Fairy Tale Book Club--The Goose Girl, or how to be a princess without really trying

Welcome to the first posting of the FTBC. And today we'll start with The Goose Girl.Fairy tales are something we keep discovering. I know I am. Sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised when I read a new story. This was not one of those times.The Goose Girl, one of the many stories from the brothers Grimm, is about a much-loved princess who is sent to a far-off land to wed a prince. She’s send with a servant, who decides she doesn’t want to be a servant anymore and refuses to help the princess in any way. By the time they reach the prince’s castle, the princess is a disheveled mess. What’s more, the servant says she’s the princess. She has the real princess sent to be a servant and for good measure makes sure the real princess’ horse has his head lopped off because it can talk and will likely spill the beans.So the real princess becomes a goose girl, helping the goose boy herd geese in the fields. She never says a word even though the goose boy tries to touch her hair, the horse still speaks (it’s head it mounted over an entranceway), and she’s generally miserable. The king finally notices and long story short (I know, too late) everything is fixed ala Gilbert and Sullivan.Forgetting for a moment that the real princess is sent off to meet her new prince with just a servant and a talking horse for company, this story is truly disturbing. The moral of the story is to stay meek and silent and then good things will come to you. The servant, who wanted more for herself is obviously the villain (equicide aside) because she speaks up. I’ll admit there is a time for silence, but this story borders on martyrdom. A chilling thing to teach a girl.But this blog is about finding insight in generally arcane stories for a modern reader. I want to say, if you’re ever in a jam make sure you have a talking horse, but I imagine horses are judgmental and who needs the running commentary on a long ride? No, I think the best thing we can take away from this story is a cautionary tale. If you don’t speak up, you may end up in situations best avoided. We can’t all have kings and horses watching our backs!So what do you think?Remember, comments will automatically enter you in the Smuggler's Path contest.Here are the rules:

1.  The comment has to be about the story, The Goose Girl.
2. Fill out the form. Pick your book format preference.
3.  Each comment will add your name to my hat for a better chance to win a free copy of A Smuggler's Path. Three winner will be chosen.
4. The contest ends July 23, 2018 at midnight ET.

[contact-form][contact-field label="Name" type="name" required="1" /][contact-field label="Email" type="email" required="1" /][contact-field label="Website" type="url" /][contact-field label="Comment" type="textarea" required="1" /][contact-field label="Format" type="radio" options="paperback,mobi,epub" /][/contact-form]Next Month's FTBC reading: The Fairy by Charles Perrault

Magic and Mayhem Part II

Magic and Mayhem Part I

Thirteen Years Later...

Bronwen searched through an old trunk looking for a discarded dress of one of the older princesses. The garment still had usable fabric perfect for cannibalizing. If memory served, and little escaped her recollection, Princess Anora’s castoff gown matched Princess Amara’s perfectly. It was amazing that the youngest was now to celebrate her thirteenth year. Where had the time gone? With all the activity going on, Bronwen took it upon herself to make sure Amara’s dress was the loveliest at the ball. Her eyes began to mist thinking that this task should have been the queen’s, but she shook her head. She refused to let sadness to take root in any part of this day.

Rummaging through the trunk, she found more discards. Other dresses, faded and dried flowers, and a multitude of old dancing slippers padded the bottom. She clicked her tongue, fishing out the sought after dress and then closed the lid gently. What would she do with those girls?

“I really should tell them to be more careful. If anyone knew where they went…”

“And where do they go, Bronwen?” asked smooth and silky voice. Bronwen started and instinctively sat down on the top of the trunk. She could feel the heat from a banked fire warm her backside. Clutching the fabric to her chest, she regarded the intruder.

“Who said anyone goes anywhere? What do mean by sneaking up on old woman about their own business?” she asked with a sneer. The intruder merely raised an eyebrow and walked further into the room.  His eyes swept languidly across the scene in front of him.

“All that goes on in this kingdom is my business, or have you forgotten that I have the ear of the king?” he asked willing a confrontation.

“More like the soul of our king. And I would find that more impressive if I didn’t have the ear of the queen,” she replied looking towards the ground. The tears that had threatened earlier were coming to the surface, but she wouldn’t let them fall in front of this odious man.

“And where is she now? My sister has been gone these 10 years and most likely dead. At least I think of her as such,” he said. Her head snapped up at that remark as he knew it would. Goading her was just a perk, but her evasiveness made him curious. “What are doing?”

“None of your concern, Uriel. I’m merely making sure the Princess has her gown ready for the birthday festivities. Shouldn’t you be in council?”

“Yes I should, but I was sent to find Princess Mariana. Do you know where she’s gotten to?” asked Uriel watching Bronwen’s face very carefully. He knew the old woman was hiding something, but her face betrayed nothing. Her hands however were worrying the fabric.

“Try the rose gardens or the sword room. My lady has a penchant for all things sharp,” she replied noting his attention. Abruptly she put the fabric down, but did not rise.

“Of course. And by the way, perhaps we’ve overtaxed you with duties. You shouldn’t have to mend dresses when those lower than you could. I’ll take it upon myself to find you a useful girl to help with menial tasks,” he said over his shoulder as he went in search of the king’s eldest. Bronwen had a keen mind and knew that anyone Uriel gave her would be more spy than helper. Rising slowly from the chest, she emptied it of all the tattered and torn dancing shoes. Stoking the fire, she threw them all in and hoped Uriel hadn’t seen them.

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.