100 Books Like Undine

Snow, Glass, Apples is my all-time favourite Gaiman story, which is quite staggering given how much of his work I adore, but I'd only seen it in short story form before, in Smoke and Mirrors. Then I was given a copy of just Snow Glass, Apples, illustrated by Colleen Doran. The artwork is stunning, beautifully dark with a tight palette and rich, intricate detailing. Every page is a work of art, allowing you to linger and slowly digest the tale as it unfolds. This story is a huge influence for me, in particular for my collection Once Upon A Twisted Fairytale, because it flips the story of Snow White on its head. All of the elements of the traditional tale - the huntsman, the stepmother queen, the dwarves, the glass coffin - are there, but put together from the perspective of the queen, totally changing the story. I love… show more.

As a child, one of my favourite stories, that went on to help shape my personal writing style, was The Whitby Witches by Robin Jarvis. As a care leaver I found the main characters, siblings who had been shunted between several foster homes because of the brother's psychic gift, relatable. The sister doesn't believe him - a brilliant source of conflict because all they have is each other, yet there's this huge wedge between them. But the best part is how well the author blends the magical with the mundane. There's a group of almost Lovecraftian creatures that can only be seen by those with The Sight, living alongside the villagers. I loved the idea of unseen people, just a shadow's width away, unknown things living side by side with a blissfully ignorant human populace. That contrast between the ordinary and fantastical had crept into a lot of my stories.

The OG witches of modern fantasy literature. I’ve put down Wyrd Sisters because it’s the first of Pratchett’s Witches books to feature the trio of Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg, and Magrat Garlick, but I’d list the whole series if I could. If you haven’t read them, I envy you, because you get to experience this trio and their world for the first time. Granny Weatherwax is a good witch because she has to be, but if she were to go the other way there’s no doubt she would be the greatest evil witch the Discworld has ever known. She plays cards with Death, knows the power of stories, and, most importantly, understands that being Good and Right is not the same as being Nice. Pratchett’s Witches were formative reading for me, and paved the way for many beloved reads on our shelves today.

The Fourth Bear is possibly too light to be included in a list of dark fairytales, but the main character is a classic, almost noir type detective, so maybe it's ok. Nursery Crime Division, to be exact. I think Jasper Fforde may be to blame for my desire to write Jack and the Beanstalk as a dark gritty courtroom drama (maybe one day!), he blends genres together so seamlessly, and I long to be able to do it as well as he does. There's a terrifying serial killer on the loose, and I was as on the edge of my seat as I am with any thriller, even though I knew that killer was The Gingerbread Man. It follows the plot of a standard police procedural/thriller, while including Punch and Judy, Goldilocks, an illegal porridge ring, and a murderous biscuit....or is The Gingerbread Man a cake? I absolutely adore the… show more.

I love Andersen because his stories almost out-Kafka Kafka.

His animal characters are not exactly philosophers, but they observe, they dread, they dream. Animals—like humans—rarely challenge the natural order of things, but they must deal with the world as it actually is.

One Danish critic said that Andersen wrote more self-portraits than Rembrandt ever painted. Andersen’s great contribution to literature is recognizing how little is needed to produce a story and how little a great story really needs to say. 

One story tells of a chance meeting and spurned friendship between two toys in a drawer. Andersen seems capable of turning anything into a story.

This annotated hardback edition by a folklore scholar is one of the most beautiful-looking books I own.

A pregnant noblewoman fleeing a less than happy happily-ever-after finds her way to Castle Waiting, an overgrown castle that’s become a haven for forgotten figures from fairy tales, folklore, and myth. Much of this unbelievably absorbing comic is spent simply exploring the castle and following the residents in their day-to-day lives. And what better way is there to spend one’s time? Linda Medley’s immersive artwork, with its flavor of old-fashioned woodcuts and classical book illustrations, makes Castle Waiting look like the perfect place to rest between adventures, or maybe stay and become one of the long-term residents.

The story itself evokes memories of dreams and nightmares, but Arthur Rackham’s drawings made me want to draw and tell stories through images.

I knew the curious story of Alice before seeing Rackham’s illustrations and loved the predicaments, characters and how random everything was. His drawings completed the story, and I saw the pair as a perfect match; they were rich and on point with how my imagination wanted them to be.

A fascinating in-depth insight into the personality, career, and work of Rackham, who I view as the king of the golden age of illustration. His fine draughtsmanship and ability to create fantastical worlds and characters that range from the grotesque to the beautiful inspired me from an early age. The pages are packed with artwork done in his trademark pen and ink and watercolour. 

There are more accurate translations and better selections, but I love this collection for two reasons. First, Stephens was a Dublin-born, Irish-speaking novelist, poet, and eyewitness to the Easter Rising of 1916. His stories of ancient heroes and Otherworldly folk salute a proudly Celtic past. Stephens was part of the nationalist literary revival that harnessed Irish myths to an independent future. A friend to politicians and intellectuals, he claimed (untruthfully) to have the same birthday as his friend James Joyce. Stephens cleaned up the old stories for tender ears, but his early 20th-century language casts an antiquarian sheen on his fairytales. 

So do the enchanting illustrations by Arthur Rackham, one of the most skillful depicters of fairies (second only to Harry Clarke)—my second reason for loving this book. 

Is Undine Spragg Edith Wharton’s least admiral protagonist? Perhaps. But as well, she is her most beguiling.

With her modest mid-western roots and her hunger for something more, she personifies the American dream, only she incarnates its less noble form. Cunning and beautiful, she uses her every charm exclusively in service to her ambition.

There is something thoroughly modern about her self-belief, her perpetual reinvention. It’s impossible to look away as she ruthlessly forges her own future, defying expectations and conventions time and again. 

They say what goes around comes around; but when it comes to Undine Spragg we are constantly left wondering if the truism can hold.