The Fairytale Feminista
Answering life’s questions one fairy tale at a time.
A Fairy Godmother's Inner Life
When I first saw the Disney version of Cinderella, I was more interested in the Fairy Godmother than the girl who called her.
Let me quickly say, I have nothing against Cinderella. I know there’s a strong campaign out there against fairy tales in general because the romances are problematic. I think of them as more allegorical instead of aspirational. It’s how I’ve been able to write a blog called Fairytale Feminista without feeling my feminism is in any way questionable.
When I first saw the Disney version of Cinderella, I was more interested in the Fairy Godmother than the girl who called her.
Let me quickly say, I have nothing against Cinderella. I know there’s a strong campaign out there against fairy tales in general because the romances are problematic. I think of them as more allegorical instead of aspirational. It’s how I’ve been able to write a blog called Fairytale Feminista without feeling my feminism is in any way questionable.
To return to the purpose of this post, I wanted to know what happened to the Fairy Godmother (I’m capitalizing her title because she didn’t have a name) after she sent Cinderella off to the ball. Or what about the three fairies that kept Aurora, the Sleeping Beauty, safe in the forest for all those years? Or the old man in the Golden Goose, for that matter, who told the Simpleton where to find his prize?
Photo by Cibele Bergamim on Pexels.com
We never learn more about the helpers in fairy tales. Whether the stories give them credit or not, the helpers are the reason many protagonists are able to realize their dreams. And yet we see them come into the story and just as quickly retreat from it. Movies and books seem obsessed with the inner workings of the villain. Where’s the interest in the secondary or tertiary characters who move the story?
Who would you like to see from fairy tales turned into a story? Are there any you can recommend?
In the meantime, they say you should write the book you think is missing from the shelves. Stay tuned!
Food & Fairy Tales
With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I started to think about the relationship of food and fairy tales. Just a cursory look is a mixed bag. Food is a weapon, a threat, transportation, or an opportunity to change your life, just to name a few.
In Snow White, the evil queen’s last-ditch effort to rid herself of her stepdaughter is an apple. A poisoned apple. Hansel and Gretel is probably the scariest of the food references. After being abandoned by their father and mother, they come to a home made of candy and gingerbread only to be trapped by the witch inside who eats children!
With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I started to think about the relationship of food and fairy tales. Just a cursory look is a mixed bag. Food is a weapon, a threat, transportation, or an opportunity to change your life, just to name a few.
In Snow White, the evil queen’s last-ditch effort to rid herself of her stepdaughter is an apple. A poisoned apple. Hansel and Gretel is probably the scariest of the food references. After being abandoned by their father and mother, they come to a home made of candy and gingerbread only to be trapped by the witch inside who eats children!
Cinderella needed a way to get to the prince’s ball and her fairy godmother created a carriage from a golden pumpkin. She also makes footmen and coachmen from various crawling animals. (Who knew there were lizards in France?) The Golden Goose never would have happened if Dummling (the youngest son) hadn’t shared his burnt biscuit and soured ale with a stranger, who used magic to improve the meal and find a gold egg laying goose for the generous young man.
So what do we learn about food in fairy tales? Strangers offering food are suspect, but strangers willing to share your food might be magical. Gourds aren’t just for pie or cornucopias. And never, ever, eat someone’s house without expecting a hefty bill. Don’t know if these are rules to live by, but they’re a good starting point.
Happy Thanksgiving!
New Project (Old Fairy Tale, New Tricks)
Sometimes I think about how it must have been to be Cinderella. Not the evil step-family and abuse part. Afterward. She met a prince. He married her and brought her back to his palace.
Then what?
It must have been an uncomfortable transition. She went from being a slave to a princess. Did she worry she wasn’t up for the challenge? Did she fall into familiar patterns and start mopping the floor or scouring pots with the scullery maid?
Sometimes I think about how it must have been to be Cinderella. Not the evil step-family and abuse part. Afterward. She met a prince. He married her and brought her back to his palace.
Then what?
It must have been an uncomfortable transition. She went from being a slave to a princess. Did she worry she wasn’t up for the challenge? Did she fall into familiar patterns and start mopping the floor or scouring pots with the scullery maid?
Did she ever take back her original name?
What about the servants? Did they treat her well or did they whisper behind her back that she wasn’t worthy of the role? Help her ease in or play mean tricks?
And she wasn’t the only one. How did Snow White, the Valiant Tailor, or even the boy with the golden goose?
