A Magical Journey

We had just finished reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and I was casting about for a new book to read.  We tried Tom Sawyer, but the language was too regional and they couldn't follow all the dialogue.  I didn't want another fantasy novel back-to-back with Lewis's masterpiece but nothing we had on hand--Indian in the Cupboard, various Beverly Cleary books, other titles I can't recall right now--felt right.

Coincidentally, I had recently been exploring the art of storytelling.  While reading Katrina Kennison's Mitten Strings of God, a reflective piece on mothering which I would recommend for those inclined, I came across the works of Nancy Mellon, master storyteller.  Her Storytelling and Children preached to the choir about the importance of stories and the parent-child bond during storytelling; her Storytelling and the Art of Imagination laid out the details of story as soul medicine (almost to the esoteric realm with her focus on humours and healing) but also the symbolism (doors, huts, seeds, underground) and structure of traditional (exclusively European) tales.

Thus, in our book in-between time, it dawned on me to tell them a story.  When they had been very young, I'd told them tales of Sis and Bud Dragon who lived near a medieval-ly village and had adventures; they can't possible remember those, but Mama and I enjoyed them.  Why is the fantasy realm always medieval-ish?  Must be all of those European fairy tales.  Our current story started with the oldest house in Connecticut, where two twins had moved; exploring the house on a rainy day they find a chest--like the 18th-century one I bought at the neighbor's tag sale--and fall through it to a new land.  Funny where you get your inspiration.  In my mind, the house is the stone Henry Whitfield house we visited last year. The entry into the other world from within the house is Narnian but also familiar to us from the Droon series, with the basement stairs to another world.  And the creatures and adventures they encounter in that other world are inspired by The Never-ending Story, the Redwall books, fairy stories, Lord of the Rings, the Merlin stories, and others I probably don't even realize.

Some of Mellon's (regrettably slight) discussion of structure has stuck with me:  the narrative encompassing a protagonist, an opposition or challenge (often a quest or journey), helpers, more opposition and impediments alternating with helpers until there is resolution, well-being, unity, the proverbial happy ending (and she tells feminists not to sweat all the weddings!); the ideas of adventures in threes, fours, or twelves; the passing of the seasons; geographical variety from sea to mountains to forest to dessert; the appearance of the four elements of earth, air, water, and fire (we're adding the fifth element, in Chinese lore, metal).

After four installments, we are hooked.  Every morning Bud illustrates the previous night's chapter for a book he's making.  And they both spend the day and night making suggestions.  They suggests the flavors the characters drink from the magical water; they came up with the talking fire.

We did have to discuss that they are not the characters in the story specifically, which arose during a part when the boy suffered a temporary blindness.  We talked about how protagonists have to undergo trials before they can succeed.  It's not exactly Bruno Bettelheim's advocacy of danger and violence as teaching tools in tales, but it's not Disney either; maybe more Sondheim's Into the Woods.  But Bud is looking forward to hearing what happens to Sis's doppelganger!  And they make sure I balance out dialogue, adventures, and even gifts (she has the magic canteen of water and the firestarter; he has the magic compass always pointing them in the right direction--which means he needs something else!)

Each evening before we start, I panic a bit that I won't have anything for them, that they won't like the installation.  But between their enthusiasm, my bare outline from Mellon, and my own joy in it, the story comes and the only complaint has been that one night's story was too short.

I wonder what will happen tonight?  Once upon a time, remember or imagine . . . .

The Wonderful World of Oz

I don't really know how it started, though it might have been when we visited the fairy tale birdhouses at the Florence Griswold Museum.  There was a birdhouse of the Wizard of Oz and, since we hadn't seen the movie, I told them the story, as I knew it from the film (which I loved as a little kid and apparently told people my name was Dorothy; I haven't seen it in decades, finding it creepy as a teenager).  And they loved the story and the birdhouse.  So, now, we're reading the actual Frank L. Baum novel from 1899, which is new to me, too.  I'd read that the book isn't as scary as the movie, with its flying monkeys and cackling witch.  And it's true; we're halfway through and the Wicked Witch of the West hasn't made her first appearance, though she's about to.  And there are many scenes that aren't in the movie, with Kalidahs and the Mouse Queen and more.  But I do keep hearing the songs in my head, which are, of course, not in the book.  The kids love it so far and, as with so many things, they're adapting to their play--mainly, drawing their own illustrations of the book (we're reading a copy with the early line illustrations) and writing their own versions.  It's been really enjoyable so far--and I can't wait to show them the movie over Christmas.

Once Upon a Time....

We went to the Florence Griswold museum this weekend to see their fall family-friendly exhibition of fairy-tale birdhouses arrayed across the scenic grounds (yes, it's where we saw the fairy houses two years ago).  These fantastic, whimsical artistic creations, more sculpture than shelter, depicted aspects of well- and little-known fairy tales.

And thankfully, we'd spent the week shoring up our knowledge of fairy tales by reading a couple every night.  Because the kids haven't seen most of the Disney movies, the stories of Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and the like were new to them.  But even if they'd seen the movies, these were different versions--no, not the PC or feminist versions out there--the traditional gross, violent, harshly just Grimms and Anderson versions, with the blinding of Sleeping Beauty's prince, the burning-at-the-stake of the witch tormenting Snow White, the torturous hot-iron shoes of Cinderella's stepmother, the sacrificial death of the Little Mermaid, etc. Sis said, "Mom, are all fairy tales so wicked?'

