Zel by Donna Jo Napoli

This retelling of “Rapunzel” takes place in sixteenth century Switzerland. Zel and her mother live alone in an isolated mountain house. Zel is a happy child with a great fondness for animals and a talent for drawing. Shortly before her thirteenth birthday, they go to the market in a nearby town. Zel’s mother leaves her alone in the smithy for a while, so that she may get her a surprise birthday present. During that time, Zel soothes the horse of a young count who comes to the smithy, and the young man takes a liking to her. After that visit, Zel begins to show some interested in the boy, portraying him in her pictures. As a result of this, her mother locks her away in a tower.

Donna Jo Napoli uses multiple points of view to tell this story: the mother’s, Zel’s and Konrad’s (the young Count). At the start of the book, the tone is simple, even light, but it grows increasingly dark and becomes downright disturbing as each of the main characters deals with a different kind of madness. Konrad due to his obsession with Zel, the mother due to fear and guilt, Zel due to the effects of isolation.

Zel is kept in the tower for two years, completely isolated except for her mother’s daily one hour visits. Donna Jo Napoli does not shy away from showing the effects of this imprisonment and isolation on the mind of the young girl. There is a chapter in particular where this is shown so chillingly and realistically that I doubt I’ll ever forget it. Very dark, very powerful stuff.

Having access to the mother’s perspective makes her at once more human and scarier. She is the only character whose story is told in the first person. She’s a woman whose greatest desire was to be a mother, who was willing to do anything to fulfil this desire, and who loves her daughter above all things and does not wish to lose her. She is kind and loving to her daughter – as long as they are alone. As long as Zel doesn’t show any interest in another human being. But her love is a love that smothers, a love that wants to own, a love that is too eager. And this is a very frightening thing. We all fear losing those we love. We all worry about their safety. But if we are willing to forsake their happiness in the name of our fear, can we call it love? It seems to me that a mother who denies her child the chance to live in the name of safety is not actually concerned with her child’s safety, but with what she herself would feel if they were to lose her child.

Zel’s mother is not demonized. She is portrayed in a very human way – and it’s that humanity that makes her one of the most disturbing characters I have ever encountered. Take a look at this passage:

I had raised Zel wrong. I had raised a creative, curious child. I had let the child develop her own inclinations. I had clapped with pleasure at every new discovery, new talent. I had raised a child who could love easily and whom anyone could love back. Oh, what a terrible twist. I had raised a child in the very best way I knew how, and it was that mistake that kept her from me now.
I hold that child in a tower. The only one I love, the one I love more than life itself; for two years I have held that one in a stone room.
And I love alone. I live the life I would have lived if I had never had Zel in the first place. Only it is far worse—for I know what I have lost.

How can I explain my reaction to this book? I absolutely loved the first half. About halfway through I was disappointed, and by the end I was convinced again. And I have been thinking about the book a lot ever since I put it down, and the more I think about it, the more I like it. This is a story that will stay with me for a while.

I was disappointed because at one point the story took a Faustian turn that seemed to me to undermine the mother’s motivation, and thus the strength of the story. I can’t really explain this properly without spoilers, so please forgive me for remaining vague. And I realize that some readers would feel the exact opposite. It’s just that, for me, the mother’s motivation was easier to understand when it was “just” keeping the girl with her forever. At some point we learn that there is more to it than that. But the reason why by the end I was convinced again was the fact that I realized that ultimately it didn’t matter. Her motivation actually remained the same. What the turn did was show how far she was willing to go to achieve her goal.

That only leaves one thing that was slightly disappointing: Konrad and Zel’s relationship was not realistic enough. This is something Orchidus was discussing just the other day in relation to Robin Mckinley’s Beauty. Normally in a fairy tale I am as willing to suspend my disbelief in love at first sight as I am to suspend my disbelief in magic and dragons. I will overlook unrealistic romance, although I do appreciate being able to understand how and why the characters connect, where their love comes from. I was a little disappointed in this case, though, because Zel and her mother’s relationship is so detailed, so psychologically complex, that there is quite a contract when it comes to Konrad.

I liked how closely Donna Jo Napoli stuck to the original fairy tale, even keeping the details that the Brothers Grimm edited out of later versions. And I liked how this novel takes a good look at the psychological implications of this tale – how it explores the dark side of maternal love, which is not something you find in fiction all that often.

I picked this one up because of three great reviews by other OUaT2 participants: Jenclair’s, raidergirl3's and Kim's. Thank you all for making me aware of this book's existence.

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