The Grimm Truth

I wrote this article for a West Country community newsletter that I used to contribute to regularly. Subsequently, this piece was also accepted for publication by Gothic Fairy Tales. However, little was I to know that its publication in a small Devon paper would result in my receiving fan mail… all the way from South Africa! A North Devon ‘maid’ (as they often refer to them) had moved all that way but continued to pay for and receive local news as a reminder of her true home and the place where her heart lies. She simply adored The Grimm Truth and wanted to thank me for writing it. No one could have been more surprised and delighted than I. Until I began writing novels, this was my first instance of anyone outside of the UK reading my work. Who was to know that a simple article would travel such a long way?

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Take someone who has not only travelled abroad but also explored many counties in the United Kingdom. Couple this with an extensive interest in writing, and one cannot visit these places without gaining an awareness of the many tales and fables that exist, many unique to the areas. For a writer, it is impossible to ignore the tales of King Oberon’s epic battle on Dartmoor and the wealth of legends regarding fairies and pixies in Devon alone. These stories are born out of and are woven into the magic of legend and history. Yet, as adults, we segregate many of them into the realm of quaintness and childhood. Many of us fail fully to comprehend the extent that such early delights, as Fairy Tales and Nursery Rhymes, are part of that wealth.

It may surprise many to know that the stories we now regard as created for and belonging to children were originally intended for adults only. They were often traditional folk tales with endings that were far more bloodthirsty than their modern-day counterparts. No one saved granny or the little girl in the red hood from the wolf’s ‘great big teeth’ and Sleeping Beauty was not awakened by a kiss, but impregnated by the prince, and even gave birth while still she slept. These stories speak of mysterious times and places, yet they are a tool to reflect incidences in our own lives and history. It was during the Victorian era that these stories were rewritten, printed, and delegated to the realm of children’s imagination. However, maybe in this they still serve their purpose for when read to children now, parents are unconsciously teaching their offspring that bad things happen in life, that we have to learn to deal with them, and that with a little luck and maybe perseverance the good guy can still win. Simply, these stories now teach us at an increasingly young age of the world in which we live, and we should not regard them lightly or dismiss them.

A well-known producer of collectable figurines clearly saw the potential of delving into these fantasies and tapping into the darker origins for adults. Consequently, a small series of figurines depicting these story characters combined with the macabre and Gothic, a soupcon of humour and eroticism, hit the market as their response. Certainly not to everyone’s taste, this brief mention is not to publicise them, but to draw attention to the fact that these stories are still with us, and their influence remains as strong. In addition, these strange figures delved slightly out of the realm of fairy tales into the neighbouring text of nursery rhymes, these ditties that are regularly told to children of an even younger age. Indeed, some encyclopaedias classify them as verses for children.

Reminded of childhood reminiscences, I particularly recalled a book given to me by my grandmother containing works of the Brothers Grimm who collected stories as a study of their culture. Conversely, Hans Christian Andersen wrote his own stories, though he readily incorporated elements from the world around him. The Brothers were unhappy to find their work often referenced to children as they intended these tales for all. This was a contention they shared with Anderson, though their tales were sometimes considered coarse, while Anderson’s were often moralistic.

Knowing most fairy tales were not originally intended for younger audiences left the question of nursery verses and the origins and original intentions behind these short, entertaining rhymes. Choosing one for research led to some interesting and equally entertaining information and equally, if not more, disturbing answers.

A few of us may be aware Ring Around the Rosies was an account of the black plague and referred to the circles that occurred around the eyes; this ends unsurprisingly with people ‘falling down’ (dead). Conversely, how many of us remember Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater? How many of us would be content to read this to our children knowing that the origins are from America instead of Europe, though this may seem obvious since pumpkins were not readily available in England until recent years? Not much to concern anyone there, even with the Pumpkin’s connotations of Halloween. Yet, how many of us would happily sit down to read this rhyme to children knowing what the verse actually meant? “Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater had a wife and couldn’t keep her”, translates into an unfaithful wife; hence, he couldn’t ‘keep’ her. He put her in a pumpkin shell (pumpkin shell meaning chastity belt) and there he kept her very well.

Incidentally, the face carved in the Pumpkin is to frighten evil spirits away: it is not a bad entity itself. Another frequent mistake: children are not meant to trick you if they do not give them a treat. They are meant to ask for you to give them a treat or for you to play a trick on them: more examples of where traditions have been twisted to suit this modern age. So adults enlightened, children beware!

The truth is, they wrote many of the rhymes that we once laughed over at bedtime using fact, even politics. Many were folk songs or even prayers; many rhymes were direct digs at greed and taxation. Some may have traditional customs. We may also categorise them as lullabies, riddles, and tongue twisters, among others. All had individual use and an intended audience (counting rhymes are an effective aid to learning). Many are synonymous with other cultures, though they may appear in a different form or with a substitute character relevant to that country’s history.

Some do not hold up so well in today’s climate. The tale of Miss Muffet, supposedly based on the daughter of an entomologist named Muffet who was frightened by one of her father’s spiders, surely helps to instil fear in children of arachnids. Likewise, some see Peter Pumpkin Eater as abuse and the vision of a blind woman running after three mice with a chopper in her hand would be a strange sight for most of us. However, surely it is important to keep these in the context they have been regarded for decades. Once heard as children, they became part of our play, have remained constant companions and did us less harm than most images youngsters are subject to today. The sad truth is some of these rhymes have changed over time and may not reflect their original intention. Alas, some origins are lost to us completely and the creators, many of them anonymous, are no longer with us. Still, they should not be discarded. Few of us look back on them with any emotion other than a fondness. They are an integrated part of our history and they teach us to play with words at an early age.

