Disenchanted: the Fairies Return to Post-War England

Maria Tatar's introduction preps the pallet for the fairy tales that follow in Peter Davies's The Fairies Return: Or, New Tales for Old, a 1930's book republished for Jack Zipes's Oddly Modern Fairy Tales series.

The settings [of the Anglicized tales from Europe and the Orient] are Devonshire, Scotland, Ireland, and London--anything but the native soil from which some of the tales sprang.  As importantly, the untroubled appropriation of stories from the world over suggests that the tales have truly become British, that they have migrated with ease into a new culture and medium, making themselves available for literary adaptation and refashioning, once they have established themselves as part of a native storytelling tradition.

Though it is certainly not the only ingredient, the Englishness of these re-told fairy tales is the first and strongest to catch the attention.

"Jack the Giant Killer," by A.E. Coppard reads like newspaper headlines overheard as gossip on the street.  When three giants arrive in London from nowhere-in-particular, the citizens spend a lot of time talking about doing something and never doing it.  Enter Jack, a young fisherman from Cornwall.

Jack shows up at the Boss's house.  Love-at-first-sight follows with the Boss's daughter, 

. . . a fine piece, as plump as a leveret, and her name was Primrose.  She sat down beside their grandfather's clock and looked at Jack.  The more she looked the more she liked.  She grew quite fond of him.  His hair was red and his figure was good.  He liked her and the look of her.

He told the Boss he would undertake the extermination of the giants.  'Pray do,' said the Boss.  'I myself will privately double the reward. . . .'

'Never mind the reward,' Jack answered.

'What!' cried this Primrose.  'It is twenty thousand pounds now, and you are but a poor fisher lad!'

'I know,' said he; 'and of course I wouldn't mind it, in a manner of speaking, and I wouldn't refuse it, but I'd do it just the same for love--if you understand me rightly.'

The beauteous Primrose went up to him and put her two milk-white hands on his shoulder.  'I do,' she murmered.  'You are the dream of my life.'

[. . .]

'Shall I see you again?' [Jack] asked Primrose.

'Any time you like,' answered the princess--for such she undboutedly was.

It is all very practical and un-romanticized.  If it weren't for the obviously tongue-in-cheek tone, I might mistake it for a forerunner to magical realism.

copyright Michaela Knížová

In contrast to the bread-and-butter plainness of the 20th century English "peasantry," we have the depiction of the more elegant, much more ridiculous aristocracy in Lord Dunsany's "Little Snow-White," "With reverent apologies to the memory of Grimm:"

It will of course be remembered that Lord and Lady Clink, after the second marriage of the former, did a good deal of entertaining at their house in Grosvenor Square.  Ostensibly the innumerable parties were to amuse Blanche, the daughter of Lord Clink by his first marriage; but, as she was often in bed before they started, there were those who attributed the lavish entertainment to a certain frivolity in Lady Clink, or a merely perverse intention to flout those taxes that are so much a feature of our country.  Of these entertainments it is scarcely necessary to remind the reader, culminating as they did in the festivities on the occasion of the coming out of Blanche Clink, an event scarcely likely to be forgotten, either on account of the magnificence of Lady Clink's hospitality or because the unusual circumstance that Blanche came out at the age of seven.  [emphasis mine]

Instead of a magic mirror, the queen-figure has a gramophone which "speaks" to her.  It is the best money can buy.  

I am reminded of Chesterton's swift condemnation:  "The gramophone is a central mechanism giving out to men exactly what their masters think they should have."  There is biting irony in Lord Dunsany's use of this new invention as the wicked magical medium of Snow White's evil stepmother.

Instead of a huntsman, there is a chauffeur.  Instead of dwarfs, there are seven miners--not entirely new in itself but relevant enough to the scene.  Instead of a prince, there is the son of an entrepreneurial businessman named Mooch.

Dunsany's dismissal of wonder is easily summed up in the sentences, "And one of these bumps shook the bit of apple out of Blanche's mouth, the bit where it joins the stalk, where the arsenic solution had gathered.  And the effect of this, as anyone who understands poisons will tell you, was to bring Blanche alive again."

Ms. Tatar notes that, "Satire, with its historical specificity and commitment to topical issues, does not inhabit a 'once upon a time' but the 'here and now.'"

Both satire and fairy tale are driven by lack, by a sense that something vital is missing and that social circumstance shave made life short, nasty, and brutish. . . .  If satire is missing the rainbow promise of "happily ever after" found in fairy tales, it contains the Enlightenment promise that reason and wit will lead to steady improvements.

In the wake of the Great War, in the deep bowl of economic depression, on the doorstep of World War II, these stories are the cultural tradition of a disillusioned generation.  These are not fairy tales in the tradition sense.  As I read on, I don't believe they will offer an inkling of things-working-behind-the-scenes that seem to pull the strings behind the old folklore.

