; 64 pages; Available at Books First @ Nakumatt City Centre, Kigali; Reviewed by Lloyd Igane;
Probably because of all the little love notes, little pictures and mementos she leaves me every time she can, I have always made it my book-shopping policy to browse the kiddy titles as well in search of suitable reading material for my seven (going on 30) year old daughter, Tami.
It could as well be my natural parental instinct stepping in to save my lovely minded daughter from the pitfalls of limiting her reading to Jack and the Beanstalk, Thumbelina and Snow White & the Seven Dwarves. It could even be my hope that by devouring such fantastic titles – from simple African tales by the likes of Frank Odoi and Tuff Mulokwa, to Ladybirds with fantastic fairy tales about enchanted forests and other not as much fairy (or kiddie) tales by the old master Roald Dahl (Boy, Witches, The Enormous Crocodile, Pig, The Rat-catcher, etc) - I may get enough inspiration to publish a credible children’s story - one day.
It could be a whole lot of reasons including space and time travel … but nothing quite prepared me for Snow White and the Seven Aliens, one of the best children’s books I’ve read so far.
Written (rather well) by Laurence Anholt – with dizzyingly hilarious illustrations by Arthur Robins – and published under the Seriously Silly Stories series by Ochard Books of 338 Euston Road, London, the book tells the story of a hapless (of course!) Snow White, whose dream is to be a pop star like her hero Hank Hunk of Boysong, whose every single is a bestseller and whose posters she plasters all over the walls of her miserable dwelling quarters. Although she has a beautiful voice, is a great dancer, and can write her own lyrics, one thing stands in Snow White’s way: her Wicked Step-mother. A once-upon-a-time famous pop star as Mean Queen, lead singer of The Wonderful Wicked Witches, her voice is now croaky and she is no longer a star, hence her extreme jealousy of her step-daughter.
“You will never be famous like me, she screams at a cowering Snow White. “You look too… ordinary. You don’t even have a band. And besides, your nose is too small!”
A seriously henpecked father doesn’t help much…
But the wretched girl’s luck turns when she – after a series of unfortunate events and a few coincidences – ends up as a cleaner at the Swinging Spaceship Night Club (no less) where she hooks up with a musical band of seven aliens (Scotty, Spotty, Dotty, Potty, Snotty, Grotty and Botty), whose singing repertoire is rather limited – to “hi ho, hi ho” to be precise.
Not to spoil the story for any seven-year-olds-going-on-30 that may be reading this, suffice it to say that the setting, the protagonist and the main characters of this story are more identifiable with in today’s terms than those of the original story (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves).
The story is also truer to life and is less insulting to the said reader’s mind than the old one: For instance, instead of the “magic mirror” telling the witch stepmother that “Snow White is the fairest of them all”, it is the henpecked husband that the witch forces to sit behind the mirror and speak with a shaky voice which he doesn’t have to fake at all. To say that he too is scared of his wife would be an understatement unworthy of Laurence Anholt’s and Arthur Robins’s efforts in conjuring up such a strong character (weakness-wise!).
Sample this:
“Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who has the cutest
nose of all?” roars the wicked witch,
Terrified husband from behind the mirror:
“Mean Queen, you look
a treat.
With a nose as perfect
as a boiled sweet.”
That would bring her a lot of joy and she would cause a fracas and disturb the neighbours. But as Snow White continued to grow into a beautiful young maiden with a cute little nose, she got more and more disturbed by serious bouts of jealousy. At such times, she would stick her vuvuzela-like nose at the mirror and seek solace in its assurance:
“Mirror, mirror, tell me true
Is my nose as long as a didgeridoo?
That girl’s nose is microscopic.
What are your feelings
on this topic?”
Dutifully, the “mirror” would respond:
“If you push me, I must admit
Snow White’s nose is a perfect fit
But your nose, oh Queen, is
really small.
In fact it’s hardly there at all.
This goes on for a bit – as such nasty things always do, propping up an unhappy marriage and making at least one child’s life particularly miserable. One night, however, the terrified husband decides he can’t lie any more when the witch demands to know:
“Mirror, mirror, above the sink,
Tell me what you REALLY think.
It’s time you started coming clean-
CHOOSE SNOW WHITE –
OR ME, YOUR QUEEN
With a thin trembling voice, the terrified husband grits his teeth in pent up anger, and hits his tormentor on the other side of the mirror with the full force of the truth:
Alright, I’ve really had enough
I’m fed up with the lies and stuff
You are past it, old and sad,
Crinkly, wrinkly - really bad.
Your nose is sort of long and hairy,
Beside you, Snow White
is a Christmas fairy!
And that, friends and neighbours, is the inciting action that sets off a series of events that build up to a blast of a happy ending – with little time for falling action, if any.
A real whirlwind of an adventure-romance-happily-ever-after read!
Another reason I may have been so pleased with the Seriously Silly story of Snow White and the Seven Aliens is the blatant way in which it takes an old classic and modernises it for the 21st Century and beyond. Something I’ve always wished someone did.
What next, you wonder?
Look out for Ali Baba and the Forty Politicians and Pinocchio and the Televangelist, to be published one day soon – before Tami and her little friends graduate to stories with fewer pictures, more words and no exclamation marks!
(Blogger's note: Buy this book for your child. You and BooksFirst can thank me later)
©Lloyd Igane 2011-01-26
kreative @earthling.net
