LauraKenyon.com

When you think of fairy tales, do you immediately picture a handsome knight rescuing a gorgeous damsel, placing her gracefully atop his snowy white steed, and trotting off to their standing-room-only wedding by the sea? Do you think of epic stories in which good conquers all, true love never dies, and beauty (even if disguised at first) is the ultimate sign of virtue?

If so, you are in for a rude awakening (though not nearly as rude as the first Sleeping Beauty’s, as you’ll soon find out). That’s because many of the wholesome, Disney-fied fairy tales we know and love are actually hiding much darker pasts—pasts filled with sex, violence, and terrifyingly inventive ways to kill people. Put it this way: if your kids read the original tales before bedtime, you’ll be calming their screams until morning!

I stumbled upon these grisly origins while doing research for my “Desperately Ever After” book series, which takes our most beloved fairy tale characters and imagines what happened to them when the wedding bells stopped ringing. From Hans Christian Andersen to the Brothers Grimm, consider these the skeletons buried deep in the back of Walt Disney’s closet.

Fair warning: you may experience loss of innocence.

 

Forgiveness is for Wussies

While Charles Perrault was kind to Cinderella’s stepsisters, a quick flip through the Grimm brothers’ tale might indicate that they believed in a penal code known as “eye for a head.”

In their version of the story, the heroine’s stepsisters are so desperate to squeeze into the prince’s slipper that they hack off chunks of their oversized feet. Unfortunately for them, the pools of blood forming inside the heel give them away rather quickly.

Fine, you might say. That’s gross but it was by their own hand. Surely it makes up for all the horrible things they did to Cinderella as a child.

Perhaps. But this rags-to-riches darling saw things differently. This vengeful Cinderella wasn’t satisfied by maiming. So as her stepsisters hobble down the aisle at the wedding of the century (no doubt flabbergasted to have been invited in the first place), Jacob and Wilhelm’s Cinderella watches birds swoop down and peck out their eyes.

(My only question: Did this happen before or after the flower girl?)

But hey, at least she let them escape with their lives. On Snow White’s big day, the pure-of-heart princess forces her wicked mother (yes, biological mother in the original story), to dance in red-hot iron shoes until she falls down dead.

While the Grimms’ lessons may have been well intended (I mean, the queen did try to eat Snow White’s entrails), later storytellers opted for a more merciful approach. Walt Disney, for example, sent the evil queen tumbling off a cliff. And yes, he also erased the umbilical cord. Much more palatable.

 

Ravenous Rapunzel

It was more than just hair that Rapunzel let down in the Grimms’ 1812 tale of the girl locked in the tower.

The start of the story remains largely the same today, but when the original prince climbs up Rapunzel’s locks, he does a lot more than just talk. In fact, it is her burgeoning pregnant belly that tips the witch off to her secret romance! The brothers changed this in 1857 to make it a tad less scandalous. But they kept the lovely part about the prince being thrown from the tower and blinded by thorns. (Are you seeing a theme here?)

And Rapunzel wasn’t the only naughty one back in the day. In Charles Perrault’s 1697 version of “Little Red Riding Hood,” the wolf convinces Red to strip naked and climb into bed with him. Then he eats her. Alive.

Moral of the story: Premarital sex leads to agony and death. I wonder why that lesson didn’t endure.

 

The Suicidal Mermaid

I remember the first time I found out the real ending to Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid.”

I had been flipping through a friend’s book collection at her house when the truth clobbered me over the head like a dropped grand piano. I was instantly devastated, depressed, and livid. The mermaid I’d come to love hung around with a silly guppy, was named Ariel, and got hitched to Prince Eric at the end. They lived happily ever after. IT WAS A FACT.

At least, this is what I was supposed to believe as a kid.

The original story actually leaves our mermaid nameless, gives her zero marine friends, and turns the prince into an oblivious, insensitive fool. Not only does he not realize she’s in excruciating pain (each step feels like walking on knives, Andersen writes), but he leads her on and then marries someone else!

To save herself and go back to her former life, the mermaid must stab the prince to death…

But she can’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she lets the stinker live, leaps into the sea (sans fins), and turns into foam.

Years later, Andersen tries to dial down the depression by adding a reference to heaven—but it’s not the same as an ocean of merpeople reprising “Part of Your World” on Ariel’s wedding day.

