The Well
Les Bonnes Fees has published my short story, "The Well," here.
This particular story came to me while I was rereading the fairy tale of "Princess Camion," one of the more brutal and sadistic of the Fench salon tales. Reading it, I was again struck by the images of the women begging to be maimed, to be hurt, to be pounded (the story austerly tells us that this treatment is necessary to break the spells that bind these women) -- and yet by the utter lack of pleasure, sexual or otherwise, experienced during or afterwards. The women are all, the tale tells us, bound in some unnatural form or other (Camion is sometimes a little doll, sometimes half whale, sometimes a crayfish; the other princesses are all shellfish or one sort or another) until they can be pounded into release. I would take this for a clear and evident metaphor for the transformation brought on by sexual release -- except again, this pain does not lead to pleasure for the women -- or, for that matter, for the prince, who weeps while pounding the princesses.
I ended up writing something rather different. Peta Anderson, editor of Les Bonnes Fees (and incidentally a joy for any writer to work with; I understand that she's actively looking for stories for her next issue, so go submit already) chose illustrations by French illustrator Edmond Dulac for "The Little Mermaid" for "The Well." (If you're unfamiliar with Dulac's work, and you shouldn't be, you can find images here and here. I'm especially fond of his illustrations for "The Nightingale," especially the demon standing upon the Emperor as he slowly dies.) I adore the choice, because Peta (without consulting me) chose images that show the mermaid apart, floating alone, or watching the prince with questioning, suspicious, pleading eyes -- but keeping her feet near the water, ready to jump. I'm frankly not sure that the second image works for Anderson's The Little Mermaid, but it works here.
On a completely different note, I'm amused that the Google bot has identified my story with Jergens hand cream.
This particular story came to me while I was rereading the fairy tale of "Princess Camion," one of the more brutal and sadistic of the Fench salon tales. Reading it, I was again struck by the images of the women begging to be maimed, to be hurt, to be pounded (the story austerly tells us that this treatment is necessary to break the spells that bind these women) -- and yet by the utter lack of pleasure, sexual or otherwise, experienced during or afterwards. The women are all, the tale tells us, bound in some unnatural form or other (Camion is sometimes a little doll, sometimes half whale, sometimes a crayfish; the other princesses are all shellfish or one sort or another) until they can be pounded into release. I would take this for a clear and evident metaphor for the transformation brought on by sexual release -- except again, this pain does not lead to pleasure for the women -- or, for that matter, for the prince, who weeps while pounding the princesses.
I ended up writing something rather different. Peta Anderson, editor of Les Bonnes Fees (and incidentally a joy for any writer to work with; I understand that she's actively looking for stories for her next issue, so go submit already) chose illustrations by French illustrator Edmond Dulac for "The Little Mermaid" for "The Well." (If you're unfamiliar with Dulac's work, and you shouldn't be, you can find images here and here. I'm especially fond of his illustrations for "The Nightingale," especially the demon standing upon the Emperor as he slowly dies.) I adore the choice, because Peta (without consulting me) chose images that show the mermaid apart, floating alone, or watching the prince with questioning, suspicious, pleading eyes -- but keeping her feet near the water, ready to jump. I'm frankly not sure that the second image works for Anderson's The Little Mermaid, but it works here.
On a completely different note, I'm amused that the Google bot has identified my story with Jergens hand cream.