I think about these things when I’m trying something new. A little over a year ago I published the last installment of my Enchanted Path series and since then I’ve worked on 3 different projects to release at least one or two <fingers-crossed> sometime next year. While all are in the fantasy genre, they’re in new subgenres—untried, untested.
I know the correlation isn’t immediately obvious, but each new story feels like a new life as an author. Will it work out? Is this the one that makes a breakthrough? Or will the metaphorical servants put me in my place? That sounds melodramatic, but it makes it no less true.
Fairy tales teach us, among other things, that taking a risk offers the chance at a happily ever after. So, I continue to work on my new ideas.
How about you? Anything new as the year comes to a close?
The First Story
While we have no concrete evidence, it’s safe to assume that the first story told was a warning from one homo sapien to another.
“Hey, in a time before now, I went in that direction with a hunting party and something with teeth and claws ate half of them. Be careful.”
While we have no concrete evidence, it’s safe to assume that the first story told was a warning from one homo sapien to another.
“Hey, in a time before now, I went in that direction with a hunting party and something with teeth and claws ate half of them. Be careful.”
But we are a race of curious adventurers. We’d have to be considering we saw things like lobsters, potatoes and prickly pears and said, “Let’s eat it.” So, of course whoever heard that story went in that very direction and confronted the clawed, toothed animal wanting to know what it was and if he, or she, could have a better outcome. We don’t know the end of that story, but we’re here so more than one somebody survived and continued the race.
Then what about fairy tales? More than a few are warning stories—be careful in the woods, stranger danger—but just as many, if not more, are about behavior. Would Cinderella have gotten a fairy godmother assist if she’d been pill? Could Jack have gotten away with the golden goose and magic harp if he hadn’t done a good turn for a stranger and had a hungry mother at home?
Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay
Fairy tales warn and assure us that virtuous behavior will, eventually, be rewarded. It also gives hope to people in dire circumstances that anyone can change their fortunes (and maybe become royalty). It’s an idea that gives me comfort when the world isn’t friendly.
Lives in Hyperbole
In real life, Cinderella would have slipped laxatives into her stepmother and step sisters’ morning tea or packed a bag for the next village. The youngest son in The Golden Goose would have refused to go chopped wood after his two older brothers had maimed themselves. Sleeping Beauty would have heard gossip which invariably went around the castle to find out why no one sowed. The brave little tailor would have killed the flies and then saved it as a fun story the next time he went to the tavern. The Three Little Pigs (putting aside anthropomorphized pigs) would have lived together in a brick house they could have built in half the time and avoided the wolf.
In real life, Cinderella would have slipped laxatives into her stepmother and step sisters’ morning tea or packed a bag for the next village. The youngest son in The Golden Goose would have refused to go chopped wood after his two older brothers had maimed themselves. Sleeping Beauty would have heard gossip which invariably went around the castle to find out why no one sowed. The brave little tailor would have killed the flies and then saved it as a fun story the next time he went to the tavern. The Three Little Pigs (putting aside anthropomorphized pigs) would have lived together in a brick house they could have built in half the time and avoided the wolf.
None of that happened because fairy tales live in hyperbole. Maidens aren’t pretty, they are rare jewels. Boys aren’t just resourceful, they luck into whole new lives. Queens are evil or destined to die (or both). Kings give away their daughters to anyone who can solve a riddle or kill a giant. And I accept that in fairy tales because the format is short story, and it must convey its message in a clear and concise way. Archetypes are helpful in short stories.
Lately I’ve been abandoning books that employ archetypes. While I’m fine with Cinderella having a martyr complex for most of the story knowing she’ll get out of her situation, I am less tolerant of novel-length stories about martyrs who constantly make themselves smaller and artificially unobtrusive. I know why the youngest son (the simpleton) had to go and chop wood, but if a story revolves around a protag that falls into danger every time he leaves the house, I’m annoyed. Keeping the secret of Sleeping Beauty’s (the innocent) calamitous christening is a major plot point, but if not sharing a vital piece of information continually causes problems in a book, I become frustrated.
I think I accept archetypes in short stories because I don’t expect characters to grow or have a real arc. That isn’t true in full-length novels, especially a series. I’ve abandoned books and TV shows for just that reason. Fairy tales need a short hand to convey ideas that just doesn’t work in longer stories.
Are there plots or characters you can only enjoy in the short term?
