tim wynne jones

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A masterpost of YA books (and a few crossover MG titles) to be released in October 2015. Check out this month’s new releases below. Feel free to use this as a guide to this month’s releases, but please do not repost it in its entirety elsewhere. If you found this masterpost helpful, a like, reblog, or link back to Paperback’d would be much appreciated! If you know of a YA book to be released this month that isn’t on the list, drop me a message and I’ll update it!

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He told a tale that was nothing less than the tale of the wicked chambermaid and the humble princess— “The Goose Girl.” He addressed such a story, as will a clever storyteller, to the entire assembly and yet to one listener particularly.

“Can you imagine!” my father said, as he finished his tale. “How does one punish such a she-devil?”

“Why she should be forced to live with the prince,” suggested a droll friend of the court, winking at me as he said it. This sparked several other witty remarks, which the king took in good humor. But I could see by the set of his jaw that he had not set this trap for it to be sprung by a stick. The princess took a drink at this point. She had not touched a drop all evening to that point. Now she clutched her goblet and dared not look up. I contemplated a disruption: flipping over a table, picking a fight with one of the courtiers, hurling a torch at one of the tapestries, yelling “Fire! Fire!” and clearing the place. It was then, perhaps as a response to the fire in my eyes, that the false bride glanced at me. Cool. Full of herself.

“She deserves nothing better,” she said, “than to be stripped completely naked and put inside a barrel studded with sharp nails. Then two white horses should be harnessed to the barrel and made to drag her through the streets until she’s dead.”

And here the crone’s story heaves quite close to the truth of the thing, missing only in one critical detail, a glance in my direction from my false beauty. For me that glance corresponds to the eighth station of the cross of our dear Lord’s march to Calvary: “He tells the women of Jerusalem not to weep for him.” Her glance was to warn me that she knew what was happening—that I must not interfere nor must I weep.

The true princess choked on her wine at this moment and had to be slapped firmly on the back. That is not recorded in the popular telling. Nor is the voice of the false bride as she related what was to be her own death sentence. Unbelievably seductive. I think there was not a man in the room who didn’t imagine for one horrible moment that he might share such a barrel with this virago.

“You’re the woman,” said the king, “and you’ve pronounced your own sentence.”

—  “The Goose Girl,” Tim Wynne-Jones