Black Ankle Road beside the Licking River. I live in a palace. My father is a king. I have a fairy godfather.
Conversations with Wolves
A dog will tell you what is on her mind; to learn what is on a wolf’s mind, we must do much more than merely listen.
Author Spotlight: Catherynne M. Valente
Whenever I go back to Brooklyn I think of my wolves, now. I think that’s my favorite part of this piece, how it changed the way I saw the city.
The Wolves of Brooklyn
It was snowing when the wolves first came, loping down Flatbush Ave., lithe and fast, panting clouds, their paws landing with a soft, heavy sound like bombs falling somewhere far away.
Feature Interview: Jacqueline Carey
Jacqueline Carey exploded onto the fantasy scene in 2001 with the publication of Kushiel’s Dart. Readers responded enthusiastically to Carey’s edgy mixture of intrigue, adventure, and eroticism.
Author Spotlight: M. Rickert
I suppose there are people who live completely productive, happy, generous lives without even considering the ugliness of humanity.
The Machine
Graveyards creak with too many bones, and the weight of headstones, and when the wind blows the air is dusty with the dead. Ah life, its hoary inevitability. What’s the point?