Folk-Tale Wisdom

I think one of my favorite lines for myself is from the Russian Cinderella story.

This version has the orphaned daughter (Vasalisa) being helped by a little doll her mother gave her. Every time the evil steps give her some impossible task, Vasalisa pours out her heart to the doll who tells her to rest.

“Morning is Wiser than the evening,” the doll always says.

And, of course, by morning the doll has worked some magic or called some creatures to her girl’s aid, reducing the problem to almost nothing.

So often I find that if I will just give over dwelling on my problem(s) and actually rest, I find the morning really is wiser than the evening– and that is even without magical assistance.

Though, probably not without divine assistance.

The Value of Illustrations

I am always a little sad when I hear someone being steered away from a classic that has been illustrated for children.

The reasoning behind this seems to be in seeking to develop the inner eye (imagination), and appreciation for the language itself apart from the distraction of images.

On the very small chance that anyone reading this post holds that view, here is an analogy: Illustrations (when they are something the child is actually interested in, mind you) are very like bath toys.

There is an age when the water itself ceases to be infinitely entertaining and tub toys become a very motivating factor in continuing baths.

Pictures can serve the same purpose, holding the child’s attention long enough for us to pour the words over them and whet their minds with new phrases and ideas.

“Trickster” Tales

I have never liked the trickster genre of folktales. Stories that center around characters like Yogbo the Glutton, Coyote, Raven, Brer Rabbit and the like (they exist in every culture).

They are, in general, shallow, Machiavellian, and utterly self-centered individuals.

They serve an important cultural role, especially among oppressed peoples, as they show the “little guy” triumphing over the abusing powers. But they also show a self-serving disregard for authority as an end in itself, as a form of entertainment.

Their attitude is that being oppressed automatically gives one the license to behave as s/he wishes, no matter who that may hurt. None of this “rising above” stuff.

One’s desire for pleasure or amusement is reason enough for any choices made.

This is on my mind just now because I just finished watching Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. Jack is your classic trickster character: the good he does is calculated to be in his favor, and good or bad he plays everything off as charming.

Does it well, too. Makes me very uncomfortable to watch.

A traditional tale about Raven summarizes the essence of tricksters for me, and the heart of my dislike for them.

“Don’t complain, just adapt.”

“I can’t do that! Suppose they catch me at it!”
“Surely you won’t let them catch you at it? A clever girl like you.”

From The Perilous Gard (a book I recommend without reservation).

This type of exchange drives me mad. I start out with a genuine (legitimate) concern, and someone counters with, Oh, it’s nothing really for *you* to be worried about.

That they are right is really beside the point when one is feeling insecure.

~~~

One of the disadvantages of modern femininity is that one is allowed a moment to “vent” as she seeks to do her duty, but it seems she is not allowed a moment of helplessness. This is true even in religious circles where it may be characterized as “lack of faith” or fearfulness.

While both may at the root be true, that doesn’t mean the “offender” has chosen to act in unbelief or fear (as the correction would imply). We are simply reacting, and this shouldn’t be treated as a shocking surprise.

After all, we’re not perfected yet.

Thinking About What Children’s Songs are Saying

(I can’t believe this is my first post about music. Music is a *big* part of my life. But so is eating, and sleeping, and I don’t blog about those, so… Anyway.)

As a word-person I’ve always been very clear on any song’s lyric and content before letting my kids hear me sing it. My tip/challenge (as the nit-picky, literal-interpretor I can be):

Don’t just sing “children’s” songs because they’re children’s songs. Make sure you agree with their message too.

Many of them are sweet, and we can sing things that go over their heads if we feel like it, but at least let’s not be unaware.

The types of things I’ve modified:

  • Down by the Bay— the fun rhyming-song Raffi made popular (I’m not sure who wrote it.)
    • DH inserted, “back to my home I want to go” (replacing “Back to my home I dare not go.” Don’t we want our kids thinking coming home will be fun?).
  • Row Your Boat
    • Changed the last line to “life is full of dreams” (replacing “Life is but a dream,” an unhealthy philosophy that’s been around for centuries.)
  • Lavender’s Blue (dilly dilly)
    • “Call out your men, set them to work… while you and I… keep ourselves warm.”  (Oh, look, a new euphemism for Mom and Dad  to use.)
    • It makes me smile but also is something I don’t much want my kids singing.

Am I word-obsessed? You could argue that. Over-analyzing?  Probably.

But these are words I’m planting in my young children’s minds as the way things are. They know the bit about “A llama eating pajamas” is nonsense, because of the context, but they are only just entering the age where we can say, this part is real, and this part isn’t. And I’ve been singing to them their whole lives.

And they’re *really* not ready to understand that philosophy (somebody want to remind me of the name? I’ve mis-placed my book).

I prefer just to avoid the stuff I don’t want to explain later. And that, I guess, is my “standard” for now.

More ideas at Rocks in my Dryer.

