Erika Johansen on Finding the Dark Heart of The Nutcracker In The Kingdom of Sweets

The Nutcracker is a staple of the holiday season, the story Christmas Eve party that sees a young girl receive a magical gift from her mysterious godfather that eventually comes to life, transporting her to a fantastical realm of candy presided over by the Sugar Plum Fairy. Full of beautiful music and colorful characters, it’s not a particularly dark or foreboding tale. This precisely makes Erika Johansen’s The Kingdom of Sweets such a delicious and unexpected treat. 

The novel, set in nineteenth century Russia, follows the story of twins Clara and Natasha, cursed and blessed in equal measure by their mysterious godfather, Drosselmeyer as vessels of Light and Dark, which has kept them at odds most of our lives. And when the fateful events of that infamous Christmas party see them both journey to the realm of the Sugar Plum Fairy, a deceptively beautiful world whose candy-coated shine masks dark, foul edges, their lives—and their relationship—will never be the same. 

We got the chance to chat with Johansen about her feelings about the original story, the relationship between Clara and Natasha, and the Sugar Plum fairy as an avatar of vengeance.

Paste Magazine: Tell us about The Kingdom of Sweets! I have to admit I’d never thought that “dark retelling of The Nutcracker” was something I wanted, but it turned out I really did! What made you want to reexamine this classic in this way?

Erika Johansen: I wanted to re-examine The Nutcracker because I used to love the watching the ballet as a child, but somewhere around the age of fifteen or so I realized I had come to hate it, for reasons I never quite understood.

 I still love to listen to the score, but I can barely sit through a performance, and when something darkens that drastically in your own mind, as a writer you want to take a look at it. So when I needed a break from the Tearling, I turned to The Nutcracker. 

Paste: Where did the inspiration for including Natasha—-Clara’s dark twin, the girl who sees things others ignore, the one who’s always passed over—come from? 

Johansen: Well, Natasha is basically my sad adolescent self, and so naturally she shows up a lot in my writing. I put her into this story, however, because part of what upset me so much the last time I sat through The Nutcracker was a sense of deep inequality. Once you look, it’s everywhere in the ballet (if perhaps dependent on the production). 

A velvet-clad Drosselmeyer carries his load of presents past poor children begging in the snow-filled street. He gives them a coin, and moves along. Clara pirouettes around showing off her nutcracker in front of a bunch of children on the sofa who, in the productions I saw, got two or three pretty weak presents to share among them. Then she gets a sleigh ride through an enchanted kingdom while all of its residents dance for her amusement. Dream or no, what makes Clara so damn special? It’s a lot to read into a child’s fantasy, certainly, but once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it. A sister of at least equal worth but much deflated value seemed the best way to explore that inequality.

Paste: Clara and Natasha have such a complicated relationship, and it touches on everything from sibling rivalry to pure jealousy and even the limitations placed on women’s choices in this time period. It’s so easy to feel sympathy for them both at various points, given the constraints of the world around them. What was most interesting—or most difficult—about exploring their sisterhood?

 Johansen: Exploring it at all. I’ve never had a sister anywhere near my own age, and that relationship is completely foreign to me. All I know about it is from reading books and seeing films that featured sisters. 

So my take on it is the best I could produce, but probably nowhere close to the real thing. I think the characterization is stronger when their relationship is less about sibling rivalry or petty jealousies and more about their relative levels of moral courage, or the lack thereof.

Paste: During the holiday season, The Nutcracker is often presented as this sort of ideal Christmas story. But this book has some seriously disconcerting elements, even before you get to the realm of the Sugar Plum Fairy (Drosselmeyer’s pack of young hooligans, Mrs. Stahlbaum’s laudanum addiction, poor Fritz). How did you find a balance between honoring the original and finding the darkness in it?

Johansen: Truth be told, I wasn’t terribly interested in honoring the original. I was drawn to the idea of writing a novel that looked like The Nutcracker, but hid a horror story inside. 

So nothing that seems fanciful in the ballet is without a darker provenance in my imagining. The Kingdom of Sweets is one big lure; Clara’s parents put on a jolly front while they’re both consumed with their own vices; and Drosselmeyer…well, he’s a godfather, certainly, but not a kindly one.

Paste: The idea of vengeance — what it means, whether or not we should seek it, what it ultimately looks like — seems like such a big part of this book. Tell me a little bit about how you see those themes in this story. 

 Johansen: When we’re young, many of us are very hotheaded, and vengeance seems like its own reward when we’ve been wronged. It’s only as I’ve grown older that I’ve come to understand how truly worthless vengeance is; vengeance looks backward, while the only way we grow, as both individual and species, is by looking forward.

I wanted to take a look at the way vengeance can morph as we mature, losing its value when we learn that there are more important things than the slights of our youth. 

Paste: Turns out I’m obsessed with this take on the Sugar Plum Fairy! Tell us a bit about how you came up with this version, which seems so… I don’t know, monstrous but also not entirely always wrong? (She’s certainly got Conrad—and men like him—pegged.)

Johansen: Since I wanted to look at the concept of vengeance, I decided I needed a creature who personified vengeance, as opposed to justice. 

The Sugar Plum Fairy has a concept of justice that might appeal to some, but hers is a merciless justice, bound by blind adherence to the idea that someone must always pay, even if it accomplishes nothing. Again, I don’t believe this is the way for our society to move forward. 

Paste: I’m also fascinated by the larger class struggle at work in this story — its constant focus on haves versus have-nots, and how people like Conrad and his family treat the least among us. Why did you find that such an important element to include? 

Johansen: It wasn’t really a choice. Social inequality plays big in all my work; I’m more or less helpless to keep it out. I simply can’t believe that in a world where we’ve launched the Webb telescope and traveled to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, some of us still can’t figure out how to be decent to each other and focus on the greater good.

I’m no scientist, obviously, but the latter seems like it should be easier than the former, not more difficult. Yet here we still sit, moving in the wrong direction. Until that changes, I’m guessing I will always write about it.

Paste: The Kingdom of Sweets is a pretty big swerve from your Queen of the Tearling series (which I adored, by the way). How was writing this kind of story different (or harder?) for you?

Both easier and harder, really. Kelsea was a very easy heroine for me to write, and since I moved away from her, I’ve had to almost re-learn the art of character development. The Tearling, too, is a world that I know well, and I’m not sure I’m quite as comfortable anywhere else.

Paste: And my favorite question, always, what are you reading and writing right now? Do you read a lot of fantasy or are you drawn to other genres since you write in this one?

 Johansen: I read very little fantasy. I like horror fiction best, and while I can’t say for sure, I’m guessing that after dipping my toes in with The Kingdom of Sweets, my next move is a full dive straight in. So I’ve been brushing up on old favorites. Right now I’m re-reading Robert McCammon’s Stinger and Joe Hill’s Heart-Shaped Box.

Lacy Baugher Milas is the Books Editor at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter @LacyMB