 

Roofied in the Woods

In Disney’s 1959 “Sleeping Beauty,” Prince Phillip falls madly in love with Aurora before she becomes victim to a witch’s sleeping curse. The noble prince then goes to battle, machetes his way into the castle, and wakes his true love with a G-rated kiss. Squeaky clean, right?

Not so fast.

For one thing, it was impossible for the lovers to meet before locking lips in Perrault’s tale, because they were born centuries apart.

The same goes for the Grimm Brothers’ story, which always made me wonder: Cursed or not, what kind of woman would be happy to wake up covered in dust, in an unfamiliar century, with a strange man’s tongue down her throat? Or, more importantly, what kind of man would stumble upon a comatose woman on a bed and decide it was perfectly within his rights to kiss her?

According to Giambattista Basile, who penned one of the tale’s earliest renditions in 1634, a rapist. That’s who.

In his story, called “Sun, Moon, and Talia,” the princess wakes up not by true love’s kiss, but by one of the twin children she gave birth to (while comatose!) during her slumber. Turns out the king, having found her in the woods and being unable to rouse her, decided to have sex with her nonresponsive body rather than seek medical attention.

What’s more, he’s married. And when his wife finds out, she attempts to eat the princess and her twins. It’s okay though. The prince burns the ball-and-chain alive so he can be with his now-conscious Talia and their accidental progeny.

Later on, Perrault ditches the rape scene and turns the cannibalistic wife into the prince’s mother. Now that’s much better ,,, don’t you think?

 

Just the Tip of the Iceberg

When it comes to gruesome origins, “Sun, Moon, and Talia” addresses a lot—rape, cannibalism, violent revenge. But I haven’t even touched upon the fairy tales about the king who tries to marry his daughter (“The Princess in Disguise”); the man with a penchant for murdering his wives and stowing their bodies in his castle (“Bluebeard”); or the musician who leads dozens of children to a river so they can drown (“The Pied Piper”).

Nor did I mention that Rumplestiltskin initially tore himself in two pieces, or that a kiss wasn’t what initially turned the frog back into a prince (rather, the princess became so fed up with his refusal to accept “no means no” that she flung him into a wall).

Over the centuries, these tales have had a remarkable journey. Some have been scrubbed clean, some have fallen by the wayside, and some have taken on iconic stature within an everchanging world. Their continuing evolution at the hands of new storytellers is a testament to their original creators. As the author of a series that strives to pick up where their stories left off, I can’t thank them enough for their vision. And I can’t wait to see what comes next.

 

This article, written by Laura Kenyon, was originally published in InD’Tale Magazine, in April 2014.

Last September 11th, my daughter watched the 9/11 documentary, “Boatlift,” at her school.

She had been learning about the horrors of that day for several years, able to handle and comprehend more each time as veil of childhood innocence thinned beneath the weight of reality.

This time, rather than asking unanswerable questions like “Why?” and “How could people do that to each other?” she came home moved. She was inspired by how ordinary people became heroes that day, answering the call for help and coming together in the face of unimaginable tragedy.

She wanted to watch “Boatlift” again — to show me, as if I hadn’t already taken that journey. So we did. We cuddled together on the couch and cried in silence.

Only this time, my tears carried an extra weight as I contemplated why human beings so often need a tragedy of monumental proportions in order to help each other. In order to care for one another and extend a hand. In order to realize that differences are not reasons to attack each other. Being human is enough, and that humanity is worth saving.

On September 11, 2001, Americans went to sleep in a world that felt broken. That seemed unimaginable. A world with a shrouded future and anguish for the generation that would come next.

Today, 25 years after that horrific day, our babies are going to sleep in a world swelling with a similar feeling. Only this time, I fear that wave of unity and those ordinary-turned-extraordinary heroes will not emerge. I fear we are too divided, too intolerant, too individualistic to save each other. Too stubborn to protect our species and our planet. Too busy to realize nothing is guaranteed.

But because that sort of thinking accomplishes nothing, I will push beyond it. I will reach for the words and the lessons that help me breathe, and that I hope my children will take to heart. Because deep down, I want to believe the message is getting through and the boats will come. And I want them to believe that too.

*******

“For I can see that in the midst of death life persists, in the midst of untruth truth persists, in the midst of darkness light persists.”
– Mahatma Gandhi

“Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength.”
– Corrie Ten Boom

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can. Wisdom to know the difference”
– Serenity Prayer

There's been a lot of talk lately about how any piece of writing that includes the em dash must have been created by AI.

