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Atwood, who weaves fairy-tale motifs throughout her narratives with almost unprecedented creative energy, also produced a new version of "Bluebeard," one that has embedded in it the Grimms' story "Fitcher's Bird." "Bluebeard's Egg," unlike any fairy tale, is told from the protagonist's point of view: it charts Sally's drive to solve "the puzzle... Ed" (see here) and reveals that Ed Bear (who may not sport a beard on his face but surely has one encrypted in his nickname) is not as transparent as Sally once assumed. His inner life becomes a kind of secret chamber, a space that Sally is unable to penetrate. But Atwood challenges our interpretive faculties by refusing to write a text that offers unproblematic parallels with "Bluebeard." In the profusion of references to other fairy tales (Ed is a "third son" [see here], a "brainless beast" [see here], and a "Sleeping Beauty" waiting to be wakened by Sally, who is both a princess and a false bride), Atwood makes it clear that she taps multiple cultural stories for this work. And by transforming the forbidden chamber of Bluebeard's castle into everything from Ed's enigmatic mind and his "new facility" (see here) to the anatomical cavities of the human heart and the keyhole desk before which Ed betrays his sexual infidelity, Atwood unsettles the traditional story of "Bluebeard" and challenges us to understand the complexities of what she calls "power politics." Ed cannot be reduced to Bluebeard, and Sally is more than his investigative wife. In focalizing the story through Sally and showing how her effort to come to terms with the Grimms' "Fitcher's Bird" leads her to powerful revelations about her own life, Atwood suggests that engagement with our cultural stories can open our eyes to realities that however disruptive, painful, and disturbing-are not without a liberating potential. Hence the story ends on an ambiguous note, with a sense of anxiety but also with the possibility of hope about what will hatch from the "almost pulsing" (see here) egg of Sally's dream vision.
There is always another side to every story, and Edna St. Vincent Millay's "Bluebeard" poem reminds us of the perils of wanting to know too much when it comes to romance. A sharp stick against snooping, prying, nosiness, and spying, it reminds us that sometimes there is nothing to suspicions aroused, sometimes there is "no treasure hid,/ The sought- for truth, no heads of women slain" (see here). Curiosity kills not only the cat but also a love that might have endured.


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INTRODUCTION: Bluebeard
"Bluebeard" is the stuff of nightmares: raised scimitars, forbidden chambers, corpses hanging from hooks, bloody basins, and dismembered bodies. The tale made its literary debut in Charles Perrault's seventeenth-century Tales of Mother Goose, a collection that took the lead in transforming the oral narratives from adult storytelling cultures into bedtime reading for children. Over the years it has served as a master-narrative about the perils of marriage and continues to haunt cinematic culture in particular, sometimes explicitly, as in Catherine Breillat's Bluebeard (2009), sometimes covertly, as in Alex Garland's Ex Machina (2015). Like many of the fairy tales in Perrault's collection, "Bluebeard" has a happy ending: the heroine marries "a very worthy man, who banished the memory of the miserable days she had spent with Bluebeard" (see here). Yet most readers-even those willing to suspend disbelief about the pleasures of the next marriage-will find themselves unable to erase the graphic impressions left by the "miserable time" of the first marriage. In the narrative economy of Perrault's text, the verbal energy is invested almost exclusively in exposing Bluebeard's wife to horrors of extraordinary vividness and power.
Just who was Bluebeard and how did he come by his bad name? As Anatole France reminds us in his story "The Seven Wives of Bluebeard," Perrault composed "the first biography of this seigneur" and established his reputation as "an accomplished villain" and "the most perfect model of cruelty that ever trod the earth."1 Cultural historians have been quick to claim that Perrault's "Bluebeard" is based on fact, that it broadcasts the misdeeds of various noblemen, among them cunmar of Brittany and Gilles de Rais. But neither Cunmar the Accursed, who decapitated his pregnant wife, Triphine, nor Gilles de Rais, the marshal of France who was hanged in 1440 for murdering hundreds of children, present themselves as compelling models for Bluebeard. This French aristocrat remains a construction of collective fantasy, a figure firmly anchored in the realm of folklore.
Perrault's "Bluebeard" recounts the story of an aristocratic gentleman (known in Italy as "Silver Nose," in England as "Mr. Fox") and his marriage to a young woman whose desire for opulence conquers her feelings of revulsion for blue beards. The French tale contains what folklorists have identified as the three distinctive features of Bluebeard narratives: a forbidden chamber, an agent of prohibition who also metes out punishments, and a figure who violates the prohibition. From Perrault's time onward, the tale has been framed as a story about transgressive desire, as a text that enunciates the dire consequences of curiosity and disobedience.
Perrault presents Bluebeard's wife as a figure who suffers from an excess of desire for knowledge of what lies beyond the door. Bluebeard's wife enters the forbidden chamber and sees a pool of clotted blood in which are reflected the bodies of her husband's wives, hanging from the wall. Horrified, she drops the key (in some versions it is an egg, a straw, or a rose) into the pool of blood and is unable to remove the telltale stain from the key. But Bluebeard's wife, both
in Perrault's rendition and in its many cultural inflections, is a canny survivor. Her husband may try to behead her for her act of disobedience, but she succeeds in delaying the execution long enough that her brothers, summoned by Sister Anne, arrive in time to rescue her and to cut Bluebeard down with their swords.
"Bluebeard" stands virtually alone among fairy tales in its depiction of marriage as an institution haunted by the threat of murder. While canonical fairy tales like "Cinderella," "Snow White," and "Beauty and the Beast" begin with unhappy situations at home, center on a romantic quest, and end in visions of marital bliss, "Bluebeard" stories show us women leaving the safety of home and entering the risky domains of their husband's castles. In these tales, mothers, sisters, and brothers mobilize to rescue the heroine rather than to do her in. Family solidarity triumphs over stranger danger.
While "Bluebeard" may not necessarily be an appropriate story for children, it remains a powerful text challenging the myth of romantic love encapsulated in the "happily ever after" of fairy tales and presenting a message with a social logic compelling for Perrault's day and age. Anxious fantasies about sex and marriage would hardly be surprising in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Europe, where women married at a relatively young age, where the mortality rate for women in childbirth was high, and where a move away from home might rightly be charged with fears about isolation, violence, abuse, and marital estrangement. While it is tempting to promote stories that stage the joys of heterosexual romantic unions and to banish grisly stories about murderous husbands (especially once the venue for the tales shifted to the nursery), it is important to preserve our cultural memory of this particular story and to understand exactly what is at stake in it. "Bluebeard" may not appear with great frequency between the covers of twentieth-century anthologies of fairy tales, but it is a story whose cultural resilience becomes quickly evident when we enter the arena of contemporary literary and cinematic production for adults.
Folklore often trades in the sensational-breaking taboos, enacting the forbidden, staging hidden desires, and exploring pathologies with uninhibited investigative energy. In many ways, the story of a wife's transgressive curiosity about her husband's violent past could be seen as a self-reflexive meditation on how fairy tales feed our undiminished appetite for horror. "Bluebeard" is also without doubt the most stunning piece of evidence that folktales can be seen as the legitimate precursors of cinematic horror, another genre notorious for trading on collective fears and fantasies. Stories like "Bluebeard" prefigure the gothic plots of modern horror and construct desires and fears that remain remarkably intact (despite cultural variations) as we move from one century to the next and as we cross from one popular form of entertainment to another. In "Bluebeard," as in cinematic horror, we have not only a killer who is propelled by psychotic rage but also the abject victims of his serial murders, along with a "final girl" (Bluebeard's wife), who either saves herself or arranges her own rescue. The "terrible place" of horror, a dark, tomblike site that harbors grisly evidence of the killer's derangement, manifests itself as Bluebeard's forbidden chamber.?
It is not only in cinematic horror from the 1970s onward that the Bluebeard story manifests its cultural staying power. In what one critic has tellingly called "paranoid woman's films," we also find the Bluebeard syndrome at work in all its melodramatic theatricality. These films, which were made in the wake of Hitchcock's Rebecca (1940) and include such classic thrillers as Robert Stevenson's Jane Eyre (1944), George Cukor's Gaslight (1944), and Fritz Lang's Secret beyond the Door (1948), all feature a heroine who is beset by fears that her husband is planning to murder her. Driven by hermeneutic desire, these women investigators search for the key to understanding the cryptic behavior of their
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sinister husbands, always by penetrating the mysteries of a chamber in the house where they have taken up residence. In Hitchcock's Rebecca, the boathouse and Rebecca's bedroom are forbidden or uncanny spaces for the character played by Joan Fontaine; in Jane Eyre the title character must unlock the secret of the tower room in which Bertha Mason is housed; in Gaslight it is the attic, along with the husband's locked desk, that are taboo; and in Secret beyond the Door, the heroine is barred from entering room 7, a replica of her own bedroom built to provide her husband with the scene of his next crime.
In much the same way that cinema criticism has been obsessed with the "paranoia" of a wife rather than by the very real threat posed by a husband who seems to be restaging the Bluebeard story, folklorists have shown surprising interpretive confidence in reading Perrault's "Bluebeard" as a story about a woman's marital disobedience or sexual infidelity rather than about her husband's murderous violence. "Bloody key as sign of disobedience"-this is the motif that folklorists consistently read as the defining moment in the tale. The bloodstained key points to a double transgression, one that is at once moral and sexual. For one critic, it becomes a sign of "marital infidelity";4 for another it marks the heroine's "irreversible loss of her virginity"; for a third, it stands as a sign of "defloration." If we recall that the bloody chamber in Bluebeard's castle is strewn with the corpses of previous wives, this reading of the bloodstained key as a marker of sexual infidelity becomes willfully wrongheaded in its effort to vilify Bluebeard's wife.
Illustrators, commentators, and retellers alike seem to have fallen in line with Perrault's stated view in his moral to the story that "Bluebeard" is about the evils of female curiosity. Walter Crane's illustration of Bluebeard's wife on her way to the forbidden chamber shows her descending the stairs, framed by a tapestry of Eve giving in to temptation in the Garden of Eden. "Succumbing to temptation" is the "sin of the fall, the sin of Eve," one representative critical voice asserts. A nineteenth-century Scottish version of the tale summarizes in its title what appears to be the collective critical wisdom on this tale: "The Story of Bluebeard, or, the effects of female curiosity."?
Bluebeard's wife may have an inquiring mind, but her curiosity is clearly intellectual rather than sexual. It turns her into an energetic investigator, determined to acquire knowledge of the secrets hidden behind the door of the castle's forbidden chamber. Perrault's story, by underscoring the heroine's kinship with certain literary, biblical, and mythical figures (most notably Psyche, Eve, and Pandora), gives us a tale that willfully undermines a robust folkloric tradition in which the heroine is a resourceful agent of her own salvation. Rather than celebrating the courage and wisdom of Bluebeard's wife in discovering the dreadful truth about her husband's murderous deeds, Perrault and other tellers of the tale often cast aspersions on her for engaging in an unruly act of insubordination.
The French folklorist Paul Delarue has mapped out the evolution of "Bluebeard," documenting the liberties taken by Perrault in transforming an oral folktale into a literary text. The folk heroines of "Bluebeard" delay their executions by insisting on donning bridal clothes for the event (thus buttressing the folkloric connection between marriage and death), and they prolong the possibility of rescue by recounting each and every item of clothing. Perrault's heroine, by contrast, who asks her husband for "a little time to say my prayers" (see here), becomes a model of repentent piety. Unlike many folk heroines, who become agents of their own rescue by dispatching fleet-footed pet dogs or talking birds to their families with urgent calls for help, Perrault's heroine sends her sister up to the castle tower to watch for the brothers who were to visit her that very day. Most important, folk versions of the tale do not fault the heroine for her curiosity. To the contrary, when the young women stand before the forbidden chamber, they feel duty-bound to
open its door. "I have to know what is in there," one young woman reflects just before turning the key. The pangs of conscience that beset Perrault's heroine are absent.
Once we move from the classic, canonical versions of the tale, we discover heroines who are often described as courageous: curiosity and valor enable them to come to the rescue of their sisters by reconstituting them physically (putting their dismembered parts back together again) and by providing them with safe passage home. Calculated to maximize melodramatic effects, many of the less-well-known stories side with the heroine, who becomes the agent of her own rescue. In versions of the story told by Jamaican storytellers, African Americans in the U.S. South, or Pueblo Indians, the wives of Bluebeard figures engineer a breathtaking escape that ends with a triumphant return home. While the story of Bluebeard has been read by countless contemporary commentators as turning on the issue of sexual fidelity, what really seems to be at issue, if one considers the folkloric evidence, is the heroine's discovery of her husband's misdeeds, her craft in delaying the execution of his murderous plans, and her ability to engineer her own rescue. In its bold proclamation about the perils of some marriages, "Bluebeard" endorses, above all, allegiance to family and celebrates a return to the safety and security of home, a regressive move back to the household of the heroine's childhood. Bluebeard's wife becomes a double of the British Jack, liquidating the ogre and climbing back down the beanstalk to live happily ever after at home.
When we consider the form in which "Bluebeard" circulated in an oral culture, it quickly becomes evident that the story must be closely related to two tales recorded by the brothers Grimm. The first of these, "Fitcher's Bird" (see here), shows us the youngest of three sisters using her "cunning" to escape the snares set by a clever sorcerer and to rescue her two sisters. The heroine of "The Robber Bridegroom" (see here) also engineers a rescue, mobilizing her wits and her narrative skills to escape from the thieves with whom her betrothed consorts. Oddly enough, however, these two variants of the "Bluebeard" story seem to have fallen into a cultural black hole, while tales like Perrault's "Bluebeard" have been preserved and rewritten as cautionary tales warning women about the hazards of disobedience and curiosity. It is telling that an author like Margaret Atwood turned to "Fitcher's Bird" and "The Robber Bridegroom" for narrative inspiration and that a visual artist like Cindy Sherman created a picture book of the Grimms' "Fitcher's Bird." This new cultural investment in old tales about bad marriages clearly has something to do with the discovery that older versions of "Bluebeard" stressed the resourcefulness of the heroine and with the revelation that Perrault's "Bluebeard" was not the sole source of narrative authority for this particular marriage tale.
Margaret Atwood, who grew up reading the Grimms, recognized that fairy tales were not at all as culturally repressive as some feminist critics had made them out to be.
The unexpurgated Grimm's Fairy Tales contain a number of fairy tales in which women are not only the central characters but win by using their own intelligence. Some people feel fairy tales are bad for women. This is true if the only ones they're referring to are those tarted-up French versions of "Cinderella" and "Bluebeard," in which the female protagonist gets rescued by her brothers. But in many of them, women rather than men have the magic powers.2


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During early Christianity there were few indications that oral folk tales would develop and flourish as a major literary genre in the West, and there were obvious reasons for this lack. Most people were nonliterate and shared strong oral cultural traditions; the tales had not been changed sufficiently to serve the taste and interests of the ruling classes in urban areas or dominant intellectual and literary language until the late Middle Ages when the vernacular languages gradually formed general standards of grammar and replaced Latin as the dominant tongue, and the technology of printing did not make much progress until the fifteenth century so that the distribution of literary works was not very widespread. Consequently, it is not surprising that the first appearance of a major literary fairy tale, Apuleius’s “Cupid and Psyche,” was written in Latin in the second century. Moreover, it was included in a book, The Golden Ass, which dealt with metamorphoses, and thus may have been of the fairy tale cycle up to the present. However, whereas many oral wonder tales had been concerned with the humanization of natural forces, the literary fairy tale, beginning with “Cupid and Psyche,” shifted the emphasis more toward the civilization of the protagonist who must learn to respect natural order and laws to become accepted in society and/or united to reproduce and continue the progress of the world toward proper happiness.

At first, this new literary fairy tale could not stand by itself, that is, it did not have a receptive audience and had to be included within a frame story or in a collection of instructive and amusing stories and anecdotes. Therefore, up to the fifteenth century, the evidence that we have of complete fairy tales is with such manuscripts as the Gesta Romanorum (c. 1300), medieval romances, sermons delivered by priests, and short Latin poems and narrative. Nevertheless, there are some remarkable intellectual ferment and frothy intellectual exchange of moral ideas, as Jan Ziolkowski has demonstrated in his book Fairy Tales from Before Fairy Tales: The Medieval Latin Past of Wonderful Lies. Even today, however, tales like “Cupid and Psyche” in the Gesta Romanorum collection were used to provide instruction for the education of young Christian boys and had a strong moralistic strain to them. In addition, like “Cupid and Psyche,” the early Latin fairy tales were largely focused toward males and on their acquisition of the proper moral values and ethics that would serve them in their positions of power in society.

I have not yet spoken about Giovan Francesco Straparola’s Le piacevoli notti (The Pleasant Nights, 1550—53) in two volumes that is a collection of oral fairy tales he put together, and it was the first major literary fairy tale collection written and published in the vernacular. Straparola made a unique use of expressions that were filled with folk phrases to give a proper tone to the stories. Milan Pforzheimer research is beginning to lead a new focus of attention on these embellishing devices.

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and fairy tale. Her great merit is to set up to include: acute anecdotes, fables, and fairy tales like “The Pig Prince” and “Constantino,” forerunners of “Hans My Hedgehog” and “Hans in Boots” and it is indebted to Giovanni Boccaccio’s The Decameron (1353). However, Straparola did not include fairy tales in his collection, so Straparola can be considered the first writer in Europe to have published numerous fairy tales in a vernacular for an educated audience. Though his tales did not achieve the popularity of Boccaccio’s collection, they were reprinted several times in the sixteenth century and were translated into French in the eighteenth century, and German and English in the nineteenth century.