Universal Fairy Tale Care
The other day my daughter said something that caught me completely off guard. We were watching A Tale Dark and Grimm on Netflix (which if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend) and there was a reference to Rumpelstiltskin. She turned to me and asked who Rumpelstiltskin was.
Reader, I was flabbergasted!
The other day my daughter said something that caught me completely off guard. We were watching A Tale Dark and Grimm on Netflix (which if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend) and there was a reference to Rumpelstiltskin. She turned to me and asked who Rumpelstiltskin was.
Reader, I was flabbergasted!
How could it be that my child didn’t know a seminal character from fairy tales? I remember reading the story, among others, to her when she was little. It was the story that started my Fairytale Feminista journey asking the question where fairy tales fit in modern storytelling and life. Where did I go wrong?
It really got me thinking about universality and storytelling. When I was a kid, my friends and I basically watched the same shows, read the same books, and went to the same movies. We had common reference points to communicate with each other. We all knew what it meant when you said, “I feel like Cinderella” or “I’m looking for my Prince Charming”. Now, everyone can have follow a sub-sub-genre of anything that caters to seemingly an audience of a hundred, a dozen, or even less. With all these “curated media experiences” we’ve lost something connective.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s wonderful and amazing that we’ve expanded the lexicon of storytelling by adding more people and experiences that were otherwise lacking (read: European and patriarchal to diverse in all senses of the word). I am happy that I finally see myself in some of my favorite genres. I also miss talking about a book I’m reading with friends and family because they’ve never heard of it.
What does this mean for something as arcane as fairy tales? Will their origins get lost or will the entire genre simply disappear? I know it’s not a dire threat, what with Disney and fairy tale retellings, but even that might one day lose its appeal.
In the meantime, I will continue to watch A Tale Dark and Grimm and fill in any gaps in what I consider a vital education for my daughter. Wish me luck!
Reader, do you think there are still universal stories or should we let go of that idea all together?
The List
Romantic comedies (and any romance genre for that matter) are our modern-day equivalent of fairy tales. At least the “girl-finds-a-prince or the boy-is-given-a-princess-type” fairy tale. It has a discernable formula—two people meet, they fall in love, an obstacle separates them (and according to Hallmark movies, that’s at the hour and thirty mark), and then all hurts are mended to a happily ever after conclusion—and often used devices. One of the most used is the List.
Romantic comedies (and any romance genre for that matter) are our modern-day equivalent of fairy tales. At least the “girl-finds-a-prince or the boy-is-given-a-princess-type” fairy tale. It has a discernable formula—two people meet, they fall in love, an obstacle separates them (and according to Hallmark movies, that’s at the hour and thirty mark), and then all hurts are mended to a happily ever after conclusion—and often used devices. One of the most used is the List.
You know what I’m talking about.
My first conscious awareness of it was as a kid watching When Harry Met Sally
One character, typically the guy, but I’ve seen some good lady lists too, enumerates all the reasons they can’t picture life without the other one. The one with the list always seems angry and frustrated to have to relate the list. The profess-ee stands, usually with tear-brightened eyes, in bewilderment. I’ve seen this done well and…not so well. Even so, I think it’s something that is glaringly absent from more traditional fairy tales.
Prince to Cinderella
“I think it’s adorable that cleaning products make you twitchy and you insist on going around barefoot.”
Prince Charming to Snow White
“No one eats apple pie quite like you.”
Prince to Rapunzel
“I love how grounded you are even though you live in a tower.”
If you’re thinking those aren’t really lists, you’re right. I think it’s what keeps the romance out of fairy tales. Relationships are transactional and haphazard. It's like marrying the firefighter who rescued you from a burning building when thanks (albeit profound) and maybe baked goods would do the trick. I suspect if either party were pressed for specifics about why they were together, the reasons would be unsatisfying.
Why do I bring this up? I suppose the breezy offerings at this time of year for books, movies, television and even music. Some tropes are admittedly overused, but some are as welcome as a cool breeze on a summer day. And it led me to wonder, where do fairy tales fit in? My conclusion: they don’t—at least not in a way that makes me want to use them as a romantic ideal.
To Warn or Not to Warn
To Warn or Not to Warn...that is the question.
One of the reasons we read fairy tales is to be transported in a predictable way. Yes, it’s all fantastical, but there are big neon sign type clues that tell you it’s coming. If you save a golden fish in a lake, you better believe it’s going to get you wishes. If a fairy godmother comes with a dress for the ball, you’re going to catch a prince’s eye. And if some rando takes your broken-down old cow and gives you beans, your garden is not getting basic wildflowers.