Even worse, I’ve heard that some writers are deliberately changing their style—removing the em dash—in order to avoid accusations. It’s a literary tragedy but from the wrong side of the page. 

Charles Dickens used em dashes. 
Shakespeare, Jane Austen, C.S. Lewis, and William Faulkner did too. 
Emily Dickinson used the em dash so often, in fact, that some people believe it was named after her.

Grab any random book from your bookshelf, flip a few pages, and you’ll see:
Life of Pi has em dashes.
Little Women has em dashes.
The Woman in Cabin 10 has em dashes.
Project Hail Mary has em dashes, as do all of Tolkien’s tales about Middle Earth.
Harry Potter—all of them—has em dashes.
My collection of beach reads—Jennifer Weiner, Elin Hilderbrand, and Emily Giffin, to name a few—is full of em dashes. And plenty of ellipses. (One has to wonder … could those be next?)

Writers, if we change our natural style each time AI mimics it, we’ll eventually have nothing left. 
No em dashes. 
No ellipses. 
Entire rhythms and tones and voices erased from human creation and replaced by an artificial intelligence that WE TAUGHT. 
Alliteration and hyperbole fading faster than you can blink. 
Simile swept away like a leaf in the wind. 
Perhaps we’ll finally settle the great serial comma debate … but only because IT picks a side. What an arbitrary, undignified, and anticlimactic way to die. 

And after each loss, we’ll be left wondering what’s next.

So stay strong, wordsmiths. Remain true to the natural flow of your fingertips on the keys and celebrate as your vision pours onto the page. It’s entirely on us if we let this next era alter the way we express our craft. Do NOT censor what feels right to you simply because AI uses it too. 

The em dash is just the first test of many. Let’s save it. It’s been good to us.

---

Final Note:
Writers, if you use AI for ANYTHING (decorating, counseling, research, etc), PLEASE adjust your settings so it doesn’t learn to write like you. Here are the instructions as collected via Google AI—straight from the source.
• ChatGPT: Settings → Data Controls → Improve Model for Everyone = OFF
• Gemini: Settings → Activity → Gemini Activity = OFF
• Copilot: Microsoft’s Copilot Privacy Settings → Data/Voice Logging = OFF
• LinkedIn: Settings & Privacy → Data Privacy → Data for Generative AI Improvement = OFF

I didn’t expect this to be one of the most powerful parenting tools. 

I simply wanted to watch something I enjoyed that was also appropriate for my preteen daughter. 

But watching Gilmore Girls together has opened the door to countless conversations I wouldn’t have known how to begin otherwise. 

Cuddled on the couch together (or at least side by side), we’ve talked about peer pressure, bullying, family expectations (from multiple points of view), friendships (both when they come and when they go), and all kinds of sticky situations. 

We’ve discussed when to say no, when to step outside your comfort zone, when to hold your ground, and boys. 

Yes, you read that right. My middle school daughter and I freely and easily chatted about boys — what to look for, what to question, and what should be an immediate red flag.

And we’re only on season 2.

The best part of all is that nothing feels like a lesson. The dialogue just flows. It’s not forced.

“Would you be okay with that?”
“Why’s he getting so upset?”
“Is that fair?”
“What do you think she should do?”
“I’m not sure how I’d handle that…”

And rather than getting embarrassed or walled off, she leans in. She cherishes our Gilmore Girls moments, relaxed and together, experiencing it all from an emotionally safe distance. 

It’s not about the show. It’s about letting something else start the conversation and us figuring things out as a team. Preparing for what might come up in our own lives, just with different packaging.

If you have a preteen or teen daughter… try it. You might be surprised what comes up.

Let’s Talk:
What’s something small that’s made a big difference in your parenting lately? 

When all of this is over, I wonder if the world will look back and see both the stumbles and the triumphs clearly. I wonder if, when we attempt to rewrite history with 20/20 hindsight, we wind up agonizing over missed opportunities … or celebrating the changes we made that improved everything going forward. 

I wonder if we’ll choose a path that lets this break us, estrange us, and split us apart. We may be tempted to boomerang back into our old ways and let 300,000+ lives be lost for nothing. We may want to stick our heads in the sand and let the carnage continue long after the virus is defeated. Or we may decide to see this as a turning point.

We can choose to learn from what we’ve experienced. We can choose to re-prioritize. We can choose to do what human beings do best and reinvent ourselves.

