Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome back to Max and Collin’s salubriously sweet and succulent parlour, located within the splendidly scenic city of Lancaster.
True some have called it a pithy affair, frequented by fiends who are rotten to core, but we consider that such people are merely embittered that they have not yet received an invitation.
What is it about this time of year? Who, I would like to know, came up with the cunning plan of arming autumnal street urchins with small, unreasonably hard, green and red missiles to pelt at innocent Gentlemen out for their morning stroll?
Max and I put this question to our dear witchy friend Mrs Baker just last week as we sheltered in her soup kitchen, attempting to remove the smears of rancid fruit and sticky, slobbered over toffee remnants from our attire.
Mrs Baker informed us that, at this time of year Her Majesty’s apple orchards (all orchards in Ire belong, officially, to the queen) are often over flowing with such a glut of fruit that the rate of consumption by the rich Tea Time Lords cannot match the rate of production. Mounds of rotting fruit are not anybody’s cup of tea and so the Wizards have devised a Social Health Development Scheme in order to rid the rich of their rancid excesses. Free barrels of ‘Perfectly Imperfect’ apples are delivered each October to inner city slum areas like ours on a special day called ‘Apple Day’ and posters have appeared (beside the usual ones threatening death and destruction to anyone caught in possession of tea, sugar or homemade soup) sporting the maxim ‘an apple a day keeps the flesh eating Liver Birds away..’
In an attempt to make the fruit more palatable to the poor starving orphans, Mrs Baker had the ingenious idea of dipping them in candy syrup. This may have seemed like a cunning plan indeed except that the orphans were yet more cunning and simply seem to be nibbling off the sticky candy coating and then using pedestrians as target practise for their resulting revolting fruit bombs.
Max and I have decided not to venture forth until all this fruity business has calmed down. Instead, let us kick our tentacles upon the table and eclipse our sorrows with some exelent fiction and splendid tea (of course, as usual, we have both…)
The prose that flies from the spinning wheel of Catherynne M Valente is utterly delicious. Every sentence is ‘to die for’ as though she she sees the hidden face of things, as though she looks at the moon and says ‘what is the moon like, that no one has ever said it is like?’ and so a tale is woven that is both ancient and familiar and yet incredibly fresh and unexpected and enthralling.
Six Gun Snow White is the heart-shattering story of a young girl of mixed race fighting her way through the harsh and unforgiving world of the Western Frontier, where anyone who is not white and male is considered little better than property or animal – often worse. The story opens with her father’s horrendous treatment of her Native American mother, Gun That Sings, who eventually dies in childbirth, and then it moves through Snow White’s own heartbreaking experiences at the hands of her step mother.
As a re-telling of a well known fairy tale, this story succeeds in offering a fresh and enticing new version, intensely and intricately rooted in both the mythology and history of its setting. As a work of fiction in its own right, it is a beautiful, challenging and uncomfortable story with no easy endings , two dimensional archetypes or happy ever afters. Fans of mythpunk and folk tale connoisseurs will find plenty here to be delighted with.
And now that must be the kettle singing… or is it the screams from our Landlord’s latest rent-shy victim? …er…no, no that definitely is the kettle! Please, won’t you join us in a delicious cup of FAIRYTALE SNOW WHITE TEA from FRIDAY TEAS?
We wish you a most fruitful afternoon and hope you will join us tomorrow for, if all goes well, some more inktober tea-painting.
Until then, please, be always,