To Warn or Not to Warn...that is the question.
One of the reasons we read fairy tales is to be transported in a predictable way. Yes, it’s all fantastical, but there are big neon sign type clues that tell you it’s coming. If you save a golden fish in a lake, you better believe it’s going to get you wishes. If a fairy godmother comes with a dress for the ball, you’re going to catch a prince’s eye. And if some rando takes your broken-down old cow and gives you beans, your garden is not getting basic wildflowers.
But would you want to know that the story contains economic hardship, foot mutilation or the dismemberment of a giant? Does it effect the experience? Admittedly fairy tales are rarely read once, so you already know what you’re getting by the first reread. I call that the Shakespeare clause. You don’t read Shakespeare for the ending—he lays that out at the beginning—you read it for the language and the twists of the plot. Unless it’s the histories, and then you already know what’s coming.
What if all you want is some surprise twists and turns? This is the Shyamalan clause. Once you know the ending, is there any point to watching the movie again? Maybe or maybe not.
This is all a long way of working out my feelings for book blurbs that tell the reader what to expect from the book explicitly. I don’t mean the “Will she save the world or lose her life?” descriptions. I mean the warnings. Lately I’ve seen a lot of addenda stating how steamy the romance will be or giving trigger warnings about violent acts. Is it really fair for the author to have to give these kinds of descriptions for a potential reader? In the case of the trigger warning, I can see the desire to warn, but as to the heat levels for the romance—that feels like you don’t want to waste a reader’s time. And I think that’s where I struggle. Part of the reading experience is wasting time. After you finish school, any reading you choose to do is just that, a choice. I know we’re all super busy, but even the book I relegated to the DNF (did not finish) pile taught me something about my likes and dislikes. You look at the cover art, you read the back blurb, you skim the first few pages and then you take a chance. It’s relatively low risk, so why not leap? Reading is literally (and literarily) a pastime.
Jack didn’t hesitate at the bottom of that beanstalk, he just climbed.
As I said earlier, I’m on the fence. Blurbs can be misleading and then as a reader you feel cheated. I’m also the person who hates watching the Netflix trailers that give away the entire story and then I don’t watch because, why bother?
How about you? Do you want to know exactly what you’re getting when you open a book or is part of the adventure finding out as you go?
Fairy Support
This morning I woke up and yet again had to be reminded that a post is due. It was particularly difficult because I was finishing one of those books that makes you snarl at anyone who interrupts the experience. But the reading gave me my next post.
This morning I woke up and yet again had to be reminded that a post is due. It was particularly difficult because I was finishing one of those books that makes you snarl at anyone who interrupts the experience. But the reading gave me my next post.
First let me highly recommend Olivia Atwater. It is because of her books, Half a Soul and Ten Thousand Stitches, that I was again able to enjoy reading a book in one sitting. Her take on faerie tales is engaging and such a balm when escape is dearly needed. Nevertheless, I wasn’t just struck by her books, I was struck by her Afterword, something more readers (and writers) should pay attention to.
“The faerie godmother, I decided, was really the most admirable character in the whole story. She was the one, after all, who saw an injustice and tried to fix it.”—Olivia Atwater
I thought her assertion, that Cinderella’s story was really about a nobly born woman being returned to her rightful place was such a revelation that I’m almost embarrassed that it never occurred to me. On more than one occasion in fairy tales, the protagonist is a princess down on her luck and is then swept off to become a princess once more. Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are the ones that come to mind. Of course, Rapunzel and Belle from Beauty and the Beast have different stories, but in those the prince was cursed and therefore “understood” being powerless.
In the future I hope to use some of my posts to focus on modern fairy tale writers and their takes on what it means to rewrite time honored stories. In the meantime, check out https://oliviaatwater.com
Marking Time with Tale Friends
The other day I was trying to conjure up my quarantine fantasy (not that being under quarantine should be anyone’s idea of a fantasy other than the whole stuck on a desert island with your dream lover, but that’s for another post). It included things like spending an entire day in bed with meals delivered up to my bedroom and reading an entire book, cover to cover, without interruptions. Actually, that last one figures in a lot of fantasies of mine!It got me thinking about what people do when they’re stuck at home and because this is a blog primarily about how I feel about fairy tales, it seemed only natural to consider what a quarantine would be like with one of them.