When all of this is over, we can turn reluctant adaptation into revolutionary innovation — innovation that, this time, doesn’t happen at the expense of our planet. Or our freedom. Or our ability to enjoy what’s truly important in life. This time, we can redefine the word “progress” to mean something that benefits us all — two-legged, four-legged, leafy and scaled alike.

There is a wonderful video going around by British poet “Probably Tom Foolery,” which looks back on the current pandemic and dubs it “The Great Realisation.” Obviously, this is oversimplified — glossing over all the death, the ruin, and the profound suffering caused by this virus. But it is prophetic and inspiring nonetheless.

No one is happy that Covid-19 is happening. But it is. It is clawing a defining line in the earth and daring us to cross back over. “The Great Realisation” spotlights an unprecedented opportunity to fix what was wrong before the world as we knew it shut down. 

As Clarence the angel said in the 1946 film “It’s a Wonderful Life,” it’s a rare gift to see how the world would look without us in it. Right now, we are being shown what our planet would be like without humanity — or at least without its unchecked air-polluting, garbage-dumping, oil-spilling, ocean-ravaging, wildlife-annihilating tendencies. It’s as if Mother Nature watched all of our toothless pontificating about climate change, grew tired of our worthless political bickering, could no longer stomach our blatant denial of reality … and decided enough was enough. No fair-minded person can deny how the atmosphere is improving, and wildlife is flourishing, and waterways are clearing while we’re in detention.

The question is do we listen? Or do we become that world-destroying species we’ve prophesied and demonized in so many science fiction sagas? Do we channel our inner cinematic villain and sweep everything we’ve seen under the rug?

Life after the pandemic will inevitably be different, no matter how we decide to move forward. We will adapt. We will survive. But when has that ever been humanity’s ultimate goal?

If hindsight is 20/20, then let 2020 be the year we defog our lenses, prepare for the future, and stop letting petty rivalries obscure what is right.

Does anyone here remember the phrase, “Be kind, rewind?” Do you recall a store called Blockbuster? Did you ever sprint towards a wall packed with new releases, stomach full of butterflies, only to find out there were no precious white boxes behind the glittering Hollywood covers? Do you remember when packing for vacation meant sorting through a knee-high pile of books — knowing the mood could strike for any one of them on your trip, but unwilling to lug all of them with you?

Friends, we truly do live in the age of convenience. And while it definitely goads me that my kids assume I should have access to every song, every movie, and every episode of any television show they want at a given moment … which often leads to us listening to “Frozen 2,” “Disney Junior Dance Party,’ and “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” two dozen times rather than succumbing to a good classic rock radio station (God forbid they hear a commercial) … it’s generally pretty awesome.

Bear in mind, I say all this as one of the last people of my generation to get:

• a smartphone (I refused for ages),
• a tablet (basically a big smartphone)
• a Kindle (after refusing to “disrespect” physical books for years, I received one as a gift and now don’t board a plane without it),
• a smart watch (I just recently agreed to “try it out”)
• Audible (still on my free trial month)

I say all this because I’m amazed at how different things are for my kids than they were for me. Fundamentally they are the same — they still want to watch tv after school, they still want their own music in the car, they still need constant entertainment at restaurants, waiting rooms, etc. But the way in which they achieve these things, and the declining rate at which they have to settle for something else, is so different. Can you imagine what would happen if they asked to watch “Frozen,” and I replied that I put a hold on it at the library and we could go pick it up in 4-6 weeks?

I guess it’s our job as parents to make sure they learn to compromise in this age of instant satisfaction. To make sure they still get dissatisfied once in a while, so they know how to cope.

 

My plan, several weeks ago, was to organize a casual Mother’s Day get-together with my siblings, buy the wine my mom said she liked last month, get her either the orchid or sweet mason jar arrangement I spotted during my always frantic errands, and have my kids draw something just for her.

Maybe, if all that panned out, I’d even have time to write a glowing but still private tribute to her on this blog. I would tell her how, now that I’m a mother, I’m ten million times more appreciative of how she kept all four of us alive each day … let alone fed us, took us to school, scheduled play dates, broke up our fights, cleaned up our vomit, nursed our wounds, kept us clothed (especially pre-online shopping!), read bedtime stories, helped with our homework, planned adventures, made us laugh, taught us values, tucked us into bed every night, and made sure we always knew we were loved. 