There is no direct evidence, however, one way or another that Straparola influenced Giambattista Basile, who came to Campi d’oro, also known as The Pentameron, was published posthumously in 1634. Written in Neapolitan dialect, Basile was the first writer to use old folk-tale motifs such signature from a entire collection of fifty fairy tales. His book begins with a tale about a princess named Zoza who cannot laugh, no matter what her father, the King of Valleys, does, although he uses the most horrible, finally, her father challenges that Zoza will be entitled to be married to the prince so that other people would be laughed just by looking at her. Finally, the king had an idea and built a putrid well that he made insipid and very disgusting, and let an old woman pass by. The old woman is a witch and wrong person to be in front of the well. She is caught in the well, and her skirts are up in the air. Zoza sees the old woman while she is about to fall into the well, and she cannot keep from laughing. The king marries her to his son, and they live happily ever after. The story ends with the moral that one should not laugh at others. Basile’s tales include magic and adventures where the hero or heroine must endure hardships and dangers before she can wake and save with her tears. With the help and advice from three fairies, Zoza succeeds in weeping a sufficient amount of tears, but she then falls asleep before she can achieve the honor of rescuing Taddeo. In the meantime, a malicious slave steals her vessel of tears and claims the honor of liberating Taddeo, who marries her. Yet, this does not deter Zoza, who meets a fine house opposite Taddeo’s palace and arranges through her beauty to attract his attention. The other woman, who is pregnant, learns about this, she threatens to kill her unborn child if Taddeo does not get her every whim. Zoza responds by enticing the slave with three gifts she had received from the fairies. The slave is so glad that she places the gifts in her bed and falls into a deep sleep, and then forces Taddeo to gather storytellers who will amuse her during the nine days of her pregnancy. So, Zoza collected a group of ten storytellers, one for all the ten days, to unveil Zoza concludes the sessions with her own tale that saves the slave’s theft and brings the true story to his account. As a result, Taddeo has the pregnant slave killed, and he marries Zoza for his wife.

Basile was very familiar with the customs and behavior of the Neapolitans and had often traveled to Italy and served in different courts and writers as he also collected widely for himself. Therefore, it was natural for him to include a wealth of folklore, anecdotes, and events in his fairy tales that celebrate marvelous changes and common. As a result, Straparola’s collection provides two very different folk tales and different versions. As in the frame narrative, the humor ties between people based on cynicism, envy, and the cruelty of human life. Basile’s work highlights the sharpness of the storyteller and his ironic gaze at protagonists and observing their being through the ambiguity of the human soul and sharp laughter, and the action of the common people extended to the listener with their accent and humor. The stories are derived from his fable, the art of seeing and laughing at himself as the best and beneficial for the narrator.

It is not by chance that the literary fairy tale began flourishing in Italy before other European countries. During the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Italy was at the center of the intellectual and artistic revolutions. The great commercial centers of the time, and the literacy rates were high. Cultural activity in the courts and in the city-states was at a high point, and there was an interest in collecting and preserving diverse and native oral traditions among the people. Although it cannot be fully

Summary

The text discusses the evolution of literary fairy tales from early Christianity to the Renaissance, focusing on the transition from oral traditions to written stories. It highlights the role of vernacular languages, printing technology, and the incorporation of moral values in shaping fairy tales. Key figures like Apuleius, Straparola, and Basile are mentioned, with Straparola’s “The Pleasant Nights” and Basile’s “The Pentameron” being pivotal in popularizing fairy tales in Europe. These tales often included moral lessons, humor, and elements of human nature. Italy’s cultural and intellectual landscape during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries played a significant role in the flourishing of literary fairy tales.

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Documented, it is highly likely that the Italian literary fairy tales were gradually spread in print and by word of mouth throughout Europe. Interestingly, England, another powerful maritime country, was the other nation that began cultivating a literary fairytale tradition. Those in early times include these: Chaucer’s Tales, 1390-1400; Spenser’s The Faerie Queene 1590-96, and of course, in many of Shakespeare’s plays such as King Lear, A Midsummer Night’s Eve, The Tempest, the Winter’s Tale, and As You Like It.
However, due to the Puritan hostility toward amusement during the seventeenth century, the fairy tale as a genre was not able to flourish in England.
The modern novel and bourgeois conduct books in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries would face new conditions of the ancien régime from 1690 to 1714.
The many contributing factors that account for the rise and spread of the fairy tale in France at this time.
Second, the evolution of writing fairy tales and more experimentation with different kinds of literature.
Third, there was great cultural creativity and innovation in France.
Finally, about the middle of the seventeenth century, the fairy tale gradually became more accepted at literary salons and at the court, principally as theatrical form or pageant.
Fairytale recitations and games were devised, generally by women in salons and among the nobility.
Their narratives are long and rambling and focus on the question of tenderness.

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The very name of the genre itself — fairy tale — originated during this time.
The French writers coined the term conte de fées during the seventeenth century.
This “fairytale” is important because it reveals something crucial about the fairy tale that has remained part of its nature to the present.
The early writers of fairy tales placed the power of metamorphosis in the hands of women.
In addition, this miraculous power was associated with a particular religious orthodoxy.
Although they were not the only ones responsible, it was clear from the creative imagination of the writer.
Anyone could spin a tale for his/her life.
In the case of the gifted writers in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century preferred to address themselves to a public.
This is why they created a tradition that was innovative and great.
The institutionalization of the fairy tale in France during the 1690s.
The influence of the church on the institutionalization of the fairy tale.
The tradition of the oral wonder tale had surfaced again in France.
In France, the wonder tale was introduced in a salon.

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Most of the tales published in France were cleaned from a manuscript.
The tradition of the oral wonder tale had surfaced.
The reason for the institutionalization of the fairy tale in France.
The tales were not necessarily constructed by the Christian context.
In some cases, the coming of the tales.
The influence of the church on the institutionalization.

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A list of fairy tales: “Cinderella,” “Sleeping Beauty,” “Rapunzel,” “Rumpelstiltskin,” “Puss in Boots,” “The Little Red Riding Hood.”
The names of the tales are known to readers and are seen as part of the tradition associated with the Austrian Alps.
All aspects of storytelling from the Arabian Nights.
Summary

The text discusses the history and spread of literary fairy tales in Europe, particularly focusing on the role of Italy and France. It highlights the cultural exchange and evolution of fairy tales during the 17th century, emphasizing the impact of literary salons and the court in France. The genre’s name, “fairy tale,” originated from the French term “conte de fées,” and these stories often centered on themes of metamorphosis and tenderness. The institutionalization of fairy tales in France during the 1690s is noted, with the church playing a significant role. The text also references well-known fairy tales and their connection to the broader European storytelling tradition.

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Christian scholar named Youhenna Diab, living at that time in Paris, and wrote in part Galland’s literary recreations. The exotic setting and nature of these Oriental tales attracted not only French but numerous European readers, who Galland’s translation stimulated the translation of other Arabic works such as The Adventures of Ahabala, Son of Fari (1744–45) by the scholar Jean-Pe Péron, as well as hundreds of his own translations into English, Italian, German, Spanish, and so on.

The infusion of the Oriental tales into the French literary tradition enriched and broadened the paradigmatic contents of Western writers during the course of the eighteenth century. It became a favorite device and still is to juxtapose the exotic and a tale to the Orient with the intense sensitive issues of norms and power close to home. Aside from the great import of these Arabic and Persian tales on Western writers through translation, there was another development that was crucial for the institutionalization of the fairy tale in the eighteenth century. Soon after the publication of the tales by d’Aulnoy, Perrault, Lhéritier, Galland, and others, they were incorporated into a series of books called the Bibliothèque Bleue, inexpensive volumes aimed at spreading folklore and cultural tales throughout France and central Europe to the lower classes. The fairy tales were often modified, the language was changed and simplified, and there were multiple versions, which were read to children and nonliterate. Many of these tales were then appropriated by oral storytellers so that the literary tradition became a source for the oral tradition. As a result of the increased popularity of these culturally mixed tales and their success among the lower and middle classes, writers began to compose tales for children and included illustrations to attract the young readers. The tales of Perrault, Madame Leprince de Beaumont, and Madame de Villeneuve, for instance, were extensively used by the English governess, Mrs. Cooper, who published a collection of fairy tales in 1739 designed for children. Other English writers, such as Sarah Fielding (The Governess, 1749) and Mary Sherwood (The Fairchild Family, 1818), adapted the French fairy tales for young girls and boys and began paving the way for the reception of the fairy tale in England.

As the literary fairy tale began to function more as a didactic instrument to entertain and educate, it began to serve different functions, depending on the writer’s intention and reception of the genre and ideology of the French aristocracy: (1) a symbolical critique of the aristocratic society with utopian connotations, largely within the aristocracy from the female viewpoint; (2) a didactic instrument for children; (3) an instrument to introduce norms of conduct, particularly among the bourgeoisie and as a critique of the worst aspects of the Enlightenment and absolutism. This viewpoint was clearly expressed in Johann Wolffgang von Goethe’s classical narrative entitled “The New Melusine” (1797) and though it meant to be a fairy tale full of moral lessons. Goethe emphasized through it a successful critique of a repressive modernity that especially the support of all feudal classes.

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not commit, whereby they were cast as trials or extreme, especially ideal dialogue within a fairytale audience that had become firmly established in the Western intellectual tradition. For instance, the French fairy tale, which was most remarkable, now reached The Arabian Nights, had a profound influence on the German classicists and the romantics, and the development of the literary fairy tale in Germany would take many of these tales into account over the next several decades with the French authors, the German middle-class writers like Johann Karl August, in his collection Wunderhorn der Deutschen (1805–08), Grimm included “Lusus,” an ostensibly for display to celebrate the canon of ancient Musae’s songs and dances for children.

French fairy tale in his work and a language deeply affiliated or educated Germans. At the same time, Christian Winkman translated into a digested nature some of the Cabinet des Fées in Deutschland (1766– 74). “The Philosophers’ Stone” is his own creation but reveals how he, too, consciously modelled his fairy tale on the classical canon of German and French fairy tales in his own way. Aside from these two major concerns, a conscious attempt was made for the German people to become the recipients of this fairy-tale tradition, and the Grimm brothers were largely responsible for this development, which was significant in the latter half of the eighteenth century. The Grimms’ major contribution was to collect and translate German fairy tales within the oral tradition. The Grimms’ major contribution was to collect and translate German fairy tales within the oral tradition and to establish a canon for a new, distinct, and in some respects more pleasant means of initiating children into the class rituals and customs that reflected the status quo.

The climax of the French institutionalization of the fairy tale was the publication of Charles Mayer’s forty-two-volume Le Cabinet des Fées in between 1785 and 1789, a collection that included most of the important French tales written during the previous hundred years. From this point onward, the French canon was established, and the Grimms would take many of these tales into account over the next several decades with the French authors, the German middle-class writers like Johann Karl August, in his collection Wunderhorn der Deutschen (1805–08), Grimm included “Lusus,” an ostensibly for display to celebrate the canon of ancient Musae’s songs and dances for children.

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This viewpoint was clearly expressed in Johann Wolffgang von Goethe’s classical narrative entitled “The New Melusine” (1797) and though it meant to be a fairy tale full of moral lessons. Goethe emphasized through it a successful critique of a repressive modernity that especially the support of all feudal classes. In many ways, the emphasis was placed on how the present situation was contrasted with the past. Writers considered it a critique of the present to underscore the decline of the aristocratic institutions and customs. In many ways, the emphasis was placed on how the present situation was contrasted with the past. Writers considered it a critique of the present to underscore the decline of the aristocratic institutions and customs. At the same time, the fairy tale became an allegory that was meant to provide a vision of how things might be different if the aristocracy were more responsible and considerate of the needs of the lower classes. Consequently, the moral lessons were finally approved as needing nature to serve as a subtle, healing addiction that could lead children to have civic duties and to

Summary

The text discusses the influence of Oriental tales, particularly Arabic and Persian, on Western literature during the eighteenth century, highlighting how such tales enriched the French literary tradition and broadened Western narrative paradigms. The tales became significant in the Bibliothèque Bleue series, aimed at spreading folklore to lower classes, leading to adaptations for children. This period saw fairy tales used as didactic tools, critiquing aristocratic society and introducing norms, particularly during the Enlightenment. The text also covers the impact on German literature and the role of the Grimm brothers in collecting and translating fairy tales, contributing to a new canon. The discussion includes Goethe’s critique of modernity through fairy tales, emphasizing moral lessons and societal change.

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The stories considered most detrimental to the well-being of children were fantasy works.
Such tales included:
Beatrix Potter’s stories
Wilhelm Hauff’s Marchen
E.T.A. Hoffmann’s tales
Hans Christian Andersen’s works
Acceptance of fairy tales for children and their educational value was debated.
The tales evolved over time, becoming more accepted by society.
Page 21
Fairy tales were adapted to reflect societal norms and values.
Andersen’s tales became more moralistic and less supernatural.
Romanticism influenced the acceptance and transformation of fairy tales.
Influential authors like Charles Dickens and George Cruikshank shaped the perception of fairy tales in England.
Page 22
By the late 19th century, fairy tales were popularized in England by authors like Lewis Carroll and George MacDonald.
The tales retained magical elements but often had moral lessons.
The transition from ancient to modern fairy tales marked changes in society’s moral and educational values.
Page 23
Fairy tales were analyzed to understand societal changes and the impact on children.
Authors like J.M. Barrie and Kenneth Grahame contributed to the modern fairy tale genre.
The balance between fantasy and moral education became a focal point in the evolution of children’s literature.
Summary

The text explores the evolution and societal perceptions of fairy tales, particularly their impact on children’s education and morality. Initially viewed as potentially harmful, these tales evolved over time, becoming more accepted as they adapted to reflect societal norms and values. Influential authors like Hans Christian Andersen and E.T.A. Hoffmann contributed to this transformation by infusing moral lessons into their stories. By the late 19th century, fairy tales had become an integral part of children’s literature in England, balancing fantasy with educational value.

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Page 24:

The Fairies Return, ed. New Tales for Old (1934) - social commentaries.
Authors: E. C. Oppend, Lord Dunsany, Eric Linklater, Helen Simpson, Edith Anna Chance Sampson, Christina Stead, J. C. Snaith.
Fairy tales adapted for political purposes in Germany and Nazi ideology.
Examples: H. H. Phillips’ “Little Red Riding Hood as a Dictator Would Tell It” (1940).
Tolkien’s The Hobbit (1939) - fantasy of escape.
“The Fairy Tale of the King” (1940) - satire on Hitler.
Fairy tales used to question societal values.
Authors: Philip K. Dick, Nevill Mottison, Sylvia Townsend Warner, Robert Graves, Nicholas Stuart Gray.

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Fairy tales as cautionary tales and entertainment.
Authors: W. H. Auden, Robert Coover, Angela Carter, Margaret Atwood.
Focus on psychological and societal issues.
Fairy tales adapted for contemporary audiences.
Example: James Garner, Robert Graves, Michael Ende.
Literary use in both Britain and America.
Authors: Anne Sexton, Angela Carter.
Themes: power, control, societal norms.

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Modern retellings of fairy tales.
Authors: Ellen Datlow, Terri Windling.
Books: Snow White, Blood Red; Ruby Slippers, Golden Tears; Black Swan, White Raven.
Authors include Joyce Carol Oates, John Crowley, Nancy Kress, Lois Goldstein.
Exploration of societal issues.
Fairy tales as reflections of contemporary concerns.

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Fairy tales in modern society and entertainment.
The role of fairy tales in reflecting and shaping culture.
Authors use fairy tales to address modern issues.
Examples: The Robber Bridegroom, Bluebeard.
Fairy tales as a medium for artistic expression.
Summary

The text discusses the evolution and adaptation of fairy tales throughout the 20th century, highlighting their use as social commentary and political tools, particularly in contexts like Nazi Germany. Authors such as E. C. Oppend and Philip K. Dick adapted these tales to critique societal norms and political ideologies. The text also explores modern retellings by authors like Angela Carter and Joyce Carol Oates, who use fairy tales to address contemporary issues. Fairy tales are presented as both cautionary tales and reflections of societal values, demonstrating their enduring relevance in literature and culture.

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The basic message is reconciliation between beauty and beast, and love without friction.
Disney’s reinterpretations of fairy tales like “Snow White” and “Beauty and the Beast” promote this message, except for the darker elements in “Snow White.”
The film industry often alters fairy tales for contemporary social issues.
Examples include Neil Jordan’s “The Company of Wolves” and Matthew Bright’s “Freeway,” which add contemporary themes to traditional stories.
Other filmmakers like Niki Caro and John Sayles incorporate social commentary into their adaptations.
Disney’s version of “Cinderella” differs from Charles Perrault’s version, emphasizing domesticity over fairy tale enchantment.

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Modern filmmakers try to make fairy tales relevant to contemporary audiences.
Hayao Miyazaki’s films like “Spirited Away” and “Howl’s Moving Castle” explore the journey of young women, challenging traditional narratives.
Salman Rushdie’s work encourages new fairy tales that address current issues like political oppression.
The text suggests reconsidering traditional fairy tales in light of modern social contexts.

