Showing posts with label fairy tale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fairy tale. Show all posts

Monday, 10 December 2012

Stealing and Murder in Picture Books? by Paeony Lewis


Illus by Warwick Goble, 1923
I suspect you said, “No way!” But what of picture-book versions of Jack and the Beanstalk? When I was a child I felt sorry for the dead giant. That sympathy remained until I discovered the history behind the story.

This got me thinking about popular fairytales and I thought it would be intriguing to take a look at what we’re saying to children when we share modern versions of classic fairytales (whether as picture books or illustrated story books). So here's a peep at the history behind  Jack and the Beanstalk and Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

The History of Jack and the Bean-Stalk, 1807
At the start of the eighteenth century, Benjamin Tabart recorded his version of an oral story that had been told around the fireside for perhaps hundreds of years. In The History of Jack and the Bean-Stalk, a poor boy climbs the beanstalk to recover what by rights should belong to him because the giant swindled and murdered his father (a good fairy confirms it is his destiny to avenge his father - this may have been added by Tabart to appease sensibilities).

Illus by John Batten, from Jacob's
Jack and the Beanstalk, English Fairy Tales
Over fifty years later, Joseph Jacobs retold another version of this story, as told to him by his Australian nursemaid when he was a young boy. Jack and the Beanstalk was one of many stories Jacobs included in the popular English Fairy Tales. In this version there is no good fairy and there is no overt moral justification for the robbery of the bag of gold, the hen that lays golden eggs, or the golden harp. Jack is seen as a hero who outwits an evil giant that can smell the blood of Englishmen and wants to eat them. Thus a poor boy outwits the giant and then lives happily ever after (despite chopping down the beanstalk and thereby killing the giant, although we're only told he 'broke his crown').

Illus by Arthur Rackham
Ho hum, when I was a child, this was the version I objected to. A poor boy swaps his cow for three beans, climbs the magic beanstalk, robs the giant three times, and when he’s about to be caught (and eaten!) by the giant, Jack escapes by murdering the giant, and then lives happily on his ill-gotten gains.

Tales by the fire
However, if viewed within its original historical context, even the second version becomes more acceptable. Long ago, when told around the fire, the giant is not merely a very large, bone-crunching, blood-sniffing monster. The scary giant who lives up in the clouds in an out-of-reach castle represents somebody who is a ‘giant’ in terms of status and wealth. He’s at the top of the class system – the top of the beanstalk. Perhaps he’s a lord or a prince who has utter control of the lives of the poor who live off his land. Thus, the Jack in the story represents the canny peasants overcoming the tyrant lord and redistributing his gigantic wealth. By not naming the lord and therefore hiding his identity beneath the mask of the ‘giant’, no storytelling peasant could be punished for inciting rebellion. It was a way for the powerless poor to share and vocalise their dreams of overcoming the all-powerful feudal lord.

Nowadays, perhaps the ‘giant’ is a selfish dictator or huge money-obsessed corporation. However, I doubt a child would see it that way and therefore I still have a niggle about promoting robbery and murder, although I now understand why the story was first shared around the fire. Or am I in danger of being too politically correct?

From Robert Southey's The Story of the Three Bears
(note the old woman's legs!)
Another fairytale favourite that has changed over time, albeit in a different way, is Goldilocks and the Three Bears. In the first half of the eighteenth century, The Story of the Three Bears was recorded by two different sources (Robert Southey and Eleanor Mure), and back then there was no golden-haired, cute girl. Instead, the bears were friends or brothers and the intruder was an itinerant, rude old woman who comes to a disagreeable end in Mure's story. Plus a further version existed in which the unwanted visitor was a fox (vixen). All were cautionary and threatening tales about respecting the property of others.

Illus by Margaret Evans Price, 1927
Then in 1850 a little girl replaces the silver-haired old woman in the Victorian A Treasury of Pleasure Books, and shortly afterwards the bears morph into a family of father, mother and baby bear. Though it’s not until 1918 that the name Goldilocks appears in Flora Steel’s English Fairy Tales. So over time, the ominous oral tale has developed into what many see as a gentle warning to children of the perils of wandering off and the dangers lurking behind cosy facades.