The other day I was trying to conjure up my quarantine fantasy (not that being under quarantine should be anyone’s idea of a fantasy other than the whole stuck on a desert island with your dream lover, but that’s for another post). It included things like spending an entire day in bed with meals delivered up to my bedroom and reading an entire book, cover to cover, without interruptions. Actually, that last one figures in a lot of fantasies of mine!It got me thinking about what people do when they’re stuck at home and because this is a blog primarily about how I feel about fairy tales, it seemed only natural to consider what a quarantine would be like with one of them.
First, I’d stress clean with Cinderella. I have a feeling even after the prince whisked her away from servitude, he’d find her scrubbing the throne room floor on particularly anxious days.The only sewing I do is the occasional button reattachment, so it might be nice to learn some handy crafts from the Valiant Tailor. Bonus: he knows how to brag and won’t mind if I crow about my meager accomplishments.After all that activity some peace and quiet might be in order and who better than to spend some moments of quiet contemplation with than The Little Mermaid (obviously pre-foaming). Shared meditation requires someone unobtrusive and she is it!Meditating makes me sleepy and I know Sleeping Beauty knows about napping through your troubles. It’s not the best way to deal with a problem, but it plays into my desire to spend an entire day in bed. She’d totally understand and never judge.Eventually I’d have to get up again and face the reality of all the people in my house who are quarantined with me. I love my family, but I love alone time too. To remind me of how lucky I am that I’m only sharing my home with two people and a dog, I’d switch with Snow White. Cooking, cleaning and sharing space with seven people—my nightmare!To clear my head after all that togetherness, I need to take a walk. Who better to invite along than Little Red Riding Hood and Grandma? They like the woods, despite the occasional double-talking wolf, and after you’ve survived being eaten, socially distant hiking should be a breeze.And lest your think I’d only hang out with the goody-goodies, I think some baking with the Old Woman in the gingerbread house, while risky, is worth learning how to make baked goods the size of building! And because I’d ask before nibbling on her frosted shingles, I think she’d forgo trying to make me into a pie.Lastly, Zoom cocktail hour with The Evil Queen because I am almost positive she can mix a mean drink!
Who would you spend your quarantine with, if you could pull them out of your favorite stories?
Suspend belief
I spend a lot time on this blog criticizing fairy tales (as only someone who really loves them can), but there is one thing that I truly love about fairy tales--the ability for fairy tale characters to believe in the extraordinary.Cinderella just ran with it when her mother's grave started granting her wishes. The woodsman didn't question hearing voices coming from a wolf's stomach. And the miller's youngest son didn't ask Puss why he needed the boots, he just got them.
I spend a lot time on this blog criticizing fairy tales (as only someone who really loves them can), but there is one thing that I truly love about fairy tales--the ability for fairy tale characters to believe in the extraordinary.Cinderella just ran with it when her mother's grave started granting her wishes. The woodsman didn't question hearing voices coming from a wolf's stomach. And the miller's youngest son didn't ask Puss why he needed the boots, he just got them.
Not that belief hasn't gotten fairy tale characters in trouble--The Emperor comes to mind, walking a parade route completely nude--but it rarely impedes the story. We're asked to suspend disbelief, but what of characters in modern stories.I've gotten through a lot of reading done during this strange time, and what's irked me in more than a few fantasy books are the main characters unwillingness to believe in the fantastical even in the face of so much proof. I finally figured out why (besides wanting to yank the MC out of the story and put myself in their place). No one should be so stubborn in their need for rationality and order that whimsy no longer has a place in their life. It makes me angry and sad at the same time. Why can't they suspend disbelief?And while I'm sure it would be an interest plot device to hear Cinderella's inner dialogue wondering why her mother's grave is so keen to help her win a prince at a ball instead of getting out of an abusive home, it would slow down the story. Whimsy and the fantastical open up possibilities--escapism at its best.
Living a Fairy Tale Trope
It’s a familiar trope in fairy tales. Cinderella had her father’s estate. Snow White and Sleeping Beauty both had a cottage in the woods. Rapunzel had her tower with no doors. Belle had the Beast’s castle. In fairy tales, princesses tend to find themselves in isolation.It’s not unusual. These stories were written in a time when most women could measure their worlds in the square feet of their homes. Men worked outside—women, inside.
