seasons of glass and iron

No one can touch me. Is she gone?—but Tabitha walks briskly back into her line of sight before Amira can do anything drastic, rubbing her thin arms, blowing on her fingers. When the king’s daughter suggested a ball, that these men might find husbands for themselves and so be civilized, the king was not amused. Tabitha is cursed to walk in iron shoes. The king’s daughter was afraid, and said, Suppose you sent me away? Amira is imprisoned, alone, atop a hill of glass. You’ve been eating golden apples a long while. “I’d like to tell you a story.”, Tabitha pauses—then, resuming her braiding, says, “I’d like to hear one.”, “I don’t know if I’m any good at telling stories,” Amira adds, turning a golden apple over and over in her hands, “but that’s no reason not to try.”. Issue 13 is wholly available in ebook form, and the first half of it is live online today, including “Seasons of Glass and Iron,” my story in The Starlit Wood anthology. One day, she comes upon a giant glass hill, atop which sits a girl. Sign up or log in to save this to your schedule, view media, leave feedback and see who's attending! “I don’t know— where would we go?”, “Anywhere! From her vantage point she can see a great deal: farmers working their land; travelers walking from village to village; the occasional robbery or murder. She always means to count the steps, starting with the next pair, but it’s easy to get distracted. “By accident.”, Tabitha snorts. “You said you chose this,” Tabitha spits. She sits atop a high glass hill, its summit shaped into a throne of sorts, thick and smooth, perfectly suited to her so long as she does not move. Amira blinks. “I’ve never heard that sound,” she says instead, slowly, trying not to look at the apple. Tabitha and Amira are both trapped in fairy tales: Tabitha is marching around the world until she wears out seven pairs of iron shoes in an effort to free her husband from an enchantment, while Amira sits atop a glass mountain awaiting a man to climb all the way up and claim her as his bride. The magic keeps her brown skin from burning during the day, and keeps her silkshod feet from freezing at night—so long as she is still, so long as she keeps her glass seat atop her glass hill. “I love you, and I do not understand how someone who loves you would want to hurt you, or make you walk in iron shoes.”. “Everything,” replied Amira. Two fairy tales converse in this story, and two women rescue each other. “No. What happened to him, the change in him”—Tabitha feels very tired—“it must have had to do with me. El-Mohtar was inspired to write the story when her 7-year-old niece asked to be told a fairy tale, but the only ones she could think of involved "women being rescued by men or tormented by other women". Here, have another.”, Tabitha looks unconvinced. It swallows fur and shoes; it swallows Amira and Tabitha together; it settles into a dome–shaped dune with a final hiss. Easier to reckon how many pairs are left: of the seven she set out with, three remain, strapped securely against the outside of the pack she carries, weighing it down. “Have you come to marry me?”, Tabitha stares. It was hard for the woman to endure, but how can one love a bear entirely without pain? You bet yer bum I'll be scouring the interwebs to find more of her work. “Let me tell you a story about iron shoes.”. They’re magic. VOTE Current Tags: dark fantasy (1), fantasy (1), retold fairy tales (1), The Glass … She eats it, core and all, before looking at the woman on the throne again and saying—with a gruffness she does not feel or intend—“Thank you.”, “My name is Amira,” says the woman, and Tabitha marvels at how she speaks without moving any other part of her body, how measured are the mechanics of her mouth. The king’s daughter read an unspeakable conclusion in her father’s eye, and in a rush to keep it from reaching his mouth, said, Suppose you placed me atop a glass hill where none could reach me, and say that only the man who can ride up the hill in full armor may claim me as his bride? You’re more than welcome to stay,” says Amira, in tones of deepest courtesy, “and scrape your shoes against the glass.”