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The current phase of fairy tales often involves rationalizing magic and enchanting elements.
The industry is criticized for turning fairy tales into mere entertainment, losing their capacity to inspire critical thinking.
Fairy tales should be a part of our responsibility to the civilizing process.
The author emphasizes the need to preserve the imaginative and magical elements in fairy tales, which are crucial for cultural and personal growth.
Summary

The text discusses how modern adaptations of fairy tales, particularly by Disney and other filmmakers, often alter original stories to address contemporary social issues. It highlights the trend of incorporating themes of reconciliation, social commentary, and political oppression. Filmmakers like Neil Jordan and Hayao Miyazaki are noted for their innovative approaches, which challenge traditional narratives. The critique includes how Disney’s “Cinderella” focuses more on domesticity than enchantment, contrasting with earlier versions. The text advocates for maintaining the imaginative and inspirational elements of fairy tales, warning against reducing them to mere entertainment.


Haase:

YOURS, MINE, OR OURS? PERRAULT, THE BROTHERS GRIMM, AND THE OWNERSHIP OF FAIRY TALES Author(s): Donald Haase Reviewed work(s): Source: Merveilles & contes, Vol. 7, No. 2 (December 1993), pp. 383-402 Published by: Wayne State University Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/41390373 .
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YOURS, MINE, OR OURS?
PERRAULT, THE BROTHERS GRIMM, AND THE OWNERSHIP OF FAIRY TALES
Donald Haase
The Revered Place of Folklore
In 1944 W.H. Auden decreed that Grimms' fairy tales are "among the few indispensable, common-property books
upon which Western culture can be founded. ... [IJt is
hardly too much to say that these tales rank next to the Bible in importance" (1).
Auden was in one sense right. Like the Bible, fairy tales - especially the classic tales of Charles Perrault and the Brothers Grimm - hold a revered if not sacred place in mod- ern Western culture. Often thought to reach back like sacred works to "times past," to some ancient, pristine age in which their original tellers spoke mythic words of revelation, folk and fairy tales are endowed by many readers with unas- sailable moral and even spiritual authenticity.
Because they had their genesis in an oral tradition, we are tempted to imaginae their original tellers as simple folk endowed with infallible wisdom and, in some cases, divine inspiration. As a consequence of that belief, tampering with the classic texts of Perrault or the Brothers Grimm is con- sidered by some to be tantamount to sacrilege, similar to revising the text of Holy Scriptures. As one of my under- graduate students remarked in a journal he kept while studying fairy tales in the winter term of 1990: "I am not a deeply religious person. However, I have a vague feeling that questioning the origin of fairy tales is somehow sacrile- gious." Some traditionalists even go so far as to argue that the common practice of replacing Sneewittchen , Grimms' original German spelling of Snow White, with the more
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modern orthographical form Schneewittchen constitutes "monument desecration" (Bausinger 46).
When classic stories are changed unacceptable the blame is often placed on the culture industry - publishers, advertisers, merchandisers, and even pedagogues who have
capitalized on the mass appeal of the traditional tales and
emptied them of their original vigor and truth. Disney's Americanized and romanticized fairy-tale movies, for exam-
ple, have been severely criticized for trivializing and betray- ing the original themes, thus enfeebling an important cultur- al possession (Bettelheim, The Uses of Enchantment 210). As the civilized entrepreneur and creator of the fairy tale as consumer romance (Haase, "Gold Into Straw"), Disney is the absolute antithesis of the mythic peasant or Ice Age story- teller from whom we have supposedly inherited this alleged- ly sacred possession.
While this religious or quasi-religious reverence is cer-
tainly appealing and even reassuring, it is dangerously mis-
leading. As an antidote to it, consider two of the 24 theses offered by the German writer Wolfdietrich Schnurre, in a
piece he aptly entitled "Heretical Thoughts on the Treasury of Fairy Tales." In a sardonic letter to the long deceased Brothers Grimm, Schnurre seeks to explain why he thinks
fairy tales have lost their value for us. "The primary guilt for the decline of the fairy tale," he claims, "rests with those who [originally] made them. They forgot to impress on them the stamp of copyright" (23). In this case, not the culture
industry, but the folk themselves are held responsible for the
fairy tale's bankruptcy. Ironically, the fairy tale's status as communal property is proposed as the very cause of its
neglect and demise. It is a fairy tale, Schnurre asserts, to believe "that fairy tales are the property of the Volk - the
people. Property is cared for. The Vo/&," he asserts, "has ruined fairy tales" (23).
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The Ownership of Fairy Tales
These statements are heretical to established views that tell us not only why folktales are still relevant but to whom
they belong. However we might feel about the tales of the Brothers Grimm or Perrault, Schnurre's provocative heresies raise intriguing questions about the reception and cultural
ownership of fairy tales. Who are the folk, that anonymous group we often view as the originators and owners of the
fairy tale? And if the tales do not belong to the folk, then to whom do they belong? And, finally, why does the issue of
ownership matter at all?
The Nationalistic View of Folklore
The concept of "the folk" is a slippery one. To some, the folk are an ethnic or national group sharing common tradi- tions, lore, and social or cultural traits. In general parlance, "the folk" are the common folk, the working or peasant classes. But as the Italian folklorist Giuseppe Cocchiara has suggested, the identity of the folk transcends classes and "is the expression of a certain vision of life, certain attitudes of the spirit, of thought, of culture, of custom, of civilization, which appear with their own clearly delineated characteris- tics" (4). While Cocchiara's definition avoids the class bias of earlier definitions, Alan Dundes excises the ethnic and national emphasis by defining the folk as "аду group of people whatsoever who share at least one common factor" (2).
However, for the Grimms and many early folklorists, it was the so-called common people who best embodied a nation's folk life. It was their lore - including their folktales - that was to become the reservoir and model of national character. As the product of the German folk, the tales were thought to contain the scattered fragments of ancient Ger- manic myth, which - when collected - would provide the German people with a magic mirror in which they could discern and thus reassert their national identity. In this way,
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Grimms' collection of folktales was conscripted into nation- alistic service and became a political weapon in the Grimms' intellectual resistance to the Napoleonic occupation of their beloved Hessian homeland.
To define the folk in nationalistic terms establishes fairy tales as national property. They are either yours, or they are mine. Following - and, it must be emphasized, grossly exag- gerating - the Grimms' nationalistic understanding of fairy tales, many Germans were only too ready to exercise their
right of ownership by advocating the Grimms' tales as a national primer, after 1871, for the newly unified nation. In
1899, for instance, Carl Franke gave this explanation of the close link between Grimms' tales and the education of a nation:
To the spirit of German schoolchildren the tales have be- come what mother's milk is for their bodies - the first nour- ishment for the spirit and the imagination. How German [are] Snow White, Little Briar Rose, Little Red Cap, the seven dwarfs! Through such genuine German diet must the language and spirit of the child gradually become more and more German. . . . (cited in Snyder 51)
Given the Grimms' precedent and given the need of every new state to authenticate its self-image, we can understand such remarks; just as we can understand the lamentable
exploitation of the Grimms' tales under National Socialism, which points up all too clearly the dangers inherent in view-
ing fairy tales as the property of a single group or nation
(see Kamenetsky; Zipes, Fairy Tales and the Art of Subver- sion 134-69).
But there is another, hidden danger in this nationalistic view. Ironically, the abuse of the Grimms' tales by the cul- ture industry of National Socialism has reinforced prejudice against the Grimms' tales. So compelling was the German
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The Ownership of Fairy Tales
identification of Germanic folktales with national identity that the Grimms' stories have very often been accepted as
belonging uniquely to the Germans. But instead of identify- ing favorable cultural traits in the tales, some readers have discerned more ambiguous characteristics. In 1939, Vincent Brun accused the Germans of perverting the fairy tale by exploiting its rude primitive instincts to educate and not to amuse children. By the end of World War II, however, the German fairy tale had fallen into such disrepute that during the Allied occupation of Germany fairy tales were viewed with serious suspicion and banned from the public school curriculum. Evidently, Auden's reclamation of the Grimms' tales as common property in 1944 was not universally ac-
cepted; in 1947 T.J. Leonard let loose with his infamous attack on German fairy tales, which he unequivocally con- demned as relics of German barbarism and blamed for pro- moting German nationalism and sadistic behavior among Germans. The reverberations of such attacks on Germanic folktales and German national character can still be felt. In 1985, Siegfried Heyer published an abridged German trans- lation of Leonard's attack, and Jörg Becker, in response, reflected on the enduring image of the "ugly German." That the alleged connection between German national character and fairy tales should occupy Becker forty years after the war is not surprising given that the Germans, as well as their former enemies, have kept this essentially postwar issue alive.
In 1978, Louis Snyder repeated the thesis he first put forth in the 1950s that the Grimms' tales, having played a role in the development of modern German nationalism, emphasize "such social characteristics as respect for order, belief in the desirability of obedience, subservience to au- thority, respect for the leader and the hero, veneration of courage and the military spirit, acceptance without protest
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of cruelty, violence, and atrocity, fear of and hatred for the outsider, and virulent anti-Semitism" (51). Readers like
Snyder clearly relinquish title to the tales and deed them back to their owners. The implicit nationalism of the mes-
sage is clear: these tales are yours (German), not mine
(American). Differentiating between tales belonging to different coun-
tries, and thus differentiating between the countries them- selves, has become standard practice. In his study of the French folktale during the Old Regime, the historian Robert Darnton has insisted on the unique characteristics of the French folktale that distinguish it from its German counter-
part. Darnton summarizes the differences in this way:
Where the French tales tend to be realistic, earthy, bawdy, and comical, the German [tales] veer off toward the super- natural, the poetic, the exotic, and the violent. Of course, cultural differences cannot be reduced to a formula - French craftiness versus German cruelty - but the compari- sons make it possible to identify the peculiar inflection that the French gave to their stories, and their way of telling stories provides clues about their way of viewing the world.
(50-51)
Although Darnton tries to avoid stereotyping national charac- ter by adding a disclaimer and by referring instead to differ-
ing world views, in the final analysis his implicit notion of
fairy tales as culturally defined property makes this difficult.
However, he is at least aware of the danger of idealizing the national ethos. In pointing to the similarity between the tales of French peasants and those of Perrault, Darnton says that both groups of "tales communicated traits, values, attitudes, and a way of construing the world that was peculiarly French. To insist upon their Frenchness," he notes, "is not to fall into romantic rhapsodizing about national spirit, but
яяя
The Ownership of Fairy Tales
rather to recognize the existence of distinct cultural styles, which set off the French . . . from other peoples identified at the time as German, Italian, and English" (63). Perhaps it is easy for Darnton to avoid rhapsodizing, because he is not French. That is, the tales he discusses are "theirs," not his.
Although the French are not immune to praising the
unique nature of their national fairy tales, they seem to be less dependent on the tales for the codification of their self-
image than are the Germans. France lacked - indeed, did not need - strong nationalistic voices such as the Brothers Grimm, who set the German precedent for folktale worship. Moreover, because the French enjoyed a strong literary heritage, they were perhaps more likely to find models of the national ethos in their classical canon than in popular folk literature. After all, unlike the Grimms' tales, Perraulťs stories are usually considered not so much examples of the folk culture as part of the elevated literary tradition of the Old Regime. So whereas Robert Darnton might find the French popular tale characterized by the earthy and bawdy, Paul Hazard praises Perraulťs fairy tales for their expression of such typically French characteristics as logic, wit, and refined femininity (121-24). Fernand Baldensperger, not without irony, has even observed that Perraulťs fairies are charming Cartesian fairies (cited in Hazard 122).
The pride the French take in their tales rarely gets more impassioned than this. Perhaps this has something to do with the influential essay on Perrault written by Sainte- Beuve in 1851, in which he stressed not only the naivete and simplicity, but also the universal appeal of the French stories (273).
Such a view draws on another interpretation of the folk that does not rely on national or ethnic identity and conse- quently proposes an alternative ownership for the fairy tale.
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This view of the folk is informed by a universalizing tenden-
cy that completely disregards social, historical, and cultural factors. It is the view espoused in particular by psychoana- lytic, archetypal, and anthroposophical-spiritualist (Waldorf school) readers of fairy tales. It is best summed up in this
amazingly wrongheaded passage taken from the book Fairy Tales and Children by psychologist Carl-Heinz Mallet:
Fairy Tales are popular poetry, for they originated and developed among the people [the folk]. They were born in fusty spinning rooms. Simple people told them to simple people. No one else was interested in these "old wives' tales." No superior authority, whether profane or ecclesias- tic, exerted any influence. Fairy tales developed outside the great world, beyond the centers of political and cultural power. They absorbed nothing from these areas, no histori- cal events, no political facts, no cultural trends. They re- mained free of the moral views, behavioral standards, and manners of the various epochs. . . . Human beings per se are the focal point of fairy tales, and people are pretty much alike no matter when or where they have lived. (38)
What a striking contrast to the opinions discussed earlier in this chapter. Here the folk constitute not a national group bound together by a common culture, but an ill-defined
population of idyllic innocents whose sole characteristic is
simplicity. Rousseau is responsible for this model. But both this mythical peasant and the ensuing notion of a fairy tale untouched by its social or historical context are ridiculous. Yet these are the very premises upon which very influential and popular theories of the fairy tale have been built. Their unfortunate success lies in their reassuring appeal to our
humanity, to the soothing promise that both human beings and values transcend time and space. In other words, as vessels of purportedly universal human truths, fairy tales
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The Ownership of Fairy Tales
belong to us all. The classic example of this view is Bruno Bettelheim, whose popular psychoanalytic interpretations of
fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm and Perrault have been widely and enthusiasstically embraced.
Bettelheim 5 Psychoanalytical Interpretations of Fairy Tales
From Bettelheim's psychoanalytic perspective, fairy tales address "essential human problems" and "have great psy- chological meaning" ( The Uses of Enchantment 17). Through fairy tales, Bettelheim argues, both children and adults can find their way through life's existential dilemmas. Bettelheim can come to these conclusions because he assumes that fairy tales transcend the specific time and place of their origin and give us insight into "manifold truths . . . which can guide our lives; . . . truth as valid today as it was once upon a time" (310). Thus, fairy tales, whether German or French, for example, would seem to belong to us all, not simply by virtue of our sharing a common Western culture, but be- cause the fairy tale's transcendent nature addresses our common humanity. However, Bettelheim's point of view is problematic because what he believes to be universal truths ultimately turn out to be the values of nineteenth-century Europe.
The repressive moralizing inherent in Bettelheim's read- ings of fairy tales has been solidly criticized before, but 1 mention the issue again here because his understanding of fairy tales remains influential, especially among teachers and children's librarians, who often rely on his work (see Bettelheim, "Children and Fairy Tales", and Flatter). Jack Zipes' criticism of what he calls Bettelheim's "Use and Abuse of Folk and Fairy Tales with Children," in particular, deserves reading or re-reading in light of the recent, sober- ing allegations by one of Bettelheim's former patients at the Orthogenic School that the author of The Uses of Enchant -
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ment was an authoritarian who physically and emotionally abused children in his care (Pekow; see also Zipes, The Brothers Grimm 110-34). The values that Bettelheim views as timeless and common to us all frequently turn out to be those of the authoritarian, patriarchal society in which he was raised (Haase,
" 'Verzauberungen der Seele' ").
Some of Bettelheim's influence has been mitigated by recent studies that reveal the specific sociocultural roots of
many tales and thus expose their historically determined values. In fact, for the last fifteen years the Grimms' tales have been the center of considerable discussion and contro-
versy as a result of renewed interest in evidence that the Grimms did not give us authentic, unaltered folktales tran- scribed from the mouths of the simple people, but instead drew many of their tales from highly educated informants or
printed literary texts (see Bottigheimer; Rölleke; Tatar; Zipes, The Brothers Grimm). That Wilhelm Grimm had free-
ly revised, edited, added to, and basically rewritten many of the classic tales to reflect also his own aesthetic and moral values renders the universal, transcendent view of these tales untenable.
But the discrediting of theories has affected not only those who, like Bettelheim, believe in the universal nature of fairy tales. The nationalists have had to confront the dis-
covery that many of the best known and most cherished of the Grimms' tales are not purely German. They are in many cases of mixed origin. Some of the Grimms' most significant informants have turned out to be educated bourgeois women from families of French Huguenots who had settled in Ger-
many after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Of course, to say that these oral sources spoke French and were famil- iar with the tales of Perrault is not to say that what the Grimms have given us is a collection of French tales. They
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The Ownership of Fairy Tales
did not. But it is enough to undermine the view that makes
fairy tales the possession of a single nationality. We are left, however, with a question. If fairy tales are
not the universal possession of an all-encompassing, undif- ferentiated humanity, and if they are not the sole property of any single national group, then to whom do fairy tales
belong? This question can be best answered by turning first to the question: Why does it matter at all to whom fairy tales belong?
The Question of Ownership The question of ownership is not an idle question. As
we've seen, our specific views on the origins and nature of fairy tales necessarily imply that we have, implicitly or explicitly, a specific attitude toward their ownership. And these attitudes, in turn, have an impact on the reception of fairy tales insofar as they determine how we both read and use fairy tales. The problem - indeed, the danger - with both the nationalistic/ethnic perspective and the universal view of fairy tales is that they prescribe forms of thought and behavior, and modes and models of humanity, that are meant to be normative. That is, they stereotype us - either as members of a nationalistic or ethnic group, or as human beings defined by a certain concept of what is or is not normal. This is why fairy tales have been so frequently utilized by both nationalists and universaliste in the social- ization of children. In both cases, fairy tales are supposed to depict or prescribe for us what is true, as well as what forms of behavior are typical, nonnal, and acceptable. Whether we view them as yours and mine or as ours, fairy tales - read from these perspectives - confine and limit us, narrowing our views of reality while allegedly giving us greater insight into the other, into ourselves, or into humanity. From these per- spectives, fairy tales own us, we don't own them.
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An important twist was added to the question of owner-
ship with the proliferation of both printed texts and copy- right law in the nineteenth century. While folktales remain in the public domain because of their anonymous origin in the oral tradition (which accounts in part for their popularity among publishers), there has been a growing tendency to stress private ownership by individuals or even corporations. This is evident in the way we speak about fairy tales. With deference to the folk's public ownership of fairy tales, the Grimms claimed only to have collected the stories in their famous edition. Yet we refer to them as "Grimms' fairy tales." Contemporary storytellers, who work for a fee and are cautious about allowing audio or video recordings of their
performances, frequently talk of making a traditional folktale their own. Although this is in one sense an artistic claim, the vocabulary of ownership implies clearly the expectation to control and profit from the tale in question. When Disney called his animated fairy tales by his own name - Walt Dis-
ney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs , Walt Disney's Sleep- ing Beauty , and so on - he was not simply making an artis- tic statement, but also laying claim to the tales in what would become their most widely-known, public versions. In
1989, when the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Scienc- es used the figure of Snow White in its televised award
ceremonies, the Walt Disney Company filed a lawsuit claim-
ing "unauthorized use of its Snow White character," which the corporation felt had been treated in an unflattering man- ner in the comical and mildly satirical sketch ("Disney Company"; see also Harmetz). When the Walt Disney Com-
pany spent SI million for the videocassette rights to the
"Rocky and Bullwinkle" series - including the "Fractured
Fairy Tales" that sometimes parody the Disney versions and Walt Disney himself - its corporate ownership and control of
the fairy tale were extended to even the subversive fairy tale
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The Ownership of Fairy Tales
(Kaplan). If the Walt Disney Company cannot completely prevent unflattering parodies of its fairy-tale movies and their creator, at least it will now be able to control and
profit from their distribution. The Disney case demonstrates that the question of owner-
ship is important because it is ultimately a question of con- trol. So who owns fairy tales? To be blunt: 1 do. And you do. We can each claim fairy tales for ourselves. Not as members of a national or ethnic folk group - as French, German, or American. Not as nameless faces in a sea of humanity. And not in the Disney model as legal copyright holders. We claim fairy tales in every individual act of telling and read- ing. If we avoid reading fairy tales as models of behavior and normalcy, they can become for us revolutionary docu- ments that encourage the development of personal autonomy.
As some revisionist writers and storytellers have already recognized, the removal of the fairy tale from the service of nationalism and universalism requires the subversion of traditional tales. Thus we find contemporary literary versions of "Little Red Riding Hood," for instance, that offer alterna- tive visions. In one version, by the Merseyside Fairy Story Collective, a young girl overcomes her fear and slays the wolf who threatens her grandmother (Zipes, The Trials and Tribulations of Little Red Riding Hood 239-46). In another, by Angela Carter, a young woman, far from becoming the wolf s innocent victim, accepts her animal nature - her sexu- ality - and actually leaves her family and village to join the company of wolves (Zipes, The Trials and Tribulations 272- 80). In other media, such as film, video, and song, attempts have also been made to reclaim the fairy tale. In fact, Angela Carter's Red Riding Hood story, "The Company of Wolves," has itself been re-made as a movie (Carter and Jordan). And some of the irreverent video adaptations in Shelley Duvall's Faine Tale Theatre go a long way towards
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offsetting the saccharine Disney model of consumer ro- mance. Even in popular music the Disney claim on meaning has been challenged by authorized remakes of the songs from Walt Disney's fairy-tale movies. Sinéad O'Connor's
subtly ironic rendering of "Someday My Prince Will Come," Betty Carter's sensual subversion of "I'm Wishing," and Tom Waits' industrialized "Heigh Ho" give us the opportu- nity to reinterpret Disney and "his" tales for ourselves and our time (Willner).
Discovering Individual Ownership of Fairy Tales
The opportunity to reclaim fairy tales is as crucial for children as it is for adults. But the right to ownership of the tales may in some ways be more difficult for children to claim. After all, teachers, librarians, parents, and powers in the culture industry exert a certain control over the popular reception of fairy tales by determining to a great extent not
only the nature of the tales that are made accessible to
children, but also the context of their reception. A storyteller who buys into myths about the pristine origin of fairy tales assumes an unearned mantle of authority and shrouds the stories not only in mystery but error. A parent under Bruno Bettelheim's spell uses time-bound tales to justify a timeless moral authority. And a teacher concerned about the so- called crisis of cultural literacy will emphasize canonized
fairy-tale texts and treat them as sacred cultural artifacts. In each case, children's responses are expected to conform to the external authority of the tales they read or hear. It is no accident that parents and educators so often praise fairy tales because of their ability to enchant children. Stripped of sentimentality, enchantment - that is, being spellbound and powerless - is also a curse. We applaud the rescue of a Frog King or a Sleeping Beauty who is powerless to break the spell of a malevolent force, but when a moralistic text
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"enchants" and has a child in its spell, we apparently have that child exactly where we want her or him.
There are at least two ways in which children can be awakened from this form of enchantment and helped to discover their individual ownership of fairy tales. First, teachers and parents can offer children a wider variety of
fairy tales than is usually proffered. Complementing the classic tales and anthologies with newer or lesser-known stories and variants places the traditional tales in a context that encourages diverse responses, questions, and significant comparisons - even among elementary school children. When I read my own ten-year-old daughter the Grimms' "Little Red Riding Hood" and the version of the Merseyside Fairy Story Collective, for example, she announced that she liked the second version better "because the little girl was smarter."
Numerous anthologies that resurrect neglected fairy tales and offer alternatives to the best-known classic tales are readily available today. Among them are Alison Lurie's Clever Gretchen and Other Forgotten Folktales , Ethel John- ston Phelps* The Maid of the North: Feminist Folktales from Around the World , and Suzanne I. Barchers* Wise Women: Folk and Fairy Tales from Around the World. Each of these seeks to provide tales with female characters who resist the stereotypes that dominate the fairy-tale market. Jack Zipes has the same goal in The Trials and Tribulations of Little Red Riding Hood: Versions of the Tale in Sociocultural Con- text and Don't Bet on the Prince: Contemporary Feminist Fairy Tales in North America and England . Both of these also include significant bibliographies of many other alterna- tive fairy-tales. The traditional fairy-tale canon can also be complemented by stories "belonging" to other cultural tradi- tions. Virginia Hamilton's The People Could Fly , for exam- ple, is an excellent anthology of American Bl$ck folktales
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that can be reclaimed by new generations. Innovative illus- trations can also recast a familiar text in such a way as to allow children fresh responses to a classic story. In Creative Education's fairy-tale series, for example, Sarah Moon has outfitted Perraulťs Little Red Riding Hood with haunting -
for some perhaps troubling - black and white photographs that reinterpret the story for the urban reader. Of video and filin versions of fairy tales, teachers might want to explore Tom Davenport's innovative but uneven series From the Brothers Grimm: American Versions of Folktale Classics , which now consists of nine Grimm tales transplanted into American settings. While Davenport's film adaptations com- bine reverence for the tales with moments of humor, Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes demystifies classic tales. Dahl's irreverent fairy-tale adaptations in verse are a good antidote to the saccharine presentations often found in children's editions.
Beyond presenting children with a variety of fairy tales, adults can also encourage the creative reception of fairy tales. In other words, children can make fairy tales their own by creating and re-creating their own versions. There is
good evidence that given the opportunity, children will take
fairy tales into their own hands in any case. In his book The Brothers Grimm , Jack Zipes has recounted how fifth- and
sixth-grade girls combined the character of Peter Pumpkin- Eater and the story of Cinderella into a new tale that explic- itly reflects their developing sexuality and consciousness
(146). And Kristin Wardetzky has shown how the storytell- ing of children in the former East Germany does not always succumb to the dominant cultural models and recreates the
fairy tale in ways that express the children's power over the
genre. At the end of his list of heresies Wolfdietrich Schnurre
wonders, "Can the fairy tale be saved?" His answer: "Per-
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haps. If specialists expose the roots of the tales and tell them in a way that is thoroughly new and which expresses their essence" (25). Writers and professional storytellers retelling tales and making them own can indeed renew the
fairy tale. But readers, too - including children - can reread and reinterpret the tales in new ways. By experiencing a wide variety of tales, they can view the stories of the classi- cal canon in new contexts. By actively selecting, discussing, enacting, illustrating, adapting, and retelling the tales they experience, both adults and children can assert their own
proprietary rights to meaning. It is no heresy to re-appropri- ate the tales from either tradition or the culture industry. "They are not,'7 as even Auden knew, "sacred texts" (28). If the fairy tale needs saving and if we are to save it, then we need to abandon the untenable views of its ownership that put us in its power. We must take possession of it on our own terms. Saving the fairy tale in this way is nothing less than saving our very selves.
Works Consulted
Auden, W.H. "In Praise of the Brothers Grimm" (review of Grimm's Fairy Tales). The New York Times Book Review 12 November 12 1944: 1, 28.
Barchers, Suzanne I. Wise Women : Folk and Fairy Tales from Around the World. Englewood, CO: Libraries Unlimited, 1990.
Bausinger, H. "Anmerkungen zu Schneewittchen." Und wenn sie nicht gestorben sind : Perspektiven auf das Märchen. Ed. H. Brackert. Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1980. 39-70.
Becker, Jörg. "Der hilflose Anti-Faschismus." Hessische Blätter für Volks- und Kulturforschung , n.s. 18 (1985): 117-19.
Bettelheim, Bruno. "Children and Fairy Tales." Pre-K January 1987: 21. . The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy
Tales. New York: Knopf, 1976. Bottigheimer, Ruth B. "Fairy Tales, Folk Narrative Research and Histo-
ry." Social History 14 (1989): 343-57.
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. Grimms' Bad Girls and Bold Boys : The Moral and Social Vision of the Tales. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987.
Brun, Vincent. "The German Fairy Tale." Menorah Journal 27 (1939): 147-55.
Carter, Angela and Jordan, N., screenwriters. The Company of Wolves (videotape). Vestron Video, 1985. Original work produced 1984.
Cocchiara, Giuseppe. The History of Folklore in Europe. J.N. McDaniel, trans. Philadelphia: Institute for the Study of Human Issues, 1981. Original work published 1952.
Dahl, Roald. Revolting Rhymes. Toronto: Skylark-Bantam, 1986. Original work published 1983.
Darnton, Robert. "Peasants Tell Tales: The Meaning of Mother Goose." Robert Dam ton. The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History. New York: Basic Books, 1984. 9-72, 265- 270.
Davenport, Tom, producer anad director. From the Brothers Grimm: American Versions of Folktlae Classics (videotape series). Davenport Films, 1975-89.
"Disney Company sues over Snow White use." New York Times 31 March 1989: C33.
Dundes, Alan. The Study of Folklore. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice- Hall, 1965.
Flatter, C.H. "Folktales: The Enchanted Lesson." American Educator (Summer 1985): 30-33.
Haase, D. "Gold into Straw: Fairy Tale Movies for Children and the Culture Industry." The Lion and the Unicorn 12.2 (1988): 193-207.
. " 'Verzauberungen der Seele1: Das Märchen und die Exilanten der NS-Zeit." Begegnung mit dem "Fremden": Grenzen - Traditionen -
Vergleiche: Akten des VIH. Kongresses der Internationalen Vereini- gung für Germanische Sprach- und Literaturwissenschaft: Vol. 8. Emigranten- und Immigrantenliteratur. Ed. Eijiro Iwasaki and Yoshi- nori Shichiji. Munich: iudicium, 1991. 44-50.
Hamilton, Virginia. The People Could Fly. New York: Knopf, 1985. Harmetz, A. "An Apology to Disney." New York Times 7 April 1989:
C30. Hazard, Paul. Books , Children and Men. Trans. Marguerite Mitchell.
Boston: Horn Book, 1947. Heyer, Siegfried. [Translation of Leonard]. Hessische Blätter fur Volks-
und Kulturforschung , ns 18 (1985): 111-16.
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Kamenetsky, C. Folklore as a political tool in Nazi Germany. Journal of American Folklore 85 (1972): 221-35.
. Children's Literature inHitler's Germany. Athens: Ohio University Press, 1984.
. "Folktale and Ideology in the Third Reich." Journal of American Folklore 90 (1977): 168-78.
Kaplan, D.A. "Vatch out Natasha, Moose and Squirrel are back." Detroit Free Press 7 May 1989: 3F.
Leonard, T. J. "First Steps in Cruelty." British Zone Review : A Fort- nightly Review of the Activities of the Control Commission for Germa- ny (B.E.) and Military Government 1.37 (1947): 10-13.
Lurie, Alison. Clever Gretchen a d Other Forgotten Folktales. New York: Crowell, 1980.
Mallet, Carl-Heinz. Fairy Tales and Children: The Psychology of Chil- dren Revealed through Four of Grimm's Fairy Tales. Trans. J. Neu- groschel. New York: Schocken, 1984.
Moon, Sarah, illustrator. Liule Red Riding Hood . Mankato, MN: Creative Education, 1983.
Pekow, C. "The other Dr. Bettelheim: The revered psychologist had a dark, violent side." Washington Post 26 August 1990: Cl, C4.
Phelps, Ethel Johnston. The Maid of the North: Feminist Folktales from Around the World . New York: Holt, Ri ne h art and Winston, 1981.
Rölleke, Heinz. Die Märchen der Brüder Grimm: Eine Einjührung. Munich: Artemis, 1985.
Sainte-Beuve, C.-A. "Charles Perrault" C.-A. Sainte-Beuve. Causeries du lundi. Paris: Garnier, 1944. Original work published in 1851. 5: 255-74.
Schnurre, Wolfdietrich. "Ketzerisches zum Marchenschatz: 24 kurzwei- lige Thesen." Grimmige Märchen: Prosatexte von Ibe Aichinger bis Martin Walser. Ed. Wolfgang Mieder. Frankfurt: R.G. Fischer, 1986. 21-25. Original work published in 1978.
Snyder, Louis L. "Cultural Nationalism: The Grimm Brothers* Fairy Tales." L.L. Snyder. Roots of German nationalism. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978. 35-54. Reprint of "Nationalistic Aspects of the Grimm Brothers' Fairy Tales." Journal of Social Psychology 33 (1951): 209-23.
Tatar, M. The Hard Facts of the Grimms' Fairy Tales. Princeton: Prince- ton University Press, 1987.
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Wardetzky, Kristin. "The Structure and Interpretation of Fairy Tales Composed by Children." Journal of American Folklore 103 (1990): 157-76.
Willner, H., producer. Stay Awake: Various interpretations f Music from Vintage Disney Films (audiotape). A & M, 1988.
Z i pes, J. The Brothers Grimm : From Enchanted Forests to the Modern World. New York: Routledge, 1988.
, ed. Don't Bet on the Prince: Contemporary Feminist Fairy Tales in North America nd. England. New York: Methuen, 1986.
. Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion: The Classical Genre for Children and the Process of Civilization. New York: Wildman, 1983.
. "On the Use and Abuse of Folk and Fairy Tales with Children: Bruno Bettelheim's Moralistic Magic Wand." Jack Zipes. Breaking the Magic Spell: Radical Theories of Folk and Fairy Tales. New York: Methuen, 1984. 160-82. Original work published 1979.
, ed. The Trials and Tribulations of Little Red Riding Hood: Ver- sions of the Tale in Sociocultural Context. South Hadley, MA: Bergin & Garvey, 1983.
Note: This essay first appeared in Once Upon a Folktale: Capturing the Folklore Process with Children , ed. Gloria Blatt (New York: Teachers College Press, 1993) 63-77. It is reprinted with the permission of the publisher. ©1993 by Teachers College, Columbia University.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Donald Haase is associate professor of German and Chair of German and Slavic Studies at Wayne State University. He is editor of The Reception of Grimms '
Fairy Tales : Responses , Reac- tions , Revisions (Detroit: Wayne State Univ. Press, 1993).
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User: are there any quotes that mention or show that female characters in fairytales often rely on external forces for change?:

