I had a morbid fascination with fairy tales as a child. This was because those sorts of traditional stories that started out as oral narratives frequently featured death and abuse and torture. In the original Hansel and Gretel their parents want to abandon the two children in the woods and happily do so, and in the original Rapunzel she gets knocked up by her visiting prince, the one who climbed up her hair every night. I’m sure I didn’t focus on the romantic elements of the stories, because why would you when there are children killing and being killed, and rules being broken? My book of fairy tales was a reproduction of a collection from the early 20th century, with old-fashioned typesetting and a black and white line drawing of a witch pushing a beautiful girl into the sea on the cover, and I’m sure I thought it was imbued with some sort of unearthly power.