Yes, yes, they are.

But that's the point.  Children on their own (which is why the parents are dead or even oppressive) navigate their quests through a scary, harsh world full of good and evil and usually triumph (sometimes with sacrifices or help).  Consider their origins.  Of course, it's not real, because of the magic, but the notions of good and evil are perhaps accurate in that they exist, have power, and also a remote chance of winning (which they don't, often, in sanitized versions).    However, the stories aren't perfect.  Again, consider their origins.  We had to address the sexism, racism, and entitlement in the stories, with Jack stealing from the giants and Hansel and Gretel eating the witch's house and the rescues of several of the helpless women.  We also learned a few things:  don't take food from strangers; 16 is a dangerous age for girls; and cleverness really helps.  

They knew most of the stories as we wandered searching for the birdhouses.  My favorite was an elaborate wooden creation with straw, gold thread, and a tower, all built on a real spinning wheel.  Yep, Rumpelstiltskin.  Sis liked the birdhouse of Little Red Riding Hood, but only because there was a bunny hidden in the woods.  Bud preferred the Wizard of Oz (which we hadn't read but I'd told them the bare essentials), complete with Dorothy's house on the Witch with the red slippers and a yellow road leading through poppies to an Emerald City.  Mama liked the Owl and the Pussycat, with its detailed interior decoration inside a guitar, compete with photos of the lovebirds.  We also enjoyed meeting the artist of the Country Mouse and the City Mouse and talking to her about her creative process; she also read the story to a group of kids.

We had picked up a great little lunch beforehand, from a cafe run by Laotian refuges--Mama loved the pho and two kinds of rolls (fresh and fried).  But we grew hungry during our ramblings and picked up a cheese platter (mmm, Winsleydale!  Bud liked it too), cookies (lime in Lyme!), and brownies at the museum.  We even got ice cream afterwards--chocolate and strawberry, of course, plus pumpkin and ginger (very citrusy and fresh).

Our fairy-tale adventure actually ended the next day as we watched Into the Woods, the Sondheim musical merging several stories.  The kids enjoyed identifying the characters and the plots ("What story is the baker?" Sis wanted to know) hummed along to the tunes, but didn't see the second act because, well, Mama and I weren't ready to explain how everything gets messed up and then fixed, in its own way.  Some other weekend.  We finished the weekend by reading Eloise, a modern fairy tale included among the birdhouses.  The kids seemed nonplussed by, even uninterested in, Eloise's precocious ways at the Plaza.  Thank goodness.

Because fairy tales are fun to read but no one really wants to live in one . . . especially the traditional ones!

"Why Are There Monsters In Every Fairytale?"

We were talking about the story of Beauty and the Beast, as I tested the waters for a possible afternoon showing of one of my favorite films. I gave a quick synopsis of the story and Bud interrupted me, "Why are there monsters in every fairytale, Mommy?"

He went on to mention the evil stepmother in Cinderella, a story we had just read a few weeks ago, and witches and monsters in general (they don't, as yet, know too many fairytales).

Well, I said, fairytales are about people solving problems, kinda like the Imagination Movers do, except these aren't ordinary problems but bigger monster-and-witch ones. I started to add, but stopped myself, that these were really ordinary problems writ large, metaphors of our daily existence. But I did mention that the characters in the story learn something and teach us too when they go up against these special challenges.

And they still wanted to watch the movie!

So, we sat down with Beauty and the Beast for rest time (encouraged by the fact that it was made by the Brother Bear people). At the opening sequence, Sis gasped, "Mom, it's beautiful." And so it is, one of the most beautiful films ever made. Sure, they didn't see all of it, as I fast-forwarded through the scary beast parts in the beginning and through the scary Gaston parts at the end, but enough to know they liked it.

Except, "Mommy, I want the beast back," they both said. "I don't want him to die." I explained, through my usual end-of-movie tears, he doesn't die but turns into a human again; that just wasn't an appealing alternative for them. I agree. Most people must, because all the sequels I know about feature the beast not the prince.

Anyway, I hadn't seen the film in a long while, maybe never on our DVD, though we've owned the DVD for a long time. And I realized there's a new song, "Human Again," from the Broadway show, that hadn't been included in theatrical release. It's a good song but was a startling disruption in a movie I've seen so many times. The kids didn't know it wasn't there originally and they liked the humor. Because the household object characters were some of their favorites.

So, we have our first Disney Princess movie under our belts. And I think we all liked it. Though, as Sis pointed out to Mama, "Belle isn't a princess" (which is technically true until the very end). The other films--Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Little Mermaid, Cinderella (though not as much)--have scarier villains, those monsters and witches and stepmothers. We'll have to work our way up to those, starting with the books (which just seem less scary, mainly because the kids control their mental images and can self-censor the scariness, which they might not totally understand; visual images in movies can be daunting, confusing, and just plain scary). And, maybe, a few more viewings of Beauty and the Beast.