"Little Red Riding Hood"

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"Little Red Riding Hood," or "Little Red-Cap," as the Brothers Grimm called it, has recently been revamped as a major motion picture involving werewolves.  Critics say the film is a "darker" or "more adult" version of the fairy tale, but those critics have obviously never read the Grimms' original story.

The fairy tale was probably intended as a lesson to little girls not to talk to strange men, those metaphorical wolves who would prey on unsuspecting young women.  A Freudian analysis--particularly given the importance of the cross-dressing male wolf, the bed (see image at right), and the young girl's scarlet cape--is fairly easy to perform here.

There are numerous versions of the story, some in which the wolf merely borrows Grandma's bonnet while she's out until Grandma returns and chases the wolf out, some where the story simply ends after the wolf gobbles Little Red Riding Hood up, and some that have both Grandma and Little Red Riding Hood swallowed whole by the wolf until they are saved by a huntsman who cuts them out of its belly.

The latter ending, found here in the Grimms' version, is rendered in delightfully gruesome detail: the wolf is vivisected and his belly filled with heavy stones until he collapses in death and the huntsman uses his pelt as a cloak.  There is even a little coda about another wolf who tried to go after our crimson-capped heroine, and he is ultimately drowned in a trough of sausage-water (again, quite Freudian).  

Lesson learned:
The sole consistency among all the story versions is that Little Red Riding Hood comments on what big body parts the wolf has.  Unfortunately, this aspect of the tale does not fit with my Freudian reading.  Hmm.

Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm.  "Little Red Cap."  Nursery and Household Tales [Kinder- und Hausmärchen]. Berlin, 1812. 

Little Red Riding Hood

"The Little Mermaid"

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The story of "The Little Mermaid" sprung from the ever-twisted mind of Hans Christian Andersen, he who also gave us such horrors as "The Little Match Girl" and "The Red Shoes."  The original tale is quite different from the well-known Disney version with its singing crustaceans and comical seagulls.

Andersen's little mermaid turns fifteen and finally gets her long-awaited chance to go to the surface and see its sights.  The oyster shells she has to wear to do so hurt her, but her grandmother sagely advises, “Pride must suffer pain," a theme that will run throughout the tale.  Thanks, grandma!

Some of what happens next is much as you might remember it from the Disney tale: the little mermaid ventures up to the surface, falls in love at first sight with a prince, then saves him from a shipwreck.

Later, the little mermaid waxes philosophical, asking about the different natures of humans and merfolk.  She is told that humans have a relatively short lifespan but possess an immortal soul that can ascend "beyond the glittering stars," and merpeople can live about 300 years but have no immortal soul--when they die, they simply turn into seafoam.  "Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?” she asks.  “No,” her grandmother tells her.  Unless she is able to win the love of a human and he marries her, because, in a startling--and very disturbing--literalization of 19th century coverture law, "then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well." 

So, the little mermaid's quest is not just for the prince's love but to gain an immortal soul.  What is this--Pilgrim's Progress for kids?  Faust in reverse?  Where are the thingamabobs and dinglehoppers?

The little mermaid realizes that the prince could never fall in love with her while she still has a tail, so she asks the grotesque sea witch for help.  The sea witch can give the mermaid legs, but the price is steep.  Not only will the little mermaid have to cut off her tongue as payment, the legs themselves will cause excruciating pain: "Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow."  Aaaauugh!

But the little mermaid agrees, and soon she's up "where the people are" sporting a pair of bleeding feet.  At court, the prince's slaves (yes, he has slaves!) sing for him and the mermaid dances and charms everyone.  "The prince said she should remain with him always, and she received permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion."  Like a lapdog.  What a charmer!

The prince grows fond of "his dumb child" as he calls the little mermaid, but he says his true love must be a girl who lives at the holy temple, who he believes was the one to save him from the shipwreck.  The mermaid can't tell him the truth, and, when he meets the temple girl and decides to marry her, she doesn't disabuse him of the notion either.

The little mermaid realizes all is lost for her, until her sisters turn up and reveal they have sold their hair to the sea witch to obtain a dagger.  If the little mermaid stabs the prince in the heart with it and lets his blood drip onto her feet, she will regrow her tail and be a happy mermaid again.  Alas, she can't bring herself to do it.  She begins to dissolve into sea foam, until suddenly, Lorax-like, she is lifted into the air and told that she is now "a daughter of the air" and will spend the next 300 years in a purgatorial state before she can enter heaven.  During this time, she can float in and out of children's houses unseen, and if the children are good, she gets a year off her sentence, but if they are naughty, she will shed tears, and for each tear another day is added to her sentence.

First off, how on earth does Mr. Andersen have the gall to blame children like me for the mermaid's problems?  Shouldn't the sea witch, or the prince, or even the temple girl be held responsible here?  And what a burden to place on a child: it is your fault that the little mermaid doesn't have an immortal soul yet!  Well, I regularly clap to show I believe in fairies, and I often ring bells to ensure an angel gets his wings, but I make no promises about behaving just in case a mermaid-spirit should fly through the window at a given moment.

Lesson learned:
Mermaid math: if naughtiness (n) =+1 day per tear (t), but goodness (g) =-365 days, then the question is of how many tears, on average, are produced per naughty act.  Let's guess that each n=50t, assuming we have a very weepy mermaid.  Then, since 7n=+350 days, you could theoretically commit 7 naughty acts for every good one, and the mermaid would still come out over two weeks ahead: 7n+1g=-15 days.


Andersen, Hans Christian.  The Little Mermaid.  1836. 
The Little Mermaid

"Cinderella"

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Most folks know that the Grimms' original fairy tales were quite, well, grim.  And no fairy tale is more disturbing than their 1812 version of "Cinderella."

Before Cinderella's mother dies, she tells her daughter to plant a tree on her grave and to just shake the tree when she needs help in the future. 
Cinderella is sad and abused, but at least her bird friends help her clean and complete the other menial tasks her wicked stepmother and stepsisters force upon her. 

The pigeons and the tree provide the clothes and carriage needed for Cinderella to attend the royal ball, and when she leaves behind a golden slipper, the prince sets on a quest to find the foot that fits it.

To fit in the slipper, one stepsister cuts off her heel, but the birds point out the blood in the shoe and the prince knows she is not the one.  The second stepsister cuts off her toes to fit in the shoe, but the birds tattle again about the blood pooling in the shoe.

In the 1857 version, the Grimms added a fun little coda, too: just before Cinderella's wedding to the prince, the birds pluck out one eye from each sister (so they can still watch their humiliation, I suppose), and then just after the wedding, the birds finish the job and peck out each sister's remaining eye.  And "thus," the story concludes, "for their wickedness and falsehood, they were punished with blindness as long as they lived."

Lesson learned:
 Don't go under the knife just to impress some guy.

Grimms' Fairy Tales (Illustrated Junior Library)