A blight of restrictive suffixes, marking books out as “for girls” or ”for boys”, has crept over the kids’ publishing landscape during the past couple of decades – and, while more enlightened publishers have now sworn off explicit gender division, girls of picture-book age are still overwhelmed with princess-pink, sparkly-pony messaging. Be pretty, passive and vapid, and your reward will be to remain so, while the prince you married gets on with the juicy business of living. But where are today’s equals of Princess Smartypants – intriguing, funny, unformulaic, and unbranded?
Good news – there are many subversive antidotes out there, although they require some tracking down amid the glittery tide.
Earlier this year, Steven Lenton’s Princess Daisy, the Dragon and the Nincompoop Knights gave us a princess who escapes from her tower to deal with the menace of a dragon no mere knights can tackle. In makeshift armour, with a colander for a helmet, and proudly mounted on a cow, Daisy rides forth to victory, growing up to become an elegant, chess-playing queen, with nary a husband in sight. I’m particularly keen on the fact that Daisy appeals directly to her dad not to keep her locked up, challenging the idea that “ladies” are fragile and precious, and subtly reminding the reader that girls, like boys, belong to themselves alone.
Daisy is royalty in the mould of Sara Ogilvie’s The Worst Princess (2012), recommended by the brilliant Letterbox Library. Delightfully evoked by Anna Kemp’s wide-eyed illustrations, the long-plaited, tower-bound Princess Sue waits eons for her prince, only to discover that he’s a controlling tyrant who wants to keep her immured in yet another tower. Teaming up with a dragon, Princess Sue sets the prince’s pants on fire, and flies off at once to live a happily-ever-after life of adventure. Letterbox Library also recommend Mary Hoffman’s Princess Grace, featuring the heroine of the beloved Amazing Grace series (black main characters are still dispiritingly rare, especially among the princess phalanx).
A splendid antidote to dainty, glittery steeds is also coming soon from Walker Books, in the shape of Kate Beaton’s The Princess and the Pony. For her birthday, small, pugnacious Princess Pinecone wants the perfect warrior horse. But what she gets is a tiny pony, round as a barrel, with cute manga eyes – and a propensity for farting when excited. How can that possibly win her the kudos she craves? Everything about this book, from its pint-sized protagonist to its fluffy-jumpered warriors, should be a sure-fire winner for adult and child alike.
I’ve also been won over by Abie Longstaff’s Fairytale Hairdresser series, considerably more nuanced and subversive than they appear on the surface. Dear to my daughter’s heart for their glittery hairstyles and plethora of outfits, they’ve bit by bit become dear to mine too, featuring royals who work for a living, princesses who retain their identities after marriage, and Kittie Lacey, the Fairytale Hairdresser herself, who works hard, defeats evil-doers, shows solidarity with the girls she helps – and shows no sign of needing any chap to rescue or marry her. In the most recent book, The Fairytale Hairdresser and the Little Mermaid, I like the real, rather than waif-like dimensions of Lauren Beard’s scuba-diving Kittie – and the fact that Coral, the mermaid, doesn’t have to sacrifice her tail to get her prince. Marriage, in Longstaff’s Fairyland, involves both compromise and work – and isn’t necessary for ultimate happiness.
Interstellar Cinderella, a space-set retelling featuring a mechanically minded Cinders and a jewelled wrench, rather than a glass slipper, has also gone down a treat. Deborah Underwood’s playful text provides god-robots, tools, sprockets, and a heroine who elects to explore, rather settle for marriage – and Meg Hunt’s original, galactic illustrations remind young readers not to limit their dreams to the earthbound.
And there’s no better rallying cry for girls to whom princesses are anathema than Yasmeen Ismail’s forthcoming I’m A Girl! - a challenge to every instant playground assumption that a blue-clad, rambunctious speed demon must be a boy. With her repeated, crescendo-ing assertion: “I’m a girl! I’m a GIRL! I’M A GIRL!”, Ismail exactly captures the wrong-footing frustration felt by girls who don’t fit the princess mould, as well as the pride they take in their strong, swift bodies. There’s a nice sense of inclusion at the end, too, welcoming in the boys who like dressing up and play with dolls – and the message “Be yourself, there’s no one better!” is enormously heartening. (If I had to choose, though, I’d rather be a stentorian, smiley blue donkey than a princess, any day of the week.)