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Atwood, who weaves fairy-tale motifs throughout her narratives with almost unprecedented creative energy, also produced a new version of "Bluebeard," one that has embedded in it the Grimms' story "Fitcher's Bird." "Bluebeard's Egg," unlike any fairy tale, is told from the protagonist's point of view: it charts Sally's drive to solve "the puzzle... Ed" (see here) and reveals that Ed Bear (who may not sport a beard on his face but surely has one encrypted in his nickname) is not as transparent as Sally once assumed. His inner life becomes a kind of secret chamber, a space that Sally is unable to penetrate. But Atwood challenges our interpretive faculties by refusing to write a text that offers unproblematic parallels with "Bluebeard." In the profusion of references to other fairy tales (Ed is a "third son" [see here], a "brainless beast" [see here], and a "Sleeping Beauty" waiting to be wakened by Sally, who is both a princess and a false bride), Atwood makes it clear that she taps multiple cultural stories for this work. And by transforming the forbidden chamber of Bluebeard's castle into everything from Ed's enigmatic mind and his "new facility" (see here) to the anatomical cavities of the human heart and the keyhole desk before which Ed betrays his sexual infidelity, Atwood unsettles the traditional story of "Bluebeard" and challenges us to understand the complexities of what she calls "power politics." Ed cannot be reduced to Bluebeard, and Sally is more than his investigative wife. In focalizing the story through Sally and showing how her effort to come to terms with the Grimms' "Fitcher's Bird" leads her to powerful revelations about her own life, Atwood suggests that engagement with our cultural stories can open our eyes to realities that however disruptive, painful, and disturbing-are not without a liberating potential. Hence the story ends on an ambiguous note, with a sense of anxiety but also with the possibility of hope about what will hatch from the "almost pulsing" (see here) egg of Sally's dream vision.
There is always another side to every story, and Edna St. Vincent Millay's "Bluebeard" poem reminds us of the perils of wanting to know too much when it comes to romance. A sharp stick against snooping, prying, nosiness, and spying, it reminds us that sometimes there is nothing to suspicions aroused, sometimes there is "no treasure hid,/ The sought- for truth, no heads of women slain" (see here). Curiosity kills not only the cat but also a love that might have endured.


