Ladies and gentlemen, today I'm proud to host
Gillian Philip, author of
The Opposite of Amber, for a wonderful post about great literary sisters!
What a lovely topic to write about on the blog - but before I get carried away, here's what Gillian has in store for you!
Lit's Greatest Sisters
I’ll come clean: I have no great knowledge/memory of the classics. I haven’t read nearly all the books I
should. I always remember my fabulous English teacher, Mrs Dutch, listing for our class the Must-Reads
of an ideal reading career; but I’ve barely scratched her bullet points.
So all I can do is tell you my favourite sisters from my favourite stories. There were books I should have
read at school, but didn’t, and that I later read as a jobless, television-less expat in the days before
Facebook. But there are many more I never did read, and I apologise upfront for leaving out anyone
else’s most beloved fictional sisters. It’s no more than a once-over skim from a huge great barrel of
deliciousness...
Athene and Aphrodite
All right, strictly they’re sisters-in-law. And do goddesses count? I hope so (though if they turn out not to
be fictional, I abase myself in advance). But I love the gods’ habit of competing for mortal adoration, and
I especially adore the serene indifference of Athene to Aphrodite’s obsessions. She despises romantic
love, and values wisdom, cunning, and courage. Shallow Aphrodite has the hots for stupid and brutal
Mars; Athene favours heroes of intelligence, however mortal. It’s like Dynasty with extra war, bitchery,
and nectar.
Cinderella’s Ugly Sisters
Their fate is so much less horrible in the Charles Perrault version than it is with the Brothers Grimm.
The Grimm tale makes the sisters irredeemably horrible, and they suffer accordingly – their mother
urges one to cut off her toes to fit the (golden) slipper, the other her heel; and when even that trick fails
them, they go along to the wedding party only to have their eyes pecked out by doves. Perrault, though,
makes them a little more pleasant, especially the younger one (she manages to have her stepsister’s
nickname changed from Cinder-slut to Cinderella). Cinderella isn’t quite so perfect in this version; she
earns her fairy godmother’s disapproval for her carelessness in losing one of the slippers (glass this time
– though “glass is not as a rule an accommodating material for slippers”, as Perrault dryly points out).
The two sisters do suffer a coach crash, a bruised shoulder and a sprained ankle, but in a far kinder fate
they beg Cinderella’s forgiveness, which she grants, and are subsequently married to two Lords of the
Court. Since the whole calamitous affair seems to have been their mother’s fault originally, I think this
is fair enough.
Bluebeard’s Wife and her Sister
Fatima and Anne aren’t exactly sympathetic characters at the beginning of Perrault’s fairytale. Both,
though repelled by the ugliness of the beard in question, are more than happy to take full advantage
their host’s lavish hospitality – Fatima to such an extent that she decides the beard isn’t so terribly blue
after all, and encouraged by her mother, agrees to marry the wealthy aristocrat (bringing to mind Mrs
Merton’s famous question to Debbie McGee about what most attracted her to millionaire Paul Daniels).
But when Bluebeard unaccountably provides Fatima with the key to the forbidden room and disappears
on a long journey, we might want to slap her for her insatiable curiosity, but we completely understand
it. When Bluebeard returns and promises to cut her throat for the great female sin of inquisitiveness,
it’s her quick wit and her sister’s devotion that save Fatima – as well as Bluebeard’s apparent inability
to edit a speech. He declaims at such length about the sins of woman, Anne is able to hurry her
stepbrothers’ approach, and they kill the serial murderer in the nick of time. It seems a little unjust that
Fatima’s greed sees her inherit such a fabulous estate, but at least she shares her good fortune with her
loyal sister.
Elinor and Marianne Dashwood
Who does sisters better than Jane Austen? Elinor and Marianne was even the original title for Sense &
Sensibility. The author was supposed to have based the two Dashwood sisters on herself and her sister
Cassandra, with Cassandra forming the template for sensible, cautious Elinor and herself as passionate,
impulsive, romantic Marianne. Claire Tomalin in her biography of Austen says she grew ever more
conflicted during the writing of the novel as to whether sense or sensibility should triumph – and what
a lovely thought; after all, what author hasn’t experienced such mixed feelings about their characters’
fates? And in the end both triumph, because despite the irony of the ending – sensible Elinor finding
romantic love and passionate Marianne discovering the joys of steadfast affection – everyone’s happy.
At least, we assume they are.
Elizabeth and Jane Bennet (and the rest)
Elizabeth is one of English lit’s best-loved characters for good reason: her “lively, playful disposition,
which delighted in any thing ridiculous.” But without the contrast of her quiet, reflective sister Jane, she
could so easily tip over into shrewishness and self-obsession. It’s Elizabeth’s devotion to Jane that is one
of her most attractive traits – with only the other three sisters, Kitty, Lydia and Mary, she might well
have ended up the most irritable and snappy woman on the planet (wouldn’t we all).
Susan and Lucy Pevensie
Poor Susan. A fondness for lipstick and stockings sees her exiled from Narnia forever (and losing all
three siblings to a train crash). I always liked Susan, not least because she’s given a hunting horn and a
bow rather than a bottle of medicine, which to me said something excellent about her character. Lucy
can be endearing, but she can also be a self-righteous little pain in the ass, especially in her attempted
ownership of (the sometimes equally annoying) Aslan. It’s true that Susan dismisses Narnia, in the end,
as a childhood game; but it’s too easy to imagine what could drive her to it, and I don’t think she really
believed that. I like to think that she returned to the ‘true’ Narnia in the end, a slightly cantankerous and
acerbic old lady who would occasionally put Queen Lucy in her place.
*
Thank you, Gillian!
Interestingly, I did not expect Cinderella's sisters. But how wonderful for my favourites - the Bennet sisters - to be included!
For the rest of the tour stops ( and more of Gillian's fabulously awesome guest posts) check out the photo below!
Giveaway
Thanks to the wonderful people at Bloomsbury, I have a copy of The Opposite of Amber up for grabs! Read the rules first though -
Posts
For a mermaid living on land, our ordinary human things would be very out of the ordinary. I had to imagine myself as someone from an underwater world, and was suddenly living on land. In Thalassinia sea slang is common, but on land it’s weird to call someone a son of a swordfish. There are no beverages in the ocean because they’re surrounded by water already. On land, a mermaid dries out and has to take saltwater baths to stay hydrated. Lily has to make lots of little adjustments to life above the water.