I’d also tell her how, now that I’m a mother, I don’t know how she did all that without someone like HER helping out. Because she still helps me so, so much. She is the strongest woman I know. I am so grateful to have her, and also grateful that my daughters have her now. 

So while the flowers didn’t quite work out as planned (blame: a witching hour toddler tantrum for the ages), and I couldn’t find the wine I wanted (blame: poor inventory and poor time management), I did manage a nice Saturday afternoon get-together at her house. And my toddler did come through with a beautiful crayon portrait of her and Grandma. These days, two out of four ain’t bad — and I know she understands that. 

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day :)

For all you moms and moms-to-be, may you enjoy as restful a Sunday as this role allows. It isn’t an easy one. The hours are ridiculous, there is no employee handbook or HR department to vent to, and the parameters shift every time you finally start to figure things out. But you can’t find a job with better perks anywhere, the rewards last a lifetime, and the memories will always make you smile.

The following video from Motherly draws on that point. It is absolutely beautiful, but be warned: you’ll need tissues.

 

Earlier this week, my daughter came home from school with a copy of Horton Hears a Who. She had borrowed it from her class lending library, which the students stock with their favorite books twice a year.

My first thought when I saw the bright orange cover and grinning elephant was, “Oh, she’s not going to like that.” For even though my brother was a Dr. Seuss fanatic … and even though I have marvelous childhood memories of Go, Dog, Go! … and even though The Lorax holds a place of honor in this house … I don’t remember liking Horton very much as a child. Perhaps the kangaroo and her minions were just too cruel. Perhaps the thought of boiling an entire civilization in oil was too disturbing.

Or perhaps I disliked Horton simply because it wasn’t the “fun” side Dr. Seuss. There was no dog party, no hopping on pop, no goo-goo goggles, and not one single hat-donning cat. It was serious. It was Shakespeare’s Othello for someone expecting A Midsummer Night’s Dream. And I wasn’t old enough to make the wider world connections at that point.

But as I read it to my daughter over a breakfast of eggs and gluten-free pancakes, something unexpected happened. After a week of anger and fear and depression over yet another school shooting, I felt my spirit begin to rise. After a flurry of futile cries for change over social media, a dozen conversations with other anxious moms, and several moments of frustration doubting I could ever make a difference, I began to have some hope. Here was a book written almost 64 years ago, telling me that EVERY voice counts … telling me that you don’t have to be the mouthpiece to make a difference. You don’t have to be the mayor or the marching band beating kettles and pans.

In this case, all Who-vile needed to finally make itself heard, to convince the headstrong kangaroo and her toadies that they were real, was a tiny boy with a yo-yo … who at the last moment added a “Yopp!” to the other Who’s cries.

And that Yopp…
That one, small, extra Yopp put it over!
Finally, at last! From that speck on that clover.
Their voices were heard! They rang out clear and clean,
And the elephant smiled. “Do you see what I mean?…
They’ve proved they ARE persons, no matter how small.
And their whole world was saved by the Smallest of All!”

It’s the sort of message I think we all need to hear right now. Right now … and the next time an issue grabs us by the heartstrings and won’t let go. Because, you know, there’s always something. Even if we somehow eradicate these current storm clouds, there are always more.

My little girl liked the story too. She really seemed to care about the people on the dust speck. I could see the concern in her eyes when the vulture carried it away, and her dismay at everyone else’s cruelty. It’s probably a good thing that she, like me at that age, didn’t truly understand the larger meaning. But I’ll continue reading it to her over the years. Maybe someday her spirit will need lifting too, and this story will help.

I’ve learned a lot about parenthood over the past almost-four years. One is that children understand a heck of a lot more than we give them credit for at even the youngest age. Another is that while there are thousands of books out there that teach our kids about letters, numbers, colors, etc., there are very few that teach them how to be good people — at least not in a way that engages them.

(I’ve been working on a future post about the children’s books that have stood out for me and my girls. You can check back for that later or follow this blog for upload alerts. There are also some great recommendations at Filling Baby’s Bookshelf, run by a fabulous friend and mother of two.)

Little Jo-Jo’s “Yopp!” is just one of the countless wonderful, engaging messages in Dr. Seuss’s books — maybe not Hop on Pop and Mr. Brown Can Moo, but can you think of a better way to prime children to care for our planet than by reading The Lorax?

So today, on what would have been Theodor Seuss Geisel’s 114th birthday, I want to thank Dr. Seuss for teaching us how to laugh, how to imagine, and how to stand up for what really matters in this world.

