Author Gail Carson Levine is best known for her 1997 novel Ella Enchanted, which won a Newbery Honor in 1998. Even today, critics praise this book for the way it retells the Cinderella story. It has also cemented Levine’s legacy as a fairy tale author for audiences of all ages.
If you asked me my favorite book from Levine (as well as my favorite book of all time), my answer is her 2001 original novel Two Princesses of Bamarre. I was in fifth grade when this tale of adventure, tragedy, and bravery came out, and it’s been a source of comfort to me ever since. In the past few months, I decided to read it again critically to see how well it has held up over time.
Ultimately, Two Princesses of Bamarre has good points and bad points. Levine’s writing style is at its strongest here, though her worldbuilding raises unanswered questions. And the story itself may not be what readers expect, especially considering how the book is summarized in its marketing. But what sets it apart from Levine’s other books is its themes of bravery, perseverance, and sisterhood.
Light spoilers beyond this point.
The Pros
If you’ve read Levine’s books before, you may be familiar with her writing style. She’s poetic in her word choice, which makes her a perfect fairy tale author. She is also pretty concise, getting straight to the point and knowing when to move on.
The best example is in the first page, where readers immediately understand what kind of story Two Princesses will be.
“’Out of a land laid waste
To a land untamed,
Monster ridden,
The lad Drualt led
A ruined, ragtag band.
In his arms, tenderly,
He carried Bruce,
The child king,
First ruler of Bamarre.’
So begins Drualt, the epic poem of Bamarre’s greatest hero, our kingdom’s ideal. Drualt fought Bamarre’s monsters–the ogres, gryphons, specters, and dragons that still plague us–and he helped his sovereign found our kingdom.
Today Bamarre needed a hero more than ever. The monsters were slaughtering hundreds of Bamarrians every year, and the Gray Death carried away even more.
I was no hero. The dearest wishes of my heart were for safety and tranquility. The world was a perilous place, wrong for the likes of me.”
pg. 1
Coincidentally, this is my favorite hook to a story. It does everything a hook is supposed to do: set the tone, introduce us to our main character and setting, and give us the information we need to know.
Readers familiar with Levine’s work know of her tendency to create worlds with a variety of creatures, and this is what we get here. The world of Bamarre is plagued by many monsters: beastly ogres, gluttonous gryphons, cunning specters, and codependent dragons. There are also a variety of humanoid creatures aiding humans in different ways: sorcerers who apprentice for humans while studying magic, elf healers, and fairies who act as guardian angels. Dwarves are mentioned, though they don’t make an appearance here. There is the question of how the non-human characters are either subservient to humans or a threat to them, but that’s a long digression for another day.
The best part of Bamarre’s worldbuilding is its history and how the characters interact with it. As seen in the novel’s hook, characters reference the epic poem Drualt, a legend of a character who is a hybrid between Robin Hood and Captain America. In some cases the legend is treated as a history book, though there is some debate on whether the poem is a myth or based on a true story. And everyone has their own stories about Drualt, which reveals how different characters throughout Bamarre see him as a hero or a villain. There is one particular tale of Drualt told by two different characters in vastly different ways; a human depicts the story as a heroic legend, while a dragon describes it as a senseless tragedy.
The Cons
As good as the book’s worldbuilding is, it’s also flawed. For all the talk of Drualt as a legendary figure, the end of the book confirms whether or not the mythology is real. I think the story would’ve been stronger if Levine left it up for interpretation, though I could be nitpicking here.
There’s also a paragraph where Addie reads an excerpt of a book discussing sorcerers. It’s interesting, but it doesn’t add anything to the story. And much of what is relevant to the plot is talked about by the characters anyway, so the excerpt accomplishes nothing except slowing the story down.
Readers may be put off by the story itself, especially compared to the way it is advertised. On Barnes & Noble, Goodreads, and Levine’s website, the overviews all insinuate that Addie begins her journey immediately after her older sister Meryl falls ill, and the story itself revolves around her quest. However, Meryl falls ill at the end of chapter six, and Addie doesn’t officially set out until chapter fourteen, halfway through the story. Granted, Two Princesses is character driven, and the time between the two events is spent on bringing Addie to her decision to find the cure herself. So from a narrative standpoint, it makes sense for her not to set out right away. That said, the advertising is a little misleading, and the story readers are looking for may not be what they get.
Cowardice and Bravery
In the first chapter, Addie recounts an old prophecy declaring the cure to the Gray Death will be found “when cowards found courage and rain fell over all Bamarre” (pg. 4). The rest of the book shows readers what it means to be a coward, and what it means to find courage.
Bamarre is full of cowards, though it’s easy to understand why. Monsters attack people every day, and not everyone is equipped to protect themselves. And that’s not taking the Gray Death into account. At one point, Addie observes the whole kingdom through her magic spyglass and sees for herself how bad things are.