Still, they are skilfully and delightfully executed renderings, a treasure-collection of the talents of the time, and plain good literature.  I recommend them without hesitation.

To win your own free copy, enter here by October 26th.

Puzzles in and about Rumpelstiltskin

In his chapter on "Rumpelstiltskin and the Decline of Female Productivity" in Fairy Tale as Myth/Myth as Fairy Tale, Professor Zipes writes

Rumpelstiltskin is a disturbing fairy tale, not because we never really know the identity of the tiny mysterious creature who spins so miraculously, even when he is named by the queen, the former miller's daughter. 

This is a puzzling statement.  I frequent blogs and fairy tale forums enough to know that the funny little man, his outlandish ability, and his absurd request for a necklace, then a ring, and last a child, are what intrigue readers and make the fairy tale stand out among its literary brethren.  The fact that the tale ends with so many unanswered questions* is the premise of Vivian Vande Velde's delightful collection of stories, The Rumpelstiltskin Problem.

He writes further

It is disturbing because the focus of folklorists, psychoanalysts, and literary critics has centered on Rumpelstiltskin's name and his role in the tale despite the fact that the name is meaningless.

This also puzzles me, though I will try to avoid the amateurish desire to brood on the fact that only scholars and academics' opinions should determine why a fairy tale is memorable or important.  In fairness, Professor Zipes is probably directing his book to an audience of folklorists, psychoanalysts, and literary critics, of which (I assume) you and I are not one.

I am more puzzled by the fact that the absence of meaning behind Rumpelstiltskin and his name is cause for his dismissal.  

In any good tale or movie, the presence of an antagonist or conflict is crucial for its existence.  Without a conflict, there would be no story.

The fact that Rumpelstiltskin's motivation, his nature, and the meaning behind his name is never revealed does not diminish the very real problem put to the miller's daughter.  It could be said Rumpelstiltskin is disturbing because these unknowns are never disclosed, and not because we waste time wondering about the nondisclosure.  

I believe the unknowns present a very real challenge to hearers and readers; that of knowing the nature of their sufferingss and difficulties.  Of helplessness in the face of hardships.  The inability to name a fear, to shed light on it, and with knowledge, to banish it into darkness.

Zipes says the mannikin's name 

reveals nothing about Rumpelstiltskin's essence or identity.  The naming simply banishes the threatening creature from interfering with the queen's life.  Moreover, his role has always been presented in a misleading way.  According to the Aarne-Thompson tale type 500, Rumpelstiltskin is categorized as a helper, though he is obviously a blackmailer and oppressor.  (emphasis mine) 

Yet naming one's enemy** is an ancient tradition that gives a person power over the one who has been named.  Finally, I am puzzled as to why, if it is so obvious that Rumpelstiltskin is a blackmailer and oppressor, gifted storytellers have successfully depicted him as a sympathetic antagonist, or even anti-hero?

"In short," the paragraph concludes, "the categorization has strangely resulted in concern for a villain whose name is just as meaningless as the scholarship that has been absorbed in naming him."

The lack of knowledge about the identity and motivations of Rumpelstiltskin can be very significant to those who have ever faced an obstacle they did not know how to overcome.  And, as is the way with myth and fairy tales--and poetry--it is in the not-telling, the leaving-blank, the things-left-unsaid that their meanings and power take shape and form, that the tales become the subject of discussion, that folklorists, psychoanalysts, and literary critics are still pondering their significance today.

*  Even what are called "answers" by a fairy tale standard, which can sometimes be more obtuse than revealing.  As in Bluebeard: we know the other wives died because they opened the door--but what did the first one do to deserve death?

**  Or even one's ally.  I am by no means a Jewish scholar, but I understand that in their tradition, knowing the name of the Hebrew God is a sacred privilege.

A Less Grim Review of Snow White and the Huntsman

Instead of writing directly about my first impressions of the film (some have already, and said it better than I could), I'm going to address Jack Zipes' interview for the Smithsonian, titled "A Grimm Review of Snow White and the Huntsman."

Professor Zipes claims that fairy tale interest isn't new but that

What’s new is the hyping—films that are just absolutely mindless can make it seem like you are going to be sent into a world that will astonish and delight you for a couple of hours while you eat your popcorn.

I agree, though I don't believe Snow White and the Huntsman (or SWATH, to distinguish it from other Snow White films) is one of these.  While the most obvious example that comes to mind, Avatar, was a re-hasing of several dusty ideas and a step backwards according to many critics of the spent anit-colonization/anti-imperialism motif, SWATH was a genuine effort to approach the sacred bones of a beloved and profound tale and flesh it out for a new generation using the tools and talents available to a modern filmmaker.