. Season of Glass may refer to: Literature. A modern fairy tale. Her heart skips a beat when she hears the scraping, somewhere beneath her, somewhere within the mist: a grinding, scouring sort of noise, steady as her nerves aren’t, because something is climbing the glass hill and this isn’t how it was supposed to work, no one is supposed to be able to reach her, but magic is magic is magic and there is always stronger magic— She thinks it is a bear, at first, then sees it is a furred hood, glimpses a pale delicate chin beneath it, a wide mouth twisted into a teeth–gritting snarl from the effort of the climb. Promises are important to bears. After the seventh bite, Amira’s hands are full again. which won the hugo for short story this year, and it was the gay feminist fairytale deconstruction i didn’t know i needed. a creaking, like a stove door with no squeak in it, as if the geese are machines dressed in flesh and feathers. .”. Originally published in The Starlit Wood: New Fairy Tales. (This story first appeared in the anthology The Starlit Wood: New Fairy Tales.) Once upon a time, a woman fell in love with a bear. I recently read the short story "Seasons of Glass and Iron", winner of the 2017 Hugo Award for Best Short Story, which may be read in full online. This, here”—she gestures at the glass hill—“this is monstrous: to keep you prisoner, to prevent you from moving or speaking—”, “Your husband wanted to keep you from speaking! I like you, Amira, but—” Not that much dies on her tongue, as she tastes the lie in it. “Neither did you.”. She is the author of The Honey Month, a collection of poetry and prose written to the taste of twenty–eight different kinds of honey, and contributes criticism to NPR Books and the LA Times. . Tabitha ventures down the glass hill and brings Amira snowdrops, twining them into her dark hair. It’s the right time of year.”. Amira is imprisoned, alone, atop a hill of glass. “Have they placed you up here?” Tabitha asks, and Amira finds it strange to hear anger that isn’t directed at her, anger that seems at her service. “Why did you give me your cloak? At first he was gentle and kind, and the woman was happy; but in time the bear began to change—not his shape, which she knew as well as her own, but his manner. You said he hurt you in both his shapes.”, “If you’ve worn your shoes halfway down, shouldn’t you be bending your steps toward him again, that the last pair be destroyed near the home you shared?”. She only worked harder to please him. By day he spoke to her in a language of thorns and claws, and by night he hurt her with his body. They walk miles and roads in patterns of ones and threes and sevens, east of the sun and west of the moon, through lands unseen and stories untold, until they find a cottage in the woods. Through the … " Seasons of Glass and Iron," by Amal El-Mohtar [ bio] (edited by Dominik Parisien and Navah Wolfe), appeared in The Starlit Wood (RSR review), published on October 18, 2016 by Saga Press. Two fairy tales converse in … Then you may keep your kingdom whole, and your eye on me, and men safe from me, said his daughter. That it had nothing to do with a curse? And if she’s not gone, she lives there still. . Amira offers up her golden apple without a word. “Have you ever heard the sound geese make when they fly overhead? biscuit. In this episode we discuss the whimsical prose of El-Mohtar. “Do you want to marry me after all?”. Perhaps that is his curse. Amira, I promise you, if your hair were straw and your face dull as dishwater, men—bad men—would still behave this way. We found one dictionary with English definitions that includes the word seasons of glass and iron: Click on the first link on a line below to go directly to a page where "seasons of glass and iron" is defined. He said she was a terrible wife who knew nothing of how to please bears. "Seasons of Glass and Iron" is a 2016 fantasy story by Amal El-Mohtar. Perhaps he longs to be a man day and night but is forbidden to say so. Analysis Of Amal El-Mohtar's Seasons Of Glass And Iron Irony In The Handmaid's Tale. Amira grips her golden apple. She wipes the juice from her chin, as if that could erase the golden apple from her belly. Seven in all. It is Amira’s fault men can’t “Like thunder, when they take off from a river.”, “What? And you can lean on me.”, “The glass hill has been very useful to me,” says Amira quietly, “and the golden apples have kept me warm and whole and fed. Then, more gently than before, she says, “I thought you wanted to see a river full of geese.”, Tabitha says, still more gently, “Mine are not the only iron shoes in the world.”. . Amira.” Tabitha laughs, surprises herself to hear the sound more like a sob. Look.” Tabitha points to her iron–strapped feet. You must be logged in to post a comment. She lives in Ottawa with her spouse and two cats. Tabitha had thought the woman in front of her a statue, a copper ornament, an idol, until her arm moved. I didn’t think there could be more than one at a time.”