“I saw a gryphon swoop down and snatch a baby from its cradle. I saw a troop of ogres besieging a walled town. I saw a coach rolling down a quiet lane, accompanied by a company of archers–and I realized that without the archers, the coach would have had to stay home.
I saw Vollys gorging on a herd of cows in a sea of blazing grass. A castle stood on a nearby hill.
I saw more victims of the Gray Death, young and old, peasants and townfolk and nobles. And I saw the grief of the people who loved them.”
pg. 179-180
This doesn’t mean the characters are completely justified in their cowardice, either. On the contrary, the story highlights why acting on fear is more detrimental than helpful. Addie herself is a coward for much of the story, which is why she takes a long time to set out on her quest. But if there’s any character more cowardly than Addie, it’s her father, King Lionel. Throughout the book he is shown to have no meaningful relationship with either of his daughters, caring from a distance, showing no affection or emotion even as his eldest lies on her deathbed. As king, he lets a book of proverbs called Homely Truths make all of his decisions for him. Though he does set out to find the cure when Meryl is diagnosed, he barely tries and gives up after one dead end.
To quote the film Princess Diaries, “courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is far more important than fear.” Addie’s journey is the discovery of what is more important to her than fear, which is the safety and wellbeing of those she cares about.
Mythbusting Illness
One aspect of the story I’ve revisited as an adult–particularly in the midst of a global pandemic–is how Two Princesses tackles chronic, deadly disease. As a kid who didn’t give much thought to chronic illness, I didn’t give much thought to Meryl’s side of the story when I first read the book. Rereading years later, a lot of things about her experience with the Gray Death stand out to me. Struggling to do things that had once been easy for her. Lamenting dreams lost to her illness. Being forced to confront her own limits, even and especially as they get worse.
The biggest standout was the assumptions the two sisters made about the Gray Death. These were a) they could predict who would contract the illness, and b) the illness could be cured by not giving into it. Both assumptions are proven false. They both predict Addie will contract the illness, but it is Meryl who gets sick. And Meryl’s attempts to defy the illness only weaken her further.
How many times have we been told something similar about illness? How many times have we heard that healthy people won’t get sick, or if it wrecks your body it’s because your body was already weak? How many of us have been shamed for chronic illness because we’re not fighting hard enough? How many times have we said or thought that if we just eat healthy and exercise, we’ll be okay?
Two Princesses shows how none of those things are the case. You can’t be sure you’ll never get sick, you can’t predict how sickness affects your body, and you can’t get better by simply defying the illness. When illness strikes and there’s no cure for it, the only thing you can do is take life one day at a time.
A Tale of Two Sisters
Although Two Princesses is told from Addie’s perspective, Meryl is just as much a part of the story. She is the primary motivation for Addie’s quest, and her presence is felt even when the sisters are apart. Additionally, each sister confronts her weaknesses and blind spots. And just as Addie finds the courage to make a difference, Meryl finds the courage to live her life.
Having said that, the story of this relationship is about moving from codependency to interdependence.
The sisters literally depend on each other as children, for comfort and protection and validation. And while they make each other’s lives better, their dependence on each other can also be detrimental. Meryl puts off her adventures until Addie’s wedding, and almost doesn’t get them thanks to the Gray Death. And Addie’s hanging her hopes on someone else to fix the problem almost leads to tragedy.
This codependence is best reflected in Addie’s literary foil, the dragon Vollys. In this story, dragons are lonely creatures that rarely, if ever, get along with each other. They sometimes take humans as captives, forcing them to keep the dragon company until she is either bored or the captive has overstayed their welcome. What happens after is best summarized by Vollys herself:
“‘I tired of him. He vexed me. One by one he forfeited the gifts in his cabinet. When they were all gone, the last of my love for him was gone too, and he died.’ Her eyes were moist. ‘As soon as he was gone, I loved him again and missed him dreadfully. As I shall love and miss you someday.’”
pg. 158
Now, I don’t think Addie’s codependence is anywhere near as malicious as Vollys. Vollys is aware of her actions and how they impact others, whereas Addie is not. Nevertheless, the results would’ve been the same had Addie done nothing. Meryl would’ve died, and Addie would’ve suffered intense loneliness and remorse.
Ultimately, the solution is for each sister to choose her own destiny, even if it means they must live separate lives. But each of them go forth with the hope they will one day be together again.
Final Thoughts
The last few years has seen a growing trend of reexamining our favorite stories. With changing values and sensitivities, we find the movies and books that defined our childhoods either stand the test of time or aged like milk. And with a renewed understanding of these stories, we’re each left with the question of whether we continue to carry them with us or leave them behind. In the case of Two Princesses of Bamarre, some aspects have aged well, and others not so much. It’s not the story readers might expect, and I can understand if this might put some people off. And yet, there’s still a lot to love about it, from its strong writing to themes we could learn from in our time. So if you’re the least bit curious, give it a read and see for yourself if this is your kind of fairy tale.