Savage her reply

A feminist retelling of a popular Irish folktale. As children, Aífe and her sisters, Aébh and Ailbhe, are sent to live with a foster father, Bodhbh the Red, the high king of their people. When Lir, a neighboring chieftain and warrior, becomes a widower, Bodhbh grants him Aífe's eldest sister Aébh's hand in marriage. They have four children before Aébh eventually dies in childbirth. Having once again lost a wife, Lir elects to marry Aífe so he'll have someone to care for his children. But after falling in love with Lir, Aífe begins to grow envious of Lir's love for the children, particularly as he increasingly neglects her. Eventually, Aífe grows bitter enough with jealousy to turn Aébh and Lir's four children into swans who are destined to remain in that form for 900 years. Each chapter opens with an excerpt of the classic version of the myth and a calligram, or concrete poem, in the shape of letters from the ancient Irish alphabet, Ogham. Through masterful storytelling and stunning prose, Sullivan turns an ancient legend into something complex, transforming a one-note character into a nuanced narrator who carefully weaves Irish legend with a subtly searing condemnation of patriarchal society. The author stays true to the heart of the tale while subverting the evil stepmother trope. While Aífe isn't absolved, readers can easily sympathize with her, making the outcome all that much more sorrowful. Vaughan's exquisite black-and-white spot art is interspersed throughout. Haunting and lyrical. (language guide) (Fiction. 13-18) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

I am old. I am older than books, I am older than keep cups, I am older than the internet, I am older than Christ, I am older than trains. I am older than your oldest living relative's oldest memory and her mother's before her and her mother's before her and you could keep on going, going, going. I am older than your governments, your laws, I am older than bus stops, I am older than the words you shape inside your mouth and I am older than your mouth. The tongue I spoke when I was something else has changed entirely and it sounds jarring in this bright and humming world. I am older than electricity, I am older than oil lamps, I am older than the alphabet, I am older than the months you use, I am older than chocolate, I am older than Christmas, I am older than iron. Excerpted from Savage Her Reply by Deirdre Sullivan All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.