. Hundreds at a time, clamoring like old wives at a well, until something startles them into rising, and then it’s like drums, or thunder, or a storm of winds through branches. Amira (Seasons of Glass and Iron) Tabitha (Seasons of Glass and Iron) Found Family; Fairy Tale Retellings; Summary. Amal El–Mohtar has received the Locus Award, been a Nebula Award finalist for her short fiction, and won the Rhysling Award for poetry three times. It isn’t that Amira shivers, but that the quality of her stillness grows denser. Seasons of Glass and Iron by Amal El-Mohtar Published by: Saga Press on October 18, 2016 Rating: 3 stars (★★★☆☆) This is the tale of two women who must bear their burdens for the betterment of those around them. She waits until sunset, and sets out across the clearing. The apple doesn’t look like food, but she bites into it, and the skin breaks like burnt sugar, the flesh drips clear, sweet juice. Amira is imprisoned, alone, atop a hill of glass. She is stepping out of a forest; the morning sun is vicious, bright with no heat in it; the frosted grass crunches under the press of her iron heels, but some of it melts cold relief against the skin exposed through the straps. She isn’t used to being listened to. By day, Amira watches fewer and fewer men slide down it while Tabitha sits by her, huddled into her fur; by night, Tabitha walks in slow circles around her as they talk about anything but glass and iron. Not there.”, Amira looks up. “They keep coming back. In a moment of weakness, the woman listened to her mother’s words against her husband, calling him a monster, a demon. Season of Glass, 1981 album by Yoko Ono; Season of Glass, 2015 EP by GFriend “That’s—never happened before. “The apples—or the hill itself, I’m not sure—keep me warm enough. Report abuse. Time will be set aside at the start of the panel for those unfamiliar with the work- or who want to refresh their memory- to read it. She’d laughed for a week, off and on, at her little joke.) “It wasn’t all bad. “They won’t be back until spring,” says Amira, smiling. Tabitha nods, and stays, because somewhere within the measured music of Amira’s words she hears please. “How could it be your fault that men are loutish and ill mannered? Amira’s heart grinds within her, until Tabitha sighs. “To see them. No, I just—” Tabitha coughs, slightly, embarrassed. “But there were three pairs before this one.”, Tabitha chuckles. At its most basic, Seasons of Glass and Iron seems like a feminist retelling of two old fairy tales – “The Enchanted Pig” from Romania and “The Princess on the Glass Hill” from Norway. Tabitha first sees the glass hill as a knife’s edge of light, scything a green swathe across her vision before she can look away. Then, carefully, for the hill is slippery to her now, Tabitha sheds her fur cloak, unstraps the iron shoes from her feet, and gives them and her pack to Amira. She has been thinking about shoes for a very long time: the length of three and a half pairs, to be precise, though it’s hard to reckon in iron. Clustered and clamoring around the bottom of her glass hill are the knights, princes, shepherds’ lads who have fallen violently in love with her. It was first published in the anthology The Starlit Wood: New Fairy Tales. © 2016 by Amal El–Mohtar. “What manner of choice was that? And I broke my promise— if I hadn’t seen my mother, I would never have thought to try and burn the skin. Only—that’s why people try to climb the hill, you know.”, “Oh. There are men at the base of the hill; their noise is a dull ringing that reminds her of the ocean. Seasons of Glass and Iron by Amal El-Mohtar. Before your suitors return. Funny, isn’t it?”. Seasons of Glass and Iron by Amal El-Mohtar. “They’re done.”. “If we’re lucky,” she says softly, turning a golden apple around and around in her hands, “we’ll hear some tonight. Perhaps, she thinks, it isn’t strange at all: why shouldn’t shoes help their wearers travel? The king’s daughter, who did not want a husband, said, Suppose you chose a neighboring prince for me? Mini-Review (click to view--possible spoilers) Pro: This story subverts two … She is so startled she almost rises from her seat to find her—has she left? “Congratulations,” she murmurs, and Tabitha hears much more than the word as she reaches, shaky, wobbling, for the next pair in her pack. Her mother insisted that she leave him—but how could she? For Lara West Tabitha walks, and thinks of shoes. “I’m just passing through.”, “The mist was thick, I got turned around—”, “You climbed”—Amira’s voice is very quiet—“a glass hill”—and even—“by accident?”