The Tale of the Three Beautiful Raptor Sisters and the Prince Who Was Made of Meat

I have to admit that I'm really tired of the endless classic fairytale re-writes and deconstructions. I know it's easier to do that than come up with something that's reasonably original, but there have been a deluge of these the past few years. It's obvious, from the support such stories get, that fairytales were far more important to other people growing up than they were to me; I really just do not see the appeal of all of these stories.

I especially don't understand the appeal of Bolander's stories; they're all versions of "I'm so incredibly angry at men, let me tell you just how angry I am" to the extent of them seeming to be primarily an exercise in wallowing in anger and outrage and misery - almost seeming to take pleasure in doing so. I suspect that it's very cathartic for her and her fans, but a little bit of that goes a long way with me. What's more, I think that having your writing setting always be at 11 pretty much destroys any nuance in your work.

This story is trite and tedious, and not the slightest bit amusing. Sorry (not sorry), but I'm putting this story under No Award on my Hugo ballot.