Incidentally, King Oberon was seriously injured, and Puck still searches for herbs to cure him. If anyone has any suggestions, they could be in for some fairy luck, though Puck is not thought of as trustworthy.

© Sharon Maria Bidwell, all rights reserved.

Of Fairy Tales and Lost Things

In keeping with the season, I thought I’d rehash (and tweak) an old review of The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly. No doubt better known for his crime novels, this may suggest a peculiar departure for the writer, but if so, one he more than adequately explains in the last quarter of the book. This he dedicates to a discussion of the underlying themes and stories that have influenced him during his life, including their origins and a delightful reintroduction to, and including, a few of these stories themselves. He incorporates these into the book expertly and chooses a style that is reminiscent of the rhyme and rhythm of those fairy tales that, for most of us, were the first introduction to story-telling.

In so doing, he initially confused me, not because I didn’t understand his intention, but because, as a writer, I couldn’t see the market from a publisher’s point of view. Clearly I enjoyed it and I could envision many adults doing likewise, yet initially, I could see this being a book many publishers often reject as seeing ‘no market for this type of thing’. This is not a book for children, although a book that children of a particular age could read and doubtless gain from the experience. I agree with the author that an adult will probably read this in a different light than that of a child. This makes The Book of Lost Things one of those novels that may need re-reading at a different stage in one’s life, possibly for the young adult and then as a mature one. It pleasantly surprised me to come across such a book for an audience of many ages, because of the writing ‘rule’ that dictates if the lead in a book is a child, then it’s a children’s book.

This is most definitely a book for adults to enjoy, not solely because of the bloodthirsty content. It’s amazing how many of us forget how dark, foreboding, and just plain violent those old fairy tales that we grew up with and loved so well indeed were. I didn’t need the book’s added sojourn through the world of fairy tales to know that in many versions of Sleeping Beauty she awakens while giving birth, or the wicked queen in Snow White is made to wear red-hot iron ‘slippers’ to dance in until she dies, just as I know that in Cinderella birds flew down to pluck out her stepsisters’ eyes. Fairy tales have always held great interest for me and have influenced my work. Indeed, my twisted semi-erotic story, Rose Light, is a retelling of Cinderella. Admittedly, I had to heighten sexual content to satisfy the publisher who released it under a romance banner, but it’s a story that I intend to one day restore to its original form for a darker market. So nothing in the content of Connolly’s book surprised me. Nevertheless, I was amazed to find a book published that kept to the traditions of these stories and celebrating their content, of change, of choice, of triumphant, if often in a gruesome way.

Ultimately, the strongest depth and substance to the book is grief, and loss, and how it changes us, becomes a part of who we are and, like stories, influences our lives. Overall, because these are a ‘fairy tales’, they resonate in the way good stories should.

Thanks for the memories, James

As it’s October, I thought it suitable to mention a writer who has ‘been with me’ since my teens. True, one of the first horror books I ever read was by Stephen King. The book was Salem’s Lot, if anyone is wondering. But for a long time, my favourite ‘horror writer’ was James Herbert. When I heard of his death, I experienced that jaw-dropping moment when one doesn’t want to believe the news and can remember the moment as though it happened this morning.

I place the term ‘horror writer’ in quotes because Herbert was never entirely happy with being categorised and had his share of mixed reviews. He felt any violent or horror-related work met a certain brand of snobbery. It’s a problem I completely understand and why I label my horror writing as Dark Fiction, precisely because many stories flank other topics and genres.

Some horror writers aren’t, truly, writing what I call horror even if there’s an element of that in the story. Some of Herbert’s work became blended with the paranormal (he said himself that his later works leaned to the supernatural), fantasy, and I have always felt a large part of his compositions contained humanitarian questions and shone an ugly reflection on society. In Herbert’s own words, some of what he had to say regarding his motivations and underlying themes might surprise many.

I recall one particular mention of the seemingly oversized rats in his books: Rats, Lair, and Domain. A line in Dracula may have inspired the trilogy, but the description and size of the rodents came from the creatures he saw in the overrun areas of the East End of London in which he grew up. Having seen ‘Rodents of Unusual Size’ (some readers will know where I borrowed that from and it’s not Herbert), I’m prepared to believe. Some can look bigger or at least match the size of small dogs.

There’s also how much is too much? Yes, violence (and sex) can be gratuitous, but I’ve also believed a writer should ‘write’ and not fear showing something as it is or would be. Herbert wasn’t a writer who feared to call a ‘spade a spade’ and preferred to give an honest portrayal of any scene. Of course, his writing, which was ignored or even banned when first published, is thought of as more commonplace now. Books and films deemed once to be adult viewing can be now found in school libraries.

It will surprise some readers that I read or even like the horror genre, despite my saying constantly that I read anything and everything. Truth is, I grew up on horror books. My teen years were romances (usually Mills & Boon because that was what my friends were reading), Herbert, King, and Steinbeck. I’m serious when I say my library is eclectic.

I suppose I also admired Herbert because he was a success story — well known and British. The young writer in me couldn’t help being a little envious. So much happened to me throughout those years. My life went through so many changes. What I read during that time blends with all the other memories. Lately, I’ve felt the pull to return to those roots with my writing. Though, to date, it’s been strictly short stories I plan to try my first Dark Fiction novel soon, and I’m sure I’ll be thinking of Herbert when I do.

My tribute will be a simple one: many, many thanks for the memories, James.