. Seasons of Glass and Iron, by Amal El-Mohtar. So your magical hill here . He consented to her departure on the condition that she not be alone with her mother, for surely her mother would poison her against him. “Where should we go?” whispers one to the other. [1], Seasons won the 2016 Nebula Award for Best Short Story,[2] the 2017 Hugo Award for Best Short Story,[3] and the 2017 Locus Award for Best Short Story. She was so beautiful that men could not stop themselves from reaching out to touch her in corridors or following her to her rooms, so beautiful that words of desire tumbled from men’s lips like diamonds and toads, irresistible and unstoppable. Although”—shifting her gaze to the apple, lowering her voice—“less and less, lately.”, She takes a bite. But if you are with me, Tabitha, then I will learn to hunt and fish and tell the poison berry from the pure, and I will see a river raise its skirt of geese, and listen to them make a sound like thunder. Helpful . [7], Publishers Weekly called it "excellent", and observed that it "explores the power of women's friendships to rewrite—or at least expose—misogynist ideologies",[8] while Tor.com noted that it "undermines the logic of [Tabitha and Amira's] self-imposed martyrdom" and "invites introspection". It woke her husband, who flew into a great rage, saying she had broken her promise to him. Have you ever heard the sound of their wings?”, Tabitha smiles a little. Very well. “I have to wear the shoes down. It’s a beautiful sound—beneath the honking it’s a low drone, but if they’re flying quietly, it’s like. “They’re finished. My favourite was "Seasons of Glass and Iron" by Amal El-Mohtar. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”, “Do you truly believe,” she says, with all the care she pours into keeping her spine taut and straight on her glass seat, “that I had nothing to do with those men’s attentions? First, Tabitha waits. Tabitha walks across all sorts of terrain, hoping to wear out the soles of her iron shoes. Seasons of Glass and Iron is a lovely modern fairy tale about two women trapped in their lives, who are not able to see the injustices of their own circumstances, until revealed by the friendship of the other. “No. “The shoes,” she says, marveling. Amira is imprisoned, alone, atop a hill of glass. In the night while he slept next to her in his man’s shape, she gathered up his bear skin as quietly as she could, built up the fire, and threw it in. “They look like stars,” murmurs Tabitha, and something in Amira creaks and snaps like ice on a bough. “Are you all right?” Amira whispers, while Tabitha clutches at the throne, shaking her head, suddenly unsteady. Autumn crackles into winter, and frost rimes the glass hill into diamonds. An enormous sound, almost deafening—not one to listen closely for.”, “I would love to hear that,” Amira whispers, looking out toward the woods. “Mm,” says Tabitha, intent on a tricky braid. When she returned to her husband, he seemed to have missed her, and was kind and sweet with her. so i finally read seasons of glass and iron. Tabitha is cursed to walk in iron shoes. “No,” she says softly. “I am not a rabbit,” says Amira, though Tabitha, who has dropped her hair and is pacing, incensed, continues. [4] It was also shortlisted for the 2017 World Fantasy Award—Short Fiction,[5] the 2017 Aurora Award for Best Short Fiction,[6] and the 2017 Theodore Sturgeon Award. The fourth pair. Novel, however, to watch someone watching for the apple. Hugo season continues! “Though then they keep their efforts up well into the night as the days get longer. No, said the king, for how should I keep an eye on you then? She loves to see the world so vanished, so quiet, so calm. I like you, Amira, but—”, “Your husband wanted to keep you from speaking! Easier to reckon how many pairs are left: of the seven she set out with, three remain, […] It is an obvious riff off of several classical Fairy Tales, and at its heart it is a well-engineered collision of two of them. Amira stares at it, looking from it to the one in Tabitha’s. Up next in our reviews of the Hugo-nominated works of 2016: the entire short story category. When the woman wept that she had only wanted to free him from his curse, he picked up the skin, tossed it over her shoulders, and threw a bag of iron shoes at her feet. Amira stares, uncertain, as the hooded, horseless stranger reaches the top, and stops, and stoops, and pants, and sheds the warm weight of the fur. “Wait. But no one cursed them to this fate – each chose it herself. “I see. "Seasons of Glass and Iron," by Amal El-Mohtar from LikeWise Fiction on Podchaser, aired Sunday, 5th April 2020. Meanwhile, Penelope’s society … Amira removes the three remaining pairs and replaces them with apples, drawing the pack’s straps tight over the seventh. “They look broken, but you can still walk on them.”, Tabitha stares at her for a long moment, before accepting the apple. She must move forward, or the shoes will never be worn down. “Like the river itself is rising, lifting its skirts and taking off.”