Once upon a time Fairy Tales were wild and thrilling. Then, the Great Appropriator, riding his steed of blandness, tore them from their dark, mysterious homes and transplanted them to his bright, sterile studio where he bathed them in Technicolor, painted big eyes on their faces, and made them sing sappy songs. No longer did Cinderella’s sisters have their eyes plucked out; no longer was Snow White’s stepmother forced to dance in heated iron until she died. No, everything was rainbows. Fairy tales were banished to the land of kiddie entertainment forever.
Or were they?
Very Grimm Fairy Tales rescues this maligned genre from its saccharin prison. A collection of twenty twisted tales, it explores the world in all its unforgiving ways: from the difficulty of fitting in, in “Eugene the Sensative Troll,: to the perils of being happy when others are not in “The Little Girl Who Wouldn’t Stop Smiling,” to the burdens of a terrible secret in “The Flatulent Prince.”