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INTRODUCTION: Bluebeard
"Bluebeard" is the stuff of nightmares: raised scimitars, forbidden chambers, corpses hanging from hooks, bloody basins, and dismembered bodies. The tale made its literary debut in Charles Perrault's seventeenth-century Tales of Mother Goose, a collection that took the lead in transforming the oral narratives from adult storytelling cultures into bedtime reading for children. Over the years it has served as a master-narrative about the perils of marriage and continues to haunt cinematic culture in particular, sometimes explicitly, as in Catherine Breillat's Bluebeard (2009), sometimes covertly, as in Alex Garland's Ex Machina (2015). Like many of the fairy tales in Perrault's collection, "Bluebeard" has a happy ending: the heroine marries "a very worthy man, who banished the memory of the miserable days she had spent with Bluebeard" (see here). Yet most readers-even those willing to suspend disbelief about the pleasures of the next marriage-will find themselves unable to erase the graphic impressions left by the "miserable time" of the first marriage. In the narrative economy of Perrault's text, the verbal energy is invested almost exclusively in exposing Bluebeard's wife to horrors of extraordinary vividness and power.
Just who was Bluebeard and how did he come by his bad name? As Anatole France reminds us in his story "The Seven Wives of Bluebeard," Perrault composed "the first biography of this seigneur" and established his reputation as "an accomplished villain" and "the most perfect model of cruelty that ever trod the earth."1 Cultural historians have been quick to claim that Perrault's "Bluebeard" is based on fact, that it broadcasts the misdeeds of various noblemen, among them cunmar of Brittany and Gilles de Rais. But neither Cunmar the Accursed, who decapitated his pregnant wife, Triphine, nor Gilles de Rais, the marshal of France who was hanged in 1440 for murdering hundreds of children, present themselves as compelling models for Bluebeard. This French aristocrat remains a construction of collective fantasy, a figure firmly anchored in the realm of folklore.
Perrault's "Bluebeard" recounts the story of an aristocratic gentleman (known in Italy as "Silver Nose," in England as "Mr. Fox") and his marriage to a young woman whose desire for opulence conquers her feelings of revulsion for blue beards. The French tale contains what folklorists have identified as the three distinctive features of Bluebeard narratives: a forbidden chamber, an agent of prohibition who also metes out punishments, and a figure who violates the prohibition. From Perrault's time onward, the tale has been framed as a story about transgressive desire, as a text that enunciates the dire consequences of curiosity and disobedience.
Perrault presents Bluebeard's wife as a figure who suffers from an excess of desire for knowledge of what lies beyond the door. Bluebeard's wife enters the forbidden chamber and sees a pool of clotted blood in which are reflected the bodies of her husband's wives, hanging from the wall. Horrified, she drops the key (in some versions it is an egg, a straw, or a rose) into the pool of blood and is unable to remove the telltale stain from the key. But Bluebeard's wife, both
in Perrault's rendition and in its many cultural inflections, is a canny survivor. Her husband may try to behead her for her act of disobedience, but she succeeds in delaying the execution long enough that her brothers, summoned by Sister Anne, arrive in time to rescue her and to cut Bluebeard down with their swords.
"Bluebeard" stands virtually alone among fairy tales in its depiction of marriage as an institution haunted by the threat of murder. While canonical fairy tales like "Cinderella," "Snow White," and "Beauty and the Beast" begin with unhappy situations at home, center on a romantic quest, and end in visions of marital bliss, "Bluebeard" stories show us women leaving the safety of home and entering the risky domains of their husband's castles. In these tales, mothers, sisters, and brothers mobilize to rescue the heroine rather than to do her in. Family solidarity triumphs over stranger danger.
While "Bluebeard" may not necessarily be an appropriate story for children, it remains a powerful text challenging the myth of romantic love encapsulated in the "happily ever after" of fairy tales and presenting a message with a social logic compelling for Perrault's day and age. Anxious fantasies about sex and marriage would hardly be surprising in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Europe, where women married at a relatively young age, where the mortality rate for women in childbirth was high, and where a move away from home might rightly be charged with fears about isolation, violence, abuse, and marital estrangement. While it is tempting to promote stories that stage the joys of heterosexual romantic unions and to banish grisly stories about murderous husbands (especially once the venue for the tales shifted to the nursery), it is important to preserve our cultural memory of this particular story and to understand exactly what is at stake in it. "Bluebeard" may not appear with great frequency between the covers of twentieth-century anthologies of fairy tales, but it is a story whose cultural resilience becomes quickly evident when we enter the arena of contemporary literary and cinematic production for adults.
Folklore often trades in the sensational-breaking taboos, enacting the forbidden, staging hidden desires, and exploring pathologies with uninhibited investigative energy. In many ways, the story of a wife's transgressive curiosity about her husband's violent past could be seen as a self-reflexive meditation on how fairy tales feed our undiminished appetite for horror. "Bluebeard" is also without doubt the most stunning piece of evidence that folktales can be seen as the legitimate precursors of cinematic horror, another genre notorious for trading on collective fears and fantasies. Stories like "Bluebeard" prefigure the gothic plots of modern horror and construct desires and fears that remain remarkably intact (despite cultural variations) as we move from one century to the next and as we cross from one popular form of entertainment to another. In "Bluebeard," as in cinematic horror, we have not only a killer who is propelled by psychotic rage but also the abject victims of his serial murders, along with a "final girl" (Bluebeard's wife), who either saves herself or arranges her own rescue. The "terrible place" of horror, a dark, tomblike site that harbors grisly evidence of the killer's derangement, manifests itself as Bluebeard's forbidden chamber.?
It is not only in cinematic horror from the 1970s onward that the Bluebeard story manifests its cultural staying power. In what one critic has tellingly called "paranoid woman's films," we also find the Bluebeard syndrome at work in all its melodramatic theatricality. These films, which were made in the wake of Hitchcock's Rebecca (1940) and include such classic thrillers as Robert Stevenson's Jane Eyre (1944), George Cukor's Gaslight (1944), and Fritz Lang's Secret beyond the Door (1948), all feature a heroine who is beset by fears that her husband is planning to murder her. Driven by hermeneutic desire, these women investigators search for the key to understanding the cryptic behavior of their
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sinister husbands, always by penetrating the mysteries of a chamber in the house where they have taken up residence. In Hitchcock's Rebecca, the boathouse and Rebecca's bedroom are forbidden or uncanny spaces for the character played by Joan Fontaine; in Jane Eyre the title character must unlock the secret of the tower room in which Bertha Mason is housed; in Gaslight it is the attic, along with the husband's locked desk, that are taboo; and in Secret beyond the Door, the heroine is barred from entering room 7, a replica of her own bedroom built to provide her husband with the scene of his next crime.
In much the same way that cinema criticism has been obsessed with the "paranoia" of a wife rather than by the very real threat posed by a husband who seems to be restaging the Bluebeard story, folklorists have shown surprising interpretive confidence in reading Perrault's "Bluebeard" as a story about a woman's marital disobedience or sexual infidelity rather than about her husband's murderous violence. "Bloody key as sign of disobedience"-this is the motif that folklorists consistently read as the defining moment in the tale. The bloodstained key points to a double transgression, one that is at once moral and sexual. For one critic, it becomes a sign of "marital infidelity";4 for another it marks the heroine's "irreversible loss of her virginity"; for a third, it stands as a sign of "defloration." If we recall that the bloody chamber in Bluebeard's castle is strewn with the corpses of previous wives, this reading of the bloodstained key as a marker of sexual infidelity becomes willfully wrongheaded in its effort to vilify Bluebeard's wife.
Illustrators, commentators, and retellers alike seem to have fallen in line with Perrault's stated view in his moral to the story that "Bluebeard" is about the evils of female curiosity. Walter Crane's illustration of Bluebeard's wife on her way to the forbidden chamber shows her descending the stairs, framed by a tapestry of Eve giving in to temptation in the Garden of Eden. "Succumbing to temptation" is the "sin of the fall, the sin of Eve," one representative critical voice asserts. A nineteenth-century Scottish version of the tale summarizes in its title what appears to be the collective critical wisdom on this tale: "The Story of Bluebeard, or, the effects of female curiosity."?
Bluebeard's wife may have an inquiring mind, but her curiosity is clearly intellectual rather than sexual. It turns her into an energetic investigator, determined to acquire knowledge of the secrets hidden behind the door of the castle's forbidden chamber. Perrault's story, by underscoring the heroine's kinship with certain literary, biblical, and mythical figures (most notably Psyche, Eve, and Pandora), gives us a tale that willfully undermines a robust folkloric tradition in which the heroine is a resourceful agent of her own salvation. Rather than celebrating the courage and wisdom of Bluebeard's wife in discovering the dreadful truth about her husband's murderous deeds, Perrault and other tellers of the tale often cast aspersions on her for engaging in an unruly act of insubordination.
The French folklorist Paul Delarue has mapped out the evolution of "Bluebeard," documenting the liberties taken by Perrault in transforming an oral folktale into a literary text. The folk heroines of "Bluebeard" delay their executions by insisting on donning bridal clothes for the event (thus buttressing the folkloric connection between marriage and death), and they prolong the possibility of rescue by recounting each and every item of clothing. Perrault's heroine, by contrast, who asks her husband for "a little time to say my prayers" (see here), becomes a model of repentent piety. Unlike many folk heroines, who become agents of their own rescue by dispatching fleet-footed pet dogs or talking birds to their families with urgent calls for help, Perrault's heroine sends her sister up to the castle tower to watch for the brothers who were to visit her that very day. Most important, folk versions of the tale do not fault the heroine for her curiosity. To the contrary, when the young women stand before the forbidden chamber, they feel duty-bound to
open its door. "I have to know what is in there," one young woman reflects just before turning the key. The pangs of conscience that beset Perrault's heroine are absent.
Once we move from the classic, canonical versions of the tale, we discover heroines who are often described as courageous: curiosity and valor enable them to come to the rescue of their sisters by reconstituting them physically (putting their dismembered parts back together again) and by providing them with safe passage home. Calculated to maximize melodramatic effects, many of the less-well-known stories side with the heroine, who becomes the agent of her own rescue. In versions of the story told by Jamaican storytellers, African Americans in the U.S. South, or Pueblo Indians, the wives of Bluebeard figures engineer a breathtaking escape that ends with a triumphant return home. While the story of Bluebeard has been read by countless contemporary commentators as turning on the issue of sexual fidelity, what really seems to be at issue, if one considers the folkloric evidence, is the heroine's discovery of her husband's misdeeds, her craft in delaying the execution of his murderous plans, and her ability to engineer her own rescue. In its bold proclamation about the perils of some marriages, "Bluebeard" endorses, above all, allegiance to family and celebrates a return to the safety and security of home, a regressive move back to the household of the heroine's childhood. Bluebeard's wife becomes a double of the British Jack, liquidating the ogre and climbing back down the beanstalk to live happily ever after at home.
When we consider the form in which "Bluebeard" circulated in an oral culture, it quickly becomes evident that the story must be closely related to two tales recorded by the brothers Grimm. The first of these, "Fitcher's Bird" (see here), shows us the youngest of three sisters using her "cunning" to escape the snares set by a clever sorcerer and to rescue her two sisters. The heroine of "The Robber Bridegroom" (see here) also engineers a rescue, mobilizing her wits and her narrative skills to escape from the thieves with whom her betrothed consorts. Oddly enough, however, these two variants of the "Bluebeard" story seem to have fallen into a cultural black hole, while tales like Perrault's "Bluebeard" have been preserved and rewritten as cautionary tales warning women about the hazards of disobedience and curiosity. It is telling that an author like Margaret Atwood turned to "Fitcher's Bird" and "The Robber Bridegroom" for narrative inspiration and that a visual artist like Cindy Sherman created a picture book of the Grimms' "Fitcher's Bird." This new cultural investment in old tales about bad marriages clearly has something to do with the discovery that older versions of "Bluebeard" stressed the resourcefulness of the heroine and with the revelation that Perrault's "Bluebeard" was not the sole source of narrative authority for this particular marriage tale.
Margaret Atwood, who grew up reading the Grimms, recognized that fairy tales were not at all as culturally repressive as some feminist critics had made them out to be.
The unexpurgated Grimm's Fairy Tales contain a number of fairy tales in which women are not only the central characters but win by using their own intelligence. Some people feel fairy tales are bad for women. This is true if the only ones they're referring to are those tarted-up French versions of "Cinderella" and "Bluebeard," in which the female protagonist gets rescued by her brothers. But in many of them, women rather than men have the magic powers.2


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During early Christianity there were few indications that oral folk tales would develop and flourish as a major literary genre in the West, and there were obvious reasons for this lack. Most people were nonliterate and shared strong oral cultural traditions; the tales had not been changed sufficiently to serve the taste and interests of the ruling classes in urban areas or dominant intellectual and literary language until the late Middle Ages when the vernacular languages gradually formed general standards of grammar and replaced Latin as the dominant tongue, and the technology of printing did not make much progress until the fifteenth century so that the distribution of literary works was not very widespread. Consequently, it is not surprising that the first appearance of a major literary fairy tale, Apuleius’s “Cupid and Psyche,” was written in Latin in the second century. Moreover, it was included in a book, The Golden Ass, which dealt with metamorphoses, and thus may have been of the fairy tale cycle up to the present. However, whereas many oral wonder tales had been concerned with the humanization of natural forces, the literary fairy tale, beginning with “Cupid and Psyche,” shifted the emphasis more toward the civilization of the protagonist who must learn to respect natural order and laws to become accepted in society and/or united to reproduce and continue the progress of the world toward proper happiness.

At first, this new literary fairy tale could not stand by itself, that is, it did not have a receptive audience and had to be included within a frame story or in a collection of instructive and amusing stories and anecdotes. Therefore, up to the fifteenth century, the evidence that we have of complete fairy tales is with such manuscripts as the Gesta Romanorum (c. 1300), medieval romances, sermons delivered by priests, and short Latin poems and narrative. Nevertheless, there are some remarkable intellectual ferment and frothy intellectual exchange of moral ideas, as Jan Ziolkowski has demonstrated in his book Fairy Tales from Before Fairy Tales: The Medieval Latin Past of Wonderful Lies. Even today, however, tales like “Cupid and Psyche” in the Gesta Romanorum collection were used to provide instruction for the education of young Christian boys and had a strong moralistic strain to them. In addition, like “Cupid and Psyche,” the early Latin fairy tales were largely focused toward males and on their acquisition of the proper moral values and ethics that would serve them in their positions of power in society.

I have not yet spoken about Giovan Francesco Straparola’s Le piacevoli notti (The Pleasant Nights, 1550—53) in two volumes that is a collection of oral fairy tales he put together, and it was the first major literary fairy tale collection written and published in the vernacular. Straparola made a unique use of expressions that were filled with folk phrases to give a proper tone to the stories. Milan Pforzheimer research is beginning to lead a new focus of attention on these embellishing devices.

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and fairy tale. Her great merit is to set up to include: acute anecdotes, fables, and fairy tales like “The Pig Prince” and “Constantino,” forerunners of “Hans My Hedgehog” and “Hans in Boots” and it is indebted to Giovanni Boccaccio’s The Decameron (1353). However, Straparola did not include fairy tales in his collection, so Straparola can be considered the first writer in Europe to have published numerous fairy tales in a vernacular for an educated audience. Though his tales did not achieve the popularity of Boccaccio’s collection, they were reprinted several times in the sixteenth century and were translated into French in the eighteenth century, and German and English in the nineteenth century.

There is no direct evidence, however, one way or another that Straparola influenced Giambattista Basile, who came to Campi d’oro, also known as The Pentameron, was published posthumously in 1634. Written in Neapolitan dialect, Basile was the first writer to use old folk-tale motifs such signature from a entire collection of fifty fairy tales. His book begins with a tale about a princess named Zoza who cannot laugh, no matter what her father, the King of Valleys, does, although he uses the most horrible, finally, her father challenges that Zoza will be entitled to be married to the prince so that other people would be laughed just by looking at her. Finally, the king had an idea and built a putrid well that he made insipid and very disgusting, and let an old woman pass by. The old woman is a witch and wrong person to be in front of the well. She is caught in the well, and her skirts are up in the air. Zoza sees the old woman while she is about to fall into the well, and she cannot keep from laughing. The king marries her to his son, and they live happily ever after. The story ends with the moral that one should not laugh at others. Basile’s tales include magic and adventures where the hero or heroine must endure hardships and dangers before she can wake and save with her tears. With the help and advice from three fairies, Zoza succeeds in weeping a sufficient amount of tears, but she then falls asleep before she can achieve the honor of rescuing Taddeo. In the meantime, a malicious slave steals her vessel of tears and claims the honor of liberating Taddeo, who marries her. Yet, this does not deter Zoza, who meets a fine house opposite Taddeo’s palace and arranges through her beauty to attract his attention. The other woman, who is pregnant, learns about this, she threatens to kill her unborn child if Taddeo does not get her every whim. Zoza responds by enticing the slave with three gifts she had received from the fairies. The slave is so glad that she places the gifts in her bed and falls into a deep sleep, and then forces Taddeo to gather storytellers who will amuse her during the nine days of her pregnancy. So, Zoza collected a group of ten storytellers, one for all the ten days, to unveil Zoza concludes the sessions with her own tale that saves the slave’s theft and brings the true story to his account. As a result, Taddeo has the pregnant slave killed, and he marries Zoza for his wife.

