Rain, Mattresses and a Pea

The Princess and the Pea is a story I’ve been thinking about lately. A woman appears one the prince’s doorstep on rainy night, drenched and claiming to be a princess. His mother, eager to marry off her son, conceives of a test where she puts a pea beneath a stack of mattresses and waits to see if the girl has a good night’s sleep or not. In the morning she’s told that the girl in fact had a terrible night because it felt like she was sleeping on a boulder. As proof, she shows the queen her back, which is completely bruised. The mother declares that she must be a princess because only a princess would feel a pea through all those mattresses.

I used to read that story and think nothing of it. A girl proves she’s worthy by confounding the scheming mother’s ideas. But what does the prospective mother-in-law get or the prince for that matter? A girl who is so delicate she can’t sleep on cushy mattress if there’s a pea under one. That girl sounds soft to me. If I were the prince’s mother I’d put actual rocks under the mattress—just one—and pick the girl who woke up ready for the day despite tortured sleep. That girl can run a kingdom. Who wants their child’s partner falling to bits because of one pea? I'd want a princess who objects to mistreatment and knows her worth.

And what does the princess get? The prince wants to marry but continues to turn them down any perspective brides because he doesn’t think of them as true princesses. And yet, the one who’s the most sensitive is the one for him. What’s he like? What’s part two of this story? In an earlier post I wrote a little rhyme about it, but maybe next time I’ll write about what happens next. Any thoughts?

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Triangles of Love, like fins on a mermaid

I just finished watching The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society. A moving story to be sure. I have a soft spot for British period pieces during or about WWII, so it was an easy fit.Except that it wasn't because it had my least favorite trope. My qualm is the dreaded love triangle.I didn't warn of spoilers because even if you haven't read the book or watched the movie, the cover of the book gives away that love will be an issue.While I appreciate the plot device--it does ramp up the drama and add bittersweetness to a story--it's overdone. And always done to a woman. I'm not saying it's sexist, but when was the last time the story involved a man and two women (or a man and two men or a man and a man and a woman)? I searched the files in my brain and couldn't think of a single one.Then I remembered The Little Mermaid. One of my least favorite Disney princesses, but the original story had a love triangle, although the object of the triangle was blissfully unaware. Other than that, can you name any?Love is always a difficult prospect for a woman in stories. The Hallmark Channel has made it into big business, especially at the holidays. Young Adult Lit is littered with it. It's compelling until it's not. It's the stuff that soap operas are made of--that and evil twins back from the grave.As I said before, I don't hate love triangles, but there are times they feel manipulative. Hans Christian Andersen had the right idea about them, but that ended in death (or dissolution depending on your point of view).That felt selfless and brave.Most love triangles are petty and usually involve a woman toying with the affections of two people. And that just toys with the audience's emotions and not in a good way.Okay, end of rant.How about you? How do you feel about love triangles? And plot devices that make you go on a rant? 

Transformations with The Little Mermaid

 Having a blog has taught me some interesting things about myself. Some things I already knew and the blog just solidified the fact (i.e. I thrive on deadlines because without them my default is lazy). Some were funny (like how ridiculously happy it makes me when someone leaves a comment). How guarded I am was a big surprise.I like meeting people in person. I strike up random conversations on mass transit, waiting for my daughter to be dismissed from school, in elevators, etc. I’ll answer questions, give advice and even share my phone number if I think we’re going to be friends (I know this is totally against what Winnie the Pooh taught me when he sang “Be too smart for strangers.”). I really like to share because invariably it leads to others sharing with you. I’m not a blabbermouth, but I’m rather open.Not so with the internet. It took me two years to put my real name on the blog. I still don’t have a Facebook account because I’m uncomfortable having people randomly find me (I know what you’re thinking—but you have a blog!) and I do as much as I can to avoid signing up for anything that requires personal information. It’s something I continually struggle with—transformation is tricky. It’s like my relationship with the Little Mermaid.I have a real problem with The Little Mermaid. The Disney version tells the story of a 16 year old who falls in love with a man she’s only seen once and proceeds to defy her father, give up her legs and voice to a sea witch, and then find a way to make the prince fall in love with her. Being Disney, she is able to persevere and win his love after which her father gives her legs and she and Prince Eric sail off into the sunset happy and married. Her age is my biggest qualm because as the mother of a headstrong daughter I shudder at how easily King Triton gave into Ariel’s hissy-fit. It’s the same reason I really dislike Romeo and Juliet (two teens throwing the ultimate hissy and make good on the threat “If I don’t get my way, I’ll just die!”). Despite writing YA I’m against hyperbole.But the original story has her trading her tail for legs, which makes her the most graceful person on land but she must experience the pain of walking on dozens of knife points with every step. What did I learn? Real transformation is painful—a constant battle. Even after all that pain the tragic Little Mermaid opted to let her true love be happy with another instead of taking his life to regain her tail. I’ve never been a fan of martyrdom, but it makes a point.Now, I’m almost ashamed to say, I finally read the original work by Hans Christian Andersen. (Imagine someone with a blog about fairy tales not having read a fairy tale!) In the real story she does lose the prince (and a chance at an immortal soul), but because of her selfless act she’s asked to join the “daughters of the air” who after three hundred years of good service earn an immortal soul. Being air she can bring breezes and “carry the scent of flowers through the air, bringing freshness and healing balm wherever we go.”What all versions have in common is sacrifice. To get what you want, you may have to give something up. For me it’s anonymity. That’s probably why I started this blog by rewriting fairy tales…it gave me a place to hide.After two years of blogging, I think I’m finally ready for my land legs even with the risk of stabbing knives (Does that count as hyperbole?). I still have issues with The Little Mermaid, but I understand what it’s like to know where you want to be and pursuing it.Welcome to the new Fairytale Feminista blog, answering life’s questions one fairy tale at a time. See my new About Me page!