Zipes goes on to say that tales should adapt as society changes, but that we should dismiss those re-tellings that are clearly aimed at stroking the tellers' vanity.

This seems contradictory.  If fairy tales originated with ordinary people (non-scholars), were preserved and adapted by them, then fairy tales and storytelling are phenomena with which those people have a right to do what they will.  The critics' place is to observe, record, dialogue, and appreciate, but not to determine who is and isn't worthy to handle fairy tales, despite my strong personal sympathy with him that those of un-pure intentions leave well alone (see essay by InkGypsy on the evolution of fairy tales).

About the SWATH film, he states:

This movie represents a backlash to the feminist movement. “Once Upon a Time,” Mirror Mirror—those shows and films focus on women and their conflict with one another. What the heck is going on in contemporary fairy tales? Women are not dominating the world; they are not evil. Why are we redoing the Grimm tales in a retroactive way that doesn’t understand the complex problems women have today? These films have nothing to say to the world today.

A movie with two women as main characters does not automatically label it either feminist or anti-feminist.  The statement "women are not dominating the world; they are not evil" fails to carry home his argument.  There are women in positions of power in the world, and some of them, no doubt, are on the spectrum of wickedness, but let us say his statement stands for the most part.  It is still irrelevant.  By saying Snow White and the Huntsman has nothing to say to the world today, he misses the point.

The power of the Snow White tale is as it always was, and it deals with universal tendencies, significant as much today, if not more, than they were a century ago.  Zipes says earlier in the interview that the "jealousy of the mother or stepmother regarding the beauty or power of a younger . . . woman" is what gives these tales poignancy.  They are useful and relevant.

The pressure to remain young and beautiful, and youth and beauty as a source of a woman's power, have not been eradicated from society.  At best, they have been filtered and shifted.  We are meant to be distracted by the fact that women stand alongside men in the workplace, that they have rights as divorcees and more say over how they raise their children, run for government office and are sexually "liberated"--this does not diminish the uncomfortable circumstances in which a woman endowed with physical attractiveness is significantly affected, for good or ill.

In SWATH, Queen Ravenna's disturbing condition reveals this double-edged truth, with harrowing results.  Beauty is dangerous, and it is helpful.  It is ruinous because it causes men and women to lust, covet, and envy.  It is also a tool of power because it can be used to subdue people and bend them to one's will.

Some were hesitant to see Kristen Stewart in the role of the fair princess, not least because it is difficult to imagine her beauty rivaling that of the chiseled-cheeked Charlize Theron.  But though the "fairest blood" of Snow White is the paradoxical salvation and undoing of her stepmother, there is never any direct claim that Snow White is physically more beautiful than the Queen.

Instead, the emphasis is on the beauty of her soul, i.e., her innocence of intention, purity of heart, and determination of spirit, embodied by the rose which pricks her mother's finger in place of the usual needle in the opening scene.*

While Snow White's transformation into a Joan-of-Arc style warrior princess is incomplete and awkward, given her gentleness of spirit and complete lack of military training, it is this inspiring leadership and the promise of being her good father's just and rightful heir, that causes her people to follow her in overthrowing the bewitching usurper.**

This has a great deal to say for our times.

It speaks about the shallow charms and violent power rooted in fear of dictators and deceitful politicians paired against the seeming weakness of the "average guy" with good intentions.  It speaks to a society that worships youth, finds little worth in the elderly, and seeks desperately for an Elixir of Life, even if it must sidestep bioethics to obtain it.  It addresses happiness, sacrifices made to obtain happiness, and which sacrifices are worthwhile and which are empty.

SWATH does this imperfectly, even weakly at times.  But it does it.

Last, Professor Zipes claims that a woman remaining "pure" and "virginal" is anti-feminist.

There is always a touch of faux feminism, or false feminism. Snow White becomes a warrior, but we still have this glorification of the virgin princess.

It is feminist belief I have previously encountered that virginity, purity, and innocence are ideals forced upon women by men and that the ideals don't have any power in and of themselves, except as they are given worth by a biased patriarchy.

This is the opposite of true.  The concept of the Virgin (both male and female) as a sacred person or role is ancient, with many incarnations.  One way virginity is powerful is because it is believed to harness procreative sexuality, consecrating it for a greater purpose.  Suffice to say, "glorification" of virginity does not have to weigh in a feminist vs. anti-feminist agenda.  Neither does being a warrior.  One does not need to be active to be non-passive, and vice versa.  Whether or not Snow White achieves non-passivity in the film is debatable (see the link to InkGypsy's essay above).  But the idea that being either a virgin, or a warrior, or both, reveals a gender's repression and mistreatment is in error.