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Cathy Jo Smith, Erica Teraporevala, Maria Alejandra Gomez de la Torre, Mario Rups, Mark Goldman, mary grace ketner, Randel McGee, Uschi Erlewein
Achilles on Corfu, before he had an uzi.
“So, you think changing the ending of a traditional fairy tale could be considered de-volving? not evolving?” Simplia asked, blinking. “Going backwards?”
They had gone to the kitchen to refill the the snickerdoodle plate and the teapot and were just stepping back into the Fairy Tale Lobby.
“Maybe,” Sagacia said, then, backing into the open door, she admonished,“Sh-h!” She let Simplia pass through first with the hot teapot.
It was Mario Rups who was speaking.
“Tales, like languages, change over time to meet the needs and expectations of the society they survive into,” he explained. “If Homer hadn’t become pretty well fossilized by being committed to writing in the 6th century BCE (date according to Homeric scholar Gregory Nagy, anyway), who knows what they’d be like by now? Achilles with a blunderbuss … now there’s a mental image for you. Professional tellers do have to be aware of the various permutations, and among themselves they might wish to hew more closely to tradition, but I (as a member of a lay audience) see no dishonesty in the teller’s helping a story evolve as long as (s)he stays true to the core and meaning of it.”
“Fairy tales are, after all, part of an oral heritage that changed from generation to generation, teller to teller.” Randel McGee affirmed.
“Your quest to be ‘in service of the story and of the audience’ is a noble and good goal; not only in the crafting, but in the telling, too,” Mark Goldman said.
“And…” Mario hastened to add, “This does not necessarily mean updating a tale to modern times. Part of the charm of fairy tales lies in their being once upon a time. Achilles with an uzi goes just a tad too far. It can be done, but more as the particular style of the storyteller, not as part of a general evolution, in my opinion.”
“Sometimes I tell the traditional end, stop with ‘this is the traditonal ending of this story; this is what I heard,’” Uschi Erlewein said. Then, striking a pose, she added, “‘Though I imagine….’” She spread her arms and smiled, “…and then I tell MY ending.” She bowed gracefully.
“Many of the old tales already have multiple endings,” Cathy Jo Smith declared. “Cinderella’s stepsisters may be maimed (heel or toes cut off), they may be killed horribly or they may just have to live with their former servant as their princess/queen, depending on the telling. A new version (as long as you don’t portray it as traditional) is acceptable; call it a modern adaptation, though.”
“I once heard that when you change the ending, you change the story,” said Maria Alejandra Gomez de la Torre. “I, for one, am always tempted to change the ending, especially when I feel like it should have a happier ending – but then it would be like betraying the author who wanted the story to end the way it did.”
“If it is a folktale,” Robin Bady intercepted, “…well, then it has already changed many times.”
“Change is the only constant!” Erica Taraporevala said. “So I am okay with changing, especially where there is a subtext of dishonesty or giving away of women as prizes, or a dishonouring of a particular sex, colour, race, caste (in India) that goes unchallenged in the story. And I practice mindfulness before I do that.”
“I’m not sure I always practice mindfulness,” sighed Mary Grace Ketner.
Eric Wolf nodded. “I can’t help it! the new ending just pops out.”
Mary Grace continued. “I mean, I thought I was very traditional about fairy tales. I thought I didn’t change their endings, but when I compare my sources with the way I tell it now, well, I’ve often changed it without planning to or even knowing I did so. They don’t feel changed, though. They just feel tightened, more satisfying, you know, better. More true to life as I understand it–in the sense of Fairy Tale truth, that is: happily ever after. I am always seeking the ending that will bring about happiness to me and to people in my own day and time.”
“Happiness?” thought Sagacia. “That’s kind of shallow.” But all she said aloud was, “Another snickerdoodle, anyone?”
On the sunny window ledge, Murzik flicked his ear and opened one eye. He studied Sagacia for a long time. Contented. That’s what he was. He closed his eye. Not the same thing as happy, he supposed.
Reading through all of the comments about the uzi in a fairytale was enlightening to me as I read them…it’s helpful and thought provoking to read the differing views, Thanks
Here’s a comment Eric Wolf made on the “Here’s What We’re About” link. I thought it might be germane to the discussion at hand.
mh
Storyteller Brother Wolf
artofstorytellingshow.com/ x
ericwolf2@yahoo.com
68.23.87.6
Submitted on 2012/08/22 at 8:46 am
My friend Jeff has laid it clearly across the bow. I must heave too, raise the white flag and join the party.
As the industrial revolution has become the tech revolution we seek to leave behind the burden of our pre-civilization ancestors. We can no more leave behind our past then we can step out of our own skins. In the age of intellectual honesty we make decision based on emotions and shadows that we dare not know. Our ancient ancestors speak for us from behind are backs and then we complain – as if surprised. Where did all that feeling come from? Why am I so angry? Why am I so sad? We struggle to make sense of a world that is bound by long forgotten choices – human inertia set into motion by people ten thousand years ago…
I stand with them. I stand with the ancestors who look down the generations towards a future that is barreling towards us. They call out to us! We have left you a map! We have made a road for you to walk! Just look for the signs! Signs they left behind in story. Pride can destroy what you love – wolves don’t make could guides – giants have a lot of wealth. Obvious – yet – forgotten in an age where information is king and nobody knows want they really want – besides a side order of fries. Because few know who they are and fewer still seek to look for the signs.
Modern therapists tell us that most of our brain activity is unconscious activity. That most decisions we make, may feel like they were carefully weighed by a conscious intellect, are really already decided by our unconscious. The ancestors know this and they knew how to speak to this part of the mind.
I am a member of the Fairytale Lobby – I look for the signs. I seek to gently waken the sleeping ancestors who stir around my head. I feed them dreams of a world with a future. All I ask of them is what they have already given me – a map to get there.