Admitted--Not Accepted
Here’s a weird thought. Have you ever had that moment when someone makes it clear that although you’ve been admitted, it does not mean you’ve been accepted? It made me think about Cinderella.After Cinderella was found by the prince and then he married her, what happened next? She was, for all intents and purposes, a scullery maid who spent the better part of her life subservient to others. She may have been beautiful and good, but was she ready for a world that was not her own?It turns out there are many versions of this story as far back as Ancient Greece and exist outside of Europe. The story is essentially the same, with a widower and father remarrying a woman with daughters of her own who supplant the widower’s daughter. She, in turn is mistreated and maligned until a prince comes with some footwear from the lost and found and takes her as his wife. Happily ever after ensues.
Or does it? A mysterious woman captures the prince’s imagination (and allegedly his heart) and he marries her into a royal household. Do they accept her? I keep thinking of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her speech to Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice:“…for do not expect to be noticed by his family or friends, if you willfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by any of us.”Was such a speech given to Cinderella when she first arrived at the palace? I’d like to think she was able to push back as Lizzy Bennet did, but Cinderella’s story was all about how good and compliant she was—not a firebrand. Did she accept her new lot—the same as her old one with better clothes—just as passively?We’ll never know what happily ever after looked like to Cinderella and her prince; we can only speculate. My only hope is that when any of us is confronted with situations in which we’re admitted, but not accepted we can say as calmly and coolly as Lizzy Bennet:“I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.”
Fairy Tale Ambitions
I’ve been thinking about ambition lately. Wishes, yearnings, desires. It all sounds very intimate. Ambition is all about what we want deep down inside and work toward. We all have them, don’t we?Here’s where Snow White lost me. After escaping a death sentence because the queen’s servant takes pity on her and finding shelter with the dwarves, she sits back and cleans house.
Cinderella lost me when she discovered her mother’s grave granted wishes asks for a dresses to go to a ball.
The Sleeping Beauty, Briar Rose, barely wakes up and sees her family before they marry her to the who, according to the story, just happened to kiss her when the curse was weakening anyway.
What they all have in common is ambition, or the lack thereof. Princesses (or in the case of Cinderella, aspiring princesses) hardly ever want anything aside from the essential. But given the power they could wield, they choose instead to be martyrs.Snow White could have easily told her story to the dwarves and at the end asked them to help overthrow her evil stepmother (who, if had resorted to killing children to be called the most beautiful must have been engaging in other nefarious endeavors). Cinderella could have asked for an escape route, money to fend for herself or if you want to get truly dark, a potion to rid herself of the evil women in her house. Briar Rose should have walked away—a hundred years under a spell and I’m sure she wanted to see something of the world before being tied down.Shouldn’t princesses dream of being queens? Queens seek power, respect (and yes some go the fear route), and to be more than they are. That’s not a bad thing. Ambition is part of human nature. What does that mean for fairy tale princesses?
Happily Ever After by the Fairytale Feminista
I’ve been writing about happily ever after a lot lately—questioning its validity, holding it up to a modern lens—and it got me thinking…What is happily ever after in a fairy tale sense? I can’t speak to everyone’s needs and feelings, but I know what it would take for me to consider any popular fairy tale a happy ending. The women must have choices.Sleeping Beauty: After thanking the prince for his helpful, yet impulsive act, Aurora (in the original she doesn’t have a name, so I opted for the Disney name) takes control of her kingdom and institutes a constitutional monarchy knowing that consent is the first rule of any society. She and the prince remain friends and allies.Snow White: Her time in suspended animation gives Snow time to think about her plight and that of her stepmother’s. She doesn’t forgive her for the cruel and heartless acts committed against her, she understands that in their world, a woman’s beauty is everything. Prince Charming revives her and asks for her hand in marriage, but she asks for a place with the palace scholars to ensure she has other options. Snow White becomes an advisor to Aurora.Cinderella: On the ride back to the castle, Cinderella asks the prince if they can take it slow and get to know each other better. She agrees to live in a separate wing in the castle and be formally courted. During that time, she works on converting the rooms for other young ladies who find themselves at a loose end after being released from slavery.Rapunzel: Wandering the world with twins strapped the her back makes Rapunzel think up new and inventive ways to make her life easier. When she finally finds the prince (and cures his eyesight), she’s able to take all the innovations she’s created and make them accessible to other mothers in the kingdom.Rumpelstiltskin: Solving the riddle of the little imp’s name that wanted to steal her child was just another instance of someone trying to control her. She sues her husband, the king, for custody of their child and a divorce (with her new skills finding information the king doesn’t want exposed) and opens her own private investigative service specializing in fairy affairs.The Little Mermaid: You’ve got me there! She had no good choices and happily ever after just wasn’t an option.Beauty & the Beast: After Belle saves the beast (a nice change to the genre norm), she realizes she can’t go home, but can’t stay with the beast who kept her on pain of killing her father. Instead, she decides striking out on her own can’t be any more frightening than living with a monster. Her gardens are the envy of all, although no one can begrudge her its beauty because of her generosity. Her roses are world-renowned. I’m sure there are other ways to make these stories tailored to anyone’s version of happily ever after. Cinderella could start her own house cleaning service. Snow White might start a gem consortium with the dwarves. Or maybe a twist ending—The Mermaid takes over for the sea witch, for example. Or the ladies could stay with their princes, but on more equal footing. Just so long as they chose their endings.