. Site design by Clockpunk Studios. I wasn’t sure if—I thought it was meant as a prize for whoever climbed the hill, but I suppose the notion is they don’t go away unless I give them to a man.”. I have to leave before the suitors come back.”, “Oh?” Amira smiles softly. Impossible, said the king, for you are my only daughter, and I cannot favor one neighbor over another; the balance of power is precarious and complicated. “No. The shoes must be worn down. A modern fairy tale. That they would have behaved that way no matter what I looked like?”, “Then is it not possible”—hesitant, now, to even speak the thought—“that your husband’s cruelty had nothing to do with you? As Tabitha nears the last bite, Amira sees her look confused, distracted, as if by a hair on her tongue or an unfamiliar smell— and then the apple’s in Amira’s hand again, feeling for all the world like it never left. Tabitha is cursed to walk in iron shoes. But to take you away from here. Still nothing. Tabitha walks her circles around Amira’s throne by day now as well as night, unafraid of being seen. Three pairs of shoes ago, she was in a pine forest, and the sharp green smell of it woke something in her, something that was more than numbness, numbers. Her fiction has most recently appeared in Strange Horizons, Lightspeed, Uncanny Magazine, and The Starlit Wood anthology from Saga Press. They stand, and wait, and no golden apple appears to part their hands from each other. Panelists and audience members will analyze this award-winning fantasy story. Magic girdles her, roots her stillness through the throne. “Seasons of Glass and Iron” is a tale exploring the way that men attempt to control women through stories, rhetoric, and actions and the way that women can liberate themselves through collective action, and by creating their own narratives. As well seek to protect the wolf from the rabbit!”. Then, taking Tabitha’s hands in hers, Amira breathes deep and stands up. Then, quietly: “Why are you even up here?”, Amira looks at her coolly. “But you looked so cold—”, “Perhaps it’s like your feet,” says Amira, before she can stop herself. She has been thinking about shoes for a very long time: the length of three and a half pairs, to be precise, though it’s hard to reckon in iron. “Falling’s easy—it’s keeping still that’s hard.”. “It was a test of loyalty, and I failed it. It’s a fairy tale mash-up written at the request of my niece (to whom the story is dedicated): she asked for a fairy tale, and I wanted to give her one that didn’t sour my tongue where girls and women were concerned. Anyway, I wouldn’t leave you without saying good–bye.” An uncertain pause then. “I told it selfishly. It was first published in the anthology The Starlit Wood: New Fairy Tales. Read more. He was still her own dear husband in spite of it all—she only wished him to be as he had been when she first married him. I hardly know ’er! Do you think the suitors around the hill can see what you look like, all the way up here?”. After seven hundred seconds, there is an apple in Amira’s hand. They shout encouragement to one another as they ride their warhorses up the glass hill, breaking against it in wave after wave, reaching for her. The shoes can walk anywhere, over anything—”, Something like a thunderclap crosses Tabitha’s face. “Away,” she replies, and holding on to each other, they stumble into the spring, the wide world rising to meet them with the dawn. Perhaps to make up for lost time.”, Tabitha frowns, and something in the circle of their talk tightens enough for her to ask, as she walks, “How many winters have you spent up here?”, Amira shrugs. . You can register here. Seasons of Glass and Iron, by Amal El-Mohtar. Please. I eat them myself from time to time. To your mother!”, “And look what happened when I did,” says Tabitha stiffly. I didn’t know there was anyone at the top, though; I waited until the men at the bottom had left, as they seemed a nasty lot—”. Two fairy tales converse in … She looks down at her own feet, then up at the hill. (Number? “I don’t think the magic lets us see it happen,” says Amira, almost by way of apology for Tabitha’s evident disappointment. 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