As
a kid I was blessed to have gotten my hands on an ancient book of fairy
tales, many ancient books actually, the original Nancy Drews, the
Wizard of Oz. Some people don’t realize it, but these versions are
different from what we see today. They have characters full of
dimension, angst, suffering, sometimes a rare triumph and victory. We
have edited and sanitized these stories, bringing them more in line with
the political correct attitudes of today. The modern versions of Nancy
Drew are so flat and two-dimensional, so full of stupid and boring, she
has been rendered nearly impotent, transformed into something so
unappealing many girls have no interest in her at all anymore.
I remember reading many of these tales
and being horrified, traumatized even. But is that not the sign of a
really good piece of literature? Isn’t it somehow wonderful to finish a
book feeling as if you had just walked through those adventures yourself
and to now look up and realize your very perceptions of reality itself
have changed?
When it comes to fairy tales,
disneyfication happened, sanitizing those tales into something pleasant
and charming, something people would find appealing to share with their
children. We don’t want any trauma here, no uncomfortable feelings, and
certainly not any complex moral issues that might cause one to think too
critically or to question anything. Also, everyone must always get
their prince or princess and live happily ever after in a palace….
I’ve been known to run around singing
like a teapot a la Angela Lansbury or trilling to the forest creatures
like Snow White, so it’s not as if enjoying these versions are bad or
something.
It’s simply that in the modern western
world we now live a rather sanitized and insulated existence, walled off
even from the nature of our own selves. Even love is now reduced to
something akin to a Hallmark card, a somewhat flat and two dimensional
thing involving receiving little commercialized tokens of affection and
endless romance. It is no surprise we have so much divorce, so much
unhappiness, so much frustration. Where’s my happily ever after, the
trilling forest creatures, the palace I ordered??
In the Gift of the Magi, she sells her
hair to buy him a chain for his watch, while he sells his watch to buy
her some combs for her hair. Those somewhat comical stories of human
foibles and sacrifice for love are all but forgotten today.
In the original Little Mermaid there is
no fun loving Ariel. She gives up everything, her identity, her very
life itself, just to taste what it is like to have a human soul, to
suffer unrequited love. She sacrifices her very life just to know human
suffering. She does not get her prince in the end, she sacrifices
herself and finds God instead.
Cinderella isn’t really a story about
true love and finding your prince, it’s a story about suffering and
grief, about unfair circumstances and injustice and the cruelty of human
beings. It’s about sexual competitiveness, power struggles, and the
hierarchies of human nature. It’s a about preserving your soul and
keeping your heart soft in the face of such challenges. It’s about the
beauty to be found in suffering, graciousness, humility. “Cinderella,”
the name itself, in all it’s different versions and translations, means
one whose worth is not seen on the outside.
Beauty and the Beast is about sacrifice
too, about letting go and learning how to love in the face of fear.
Beauty must let go of all her preconceived notions, her fears and simply
trust her heart, take a leap of faith. But the Beast must let go of
Beauty herself and risk living under a curse for the rest of his life.
There are lovely themes about freedom, sacrifice, and love, woven all
throughout the original story.
These are such valuable and important
life lessons to know, so I perceive the loss of these fairy tales as a
kind of theft. We have been robbed of the truth about our own selves and
deprived of the commonality of the human experience.
Pinocchio, he wants to be a real boy, but
he is trapped in his own deceptions. Truth is something we as people
tend to have a hard time with, always thinking we can improve the tale
of ourselves, simply by retelling it in a fashion more to our liking.
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