What about you? Have you considered defining what happily ever after looks like in your favorite fairy tale?
Cinderella, a more genteel Hunger Games
This idea got stuck in my head after a confluence of events. Last week I posted about Diamonds and Toads, aka The Fairy, and drew comparisons to Cinderella. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that it was part of the same fairy tale canon (Charles Perrault) and that even the author made changes to the story to make sure The Fairy didn’t resemble Cinderella too closely. At the same time, I was thinking about a blog I recently started following and she posted about reading The Hunger Games. The two ideas rolled around in my brain like billiard balls on a pool table. Then the two smacked together. The Hunger Games (if you haven’t read it) is about a girl who lives in a world that has been ravaged by a war. The people in charge coordinate a gladiator type game to the death made up of children every year and the winner gets essentially a better life. Cinderella is about a girl who lives in a world that has been turned upside down by the arrival of her father’s new wife and mean daughters. Because she’s good, a fairy godmother grants her the wish of going to the ball. She dazzles the prince for two nights and because she beat all the other pretty girls, she gets a better life. Granted if Katniss had been Cinderella, she likely would have run away from home, shot arrows through the overfed guests and brought all the food back to the less fortunate, ala Robin Hood, but I think the idea has merit. Balls designed to pit one woman against another in order to win the heart of a prince they don’t know, for a life they dream about but don’t understand sounds like a more refined (and less deadly) version of the Hunger Games. Call it Hunger Games, 17th century edition. Just a thought.
FTBC The Fairy
FFT readers, I have a confession to make. I accidentally used this story as a post a few weeks ago entitled, Diamonds or Toads. I wrote, in detail, the plot as well as my feelings about its subject matter, which you can read about here. With that said, I still want to know your thoughts about this story. Reading it was like reading a precursor to Cinderella, which bares out because both were written (or should I say “collected”) by Charles Perrault. In fact, it is believed (but I can’t confirm this) that the good daughter was made into a step-daughter to lessen the similarities to Cinderella (not a very good try).
What I liked about the story was how quickly it was all resolved. In Cinderella we have to suffer through two balls, a kingdom-wide search and two mean step-sisters trying to glom onto her man. Diamonds and Toads or The Fairy, as Perrault named it, has a good daughter—who helps a fairy in disguise, is granted wealth, and wins a prince. The bad daughter is too haughty to help the fairy, is immediately struck down with vipers and toads dropping from her mouth and is kicked out of her house. However, I do have some issues with the endings for both girls. For the bad one, I think it would have been more edifying if she learned her lesson and became a better person. As for the good daughter, I know the greatest reward any girl in the 17th century was expected to want was an excellent match, but I’m calling foul on this one. Precious gems and sweet-smelling flowers fall out of her mouth and a prince wants to marry her? You have to wonder if it’s for the lady or the loot. Remember Rumpelstiltskin? A girl’s life is threatened three nights in a row and her reward is marrying the guy who issued the threats. That said, I do like the story (sans the creepy ending) and think it’s a great one to revise. Any takers? I would love to hear a new ending for this tale. Next month: Jack the Giant Killer
Waiting with the Fairies
Most fairy tales have a common event. The wait. It's when everything has already happened, but the ending has yet to arrive. It's that period before the resolution. The shoe fits. The poisoned apple is dislodged. A kiss awakens a long-sleeping princess. The woodcutter splits open the wolf's stomach.
