So this week (or rather, last week, by the time this appears), I am (or rather, was) reading Six-Gun Snow White, by Catherynne M. Valente. As one may guess, this is a retelling of the “Snow White” story as a Western, in which Snow White is a half-Crow gunslinger, the Evil Queen (known only as Mrs. H) is the second wife of a robber baron, the Huntsman is a Pinkerton agent, the Seven Dwarves are outlaws, and Charming is a horse. And yes, it’s still written as a fable.
I could not say exactly how Mrs. H managed to catch pregnant. Mayhap Mr. H fired a baby into her from Peru with a better gun than mine.
As far as fables spun by modern authors go, this one isn’t quite up there with my favorites such as In the Forests of Serre or The Thief of Always, but it’s still quite good, especially the first half, which is told from Snow White’s perspective. After she goes on the run and the story shifts to third person, it becomes slightly less compelling simply because Snow White is the most interesting person in the story and we’re no longer inside her head. But it remains a quirky and enjoyable fairy tale. After this and Palimpsest, I’m ready to read everything Ms. Valente writes. I’m pretty sure she could transcribe the phone book and make it interesting.
Meanwhile, editing continues on Father’s Books. I’ve lost track of which pass of printing/marking-up/editing this is, but I’m pretty sure there’s still going to be at least one more afterwards. It’s all starting to come together, but still needs some rough edges sanded off. I keep adding or changing major scenes, and every time I do that, the welds show a little.
“Hmm, what’s this?”
He turned to look at the detective, who was examining the floor in front of the window. “Did you find something?”
Art glanced at him. “Huh?”
“Did you find something?”
“Oh.” Art pointed to a smallish black blob on the floor. “Purse.”
“So she was in here.”
“Well,” Art said, “her purse is.”
Way not to make assumptions, detective! Because we all know what happens when you assume …