Novelist and feminist Figes borrows from Blake, the Bible, the brothers Grimm, and Kafka to help frame her lyrical observations about innocence, evil, childhood, and Eden lost.
As a child, the author fled from Germany to England in 1939. In this often lovely collection of snippets, ruminations, and lamentations, Figes (The Tree of Knowledge, 1991, etc.) permits that story of her flight (and loss) to emerge gradually as she rediscovers through her young granddaughter the innocence and charms of childhood. The author begins with the little girl’s question, “What was the best Christmas present you ever had?” and ends as grandmother and child look at their reflections in a small lake. In between, Figes reads fairy tales to her granddaughter, with special attention to “Little Red Riding Hood,” “Hänsel and Gretel,” and “Snow White.” The volume appears to be an unexpurgated Grimm: at one point, Figes launches into “The Juniper Tree,” then—too late!—realizes the story involves the decapitation of a child and some inadvertent cannibalism. These fairy tales give the author occasions for comment and creation. She wonders why we fashion stories to frighten children, she comments on the varieties of wolves (Nazis qualify) that roam our modern world, she examines the significance of the forest primeval in our imaginations, sees the similarities between Eden and faërie, finds herself attempting to answer unanswerable questions from a curious child. In a few dazzling passages Figes imagines what might have occurred after the stories have ended: a grown Red Riding Hood talks with her bitter mother about Grandmother, who should have known better; Hänsel and Gretel never turn needy children away from their door. She also writes with passion about history, global and personal, as in this description of a postwar Easter egg hunt: “Straight from Dachau, my emaciated father hid chocolate eggs in alien bushes.”
Limpid, provocative reminders that wolves prowl among us and lamb remains a favored food.