Lessons from a reimagined winter fairy tale
When you’re a child, this time of year is full of magic and wonder. As you get older, the holidays can become more nostalgic than enchanting, with more sentiment than thrill. Finding that old spark isn’t impossible, but it’ll take more effort to revive it and perseverance to maintain it.
“The Snow Child” (Back Bay Books, First Edition, 2012, 389 pages) by Eowyn Ivey is a story of two adults who do just that.
Set in Alaska, 1920, this novel is about Jack and Mabel, a middle-aged couple who are the most recent arrivals to the harsh, vast northern land on the edges of civilization. More distant than heat in their winter, Jack and Mabel have drifted from each other; much of it due to a lost child and subsequent barrenness. After the death of their only newborn, Mabel wanted to flee the tight-knit community they called home back east and start fresh on the frontier. So they did. The work is hard, neighbors are far and few in between and silence lays heavy on the land. Jack and Mabel keep to themselves, separated and insulated by their own sorrows which they harbor in the privacy of their own hearts.
Just as life can dole out suffering that is sudden and unforeseen, so can it bring unexpected joy and blessings. Soon, Jack becomes friends with a not-too-faraway neighbor, George Benson, whose jovial demeanor is a perfect match for his indomitable, lovable wife, Esther. Parents to a jumble of boys, time spent with the Bensons is always a boisterous, messy occasion. Mabel’s depression is a formidable foe to their loud, full presence but it is eventually defeated and she finds a best friend in Esther and an aunt-like relationship with their youngest son, Garrett.
One night, the first snow of the season falls down as they ride home from dinner at the Bensons. When they reach their house, Mabel impulsively starts a snow fight with Jack and it ends with them both making a small child out of snow. With a face carved beautifully by Jack and dressed by Mabel in mittens and a hat, the snow child stands outside, a symbol of some old spark in their hearts revived. They go to bed and the next day the snow child is gone. Soon, they begin spotting a tiny blonde girl, who peers from behind the trees along the woodline of the forest and scampers away at any sign of recognition. She wears the same mittens and hat the snow child wore.
This little girl, named Faina, traipses into their life, as mysteriously and magically as a fairy would. In fact, Mabel begins to wonder if she in fact did step out of a fairytale. As their relationship with Faina deepens, Mabel recalls an old Russian fairytale: “The Snow Child.” In it, an old, childless couple builds a child out of snow and the next morning it has come to life. The fairytale has several endings, depending on which variation it is. In this way, Mabel fears a fated end to Faina or unavoidable hurt. What she learns though is that we have more control over our endings than we think.
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Suffering cannot be avoided in life, but one of the ways we can keep it from suffocating us is enjoying the good that we do have. Despite Mabel’s sadness and fear that Faina will be taken away from her or leave one day, she enjoys every minute she is with her. This change in perspective, to fully embrace the present blessing, strengthens Mabel and reanimates a hopeful twinkle inside her that had almost disappeared.
Aside from the engaging journey of Mabel and Jack rediscovering happiness and love, this novel is wonderfully descriptive of its setting. It was no surprise when I read that the author grew up in Alaska herself. Only a native would be able to illustrate the wildlife and botany with such precision and care. Ivey has a lovely way of bringing the characters and the land to life.
While this book is not really about Christmas, I think it’s a great book to read around this time of year. It is wintery, snowy, charming and feels like an adult fairytale. But most of all, it is a good reminder that no matter how old you are, no matter what crosses you have borne throughout life, you always have the ability to regain some of that youthful spirit you once carried.
(Anna Barren is a teacher and book lover. This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)