~~~

Added 2-3-07:

If you’re looking for a playable collection of children’s songs here are a bunch with chords.

LOTR on faithfulness (Co-habitation vs. Marriage)

I have the Recorded Books Inc. unabridged production of Lord of the Rings, and frequently listen to it (now on my iPod, so I don’t have to change disks) while I do housework and make meals.

This exchange, begun by Elrond as the fellowship of the ring is about to set out from Rivendell, has frequently come to mind when I hear the “optional-ness” of marriage discussed:

“The further you go, the less easy it will be to withdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid upon you to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road.”

“Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens,” said Gimli.

“Maybe,” said Elrond, “but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.”

“Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart,” said Gimli.

“Or break it,” said Elrond. “Look not too far ahead.”

 

As may be expected I definitely fall hard on the side of Gimli’s reasoning. Especially when looking at the adventure of a lifelong partnership.
To Elrond’s rebuttal (were he truly arguing about marriage) I’d respond that as my heart is going to be broken either way, I’ll go with that most likely to shore it up– rather than break it down. That is, every ending is painful. Why not take what care we can to strengthen what we’ve begun?

The goodness of Children, revisited.

We all admire the intelligence of people who think the way we do.

Bruno Bettelheim wrote a book called The Uses of Enchantment designed (as far as I can tell) to defend and promote the use of fairy tales in bringing up children. Naturally it is referenced in a number of storytelling articles I have read. I have only just started the book, and so far it is quite intriguing. Here is a quote that reminds me of the arguments I began articulating earlier.

There is a widespread refusal to let children know that the source of much that goes wrong in life is due to our very own natures– the propensity of all men for acting aggressively, asocially, selfishly, out of anger and anxiety. Instead we want our children to believe that, inherently all men are good. But children know that they are not always good; and often, even when they are, they would prefer not to be. This contradicts what they are told by their parents, and therefore makes the child a monster in his own eyes.

I have often thought about how ridiculous it is that adults continue to assert the inherent goodness of children (as one who has cared for/observed them most of my life), but I had never before considered how it must seem to the honest and thoughtful child who is aware of his or her own shortcomings.

Indeed, if a sensitive child is told that children’s goodness comes naturally, and honestly observes that his own goodness does not– I can see that being rather distressing, even if not completely “mak[ing] the child a monster in his own eyes.”

Needs

I watched the first disk of the first season of Monk last week.

Really liked it.

After finishing the last two episodes in one evening, I mentioned to Jay how nice it was to find another good source for my story “fix” that was positive/clean. I think I’m mentally setting this against, say, soap operas. Monk is a sort of modern Sherlock Holms, so it is a detective show.

Then, of course, as soon as I acknowledged my need for Story as a type of dependency I got both nervous and defensive. Nervous because I have to question whether each dependency is healthy, and defensive because I want to argue it isn’t, at least, unhealthy.

It got me thinking about all those needs we have that aren’t physical. Continue reading »

Positivity

I think one of my favorite things about Robin McKinley’s book Beauty is that she changes the sisters to be kind and loving.

This is a departure from the original story, but it adds an appropriate and satisfying level of complexity that didn’t, couldn’t, exist before. When home is a place you like, and want, to be, leaving into peril has more significance.

All the “heroines” who face danger so well and take daring chances (Cinderella, after all, did marry a complete stranger) do so from an unavoidably what-have-I-got-to-lose base.

One who allows their protagonist to have loving friends/family, and good times, good memories, is also (I believe) a less-lazy writer. Angst and isolation are the cheap shortcut to a reader’s pity. They are the “givens” in so many works of fiction (look at Disney, and Anne McCaffery).

It is understandable, and even forgivable (most people on some level seem to want to protect someone else– it affirms both our superiority and our competency), but this is also what makes positive characters (and supporting characters) so praiseworthy.

Who’s the Accessory?

Two springs ago I was the enchantress in a local production of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. Pretty cool. Got to wear a fabulous dress on-stage (for less-than two minutes).

What I observed after each show– dozens of little girls mobbing “Belle,” and the disenchanted prince being ignored entirely– made me see how different the roles of men and women are in different genres.

In the most popular fairy tales (think of the most well-known, the most-frequently retold), the man is the female lead’s accessory. Neither Belle nor Disney’s Cinderella address their princes by name. I can’t remember about Snow White.

Theirs is the fantasy of many females: to be the gorgeous center of attention. The man is useful, of course. He somehow signifies the princess has “won,” and (one assumes) he’ll be her devoted adorer even after everyone in the glorious finale has gone back to their own lives.

In contrast, many (most?) action-oriented movies cast the always beautiful woman as the male lead’s accessory. I’ll easily admit I’m not as familiar with this genre, so I may be proven wrong, but one example I can offer for this is Sahara. The leading lady was sometimes interesting, but from a storytelling perspective she existed mainly to allow our leading man to be heroic. Continue reading »