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Grimm's
Grimmest
illustrated
by Tracy Arah Dockray
introduction
by Maria Tatar
Published
by Chronicle Books
142 pages,
2005



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It's A Grimm World After
All
Reviewed
by Aaron Blanton
Parents of young children should beware:
despite the inclusion of rich and fabulous illustrations by
Tracy Arah Dockray and the vaguely childish associations of
the Grimm Brother's fairy tales, Grimm's Grimmest is
certainly not intended for children. This is nothing
like the Grimm creations served up by the magicians at
Disney. That said, the child in many of us -- all of us who
are now adults, that is -- might enjoy Grimm's
Grimmest. Especially if the adult in question has tastes
that run towards the dark and slightly twisted.
These are not the Grimm tales spun to you when you were a
child. That is, some of them will be familiar, but I'm
fairly certain they won't be the same.
Take for instance that old standard "Rapunzel." Just
about everyone knows the story. Boy meets girl. Girl gets
locked in tower. Girl grows hair so long that, eventually,
boy can climb hair to be reunited with girl. There are many
versions, but they're pretty much all variations on this
theme. Except here, in the folk tale originally collected by
those grim brothers. Here Rapunzel -- locked in her tower by
a wicked enchantress -- manages to meet a prince who she
uses her hair to haul up every night. When Rapunzel turns up
pregnant, the enchantress is perplexed and amazingly pissed.
She cuts off Rapunzel's hair, then dumps her in the desert
"where she lived in great woe and misery." She then uses
Rapunzel's hair to lure the prince to the tower. He's
understandably surprised to find this nasty enchantress and
leaps down from the tower, unfortunately piercing both eyes
in the fall.
The prince spends "some years" weeping and moaning and --
presumably -- stumbling blindly through the forest and comes
finally to a desert where he meets -- you guessed it --
Rapunzel, now the mother of twins, living with her children
in the desert in "wretchedness." Rapunzel's tears of joy at
being reunited with her lover "wet his eyes, and they grew
clear again, and he could see with them as before." So he
takes Rapunzel -- and one would think, their kids -- and
sets off for home, where everything is hunky dorey and they
live, pretty much, happily ever after.
In her introduction to the book, professor and folklorist
Maria Tatar tells us that, by the second editor of
Nursery and Household Tales Wilhelm Grimm "sacrificed
folkloric authenticity for cultural correctness by erasing
the fact of Rapunzel's pregnancy and replacing covert sexual
passion with explicit conjugal loyalty."
It should be remembered that the stories in their
original form were never intended for children. Rather,
argues Tatar, as collected, the folk tales would have taken
the societal place that horror films enjoy now.
Like horror films, folktales trade in the
sensational -- breaking taboos and enacting the forbidden
with uninhibited energy. The plots of both folktales and
horror films, as folklorist and cultural critic Carol
Clover has pointed out, are driven by a stock cast of
characters, one that often frames the central conflict in
terms so emphatically polarized that we appear to be in a
clear-cut world of good versus evil.
Thus readers of the original stories -- as represented
here -- find themselves faced with the "graphic descriptions
of incest, murder, mutilation, and cannibalism that fill the
pages of these bedtime stories for children."
Clearly, Grimm's Grimmest will not be for
everyone. But for a different perspective -- one so old it's
new again -- and brilliantly executed, you'd go a long way
to find better. | November 2005
Aaron
Blanton is an expatriate Kentuckian writer and
musician living outside of the United States.
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