Once again, as a child I was uncomfortable about Goldilocks and felt the bears had been mistreated (I must have had a strong sense of right and wrong!). Regardless of Goldilocks being a cute wee moppet, I was more in tune with the original interpretation. I don’t think I’m alone as there have been contemporary retellings that cast the bears in a positive light. In particular, one picture book, Beware of the Bears, makes me smile (a naughty smile), as in this book the vengeful bears mistakenly trash Goldilocks home!

So what do you all think about the 'messages' in classic fairytales? Should we leave them as they are, despite social changes? Contemporary stepmothers might have a few thoughts! Or is it a case of being too politically correct, with Victorian sensibilities? And the villains do have all the best lines: Fe fi fo fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman...
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Paeony Lewis is a children's author and writing tutor.

Saturday, 14 April 2012

Mysterious Number Three by Paeony Lewis

What is it about the number three in storytelling? There are traditional tales such as The Three Little Pigs, Three Billy Goats Gruff, Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Then there are the lesser-known tales: The Three Sillies, The Devil with the Three Golden Hairs, The Three Snake Leaves, and so many more.

Even if three isn’t in the title, three still sneaks into countless fairy stories. Rumpelstiltskin gives the miller’s daughter three spinning wishes and she has three guesses at his name. Cinderella goes to three balls and there are three sisters. Jack steals three treasures from the giant at the top of the beanstalk.

How about contemporary picture books? That number three sneaks in again. There are three owls in Martin Waddell’s classic Owl Babies. Whilst in the deep dark wood a little mouse meets three animals (a fox, owl and snake) in Julia Donaldson’s The Gruffalo. And I've just realised I have three young bunnies in Hurry Up, Birthday.

Even if there aren’t three characters, then things happen three times. Winnie the Witch waves her wand again, and again and again . Helen Cooper’s Bear Under the Stairs is fed one day with bananas, bacon and bread. Another day it’s hazelnuts haddock and honey. And the door is always shut with a wham, bang and thump.

From No More Biscuits
So why three? Why, in writing, is it called The Rule of Three or Magic Three? Perhaps because three times is a pattern. Two can be a coincidence, but three is something more. It’s more satisfying. It’s the beginning, middle and end. It flows and has rhythm.

If a fairy casts one spell and it doesn’t succeed, then you’re setting up tension. If she casts the spell again and it succeeds, then it feels a bit of an anti-climax. But if she fails a second time, things are getting tenser. Will she succeed on the third attempt? We hold our breath… Yes! Ah ha, but what if she fails again, surely the tension will rise further? Maybe, or will it start to get boring?

Mind you, sometimes I find the rule of three can be too predictable, especially in films. You just know the hero will try once, twice and then succeed on the third attempt. Yawn. However, perhaps this predictability was helpful when stories were told around the fire, hundreds of years ago. You need a clear story structure to follow a story told orally, and it also helps you to remember it for another night. This might be why three is also popular with stand-up comedians: Three men went into a bar; an Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman…


So in storytelling, three can provide a satisfying pattern. Whether it’s the three Norns in Norse mythology; the three Anglo-Saxon monsters battled by Beowulf; or the Greek Three Fates, Graces or Furies. However, it doesn’t stop there.

In art there’s a rule of thirds. Pythagoras called three the perfect number. We also have three primary colours (red, blue and yellow). In Christianity there is the Trinity of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. On the third day Jesus rose from the dead. In Hinduism you have the Trinity: Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva. Three is our past, present and future. Birth, life and death. Veni, vidi, vici. Symbolic three is everywhere.

In our writing, is it lucky three? Other numbers are endowed with symbolism, although three does appear to be particularly popular in Western writing. So should we use it in our picture books? Why not, if it works? We probably do it subconsciously. But if we use it too much, will the magic of three wane?

1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3

Paeony Lewis is a children's author.
http://www.paeonylewis.com/