Basile was very familiar with the customs and behavior of the Neapolitans and had often traveled to Italy and served in different courts and writers as he also collected widely for himself. Therefore, it was natural for him to include a wealth of folklore, anecdotes, and events in his fairy tales that celebrate marvelous changes and common. As a result, Straparola’s collection provides two very different folk tales and different versions. As in the frame narrative, the humor ties between people based on cynicism, envy, and the cruelty of human life. Basile’s work highlights the sharpness of the storyteller and his ironic gaze at protagonists and observing their being through the ambiguity of the human soul and sharp laughter, and the action of the common people extended to the listener with their accent and humor. The stories are derived from his fable, the art of seeing and laughing at himself as the best and beneficial for the narrator.

It is not by chance that the literary fairy tale began flourishing in Italy before other European countries. During the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Italy was at the center of the intellectual and artistic revolutions. The great commercial centers of the time, and the literacy rates were high. Cultural activity in the courts and in the city-states was at a high point, and there was an interest in collecting and preserving diverse and native oral traditions among the people. Although it cannot be fully

Summary

The text discusses the evolution of literary fairy tales from early Christianity to the Renaissance, focusing on the transition from oral traditions to written stories. It highlights the role of vernacular languages, printing technology, and the incorporation of moral values in shaping fairy tales. Key figures like Apuleius, Straparola, and Basile are mentioned, with Straparola’s “The Pleasant Nights” and Basile’s “The Pentameron” being pivotal in popularizing fairy tales in Europe. These tales often included moral lessons, humor, and elements of human nature. Italy’s cultural and intellectual landscape during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries played a significant role in the flourishing of literary fairy tales.

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Documented, it is highly likely that the Italian literary fairy tales were gradually spread in print and by word of mouth throughout Europe. Interestingly, England, another powerful maritime country, was the other nation that began cultivating a literary fairytale tradition. Those in early times include these: Chaucer’s Tales, 1390-1400; Spenser’s The Faerie Queene 1590-96, and of course, in many of Shakespeare’s plays such as King Lear, A Midsummer Night’s Eve, The Tempest, the Winter’s Tale, and As You Like It.
However, due to the Puritan hostility toward amusement during the seventeenth century, the fairy tale as a genre was not able to flourish in England.
The modern novel and bourgeois conduct books in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries would face new conditions of the ancien régime from 1690 to 1714.
The many contributing factors that account for the rise and spread of the fairy tale in France at this time.
Second, the evolution of writing fairy tales and more experimentation with different kinds of literature.
Third, there was great cultural creativity and innovation in France.
Finally, about the middle of the seventeenth century, the fairy tale gradually became more accepted at literary salons and at the court, principally as theatrical form or pageant.
Fairytale recitations and games were devised, generally by women in salons and among the nobility.
Their narratives are long and rambling and focus on the question of tenderness.

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The very name of the genre itself — fairy tale — originated during this time.
The French writers coined the term conte de fées during the seventeenth century.
This “fairytale” is important because it reveals something crucial about the fairy tale that has remained part of its nature to the present.
The early writers of fairy tales placed the power of metamorphosis in the hands of women.
In addition, this miraculous power was associated with a particular religious orthodoxy.
Although they were not the only ones responsible, it was clear from the creative imagination of the writer.
Anyone could spin a tale for his/her life.
In the case of the gifted writers in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century preferred to address themselves to a public.
This is why they created a tradition that was innovative and great.
The institutionalization of the fairy tale in France during the 1690s.
The influence of the church on the institutionalization of the fairy tale.
The tradition of the oral wonder tale had surfaced again in France.
In France, the wonder tale was introduced in a salon.

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Most of the tales published in France were cleaned from a manuscript.
The tradition of the oral wonder tale had surfaced.
The reason for the institutionalization of the fairy tale in France.
The tales were not necessarily constructed by the Christian context.
In some cases, the coming of the tales.
The influence of the church on the institutionalization.

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A list of fairy tales: “Cinderella,” “Sleeping Beauty,” “Rapunzel,” “Rumpelstiltskin,” “Puss in Boots,” “The Little Red Riding Hood.”
The names of the tales are known to readers and are seen as part of the tradition associated with the Austrian Alps.
All aspects of storytelling from the Arabian Nights.
Summary

The text discusses the history and spread of literary fairy tales in Europe, particularly focusing on the role of Italy and France. It highlights the cultural exchange and evolution of fairy tales during the 17th century, emphasizing the impact of literary salons and the court in France. The genre’s name, “fairy tale,” originated from the French term “conte de fées,” and these stories often centered on themes of metamorphosis and tenderness. The institutionalization of fairy tales in France during the 1690s is noted, with the church playing a significant role. The text also references well-known fairy tales and their connection to the broader European storytelling tradition.

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Christian scholar named Youhenna Diab, living at that time in Paris, and wrote in part Galland’s literary recreations. The exotic setting and nature of these Oriental tales attracted not only French but numerous European readers, who Galland’s translation stimulated the translation of other Arabic works such as The Adventures of Ahabala, Son of Fari (1744–45) by the scholar Jean-Pe Péron, as well as hundreds of his own translations into English, Italian, German, Spanish, and so on.

The infusion of the Oriental tales into the French literary tradition enriched and broadened the paradigmatic contents of Western writers during the course of the eighteenth century. It became a favorite device and still is to juxtapose the exotic and a tale to the Orient with the intense sensitive issues of norms and power close to home. Aside from the great import of these Arabic and Persian tales on Western writers through translation, there was another development that was crucial for the institutionalization of the fairy tale in the eighteenth century. Soon after the publication of the tales by d’Aulnoy, Perrault, Lhéritier, Galland, and others, they were incorporated into a series of books called the Bibliothèque Bleue, inexpensive volumes aimed at spreading folklore and cultural tales throughout France and central Europe to the lower classes. The fairy tales were often modified, the language was changed and simplified, and there were multiple versions, which were read to children and nonliterate. Many of these tales were then appropriated by oral storytellers so that the literary tradition became a source for the oral tradition. As a result of the increased popularity of these culturally mixed tales and their success among the lower and middle classes, writers began to compose tales for children and included illustrations to attract the young readers. The tales of Perrault, Madame Leprince de Beaumont, and Madame de Villeneuve, for instance, were extensively used by the English governess, Mrs. Cooper, who published a collection of fairy tales in 1739 designed for children. Other English writers, such as Sarah Fielding (The Governess, 1749) and Mary Sherwood (The Fairchild Family, 1818), adapted the French fairy tales for young girls and boys and began paving the way for the reception of the fairy tale in England.

As the literary fairy tale began to function more as a didactic instrument to entertain and educate, it began to serve different functions, depending on the writer’s intention and reception of the genre and ideology of the French aristocracy: (1) a symbolical critique of the aristocratic society with utopian connotations, largely within the aristocracy from the female viewpoint; (2) a didactic instrument for children; (3) an instrument to introduce norms of conduct, particularly among the bourgeoisie and as a critique of the worst aspects of the Enlightenment and absolutism. This viewpoint was clearly expressed in Johann Wolffgang von Goethe’s classical narrative entitled “The New Melusine” (1797) and though it meant to be a fairy tale full of moral lessons. Goethe emphasized through it a successful critique of a repressive modernity that especially the support of all feudal classes.

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not commit, whereby they were cast as trials or extreme, especially ideal dialogue within a fairytale audience that had become firmly established in the Western intellectual tradition. For instance, the French fairy tale, which was most remarkable, now reached The Arabian Nights, had a profound influence on the German classicists and the romantics, and the development of the literary fairy tale in Germany would take many of these tales into account over the next several decades with the French authors, the German middle-class writers like Johann Karl August, in his collection Wunderhorn der Deutschen (1805–08), Grimm included “Lusus,” an ostensibly for display to celebrate the canon of ancient Musae’s songs and dances for children.

French fairy tale in his work and a language deeply affiliated or educated Germans. At the same time, Christian Winkman translated into a digested nature some of the Cabinet des Fées in Deutschland (1766– 74). “The Philosophers’ Stone” is his own creation but reveals how he, too, consciously modelled his fairy tale on the classical canon of German and French fairy tales in his own way. Aside from these two major concerns, a conscious attempt was made for the German people to become the recipients of this fairy-tale tradition, and the Grimm brothers were largely responsible for this development, which was significant in the latter half of the eighteenth century. The Grimms’ major contribution was to collect and translate German fairy tales within the oral tradition. The Grimms’ major contribution was to collect and translate German fairy tales within the oral tradition and to establish a canon for a new, distinct, and in some respects more pleasant means of initiating children into the class rituals and customs that reflected the status quo.

The climax of the French institutionalization of the fairy tale was the publication of Charles Mayer’s forty-two-volume Le Cabinet des Fées in between 1785 and 1789, a collection that included most of the important French tales written during the previous hundred years. From this point onward, the French canon was established, and the Grimms would take many of these tales into account over the next several decades with the French authors, the German middle-class writers like Johann Karl August, in his collection Wunderhorn der Deutschen (1805–08), Grimm included “Lusus,” an ostensibly for display to celebrate the canon of ancient Musae’s songs and dances for children.

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This viewpoint was clearly expressed in Johann Wolffgang von Goethe’s classical narrative entitled “The New Melusine” (1797) and though it meant to be a fairy tale full of moral lessons. Goethe emphasized through it a successful critique of a repressive modernity that especially the support of all feudal classes. In many ways, the emphasis was placed on how the present situation was contrasted with the past. Writers considered it a critique of the present to underscore the decline of the aristocratic institutions and customs. In many ways, the emphasis was placed on how the present situation was contrasted with the past. Writers considered it a critique of the present to underscore the decline of the aristocratic institutions and customs. At the same time, the fairy tale became an allegory that was meant to provide a vision of how things might be different if the aristocracy were more responsible and considerate of the needs of the lower classes. Consequently, the moral lessons were finally approved as needing nature to serve as a subtle, healing addiction that could lead children to have civic duties and to

Summary

The text discusses the influence of Oriental tales, particularly Arabic and Persian, on Western literature during the eighteenth century, highlighting how such tales enriched the French literary tradition and broadened Western narrative paradigms. The tales became significant in the Bibliothèque Bleue series, aimed at spreading folklore to lower classes, leading to adaptations for children. This period saw fairy tales used as didactic tools, critiquing aristocratic society and introducing norms, particularly during the Enlightenment. The text also covers the impact on German literature and the role of the Grimm brothers in collecting and translating fairy tales, contributing to a new canon. The discussion includes Goethe’s critique of modernity through fairy tales, emphasizing moral lessons and societal change.

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The stories considered most detrimental to the well-being of children were fantasy works.
Such tales included:
Beatrix Potter’s stories
Wilhelm Hauff’s Marchen
E.T.A. Hoffmann’s tales
Hans Christian Andersen’s works
Acceptance of fairy tales for children and their educational value was debated.
The tales evolved over time, becoming more accepted by society.
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Fairy tales were adapted to reflect societal norms and values.
Andersen’s tales became more moralistic and less supernatural.
Romanticism influenced the acceptance and transformation of fairy tales.
Influential authors like Charles Dickens and George Cruikshank shaped the perception of fairy tales in England.
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By the late 19th century, fairy tales were popularized in England by authors like Lewis Carroll and George MacDonald.
The tales retained magical elements but often had moral lessons.
The transition from ancient to modern fairy tales marked changes in society’s moral and educational values.
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Fairy tales were analyzed to understand societal changes and the impact on children.
Authors like J.M. Barrie and Kenneth Grahame contributed to the modern fairy tale genre.
The balance between fantasy and moral education became a focal point in the evolution of children’s literature.
Summary

The text explores the evolution and societal perceptions of fairy tales, particularly their impact on children’s education and morality. Initially viewed as potentially harmful, these tales evolved over time, becoming more accepted as they adapted to reflect societal norms and values. Influential authors like Hans Christian Andersen and E.T.A. Hoffmann contributed to this transformation by infusing moral lessons into their stories. By the late 19th century, fairy tales had become an integral part of children’s literature in England, balancing fantasy with educational value.

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The Fairies Return, ed. New Tales for Old (1934) - social commentaries.
Authors: E. C. Oppend, Lord Dunsany, Eric Linklater, Helen Simpson, Edith Anna Chance Sampson, Christina Stead, J. C. Snaith.
Fairy tales adapted for political purposes in Germany and Nazi ideology.
Examples: H. H. Phillips’ “Little Red Riding Hood as a Dictator Would Tell It” (1940).
Tolkien’s The Hobbit (1939) - fantasy of escape.
“The Fairy Tale of the King” (1940) - satire on Hitler.
Fairy tales used to question societal values.
Authors: Philip K. Dick, Nevill Mottison, Sylvia Townsend Warner, Robert Graves, Nicholas Stuart Gray.

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Fairy tales as cautionary tales and entertainment.
Authors: W. H. Auden, Robert Coover, Angela Carter, Margaret Atwood.
Focus on psychological and societal issues.
Fairy tales adapted for contemporary audiences.
Example: James Garner, Robert Graves, Michael Ende.
Literary use in both Britain and America.
Authors: Anne Sexton, Angela Carter.
Themes: power, control, societal norms.

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Modern retellings of fairy tales.
Authors: Ellen Datlow, Terri Windling.
Books: Snow White, Blood Red; Ruby Slippers, Golden Tears; Black Swan, White Raven.
Authors include Joyce Carol Oates, John Crowley, Nancy Kress, Lois Goldstein.
Exploration of societal issues.
Fairy tales as reflections of contemporary concerns.

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Fairy tales in modern society and entertainment.
The role of fairy tales in reflecting and shaping culture.
Authors use fairy tales to address modern issues.
Examples: The Robber Bridegroom, Bluebeard.
Fairy tales as a medium for artistic expression.
Summary

The text discusses the evolution and adaptation of fairy tales throughout the 20th century, highlighting their use as social commentary and political tools, particularly in contexts like Nazi Germany. Authors such as E. C. Oppend and Philip K. Dick adapted these tales to critique societal norms and political ideologies. The text also explores modern retellings by authors like Angela Carter and Joyce Carol Oates, who use fairy tales to address contemporary issues. Fairy tales are presented as both cautionary tales and reflections of societal values, demonstrating their enduring relevance in literature and culture.

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The basic message is reconciliation between beauty and beast, and love without friction.
Disney’s reinterpretations of fairy tales like “Snow White” and “Beauty and the Beast” promote this message, except for the darker elements in “Snow White.”
The film industry often alters fairy tales for contemporary social issues.
Examples include Neil Jordan’s “The Company of Wolves” and Matthew Bright’s “Freeway,” which add contemporary themes to traditional stories.
Other filmmakers like Niki Caro and John Sayles incorporate social commentary into their adaptations.
Disney’s version of “Cinderella” differs from Charles Perrault’s version, emphasizing domesticity over fairy tale enchantment.

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Modern filmmakers try to make fairy tales relevant to contemporary audiences.
Hayao Miyazaki’s films like “Spirited Away” and “Howl’s Moving Castle” explore the journey of young women, challenging traditional narratives.
Salman Rushdie’s work encourages new fairy tales that address current issues like political oppression.
The text suggests reconsidering traditional fairy tales in light of modern social contexts.

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The current phase of fairy tales often involves rationalizing magic and enchanting elements.
The industry is criticized for turning fairy tales into mere entertainment, losing their capacity to inspire critical thinking.
Fairy tales should be a part of our responsibility to the civilizing process.
The author emphasizes the need to preserve the imaginative and magical elements in fairy tales, which are crucial for cultural and personal growth.
Summary

The text discusses how modern adaptations of fairy tales, particularly by Disney and other filmmakers, often alter original stories to address contemporary social issues. It highlights the trend of incorporating themes of reconciliation, social commentary, and political oppression. Filmmakers like Neil Jordan and Hayao Miyazaki are noted for their innovative approaches, which challenge traditional narratives. The critique includes how Disney’s “Cinderella” focuses more on domesticity than enchantment, contrasting with earlier versions. The text advocates for maintaining the imaginative and inspirational elements of fairy tales, warning against reducing them to mere entertainment.


