Title: Just Ella
Author: Margaret Peterson Haddix
Publication Date: 2001
Length: 218 pages
Genre: Retelling, Fantasy, YA

I think most everyone has a particular fairy tale they gravitate to- characters that just attach themselves to a part of your heart as a child and refuse to let go. Now, I grew up in the Disney renaissance, watching Ariel and Belle and Jasmine on the big screen, but none of them were my first Disney princess- no, that title belongs to Cinderella, and maybe that’s the reason I have such a soft spot for that story.

Ever After, the version with Drew Barrymore (one of the only movies I could literally watch on repeat), just made me love it all the more. But perhaps there’s something in that movie that’s spoiled me, because reading Just Ella, a retelling of Cinderella, I felt a little… let down.

Maybe that’s just what happens though, when one starts looking beyond the happily ever after- which is exactly what Just Ella does. The story takes place after the ball, after the glass slipper, with Ella (as she’s known here) now taking residence in the castle awaiting her marriage to the prince. All is not well, however, with the soon-to-be princess, as she finds herself in many ways, more trapped by her new surroundings than she was by her stepmother and stepsisters. It isn’t until she tries to do something about the situation, however, that she realizes just how dire things are.

I don’t think that’s the reason though, since ultimately, I love twisted fairy tales. The plot, upon reading the blurb sounded great, and I really was interested in seeing how this take on Cinderella would work out. I happen to have a weakness for Cinderella taking as much agency as she can get. And I can say that the plot remained one that I enjoyed- complete with a small war subplot that, while not so important early on, becomes vital later in the story. Additionally, Ella is indeed a strong character, both in terms of how developed she is, as well as her own willpower, which was fun to see playing out in the situation she finds herself in.

So why did I find myself wishing for more?

The problem lies in the fact that it’s just as trapped by stereotypes and tropes as the original story was. For instance, a main theme of the story is that beauty isn’t everything- that there has to be depth below the surface. The problem, however, lies in the fact that the book constantly undermines that by many of the character descriptions- the shear fact that unpleasant people are so often described in physically unpleasant ways. For instance, a jailer who is morally loathsome and described physically in many of the same ways, or the constant fat-shaming going on with the evil stepsisters (at least this version doesn’t call them ‘ugly’ point-blank). I think the author tried to save herself by making one of Ella’s friends ugly as well, but the attempt falls short.

Additionally, while Ella is interesting- a character that insists on taking charge of her own story- the characters in the castle (save for two) are so two-dimensional. Flatter than the pages they were written on. Was it really not possible to have a story in which Ella is unhappy- and thoroughly trapped wherever she goes- while also surrounded by round characters? Or at least ones with a slight curvature? It was almost as if the author felt that in order for Ella to appear strong enough, she had to be the only character in that place capable of being so.

All in all, I still found the book enjoyable, but it’s definitely not one of my favorite fairytale retellings, and certainly doesn’t rank as high as other versions of Cinderella I’ve seen throughout the years.

Title: The Road From Home
Author: David Kherdian
Publication Date: 1995 (originally published in 1979)
Length: 242 pages
Genre: Memoir/biography, YA

Perhaps it’s morbid of me, but I’ve always had a fascination with the awful side of human nature- what we do to each other in the name of who-knows-what.

As much as it hurts to delve into it, I can’t help but do so.

Considering the large amount of books on the subject it’s probably not surprising that the awful thing I’ve read about the most is the holocaust.

Of course, this isn’t a journal entry about a holocaust themed book.

The thing is, I’ve always wondered why so many other incidences don’t receive the same treatment as those awful years during the 30s and 40s. Perhaps it’s the scope of what happened in WWII, or the more recent quality of it, but nevertheless it’s still a noticeable difference. This isn’t to say that it shouldn’t be such a focus of attention or study, but rather the fact that I’ve always wondered… where are the other books.

Thus, when I found this book sitting amongst all the James Patterson paperbacks I had to pick it up.

Long Road from Home is the story of a girl living in Turkey in the 1910s- Veron, the author’s mother and a survivor of the Armenian genocide.

The story spans roughly from 1913 – 1924, from the time that Veron is about six, until she’s a teenager. The world the reader is introduced to is that of a young child’s, with the focus on the close-knit extended family- nights giggling with a cousin while everyone else tried to sleep, complaints about going to the baths and enduring scrub-downs – until that world crumples around her and her family is torn apart when part of them (including Veron) are forced from their homes and onto a grueling and uncertain journey across the country.

Kherdian does a wonderful job at capturing this changing world and making it as familiar to the reader as he can. So many elements of Veron’s culture are integrated throughout the story, pieces of the puzzle that makes up Veron’s life. Additionally, he doesn’t shy away from the hardships that Veron and her family endure, although they are at times obscured by Veron’s age and lack of experience, at least initially. That world, as said previously, is that of a younger child, even as the horrific events begin to unfold. It isn’t until later in the story, and subsequent events, that the reader begins to get a full open-eyed perspective- which matures as Veron does.

At times, however, the story struggles. There is a heavy reliance on telling, rather than showing, and while the events are harrowing, and tragic, there is sometimes an emotional disconnect. I think part of this stems from the author trying to tell so large of a story in so short a period of time. It feels as if certain emotional beats are underdeveloped- some sections not given quite the gravity that they should have, in order for the whole story to be told. This is, perhaps, the problem at times with stories about one’s family, as this story is. One knows the entire story already, all the elements having already taken place, the question then becomes not where the story should go, but where to begin and where to end and which parts to prune off in the middle.  I feel as if this story could have done with a bit more pruning, or perhaps the opposite- some extended details- especially at the end, which seems to drop off rather sharply.

Ultimately, I’m glad I read the book, as I walked away from it having learned about something, but I hate that I struggled to connect with the protagonist. While I’m keeping it for my classroom library, this one’s probably not a reread for me.