POISONED

The story of “Snow White” recast as a parable of fear and love.

Princess Charlotta-Sidonia Wilhelmina Sophia of the Greenlands—or Sophie—loves her tough-minded fiance but worries that she is not made of stern enough stuff to rule. Her cruel stepmother, enthralled by Corvinus, the King of Crows and the personification of Fear, has been dripping such poison in the princess’s ears forever. But when the queen orders her heart cut out, Sophie—outfitted with a new clockwork heart by seven mysterious brothers—sets out to rescue her kingdom before the mechanism winds down. Lush, almost-purple prose depicts a vaguely Germanic fantasy landscape populated with intriguing legends and creepy horrors. Sophie, however, is portrayed as so sickly sweet and generous that it’s hard not to agree with her stereotypically villainous stepmother about her dimwitted naiveté. Sophie trusts everyone and falls in love (twice!) on the merest acquaintance, is instantly adored by many, and is rescued from her own poor judgment by a succession of men. The climactic confrontation hand-waves away the threat to Sophie’s life, and all problems of state are surmounted through the power of nice. The novel reiterates ad nauseam the importance of not listening to fear. Characters default to White.

Heavy-handed.