The female roadtrip - Red Riding Hood Grows Up

A reader and friend brought an article in The Atlantic to my attention. It is entitled:

It's Frustratingly Rare to Find a Novel About Women That's Not About Love

"Literary girls don't take road-trips to find themselves; they take trips to find men."

http://www.theatlantic.com/sexes/archive/2013/07/its-frustratingly-rare-to-find-a-novel-about-women-thats-not-about-love/277621/

Although the title is provocative enough to make anyone click the link, I'll summarize. The author, Kelsey McKinney, takes note that while plenty of novels center around the coming of age story, for men it involves an adventure and self-discovery. For women it centers around find herself through love and a man...or in this day and age it could be another woman.

In short, men look for themselves, women look for romance. At least in literature. And she bemoans this fact because in the real world there are plenty of women who do not think the be-all end-all of life is a husband and kids. Very few novels have women focused on finding themselves or pursuing a career without also adding a love subplot. She calls for more books like Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson, about a girl who comes of age, but doesn't search for love and acceptance. She just grows.

I could argue that writers see women as more well-rounded people who know that the search for love is just as important as the search for purpose, which could include children, a mate, and a career.

Or I could argue that I am just as frustrated by the lack of adventure-seeking girls and women who can thumb their noses at romance.

The truth is, I can see both sides. I think it's just as sad that books geared towards men have them only pursuing a promotion or a trophy and I think love can be just as great an adventure as rolling down the Mississippi. However, as a writer what I see is a challenge. How do we revive the road trip that makes it possible for women to have just as much adventure as men? The answer seems to start with them as children.

I remember reading Pipi Longstocking and her parent-free adventures with her monkey and horse foiling robbers, teachers, and the police. She was wild, carefree, athletic, but she was still happy to have friends. Her road trip would have been a high-seas adventure, but with her father and therefore defeat the purpose.

Mathilda, by Roald Dahl, is also a good candidate for the "strong girl grows up to be strong woman", but with magical powers and being so decidedly good, I imagine her adventures would be rather tame and ultimately, safe.

Perhaps we can look to a fairy tale for the answer. She went into the woods a naive girl and returned a smart young woman. All it took was being swallowed by a wolf. I think she would have grown up to be an adventurer, despite promising never to stray from the path. Did anyone actually believe she kept that promise?  This is a girl who was eaten by a wolf along with her grandmother, was cut out of its belly by a huntsman, fills the wolf's belly with stones until he dies and when she goes back to her grandmother's house on a subsequent trip meets with another wolf who she outsmarts with granny's help by enticing him with the smell of sausages and drowns him. That's a girl I would take a road trip with, wouldn't you?

With a challenge to meet and a heroine ready for anything, I've decided to write a story about a grown Red Riding Hood seeing the world--fairy tale style.

The Tale of Red Riding Hood

Part I

                Once there was a girl who grew up quite suddenly after being eaten by a wolf. It was only natural that she should learn from such an experience and become more wary of the ways of the world and admire the strong female influences in her life.

                After her grandmother passed away, Red was left the cottage in the woods. But her adventures as a child gave her a longing to know the world better and so she closed up the house, put on her red cloak, and set off on a journey.

                Her first stop was to the city. It was the largest she had ever seen. But Red knew that wolves didn’t only lurk behind trees and bushes. They also walked the paved roads and roamed the taverns. Feeling prepared for anything life could throw at her, she entered one such tavern for lunch.

                The patrons glanced her way, wondering what a young woman was doing in a tavern alone, especially one with such an attention-grabbing cloak. She ordered her food and ate alone at a table ignoring the whispers. When the barmaid returned with her food, she stood next to the table for such a long time, that Red had to speak to her.

                “Good day to you. The food is delicious, but I don’t plan to order any more just yet.”

                “Look here, what are you doing in a place like this alone?” asked the barmaid.

                “Having a meal as all the others are doing. Why do you ask?”

                “All the other patrons are men and the women are accompanied. Are you lost?”

                “Not at all. But I have no destination in mind if that is your real question,” she replied and continued to enjoy her meal.

                “Then let me give you a word of caution. There is a man in the corner who has taken a particular interest in you. Others who have caught his eye have not been seen again.”

                “I am not a stranger to wolves on the prowl,” said Red looking at the man.

                “Pardon me?”

                “It’s no matter. I thank you for your warning,” she said and went back to her meal. The barmaid hesitated, but left Red alone thereafter. She thought her a foolish country girl and knew that fate and the city would treat her cruelly. Red had no such concerns and after finishing her lunch, paid her bill and left the tavern. Shortly thereafter the man in the corner rose from his place and followed her…

To Be Continued...

Motherhood in Fairy Tales

There’s no greater antithesis to celebrating the role of Mother than fairy tales. In most, the biological mother is usually dead and in her place is a step-mother of dubious nurturing abilities. Fairy tales have a way of reinforcing the main female archetypes, virginal innocent or power-hungry witch. But what if the virgin was a bitch and the witch used her power for good? I’ve never had a step mother nor have I ever been one, but I feel that this much maligned position could use a modern fairy tale revamp.

The Witch (written in fairy tale style)

Once there was a woman of great power and simple needs. She lived in the woods learning the ways of the flora and fauna that surrounded her from her own senses and her wise mother. She grew past a marriageable age, but thought little of it happy in her home.