 

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”
~ The Lorax

.

“A person’s a person, no matter how small.”

“I’ve got to protect them. I’m bigger than they.”

“So, open your mouth, lad. For every voice counts!” 

~ Horton Hears a Who

 

“I know, up on top you are seeing great sights, but down here at the bottom we, too, should have rights.”
~ Yertle the Turtle

.

“If things start happening, don’t worry, don’t stew, just go right along and you’ll start happening too.” 

“Step with care and great tact, and remember that life’s a great balancing act.”

“Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you.” 

~ Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

 

“The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.”
~ I Can Read With My Eyes Shut!

 

“Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the things you can think up if only you try!”
~ Oh, the Thinks You Can Think!

 

“I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny, but we can have lots of good fun that is funny.”
~ The Cat in the Hat
(a lesson I’d love my kids to learn)

 

Photo copyright: http://www.123rf.com/profile_evgenyatamanenko

A few weeks ago, I somehow found myself stuck on the couch with nothing in reach but my phone and the TV remote. (Nursing moms will understand this.) Ordinarily at a time like this, I’d wind up losing myself on the web, clicking on news stories I shouldn’t, and filling online carts I’d never actually check out.

But this night, I told myself I deserved a break. I deserved to get lost in a good movie … but not one that required too much attention. What I wanted was something familiar, something that would make me smile, something that would take my worries far away and keep me company like an old friend. So scrolled down to “Leap Year” and spent the next two hours with Amy Adams, Matthew Goode, and a countryside full of jaunty Irish brogues. 

We all could use that sort of mental escape every so often. It’s like visiting a spa that works on your psyche instead of your pores. So this Valentine’s Day, I’m posting a list of the top romantic movies I could watch over and over. (In other words, while I think “An Affair to Remember” is a fantastic movie, it’s a little too heavy for this list.)

Please feel free to leave comments below. I’d love to hear what you think.

Happy Valentine’s Day :)

LEAP YEAR

This is one of those typical girl meets boy, boy and girl hate each other, boy and girl fall in love deals. But the humor and the actors make it so much more than that. Seeing the Irish countryside is an added bonus.

LOVE ACTUALLY

I can’t let a single Christmas pass without watching Love Actually. It shows love in almost every situation imaginable. And unlike the vast majority of ensemble movies, you’ll never forget this one.

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING

I still remember the first time I saw this movie. I was in Cape Cod with my cousin, and the theater somehow managed to stretch the film so that it looked as if John Goodman was playing Sandra Bullock’s body double. But I’ve loved both her and Bill Pullman for decades, and am pretty sure it’s a love that will last a lifetime.

CRAZY, STUPID, LOVE

This is one of those romantic comedies that completely reinvents the genre. It’s poignant, hilarious, sexy … and even my husband likes it!

WHEN IN ROME

There’s something about Kristen Bell that I just adore. She seems like the sort of girl I’d love to hit the town with, which is part of the reason I pegged her to play Desperately Ever After’s version of Cinderella in my “dream cast.” This movie is just nonstop fun, with romance and even a little bit of magic tossed in.

THE NOTEBOOK

I really don’t think there’s anything I can say that will do this movie justice. Best tearjerker, inspirational, romantic, gut-churning romance film ever.

COUPLES RETREAT

If you’re more in the mood for full-on hilarity than sweet romance, this is your best bet. One word: “Boom.”

UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN

A newly divorced writer moves to Tuscany on a whim and falls in love with the people, the countryside, and her own inner transformation. This is what the Hollywood version of “Eat Pray Love” should have been. A beautiful movie on all counts.

PRETTY IN PINK

If you’re over thirty and haven’t seen this, you’re doing your generation a disservice. If you’re under thirty, vintage is cool so rent it. I still get goosebumps anytime I hear OMD’s “If You Leave.”

50 FIRST DATES

We all know that love is work. But what if your significant other woke up every single morning with no memory of you or what you’ve shared? This Adam Sandler/Drew Barrymore film is so funny, yet so sweet and thought-provoking at the same time.

27 DRESSES

Always, always, always a bridesmaid but never a bride. This pick was heavily influenced by the appearance of James Marsden. But it is cute even without him.

NOTTING HILL

I hesitated adding this because it’s so cliché, but then I remembered: “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.” Sigh. Plus, for all of his faults, I still love watching Hugh Grant.