Saara El-Arifi on the Fae in Fiction

I was fourteen when I first read A Midsummer’s Night Dream. The task wasn’t without purpose, I was auditioning for the part of Puck, the fairy trickster, in my first school play—needless to say, I was cast as one of the labourers whose comic relief gives you the slightest indication of what my teachers thought of my rendition. But in those hopeful moments of my audition, as I pranced across the laminate floor in well-worn ankle socks and passionately declared I was a ‘merry wanderer of the night’ (2.1.44), I felt fae magic for the first time. 

Fae—fairies, faeries, fey or fair folk—have a rich history within literature and oral storytelling. Whether we look to the West, East, North or South, the fae have endured through centuries of lore to be resurrected time and time again in the imaginations of people across the world. 

It is believed that the first recorded mention of the fae is in Homer’s Iliad in 8th Century BCE, where he proclaims ‘the watery fairies dance in mazy rings’ (XXIV). And it is certainly true that the fae, often called nymphs, featured in Ancient Greek literature. But it is my belief that there is no singular originator of the fae. There are too many renditions whose roots are unrecorded and go deeper than we can fathom, though their characteristics remain the same.

Take the Yumboes of the Wolof people of Senegal. Standing at two feet tall, they are spirits of the dead who lived under hills. The creatures are known for their revelry under moonlight and elaborate feasts. An alternative name for them is Bakhna Rahkna which translates as ‘good people’. Nearly three thousand miles away in Ireland, we encounter another version of the fae who lived under hills, the daoine maithe, which also translates as ‘good people’. Already you can begin to see the fine threads of fae magic that weave across cultures.

Now we go to colder climates, to the north, where the breadth of Norse mythology has had a significant impact on many novels, one in particular I think you will have heard of: The Lord of the Rings. Ljósálfar and Dökkálfar, known as Light Elves and Dark Elves respectively, were creatures first recorded in the Prose Edda, a text of compiled oral stories and histories written in the 13th century. These beings, or Alfr (Elf), are generally acknowledged to be a version of fae, whose traits went on to inspire Tolkien’s rendition of elves who are fair, gentle and graceful. But fair of skin they do not have to be. As we divert south once more to 13th Century Persia we find the first recorded mention of parī, winged creatures with magic and immense beauty, who serve the fairy-king.  

Though I could continue to traverse the waters of fae myths from continent to continent, we would all be here a long time. From the Aziza fairies of Benin to the Seelie Courts of Scotland, there are hundreds, probably thousands more versions of the fae. But what is it about the fae that has fascinated us for so long? Why is it that they have found their way time and time again into the hearts of readers?

The diversity of the creature has a lot to do with it. Though I have sought to connect the threads of characteristics throughout history, the fae are always slightly different wherever you look—and I think that’s true for their rendition in novels. The wealth of mythology at an author’s fingertips is so vast that each version of the fae has the potential to be fresh and new. That was certainly my aim when I started writing Faebound, I used my own heritage as a road map to create the fae of my world. 

But it is not just the differences that make fae so intriguing, but the similarities. They are familiar, comforting in their etherealness, recognisable from their allure. In recent years there is also an expectation of romanticism, a trait paved by authors such as Sarah J Maas, Holly Black, Raven Kennedy and even Tolkien (come on, we can’t forget the original fae ship of Aragon and Arwen). And as the romantasy genre continues to grow, I can’t wait to see the diversity of the fae genre continue to grow with it. 

Finally, the last and most intangible aspect of the fae that I think has encouraged their enduring popularity is the magic they bestow on readers’ hearts. It is the breadth of their legacy across millennia that has imbued the creatures with such magic on the page. And like the fourteen-year-old me, prancing across the dusty drama room floor, I glory in that feeling of enchantment, and seek to invoke the same for readers who delve into the world of Faebound.