The Fairytale Feminista
Answering life’s questions one fairy tale at a time.
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?
A Story for Winter
Somehow the end of the year is almost upon us. There are days I wonder where the time has gone and others when I can't wait to see the back of this year! I'm sure most of your can relate. The days are shorter (in the Northern Hemisphere) and despite every natural thing saying its time to hibernate, we're more busy than ever getting ready for the holidays.
Somehow the end of the year is almost upon us. There are days I wonder where the time has gone and others when I can't wait to see the back of this year! I'm sure most of your can relate. The days are shorter (in the Northern Hemisphere) and despite every natural thing saying its time to hibernate, we're more busy than ever getting ready for the holidays. For some of us that means traveling to family for the first time in over a year. I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to the traffic and rest stops with too few restrooms and long lines at the food court and yet I'm glad I have the option to do so. It also feels like the best time of the year to sit around in the dark and tell ghost stories. Here's one:
A Winter Story
Once there was a woman who lived in a large, drafty house surrounded by things instead of people. There were things that walked and things that talked. She had things that sang and things that danced. There were even things that existed only to be admired. She rescued these things from the oblivion of the unwanted.
When the days grew shorter, and the night grew colder, the woman found a light in the shape of a star. She lovingly restored it to its former glory and on the shortest day of the year, she turned it on.
Bright light…
Part II in two weeks!
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