Haase:

YOURS, MINE, OR OURS? PERRAULT, THE BROTHERS GRIMM, AND THE OWNERSHIP OF FAIRY TALES Author(s): Donald Haase Reviewed work(s): Source: Merveilles & contes, Vol. 7, No. 2 (December 1993), pp. 383-402 Published by: Wayne State University Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/41390373 .
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YOURS, MINE, OR OURS?
PERRAULT, THE BROTHERS GRIMM, AND THE OWNERSHIP OF FAIRY TALES
Donald Haase
The Revered Place of Folklore
In 1944 W.H. Auden decreed that Grimms' fairy tales are "among the few indispensable, common-property books
upon which Western culture can be founded. ... [IJt is
hardly too much to say that these tales rank next to the Bible in importance" (1).
Auden was in one sense right. Like the Bible, fairy tales - especially the classic tales of Charles Perrault and the Brothers Grimm - hold a revered if not sacred place in mod- ern Western culture. Often thought to reach back like sacred works to "times past," to some ancient, pristine age in which their original tellers spoke mythic words of revelation, folk and fairy tales are endowed by many readers with unas- sailable moral and even spiritual authenticity.
Because they had their genesis in an oral tradition, we are tempted to imaginae their original tellers as simple folk endowed with infallible wisdom and, in some cases, divine inspiration. As a consequence of that belief, tampering with the classic texts of Perrault or the Brothers Grimm is con- sidered by some to be tantamount to sacrilege, similar to revising the text of Holy Scriptures. As one of my under- graduate students remarked in a journal he kept while studying fairy tales in the winter term of 1990: "I am not a deeply religious person. However, I have a vague feeling that questioning the origin of fairy tales is somehow sacrile- gious." Some traditionalists even go so far as to argue that the common practice of replacing Sneewittchen , Grimms' original German spelling of Snow White, with the more
383
Donald Haase
modern orthographical form Schneewittchen constitutes "monument desecration" (Bausinger 46).
When classic stories are changed unacceptable the blame is often placed on the culture industry - publishers, advertisers, merchandisers, and even pedagogues who have
capitalized on the mass appeal of the traditional tales and
emptied them of their original vigor and truth. Disney's Americanized and romanticized fairy-tale movies, for exam-
ple, have been severely criticized for trivializing and betray- ing the original themes, thus enfeebling an important cultur- al possession (Bettelheim, The Uses of Enchantment 210). As the civilized entrepreneur and creator of the fairy tale as consumer romance (Haase, "Gold Into Straw"), Disney is the absolute antithesis of the mythic peasant or Ice Age story- teller from whom we have supposedly inherited this alleged- ly sacred possession.
While this religious or quasi-religious reverence is cer-
tainly appealing and even reassuring, it is dangerously mis-
leading. As an antidote to it, consider two of the 24 theses offered by the German writer Wolfdietrich Schnurre, in a
piece he aptly entitled "Heretical Thoughts on the Treasury of Fairy Tales." In a sardonic letter to the long deceased Brothers Grimm, Schnurre seeks to explain why he thinks
fairy tales have lost their value for us. "The primary guilt for the decline of the fairy tale," he claims, "rests with those who [originally] made them. They forgot to impress on them the stamp of copyright" (23). In this case, not the culture
industry, but the folk themselves are held responsible for the
fairy tale's bankruptcy. Ironically, the fairy tale's status as communal property is proposed as the very cause of its
neglect and demise. It is a fairy tale, Schnurre asserts, to believe "that fairy tales are the property of the Volk - the
people. Property is cared for. The Vo/&," he asserts, "has ruined fairy tales" (23).
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The Ownership of Fairy Tales
These statements are heretical to established views that tell us not only why folktales are still relevant but to whom
they belong. However we might feel about the tales of the Brothers Grimm or Perrault, Schnurre's provocative heresies raise intriguing questions about the reception and cultural
ownership of fairy tales. Who are the folk, that anonymous group we often view as the originators and owners of the
fairy tale? And if the tales do not belong to the folk, then to whom do they belong? And, finally, why does the issue of
ownership matter at all?
The Nationalistic View of Folklore
The concept of "the folk" is a slippery one. To some, the folk are an ethnic or national group sharing common tradi- tions, lore, and social or cultural traits. In general parlance, "the folk" are the common folk, the working or peasant classes. But as the Italian folklorist Giuseppe Cocchiara has suggested, the identity of the folk transcends classes and "is the expression of a certain vision of life, certain attitudes of the spirit, of thought, of culture, of custom, of civilization, which appear with their own clearly delineated characteris- tics" (4). While Cocchiara's definition avoids the class bias of earlier definitions, Alan Dundes excises the ethnic and national emphasis by defining the folk as "аду group of people whatsoever who share at least one common factor" (2).
However, for the Grimms and many early folklorists, it was the so-called common people who best embodied a nation's folk life. It was their lore - including their folktales - that was to become the reservoir and model of national character. As the product of the German folk, the tales were thought to contain the scattered fragments of ancient Ger- manic myth, which - when collected - would provide the German people with a magic mirror in which they could discern and thus reassert their national identity. In this way,
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Donald H aase
Grimms' collection of folktales was conscripted into nation- alistic service and became a political weapon in the Grimms' intellectual resistance to the Napoleonic occupation of their beloved Hessian homeland.
To define the folk in nationalistic terms establishes fairy tales as national property. They are either yours, or they are mine. Following - and, it must be emphasized, grossly exag- gerating - the Grimms' nationalistic understanding of fairy tales, many Germans were only too ready to exercise their
right of ownership by advocating the Grimms' tales as a national primer, after 1871, for the newly unified nation. In
1899, for instance, Carl Franke gave this explanation of the close link between Grimms' tales and the education of a nation:
To the spirit of German schoolchildren the tales have be- come what mother's milk is for their bodies - the first nour- ishment for the spirit and the imagination. How German [are] Snow White, Little Briar Rose, Little Red Cap, the seven dwarfs! Through such genuine German diet must the language and spirit of the child gradually become more and more German. . . . (cited in Snyder 51)
Given the Grimms' precedent and given the need of every new state to authenticate its self-image, we can understand such remarks; just as we can understand the lamentable
exploitation of the Grimms' tales under National Socialism, which points up all too clearly the dangers inherent in view-
ing fairy tales as the property of a single group or nation
(see Kamenetsky; Zipes, Fairy Tales and the Art of Subver- sion 134-69).
But there is another, hidden danger in this nationalistic view. Ironically, the abuse of the Grimms' tales by the cul- ture industry of National Socialism has reinforced prejudice against the Grimms' tales. So compelling was the German
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The Ownership of Fairy Tales
identification of Germanic folktales with national identity that the Grimms' stories have very often been accepted as
belonging uniquely to the Germans. But instead of identify- ing favorable cultural traits in the tales, some readers have discerned more ambiguous characteristics. In 1939, Vincent Brun accused the Germans of perverting the fairy tale by exploiting its rude primitive instincts to educate and not to amuse children. By the end of World War II, however, the German fairy tale had fallen into such disrepute that during the Allied occupation of Germany fairy tales were viewed with serious suspicion and banned from the public school curriculum. Evidently, Auden's reclamation of the Grimms' tales as common property in 1944 was not universally ac-
cepted; in 1947 T.J. Leonard let loose with his infamous attack on German fairy tales, which he unequivocally con- demned as relics of German barbarism and blamed for pro- moting German nationalism and sadistic behavior among Germans. The reverberations of such attacks on Germanic folktales and German national character can still be felt. In 1985, Siegfried Heyer published an abridged German trans- lation of Leonard's attack, and Jörg Becker, in response, reflected on the enduring image of the "ugly German." That the alleged connection between German national character and fairy tales should occupy Becker forty years after the war is not surprising given that the Germans, as well as their former enemies, have kept this essentially postwar issue alive.
In 1978, Louis Snyder repeated the thesis he first put forth in the 1950s that the Grimms' tales, having played a role in the development of modern German nationalism, emphasize "such social characteristics as respect for order, belief in the desirability of obedience, subservience to au- thority, respect for the leader and the hero, veneration of courage and the military spirit, acceptance without protest
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Donald Haase
of cruelty, violence, and atrocity, fear of and hatred for the outsider, and virulent anti-Semitism" (51). Readers like
Snyder clearly relinquish title to the tales and deed them back to their owners. The implicit nationalism of the mes-
sage is clear: these tales are yours (German), not mine
(American). Differentiating between tales belonging to different coun-
tries, and thus differentiating between the countries them- selves, has become standard practice. In his study of the French folktale during the Old Regime, the historian Robert Darnton has insisted on the unique characteristics of the French folktale that distinguish it from its German counter-
part. Darnton summarizes the differences in this way:
Where the French tales tend to be realistic, earthy, bawdy, and comical, the German [tales] veer off toward the super- natural, the poetic, the exotic, and the violent. Of course, cultural differences cannot be reduced to a formula - French craftiness versus German cruelty - but the compari- sons make it possible to identify the peculiar inflection that the French gave to their stories, and their way of telling stories provides clues about their way of viewing the world.
(50-51)
Although Darnton tries to avoid stereotyping national charac- ter by adding a disclaimer and by referring instead to differ-
ing world views, in the final analysis his implicit notion of
fairy tales as culturally defined property makes this difficult.
However, he is at least aware of the danger of idealizing the national ethos. In pointing to the similarity between the tales of French peasants and those of Perrault, Darnton says that both groups of "tales communicated traits, values, attitudes, and a way of construing the world that was peculiarly French. To insist upon their Frenchness," he notes, "is not to fall into romantic rhapsodizing about national spirit, but
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The Ownership of Fairy Tales
rather to recognize the existence of distinct cultural styles, which set off the French . . . from other peoples identified at the time as German, Italian, and English" (63). Perhaps it is easy for Darnton to avoid rhapsodizing, because he is not French. That is, the tales he discusses are "theirs," not his.
Although the French are not immune to praising the
unique nature of their national fairy tales, they seem to be less dependent on the tales for the codification of their self-
image than are the Germans. France lacked - indeed, did not need - strong nationalistic voices such as the Brothers Grimm, who set the German precedent for folktale worship. Moreover, because the French enjoyed a strong literary heritage, they were perhaps more likely to find models of the national ethos in their classical canon than in popular folk literature. After all, unlike the Grimms' tales, Perraulťs stories are usually considered not so much examples of the folk culture as part of the elevated literary tradition of the Old Regime. So whereas Robert Darnton might find the French popular tale characterized by the earthy and bawdy, Paul Hazard praises Perraulťs fairy tales for their expression of such typically French characteristics as logic, wit, and refined femininity (121-24). Fernand Baldensperger, not without irony, has even observed that Perraulťs fairies are charming Cartesian fairies (cited in Hazard 122).
The pride the French take in their tales rarely gets more impassioned than this. Perhaps this has something to do with the influential essay on Perrault written by Sainte- Beuve in 1851, in which he stressed not only the naivete and simplicity, but also the universal appeal of the French stories (273).
Such a view draws on another interpretation of the folk that does not rely on national or ethnic identity and conse- quently proposes an alternative ownership for the fairy tale.
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This view of the folk is informed by a universalizing tenden-
cy that completely disregards social, historical, and cultural factors. It is the view espoused in particular by psychoana- lytic, archetypal, and anthroposophical-spiritualist (Waldorf school) readers of fairy tales. It is best summed up in this
amazingly wrongheaded passage taken from the book Fairy Tales and Children by psychologist Carl-Heinz Mallet:
Fairy Tales are popular poetry, for they originated and developed among the people [the folk]. They were born in fusty spinning rooms. Simple people told them to simple people. No one else was interested in these "old wives' tales." No superior authority, whether profane or ecclesias- tic, exerted any influence. Fairy tales developed outside the great world, beyond the centers of political and cultural power. They absorbed nothing from these areas, no histori- cal events, no political facts, no cultural trends. They re- mained free of the moral views, behavioral standards, and manners of the various epochs. . . . Human beings per se are the focal point of fairy tales, and people are pretty much alike no matter when or where they have lived. (38)
What a striking contrast to the opinions discussed earlier in this chapter. Here the folk constitute not a national group bound together by a common culture, but an ill-defined
population of idyllic innocents whose sole characteristic is
simplicity. Rousseau is responsible for this model. But both this mythical peasant and the ensuing notion of a fairy tale untouched by its social or historical context are ridiculous. Yet these are the very premises upon which very influential and popular theories of the fairy tale have been built. Their unfortunate success lies in their reassuring appeal to our
humanity, to the soothing promise that both human beings and values transcend time and space. In other words, as vessels of purportedly universal human truths, fairy tales
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belong to us all. The classic example of this view is Bruno Bettelheim, whose popular psychoanalytic interpretations of
fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm and Perrault have been widely and enthusiasstically embraced.
Bettelheim 5 Psychoanalytical Interpretations of Fairy Tales
From Bettelheim's psychoanalytic perspective, fairy tales address "essential human problems" and "have great psy- chological meaning" ( The Uses of Enchantment 17). Through fairy tales, Bettelheim argues, both children and adults can find their way through life's existential dilemmas. Bettelheim can come to these conclusions because he assumes that fairy tales transcend the specific time and place of their origin and give us insight into "manifold truths . . . which can guide our lives; . . . truth as valid today as it was once upon a time" (310). Thus, fairy tales, whether German or French, for example, would seem to belong to us all, not simply by virtue of our sharing a common Western culture, but be- cause the fairy tale's transcendent nature addresses our common humanity. However, Bettelheim's point of view is problematic because what he believes to be universal truths ultimately turn out to be the values of nineteenth-century Europe.
The repressive moralizing inherent in Bettelheim's read- ings of fairy tales has been solidly criticized before, but 1 mention the issue again here because his understanding of fairy tales remains influential, especially among teachers and children's librarians, who often rely on his work (see Bettelheim, "Children and Fairy Tales", and Flatter). Jack Zipes' criticism of what he calls Bettelheim's "Use and Abuse of Folk and Fairy Tales with Children," in particular, deserves reading or re-reading in light of the recent, sober- ing allegations by one of Bettelheim's former patients at the Orthogenic School that the author of The Uses of Enchant -
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ment was an authoritarian who physically and emotionally abused children in his care (Pekow; see also Zipes, The Brothers Grimm 110-34). The values that Bettelheim views as timeless and common to us all frequently turn out to be those of the authoritarian, patriarchal society in which he was raised (Haase,
" 'Verzauberungen der Seele' ").
Some of Bettelheim's influence has been mitigated by recent studies that reveal the specific sociocultural roots of
many tales and thus expose their historically determined values. In fact, for the last fifteen years the Grimms' tales have been the center of considerable discussion and contro-
versy as a result of renewed interest in evidence that the Grimms did not give us authentic, unaltered folktales tran- scribed from the mouths of the simple people, but instead drew many of their tales from highly educated informants or
printed literary texts (see Bottigheimer; Rölleke; Tatar; Zipes, The Brothers Grimm). That Wilhelm Grimm had free-
ly revised, edited, added to, and basically rewritten many of the classic tales to reflect also his own aesthetic and moral values renders the universal, transcendent view of these tales untenable.
But the discrediting of theories has affected not only those who, like Bettelheim, believe in the universal nature of fairy tales. The nationalists have had to confront the dis-
covery that many of the best known and most cherished of the Grimms' tales are not purely German. They are in many cases of mixed origin. Some of the Grimms' most significant informants have turned out to be educated bourgeois women from families of French Huguenots who had settled in Ger-
many after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Of course, to say that these oral sources spoke French and were famil- iar with the tales of Perrault is not to say that what the Grimms have given us is a collection of French tales. They
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did not. But it is enough to undermine the view that makes
fairy tales the possession of a single nationality. We are left, however, with a question. If fairy tales are
not the universal possession of an all-encompassing, undif- ferentiated humanity, and if they are not the sole property of any single national group, then to whom do fairy tales
belong? This question can be best answered by turning first to the question: Why does it matter at all to whom fairy tales belong?
The Question of Ownership The question of ownership is not an idle question. As
we've seen, our specific views on the origins and nature of fairy tales necessarily imply that we have, implicitly or explicitly, a specific attitude toward their ownership. And these attitudes, in turn, have an impact on the reception of fairy tales insofar as they determine how we both read and use fairy tales. The problem - indeed, the danger - with both the nationalistic/ethnic perspective and the universal view of fairy tales is that they prescribe forms of thought and behavior, and modes and models of humanity, that are meant to be normative. That is, they stereotype us - either as members of a nationalistic or ethnic group, or as human beings defined by a certain concept of what is or is not normal. This is why fairy tales have been so frequently utilized by both nationalists and universaliste in the social- ization of children. In both cases, fairy tales are supposed to depict or prescribe for us what is true, as well as what forms of behavior are typical, nonnal, and acceptable. Whether we view them as yours and mine or as ours, fairy tales - read from these perspectives - confine and limit us, narrowing our views of reality while allegedly giving us greater insight into the other, into ourselves, or into humanity. From these per- spectives, fairy tales own us, we don't own them.
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An important twist was added to the question of owner-
ship with the proliferation of both printed texts and copy- right law in the nineteenth century. While folktales remain in the public domain because of their anonymous origin in the oral tradition (which accounts in part for their popularity among publishers), there has been a growing tendency to stress private ownership by individuals or even corporations. This is evident in the way we speak about fairy tales. With deference to the folk's public ownership of fairy tales, the Grimms claimed only to have collected the stories in their famous edition. Yet we refer to them as "Grimms' fairy tales." Contemporary storytellers, who work for a fee and are cautious about allowing audio or video recordings of their
performances, frequently talk of making a traditional folktale their own. Although this is in one sense an artistic claim, the vocabulary of ownership implies clearly the expectation to control and profit from the tale in question. When Disney called his animated fairy tales by his own name - Walt Dis-
ney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs , Walt Disney's Sleep- ing Beauty , and so on - he was not simply making an artis- tic statement, but also laying claim to the tales in what would become their most widely-known, public versions. In
1989, when the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Scienc- es used the figure of Snow White in its televised award
ceremonies, the Walt Disney Company filed a lawsuit claim-
ing "unauthorized use of its Snow White character," which the corporation felt had been treated in an unflattering man- ner in the comical and mildly satirical sketch ("Disney Company"; see also Harmetz). When the Walt Disney Com-
pany spent SI million for the videocassette rights to the
"Rocky and Bullwinkle" series - including the "Fractured
Fairy Tales" that sometimes parody the Disney versions and Walt Disney himself - its corporate ownership and control of
the fairy tale were extended to even the subversive fairy tale
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(Kaplan). If the Walt Disney Company cannot completely prevent unflattering parodies of its fairy-tale movies and their creator, at least it will now be able to control and
profit from their distribution. The Disney case demonstrates that the question of owner-
ship is important because it is ultimately a question of con- trol. So who owns fairy tales? To be blunt: 1 do. And you do. We can each claim fairy tales for ourselves. Not as members of a national or ethnic folk group - as French, German, or American. Not as nameless faces in a sea of humanity. And not in the Disney model as legal copyright holders. We claim fairy tales in every individual act of telling and read- ing. If we avoid reading fairy tales as models of behavior and normalcy, they can become for us revolutionary docu- ments that encourage the development of personal autonomy.
As some revisionist writers and storytellers have already recognized, the removal of the fairy tale from the service of nationalism and universalism requires the subversion of traditional tales. Thus we find contemporary literary versions of "Little Red Riding Hood," for instance, that offer alterna- tive visions. In one version, by the Merseyside Fairy Story Collective, a young girl overcomes her fear and slays the wolf who threatens her grandmother (Zipes, The Trials and Tribulations of Little Red Riding Hood 239-46). In another, by Angela Carter, a young woman, far from becoming the wolf s innocent victim, accepts her animal nature - her sexu- ality - and actually leaves her family and village to join the company of wolves (Zipes, The Trials and Tribulations 272- 80). In other media, such as film, video, and song, attempts have also been made to reclaim the fairy tale. In fact, Angela Carter's Red Riding Hood story, "The Company of Wolves," has itself been re-made as a movie (Carter and Jordan). And some of the irreverent video adaptations in Shelley Duvall's Faine Tale Theatre go a long way towards
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offsetting the saccharine Disney model of consumer ro- mance. Even in popular music the Disney claim on meaning has been challenged by authorized remakes of the songs from Walt Disney's fairy-tale movies. Sinéad O'Connor's
subtly ironic rendering of "Someday My Prince Will Come," Betty Carter's sensual subversion of "I'm Wishing," and Tom Waits' industrialized "Heigh Ho" give us the opportu- nity to reinterpret Disney and "his" tales for ourselves and our time (Willner).
Discovering Individual Ownership of Fairy Tales
The opportunity to reclaim fairy tales is as crucial for children as it is for adults. But the right to ownership of the tales may in some ways be more difficult for children to claim. After all, teachers, librarians, parents, and powers in the culture industry exert a certain control over the popular reception of fairy tales by determining to a great extent not
only the nature of the tales that are made accessible to
children, but also the context of their reception. A storyteller who buys into myths about the pristine origin of fairy tales assumes an unearned mantle of authority and shrouds the stories not only in mystery but error. A parent under Bruno Bettelheim's spell uses time-bound tales to justify a timeless moral authority. And a teacher concerned about the so- called crisis of cultural literacy will emphasize canonized
fairy-tale texts and treat them as sacred cultural artifacts. In each case, children's responses are expected to conform to the external authority of the tales they read or hear. It is no accident that parents and educators so often praise fairy tales because of their ability to enchant children. Stripped of sentimentality, enchantment - that is, being spellbound and powerless - is also a curse. We applaud the rescue of a Frog King or a Sleeping Beauty who is powerless to break the spell of a malevolent force, but when a moralistic text
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"enchants" and has a child in its spell, we apparently have that child exactly where we want her or him.
There are at least two ways in which children can be awakened from this form of enchantment and helped to discover their individual ownership of fairy tales. First, teachers and parents can offer children a wider variety of
fairy tales than is usually proffered. Complementing the classic tales and anthologies with newer or lesser-known stories and variants places the traditional tales in a context that encourages diverse responses, questions, and significant comparisons - even among elementary school children. When I read my own ten-year-old daughter the Grimms' "Little Red Riding Hood" and the version of the Merseyside Fairy Story Collective, for example, she announced that she liked the second version better "because the little girl was smarter."
Numerous anthologies that resurrect neglected fairy tales and offer alternatives to the best-known classic tales are readily available today. Among them are Alison Lurie's Clever Gretchen and Other Forgotten Folktales , Ethel John- ston Phelps* The Maid of the North: Feminist Folktales from Around the World , and Suzanne I. Barchers* Wise Women: Folk and Fairy Tales from Around the World. Each of these seeks to provide tales with female characters who resist the stereotypes that dominate the fairy-tale market. Jack Zipes has the same goal in The Trials and Tribulations of Little Red Riding Hood: Versions of the Tale in Sociocultural Con- text and Don't Bet on the Prince: Contemporary Feminist Fairy Tales in North America and England . Both of these also include significant bibliographies of many other alterna- tive fairy-tales. The traditional fairy-tale canon can also be complemented by stories "belonging" to other cultural tradi- tions. Virginia Hamilton's The People Could Fly , for exam- ple, is an excellent anthology of American Bl$ck folktales
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that can be reclaimed by new generations. Innovative illus- trations can also recast a familiar text in such a way as to allow children fresh responses to a classic story. In Creative Education's fairy-tale series, for example, Sarah Moon has outfitted Perraulťs Little Red Riding Hood with haunting -
for some perhaps troubling - black and white photographs that reinterpret the story for the urban reader. Of video and filin versions of fairy tales, teachers might want to explore Tom Davenport's innovative but uneven series From the Brothers Grimm: American Versions of Folktale Classics , which now consists of nine Grimm tales transplanted into American settings. While Davenport's film adaptations com- bine reverence for the tales with moments of humor, Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes demystifies classic tales. Dahl's irreverent fairy-tale adaptations in verse are a good antidote to the saccharine presentations often found in children's editions.
Beyond presenting children with a variety of fairy tales, adults can also encourage the creative reception of fairy tales. In other words, children can make fairy tales their own by creating and re-creating their own versions. There is
good evidence that given the opportunity, children will take
fairy tales into their own hands in any case. In his book The Brothers Grimm , Jack Zipes has recounted how fifth- and
sixth-grade girls combined the character of Peter Pumpkin- Eater and the story of Cinderella into a new tale that explic- itly reflects their developing sexuality and consciousness
(146). And Kristin Wardetzky has shown how the storytell- ing of children in the former East Germany does not always succumb to the dominant cultural models and recreates the
fairy tale in ways that express the children's power over the
genre. At the end of his list of heresies Wolfdietrich Schnurre
wonders, "Can the fairy tale be saved?" His answer: "Per-
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haps. If specialists expose the roots of the tales and tell them in a way that is thoroughly new and which expresses their essence" (25). Writers and professional storytellers retelling tales and making them own can indeed renew the
fairy tale. But readers, too - including children - can reread and reinterpret the tales in new ways. By experiencing a wide variety of tales, they can view the stories of the classi- cal canon in new contexts. By actively selecting, discussing, enacting, illustrating, adapting, and retelling the tales they experience, both adults and children can assert their own
proprietary rights to meaning. It is no heresy to re-appropri- ate the tales from either tradition or the culture industry. "They are not,'7 as even Auden knew, "sacred texts" (28). If the fairy tale needs saving and if we are to save it, then we need to abandon the untenable views of its ownership that put us in its power. We must take possession of it on our own terms. Saving the fairy tale in this way is nothing less than saving our very selves.
Works Consulted
Auden, W.H. "In Praise of the Brothers Grimm" (review of Grimm's Fairy Tales). The New York Times Book Review 12 November 12 1944: 1, 28.
Barchers, Suzanne I. Wise Women : Folk and Fairy Tales from Around the World. Englewood, CO: Libraries Unlimited, 1990.
Bausinger, H. "Anmerkungen zu Schneewittchen." Und wenn sie nicht gestorben sind : Perspektiven auf das Märchen. Ed. H. Brackert. Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1980. 39-70.
Becker, Jörg. "Der hilflose Anti-Faschismus." Hessische Blätter für Volks- und Kulturforschung , n.s. 18 (1985): 117-19.
Bettelheim, Bruno. "Children and Fairy Tales." Pre-K January 1987: 21. . The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy
Tales. New York: Knopf, 1976. Bottigheimer, Ruth B. "Fairy Tales, Folk Narrative Research and Histo-
ry." Social History 14 (1989): 343-57.
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. Grimms' Bad Girls and Bold Boys : The Moral and Social Vision of the Tales. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987.
Brun, Vincent. "The German Fairy Tale." Menorah Journal 27 (1939): 147-55.
Carter, Angela and Jordan, N., screenwriters. The Company of Wolves (videotape). Vestron Video, 1985. Original work produced 1984.
Cocchiara, Giuseppe. The History of Folklore in Europe. J.N. McDaniel, trans. Philadelphia: Institute for the Study of Human Issues, 1981. Original work published 1952.
Dahl, Roald. Revolting Rhymes. Toronto: Skylark-Bantam, 1986. Original work published 1983.
Darnton, Robert. "Peasants Tell Tales: The Meaning of Mother Goose." Robert Dam ton. The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History. New York: Basic Books, 1984. 9-72, 265- 270.
Davenport, Tom, producer anad director. From the Brothers Grimm: American Versions of Folktlae Classics (videotape series). Davenport Films, 1975-89.
"Disney Company sues over Snow White use." New York Times 31 March 1989: C33.
Dundes, Alan. The Study of Folklore. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice- Hall, 1965.
Flatter, C.H. "Folktales: The Enchanted Lesson." American Educator (Summer 1985): 30-33.
Haase, D. "Gold into Straw: Fairy Tale Movies for Children and the Culture Industry." The Lion and the Unicorn 12.2 (1988): 193-207.
. " 'Verzauberungen der Seele1: Das Märchen und die Exilanten der NS-Zeit." Begegnung mit dem "Fremden": Grenzen - Traditionen -
Vergleiche: Akten des VIH. Kongresses der Internationalen Vereini- gung für Germanische Sprach- und Literaturwissenschaft: Vol. 8. Emigranten- und Immigrantenliteratur. Ed. Eijiro Iwasaki and Yoshi- nori Shichiji. Munich: iudicium, 1991. 44-50.
Hamilton, Virginia. The People Could Fly. New York: Knopf, 1985. Harmetz, A. "An Apology to Disney." New York Times 7 April 1989:
C30. Hazard, Paul. Books , Children and Men. Trans. Marguerite Mitchell.
Boston: Horn Book, 1947. Heyer, Siegfried. [Translation of Leonard]. Hessische Blätter fur Volks-
und Kulturforschung , ns 18 (1985): 111-16.
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Kamenetsky, C. Folklore as a political tool in Nazi Germany. Journal of American Folklore 85 (1972): 221-35.
. Children's Literature inHitler's Germany. Athens: Ohio University Press, 1984.
. "Folktale and Ideology in the Third Reich." Journal of American Folklore 90 (1977): 168-78.
Kaplan, D.A. "Vatch out Natasha, Moose and Squirrel are back." Detroit Free Press 7 May 1989: 3F.
Leonard, T. J. "First Steps in Cruelty." British Zone Review : A Fort- nightly Review of the Activities of the Control Commission for Germa- ny (B.E.) and Military Government 1.37 (1947): 10-13.
Lurie, Alison. Clever Gretchen a d Other Forgotten Folktales. New York: Crowell, 1980.
Mallet, Carl-Heinz. Fairy Tales and Children: The Psychology of Chil- dren Revealed through Four of Grimm's Fairy Tales. Trans. J. Neu- groschel. New York: Schocken, 1984.
Moon, Sarah, illustrator. Liule Red Riding Hood . Mankato, MN: Creative Education, 1983.
Pekow, C. "The other Dr. Bettelheim: The revered psychologist had a dark, violent side." Washington Post 26 August 1990: Cl, C4.
Phelps, Ethel Johnston. The Maid of the North: Feminist Folktales from Around the World . New York: Holt, Ri ne h art and Winston, 1981.
Rölleke, Heinz. Die Märchen der Brüder Grimm: Eine Einjührung. Munich: Artemis, 1985.
Sainte-Beuve, C.-A. "Charles Perrault" C.-A. Sainte-Beuve. Causeries du lundi. Paris: Garnier, 1944. Original work published in 1851. 5: 255-74.
Schnurre, Wolfdietrich. "Ketzerisches zum Marchenschatz: 24 kurzwei- lige Thesen." Grimmige Märchen: Prosatexte von Ibe Aichinger bis Martin Walser. Ed. Wolfgang Mieder. Frankfurt: R.G. Fischer, 1986. 21-25. Original work published in 1978.
Snyder, Louis L. "Cultural Nationalism: The Grimm Brothers* Fairy Tales." L.L. Snyder. Roots of German nationalism. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978. 35-54. Reprint of "Nationalistic Aspects of the Grimm Brothers' Fairy Tales." Journal of Social Psychology 33 (1951): 209-23.
Tatar, M. The Hard Facts of the Grimms' Fairy Tales. Princeton: Prince- ton University Press, 1987.
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Wardetzky, Kristin. "The Structure and Interpretation of Fairy Tales Composed by Children." Journal of American Folklore 103 (1990): 157-76.
Willner, H., producer. Stay Awake: Various interpretations f Music from Vintage Disney Films (audiotape). A & M, 1988.
Z i pes, J. The Brothers Grimm : From Enchanted Forests to the Modern World. New York: Routledge, 1988.
, ed. Don't Bet on the Prince: Contemporary Feminist Fairy Tales in North America nd. England. New York: Methuen, 1986.
. Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion: The Classical Genre for Children and the Process of Civilization. New York: Wildman, 1983.
. "On the Use and Abuse of Folk and Fairy Tales with Children: Bruno Bettelheim's Moralistic Magic Wand." Jack Zipes. Breaking the Magic Spell: Radical Theories of Folk and Fairy Tales. New York: Methuen, 1984. 160-82. Original work published 1979.
, ed. The Trials and Tribulations of Little Red Riding Hood: Ver- sions of the Tale in Sociocultural Context. South Hadley, MA: Bergin & Garvey, 1983.
Note: This essay first appeared in Once Upon a Folktale: Capturing the Folklore Process with Children , ed. Gloria Blatt (New York: Teachers College Press, 1993) 63-77. It is reprinted with the permission of the publisher. ©1993 by Teachers College, Columbia University.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Donald Haase is associate professor of German and Chair of German and Slavic Studies at Wayne State University. He is editor of The Reception of Grimms '
Fairy Tales : Responses , Reac- tions , Revisions (Detroit: Wayne State Univ. Press, 1993).
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Assistant: The text you provided includes several insights and interpretations regarding fairy tales and the role of female characters in them, as discussed by various authors such as Maria Tatar and others. Here are some key points and quotes that suggest female characters in fairy tales often rely on external forces for change
Assistant: Certainly! The texts you've provided discuss the role of female characters in fairy tales and how they often rely on external forces for change, focusing on themes of curiosity, disobedience, and societal constraints. Here are key points and quotes that illustrate this notion:

