We’re all familiar with the classic tale Cinderella. As children, we immediately—and quite viscerally—loathe her wicked stepmother. But debut author Rachel Hochhauser wonders, what is so evil about a woman trying to secure futures for her daughters, in a world of limited options? Below, we discuss the complexities of the princess narrative, what makes for a great villain, and how her work constructing puzzles parallels her approach to writing.
Congratulations on your debut! Lady Tremaine revisits the classic Cinderella fairy tale through the eyes of her “wicked” stepmother. What drew you to this fairy tale? Was it your favorite growing up?
I really did love Cinderella growing up. The splendor!
But as I got older—especially once I became a mother myself—I started to look at the story differently. I began to notice it rewards beauty and passivity. And after a particularly challenging season of parenthood, I became increasingly curious about the woman cast as its villain. The stepmother was only trying to secure a future for her children in a world that doesn’t offer women many options. Why was she the monster? The book really began with that question. I just wanted to turn it slightly and see what happened when I gave the “wicked” stepmother the same interiority we so easily give the heroine.
You lay bare the many complexities of motherhood in your heroine, Ethel. Did writing Lady Tremaine impact the way you view your own motherhood journey?
My older daughter is four and a half and deep in a very committed princess phase. It’s been fascinating to bring a book into the world that gently interrogates the traditional princess narrative, while simultaneously living inside that narrative at home. (There are a lot of tiaras.)
But I don’t actually see those things as contradictory. If anything, writing Lady Tremaine has clarified what matters to me in my own motherhood. I’m less interested in dismantling my daughter’s love of princesses than I am in making sure she understands she has choices. She can pursue what delights her and be her own heroine, in whatever form pleases her.
Though you show us a new side to her, fairy tale lore has told us that Ethel is “evil.” What do you think makes for a great villain in literature?
I think it’s important to clarify that I didn’t write Lady Tremaine to vindicate or redeem a villain—because I never really felt she was a villain in the first place. There are certainly other characters in the book who function as “villains,” some in more traditional ways and others in more complex ones. To me, it’s the complex ones—the characters you can at least partially understand, even if you don’t agree with them—that feel most compelling. When you can see the logic behind someone’s actions, that’s when a character becomes interesting.
In addition to being a writer, you’re also the co-founder of a puzzle company! Would you equate your writing process at all to puzzling?
I have the pleasure of world-building in two different ways—through conceptualizing and constructing puzzles at Piecework, and through my writing. (I probably use puzzle metaphors and puns more often than the average person.) I hadn’t fully thought about it in those terms before, but I do tend to approach both in a similar way. When I work on a puzzle, I start with the edges and then move inward, section by section. My writing process isn’t so different. I begin with a rough sense of the outline and where I’m headed, and then I feel my way into it. (Also—I highly recommend listening to audiobooks while working on a puzzle. It is extraordinarily delightful.)
Lady Tremaine is richly performed by British actress Bessie Carter (Bridgerton). What was it like experiencing your own words in this medium, and what do you hope listeners take away from the experience?
Bessie did such a fantastic job. It was honestly a surreal experience listening to the audiobook for the first time. In many ways the words are intimately familiar to me—I lived with them for years—but hearing them performed allowed me to encounter them almost as an outsider. There were moments where I found myself surprised by emotional beats she uncovered, or by the way a line landed differently when spoken aloud.
I love how immersive this narration is. It heightens the atmosphere. I hope listeners feel drawn fully into the world, and perhaps even find themselves empathizing with a character they didn’t expect to. Or laughing aloud. If the performance invites people to listen more closely—which I think it does—then it’s done its job beautifully.
