Light Princess - Book 1

The Light Princess, by George MacDonald, adapted by Robin McKinley, illustrated by Katie Thamer Treherne.  Copyright 1988.

This is a beautiful book.  Absolutely gorgeous.  Katie Thamer Treherne's watercolor and ink illustrations fill the mythical kingdom with pure magic.  You'll find yourself fascinated by the many details that fill each illustration.

The story itself is surprisingly fresh and funny. Robin McKinley's 1988 adaptation is really more of a "streamlining" of MacDonald's 1864 fairytale--it cuts it down to a more reasonable length for a picture book (but note: probably still longer than one might expect of a picture book), but maintains the original text throughout.  And the text is delightful.

The story is about a rather self-important king whose queen did not, at first, give him the children he felt he deserved.  Until she finally did.  The baby princess was, "as lovely a little princess as ever cried." But, as is the case in so many great fairytales, someone was left off of the guest list for her christening, and that person, of course, was a witch.

The evil spell, cast by said uninvited witch, was unusual.  The baby princess was deprived of her gravity--both her physical gravity (a pull towards the earth) and, as they were later to learn, her emotional gravity (seriousness), as well.

As you might imagine, despite the difficulties and misadventures, a weightless, sorrow-free baby can be delightful, and this princess was:

[T]here never was a baby in a house, not to say a plance, that kept the household in such constant good humour, at least below-stairs.  If you heard peals of laughter from some unknown region, you might be sure to find the servants playing ball with the little princess.  She was the ball herself, and did not enjoy it the less for that.  Away she went, flying from one to another, screeching with laughter.  And the servants loved the ball itself even better than the game.

But, as you also might imagine, the self important king (in his counting house) and his queen (in her parlor, eating bread and honey) were less delighted by the circumstances.  And as the princess grew and her inability to take anything seriously became apparent,  experts were brought in.  But, no tolerable solution was found, until, by accident, it was discovered that while in water, and only for the time she was in it, the princess regained her gravity.

As luck (and good fairytale conventions) would have it, while swimming in water, the only place she could be without "some twenty silken cords fastened to her dress and held by twenty noblemen,"  she is discovered by a wandering prince who mistakenly tried to save her.  Although not without misunderstanding, as MacDonald writes:

Now I cannot tell how it came about, but certainly he brought her to shore in a fashion ignominious to a swimmer, and more nearly drowned than she had ever expected to be, for the water had got into her throat as often as she had tried to speak.

And, of course, after her unwanted rescue, her gravity left her and she immediately flew up into the air.

"What business had you to pull me down out of the water and throw me to the bottom of the air?"

They develop a friendship, wryly narrated by MacDonald, while swimming and, with the help of her prince, jumping into the water (quite a novelty for a weightless princess).

Obviously, the witch is not pleased by the water or the prince and, through more evil doings, she causes the water to drain from the lake.  The clue she leaves at the bottom of the dry lake bed reads:

Find the hole through which the water ran.  But the body of a living man shall alone staunch the flow.  The man must give himself of his own free will; and the lake must take his life as it fills.  If the nation cannot provide one hero, it is time it should perish.

As MacDonald tells us, "This was very disheartening to the king--not that he was unwilling to sacrifice a subject, but that he was hopeless of finding a man willing to sacrifice himself."  Fortunately, the prince, who had been away some days, returned and offered himself for the princess--on the condition that the princess care for him, safely floating in her royal barge, as the lake refills with him stuck plugging the hole at the bottom.

 Because she has no gravity on top of the water, her conversation is hilariously lacking in seriousness, particularly in light of the seriousness of the sacrifice the prince is making for her. But, as in all good fairytales, his sacrifice, and the sacrifice his impending doom finally prompts in her, does break the spell and, in a conclusion peppered with puns and wit that are so much a part of the entire story, they, of course, live happily ever after.

As I've mentioned above, this is a long story for a picture book (although it is broken down into chapters), and some of the the humor is probably subtle enough to probably go right over younger children's heads. And I do think most of the humor will appeal to still young-ish children and parents alike.  Plus the fresh take on familiar fairy tale themes, and the beauty of the romance, combined with the beauty of Treherne's illustrations, make this a delightful read.

It's not really a book for most preschoolers, I think.  But, for early elementary-aged kids, it's a winner.

Rose's take:

 As a kid, I remember loving this book.  It was the best kind of princess book; A plot full enough to entertain me, even at an older age, and the most beautiful illustrations in the world.  The Princess, always decked out in fancy dresses, her golden hair flying around her, was so angelic and perfect (even if she wasn't always very serious), that I loved The Light Princess the first time we read it.  I think Mom probably knows this book to heart, now, because I lost count of how many times we took this one out of the library somewhere around mid-twenties.  I know it's not the best known children's book, but I hope some little princesses will get a chance to enjoy it, the same way I did.