At the Crossroads of Fairy Tale and Folklore

According to my outdated (read: paper copy!) Webster's Dictionary the definition of fairy tale is a story about fairies, magic deeds, etc., while folklore is defined as the traditional beliefs, legends, etc. of a culture. So does that mean all fairy tales and folklore have in common is etc.? What's etcetera anyway in this case? I like to think that the etc. in a fairy tale are the traditional beliefs and legends and the etc. in folklore are the fairies and magical deeds. Which means they're the same, right? Well, now I suppose I have to address the 800-pound gorilla. That gorilla is called culture.Does culture determine whether a story is a fairy tale or folklore? Does that imply that anything that doesn't originate from Northern Europe (from where most popular fairy tales come) is folklore? Moreover does that imply that Northern Europe doesn't have a culture? Neither should be the case. Fairy tales started out as folklore which became so popular that they transcended culture. That means that all folklore, despite culture, can grow to fairy tale status. All they need is a little push in the direction of popularity.One of the barriers to wider appeal for many folk tales is language. Would we love Grimm's Fairy Tales or the stories of Hans Christian Andersen so much if someone hadn't decided to translate them? We should invite more cultures to the party. Right now the subject of diversity is really hot with writers, especially YA/MG writers of which I am one. It's kind of a minefield of emotions, political correctness, and common sense that everyone has to wade through. As a parent, I want to make sure that my daughter sees herself reflected in the books she reads and the shows and movies she watches. As a writer, I want to insert my reality into my writing (even though I write mostly YA fantasy). But as a bona-fide member of the person of color club, not to mention being part of the largest minority--womankind--I feel as though I shouldn't have to bang the drum too loudly because it's worse than preaching to the choir. Instead of asking for change, I'm going to make change (I know there's some funny cashier joke that I should make, but I can't think of one--any suggestions?). For my own edification and hopefully for your enjoyment, I want to explore folklore that begs to be more popular, starting with my own.  

Adventures in Fairy Tale Land

As a child, when I read, heard and watched fairy tales it was always with a British accent. Mostly English, but occasionally Irish or Scottish. I was convinced, and movies seemed to back me up, that when Europeans congregated they all spoke English with an accent straight from Oxford. With that in mind, I assumed that all fairy tales were from the British Isles. From the Grimm Brothers to Hans Christian Andersen, all of them were from the English countryside. It stood to reason. Castles were in Britain. The Queen was in Britain, so it had to be true. Years, schooling and research have disabused me of that belief on an intellectual level. But in my heart, fairy tales have an accent.So, it was with great joy and more than a touch of whimsy that I set off on my vacation to the Lake District and Edinburgh (also the reason that I've been so negligent with my blog. I don't believe in internet in fairy land) hoping to have a fairy tale adventure. The countryside did not disappoint. I walked fells and through pastoral scenes that would make an shepherdess feel at home. I trudged through forests and scrambled through ghylls that held perfect hiding places for the fairy folk and maybe a wolf or two lying in wait for Red Riding Hood. I even walked through the world of Beatrix Potter, who although isn't strictly a writer of fairy tales, is still a staple from my childhood reading menu.Edinburgh was more gothic and therefore more Grimm, but in the nicest way possible. I climbed castle towers and ramparts almost expecting knights to lay siege. That may have been the whiskey haze, but I could see it. Swords, spears, and a stone of destiny were mythic, yet close enough to touch. Mary, Queen of Scots was like Rapunzel in the tower at Holyrood. This was not my first trip to the UK, but since starting my blog and committing to being a writer, it felt like a new place. Every corner was a literary opportunity and I could understand why I thought Britain was Fairy Tale Land as a child. I'll admit that this post sounds like a long digression on how I spent my summer vacation, but I thought it was important to share the most important thing about fairy tales. Why we love them. Why we read them. Why they're the stuff of dreams and nightmares. Please remember, dear reader, what matters most about fairy tales...WONDER