One day, a man happened upon their cottage with a heavy heart. Taking pity on the man, the woman brought him into her sanctuary. He told both women of his heartbreak brought on by the death of his wife and his motherless daughter. The woman was moved by his story and offered what comfort she could, but felt powerless to bring him any relief. He thanked them both and continued on his way.

Days passed and the woman could not stop thinking about the man and his daughter. Her mother, who had taught her compassion, cautioned her taking on other people’s problems was often a thankless task. The woman agreed, but still she mused and moped feeling helpless in the face of such bald sadness.

It came to pass that on a particularly beautiful day the woman made an important decision. Leaving a note for her mother, she searched for the home of the man and his child. What she found was a grand home far different from her own, lacking plants and wild animals. It made her uneasy, but she reminded herself that she was not here for herself. She was greeted at the door by a girl on the verge of womanhood with a face that revealed her disdain for the visitor. Looking down at her clothing, she noticed the patches and stains for the first time. In contrast, the girl at the door looked elegant and beautiful. Soon thereafter her father appeared and the look of contentment on his face told the woman she had made the right decision.

As always happens in these stories, the two had a short courtship followed by marriage and soon a child of their own. In the meantime, the man’s daughter grew more beautiful by the day, but also more vain and unpleasant. She spurned the love offered her by her step-mother and refused to learn the lessons her step-mother tried in vain to impart. The girl took to calling her step-mother a witch and word of it spread throughout the town. Because her step-mother was plain and a stranger, the townspeople believed the beautiful girl. Her father became withdrawn and was reluctant to defend his new wife, especially to his vain daughter.

There was business to be conducted in a neighboring town, and so the man left his new wife, his baby, and his elder daughter at home. The woman took this time to go into the woods and visit her mother with her new baby. It also afforded her the opportunity to collect herbs for her garden. Left to her own devices, the elder daughter spent her time weaving a web of lies and fear in the townspeople against her step-mother. Calling her a witch and claiming to have been mistreated at her hands, the townspeople vowed to drive the evil woman away. The duke’s son, beguiled by her beauty, offered to be her protector and slay her step-mother.

Upon returning to her home, the step-mother found an angry mob restlessly patrolling the manor. One caught sight of her and alerted the others, who came running at her. For her part, she clutched her baby tighter and ran back into the forest never to be seen again. The townspeople congratulated themselves on ridding the town of such an evil influence. The girl soon married the duke’s son, leaving her grieving father alone.

The woman returned to her quiet home in the forest and raised her son teaching him all she had learned from her mother and for good measure warned him against the temptation of a pretty face. “Better a witch than a bitch.”

Happy Mother’s Day!

The Courseload and The Rewrites (based on The Stag and The Lion)

"I am saved from the power of the dogs only to fall into the clutches of a lion"  -Aesop's FablesOnce upon a time, not too long ago, I was as undergrad groaning under a ton of coursework. Too many classes, not enough hours, and too little sleep was my popular rant. I remember staring out my dorm room and seeing my classrooms. It brought my work too close to home.Vowing an idiotic 19-year-old's vow, I promised to find a profession that I could leave at the office.I would never bring work home.Now, I'm a writer, volunteering all my free time and some of my not so free time to work on my craft.My work is at home.My work continues as I dream.It follows me everywhere.However, unlike the Stag, I'm far from unhappy.Out of the frying pan into the fire...by choice! (Go figure)

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.  

Story #1 Rumpelstiltskin

As written by J.L.C. & W.C. Grimm (hereafter to be called the Grimm brothers), Rumpelstiltskin is the story of a miller who brags to his king that his beautiful and clever daughter can spin straw into gold. The greedy king takes the girl and tells her she must spin a rooms full of gold, each one bigger than the last, on pain of death. Each night the maiden cries and a little man comes offering to do the task for her at a price. On the third and last night the king says he will marry her if she spins one more room full of straw into gold. Stripped of her possessions from the last two nights of work, the little man demands her first born child by the king. She agrees, the task is completed and the miller's daughter becomes queen. She soon forgets her promise, but after becoming a mother the little man returns to collect his prize. She begs for him to reconsider and offers him half the kingdom, but he refuses. Instead he gives her three days to learn his name. She searches the kingdom and on the last day a palace guard discovers an unusual little man singing to himself in the woods. He reveals his name is Rumpelstiltskin. The lady rejoices, says his name and a fuming Rumpelstiltskin leaves without his prize.Most notably the story does not end with the prerequisite "...and they lived happily ever after". Even the Grimm brothers understood that this story would be a stretch when it came to happiness. When I read this to my daughter the first time I had so many questions that I fully admit I doubt I had when I was her age.

1. Why did her father brag to the king about something she clearly couldn't do?
2. How was she able to marry a man who, the day before, was going to kill her?
3. Who goes around listening at doors for crying maidens who need their straw spun into gold?

   I already had an opinion written out about this story, but what struck me the most while I wrote out the summary was the importance of names. With only one exception, everyone in the story had a title, but not a name. The story is resolved by the power of knowing someone's name. Yet we never learn the name of the miller, queen, king, palace guard, or the prize, the royal baby (which in some versions dies). It's things like this that beg for completion. In an attempt to answer my own questions about the story, I've rewritten it, but opted to retain the feel of storytelling. Click here for my version of the story, The Straw Maiden.

BTW, I completely appreciate the observation that I'm starting my posts with a story about the importance of names and I have not included my own name in this blog. I too believe names are important and feel a Rumpelstiltskin-like desire to guard it ;)