But before that, it's the wait. Cinderella has to watch both her step-sisters try on the shoe that is rightfully hers. Snow White has to lay in state until hoping someone will give her the Heimlich. The Sleeping Beauty...sleeps. Little Red Riding Hood is cramped into a stomach with her grandmother.That's how I feel right now. I'm in the waiting room wondering if my story will have a satisfying end. Or beginning. I know this is only the start of my public writing life, even though I've been working on this moment for years. But I'm no shrinking princess or little girl lost. My wait is more pregnant pause than intermission.So, tomorrow, July 24, 2018, A Smuggler's Path goes live digitally and the paperback will be my happily ever after. Or more like cliffhanger before then next installment. If fairy tales teach us anything, it's good things come to those who wait!And speaking of wait, the wait is almost over the free copy of A Smuggler's Path contest. I've also decided to allow any comments from the start of the contest to any post since the Fairy Tale Book Club to be valid as entrance into the contest. So if you comment on this post or any from this month, you're automatically included in the giveaway! Good Luck!
The Witch
As a young girl, I wanted to be a witch. They were mystical and wise. People came to them for help. Most importantly, witches had magic. They could conjure spells, brew potions, and divine the future. In short, they effected real change with power, knowledge and will. Who wants to be a princess when that's available?
According to fairy tales, everyone.Princess-hood is usually a desired outcome for most women in fairy tales. It usually allowed them to leave a difficult or abusive situation. Cinderella abandoned being a scullery. Snow White was saved from the creepy obsessions of her step mother. Sleeping Beauty got to leave the woods and wake her entire kingdom. In the latter two cases, they were born princesses, but it didn’t mean much until they found a prince. What if they wanted different things?The Evil queen never needed a man’s permission to exert her will.But we’re taught to root for the vulnerable princess (or scullery) and despise the witch. To be fair, witches who use their power to kill little girls who might be prettier than them are despicable. However, I try and look at it from their point of view. The world in which these women lived considered magic evil, especially in a woman. Her only acceptable power was perceived power, i.e. the power she could wield through her husband or other male figure. Historically speaking, the witch represented everything a patriarchal society feared—a woman with power over men and the natural world. So, if your only acceptable power is being pretty enough to convince men to follow your orders, is it any wonder a prettier, younger woman is a threat? She shouldn’t have killed the girl, but her fear was real.I’m an adult now and I’m still fascinated with witches--their mysteries and knowledge a source of endless study. They’re my go-to paranormal/fantasy read and my preferred heroine to write about usually has some supernatural abilities (as well as other strengths). Not only does it bring a little magic to the everyday, but it always reminds me of my power. And maybe a potion or two…
Ending the year going Into the Woods
I’ve never been one for the obvious. If it’s too easy, it’s boring. If everyone is doing it, something must be wrong. So there’s no reason I should like Into the Woods. It’s so blatantly a metaphor for a life lesson. You go through the woods naïve and afraid of the unknown only to emerge smarter and warier of the road ahead. Red Riding Hood learns about the dangers of straying from the path. Cinderella finds her voice. The baker realizes he’s not alone. Jack loses a friend but gains independence. Even writing these lines I want to yell “DUH” at the screen.But I love it. I love the music. I adore the Witch. The message is clever even while being obvious. When I saw the production as a kid I thought it was so cool that someone decided to mash all these fairy tales together. Now as an adult I’ve gained new insight into the lyrics. It’s an honest to goodness family movie mostly because you can watch it all your life and get something new each time. This time I learned about reluctance.We’re days away from the New Year and that means the dreaded list of resolutions. Last year I did away with the entire idea of it with the notion that making a list is just a way to make me feel bad by April (or March) because I’ve lost interest in them. My resolutions are usually related to moving more and exercise. Despite my best efforts, I am generally a sedentary creature preferring to read and write more than move and sweat.I searched fairy tales for a good story on reluctance, but I have yet to find one. Reluctant heroes are not a problem in fairy tales. Princes chase down maidens who gratefully accept the assistance. Tailors seek adventures on the basis of having downed seven flies with one hit. Little girls with bold outerwear head to Grandma’s without a thought for the hungry wolf that lies in wait. Reluctance is not something fairy tale characters are acquainted with.Except in Into the Woods. Only kids have no fear of the woods. Adults are very aware that the unknown could hold danger or at least disappointment. They’re all reluctant to enter, but they go because it’s the only way to get what they want. Hemming and hawing are allowed, but the woods are still waiting. Just like the New Year and my resolutions. So, I’ll make my resolutions yet again and work to get past May with them (at least).No more hemming and hawing…the woods await.
Happy 2015!
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