The Tale of Mama's Boy

Hans Christian Andersen wrote the story of the Princess and the Pea about a prince searching for a true princess with whom to share his life. One appears on his doorstep on a stormy night asking for a bed. His mother, the Queen, decides to test her claim of royalty and makes her sleep on a bed of multiple mattresses and puts a pea under the bottom bed. The princess sleeps horribly and the next day the queen proclaims that only a true princess could have felt the pea through so many mattresses. The prince and princess marry and live happily ever after.Why would a man decide to take a woman he doesn't know as his wife on his mother's say-so? Moreover, why would his mother tell him to take her after one bad night of sleeping on a pea? I keep turning it around in my head and the only conclusion I can draw is that the prince was a Mama's Boy. This strange and unknowable male is the one of modern love tragedies. But what if the idea wasn't as modern as we suppose? Maybe Hans was on to something with his story. Here's my take: The Tale of Mama's BoyI'm sure you've met him once or twiceHelped him, loved him and paid the priceBut no matter what you doMama's Boy cannot love you. "It's not my fault," he'll often say,"But Mama does it another way."Nothing you do will ever compareTo Mama's tender loving care. His patron saint if you chance to lookCan be found in the pages of a book.In a time long ago and far awayOnce upon a time under skies of gray. A prince returned from a restless questTo find the princess he liked the best.One too thin, one too fatOne too loud, one to quiet. One was short with hair of gold.One was tall with thoughts too bold.One whose laughs were quite improper.One whose shape was like a stopper. Search he did and found he noneTo compare with his perfect one.He would say with little dramaNone are like the queen, my mama So he returned much dejectedAnd pushed away all he rejectedBack to mama who spoils and coddlesHer precious prince, her darling idol. Yet their homecoming came to a haltPausing the balm to so much salt.A rap at the door on a night so drearyStood a lass, soaked through and quite weary. "I'm a princess," she said, "let me in for I'm coldAnd a royal family lives here I'm told.I apologize for looking a frightBut perhaps I could stay for just a night?" "A princess? That's doubtful," said Mama Queen"But I have a test that will make her come clean!Of course dear, please stay and we'll find a bedA place to lay down your most delicate head." Mattresses were stacked one on the other' Til there were twenty altogether.Coverlets topped the fluffy towerAll constructed in about an hour. "And underneath a test," Mama giggled.With her hand she pushed and wriggledA pea the size of a pinky nail."A test she will most surely fail." Climb she did to the top of the bedTo rest her wet and weary head.She tossed, she turned, she curled up and stretched outBut all she could do was sit up and pout Meanwhile, Mama dear and sonhad a little one-on-one."My darling boy, never fearFor Mama knows and I am here. The test she takes, I've taken tooand will tell us if she's a princess trueHer face is fair, her shape is pleasingher manners are fine when she's not sneezing I only want the best for youit's what any mother would do."Junior crowed, "You're more than any other motherlike you there will never be another." The morning dawned, the skies were clearInto the room Queen Mama peeredAlas she found the lass a messHer hair! Her clothes! She looked quite stressed. "I hate to be a world-class bitchbut I would have slept better in a ditchI did not sleep at all last nightSomething stuck me like a stalagmite!" The queen was pleased, the prince elatedto see the princess so deflated."I found my wife, my mother's matchand of course dear Mama made the catch." They soon were wed, but princess foundthe ring did not mean that she was crownedin his affections. Despite their joyPrincey would always be Mama's Boy. So even is you're hand pickeddon't be fooled, don't be tricked,Because no matter what you doMama's Boy cannot love you.