1. **Margaret Atwood's Reinterpretation**: In Atwood's retelling of "Bluebeard," she explores how female characters like Sally rely on external forces (such as family and cultural stories) to navigate their circumstances. While Sally investigates, she is ultimately constrained by her husband's hidden self, symbolizing how female characters often need to rely on outside help or acceptance to understand their situations better. 

   - Atwood suggests that "engagement with our cultural stories can open our eyes to realities that... are not without a liberating potential."

2. **The Role of Rescue in "Bluebeard"**: The traditional narrative in "Bluebeard" shows that the heroine initially suffers due to her curiosity, but ultimately it is her brothers (external forces) who rescue her from her husband. This emphasizes the idea that female characters often do not enact change on their own but require intervention from others to escape dangerous situations.

   - "Bluebeard's wife... succeeds in delaying the execution long enough that her brothers, summoned by Sister Anne, arrive in time to rescue her."

3. **Curiosity as a Double-Edged Sword**: In Perrault's version, the heroine's curiosity leads her to discover horrific truths but also to her near downfall. Here, her reliance on external forces—the brother's timely arrival—symbolizes the limitations placed on her agency.

   - "Her desire for knowledge of what lies beyond the door... becomes a sign of her disobedience."

4. **Familial Intervention**: The emphasis on the importance of family in "Bluebeard" highlights that, unlike in other fairy tales where a prince or hero saves the day, here it is the family members who ultimately provide salvation, reinforcing the notion that female characters often depend on others for resolution.

   - "Family solidarity triumphs over stranger danger."

5. **Contextualizations of Fairy Tales**: Haase's examination of ownership and the nationalistic perspective on folktales implies that the characters within these stories often reflect societal norms and values that are not necessarily their own. This forces them into roles where they cannot change their circumstances without outside help.

   - "Fairy tales... are supposed to depict or prescribe... what forms of behavior are typical... [and] define what is normal."

These ideas demonstrate a recurring theme in fairy tales where female characters frequently depend on external forces—whether they be family, societal norms, or other characters—to effect change or achieve autonomy. This reliance can be seen as both a limitation and a pathway to agency through the re-examination of roles and narratives.
User: how about a quote for this sentence for evidence or strenghening:

The protagonist has no access to magic or any magical device, and must rely on her own intelligence to deceive the antagonist. There is no external force that saves the protagonist, and the protagonist has to use her wit to disguise herself as a bird by rolling in honey and feathers, cleverly deceiving the sorcerer and his guests. As the text describes: "She dipped herself into a barrel of honey, then cut open the bed and rolled around in it until she looked like a strange bird, and no one would have been able to recognize her." This transformation subverts from the other transformations in traditional fairy tales, where female protagonists often rely on external forces for change.
Assistant: