Cinders, and one of her rats

My pink euphoria is not going away. I have finally come across Sally Gardner’s Cinderella. And that was little to do with me. It just turned up on my doorstep, as the first of some new Early Readers, re-issued traditional fairy tales re-told by Sally.

You know me. I occasionally look things up, and in my search – once – to find out if Sally had been translated into Swedish, I came across a princess book of hers. Now I have one of these princessy tales in my hand, and it looks like the others will follow, at a rate of one princess every month.

It’s interesting with these stories. You don’t feel that anyone in particular has ownership of them. You know there are umpteen versions out there, and you’re happy to read several different ones.

Sally Gardner, Cinderella

Sally has her own version, and it is mercifully bereft of cut-off toes or feet or whatever. I never liked that, even if I do realise how important it is to fit your foot into that glass slipper.

This Cinderella is nicely told, with illustrations by Sally herself. And her fairy godmother looks just a bit like Sally. I wonder if she knows?

Anyway, the Prince and Cinderella live happily ever after.

And while I’m in Cinderella mode I will just briefly mention again, that outstandingly excellent alternative Cinderella, I Was a Rat! which I’ve thought of about this week. For obvious reasons, perhaps.

Also, Lucy Coats appears to be a fan.

4 responses to “Cinders, and one of her rats

  1. Be honest now. Meaning no offense to the writer, was it on your doorstep, or in your dustbin?

  2. Honesty is so very hard to do. I’m certain it was doorstep, as far as we can accept this to mean that postman/woman rang doorbell/knocked impatiently and I hobbled to the door as fast as I could.
    Whereas the dustbin affair has gone a few steps further. Next door ‘took’ it after this week’s collection. I sent the Resident IT Consultant back for it. Unfortunately he failed to register quite how heavy it was, seeing as within minutes of bin being emptied they had filled theirs up again. We now have a dustbin full of unmentionable rubbish from the neighbours. For two weeks. And no room for our own unmentionable rubbish, let alone books about princesses.

  3. This could grow to be quite a saga.

    As for honesty, I find that it is somewhat overrated.

  4. Actually, the dustbin would have been a pretty good place for a book about Cinderella, now I think of it.

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