Grimm, indeed
Am I alone in remembering Grimm's fairy tales as being a book of light, relatively sanitized, never very sinister stories that were most distinctly for children?
One of the classes we're preparing for Intensive this summer is on fairy tales. It's meant for some of the wee ones-- the ones who are reasonably good readers, but who aren't quite of the age to enjoy "The Phantom Tollbooth" (which is also on the reading list). Much to my surprise, finding books of fairy tales for children of this level has been like hunting the proverbial snipe. Most of the books contain some pretty archaic language, the sort that I'd give to a kid at least three years older than this lot. I'm all for authenticity, but what about the truly wee ones? And as for anything actually labeled "Grimm's Fairy Tales" ...
Where was I when the Brothers Grimm grew up? I mean, I'm entirely aware that they've got a century or two on me, but I seem to remember reading their stories endlessly as a kid. Now, anything that actually carries the name of the Brothers Grimm is a straight translation of their work, in deeply archaic language, with all the original gory details intact. "Ashputtle," the old-style Cinderella, is one example: in it, the prince doesn't just come in and find the wicked stepsisters' feet to be too large for Cinderella's dainty slipper; the two wicked stepsisters are instructed by their mother to butcher their own feet. "When you're queen, you won't have to walk anymore!" Later, they get their eyes pecked out by the pair of birds who keep warning the prince when he's got the wrong girl (the prince ain't too bright).
I'd give it to a fifth grader in a second, but these first graders most likely wouldn't be able to appreciate the bloody bits through the opaque language. It seems as though the Brothers Grimm stories these days are mostly translated for grownups with a lingering fondness for fairytales and a disdain for the Disnification of the genre. One thing I'm finding hard to understand is that I could swear that the brothers were credited with having "cleaned up" the stories they collected a good deal. If Neil Gaiman did his homework as well as it seems like he did, the original version of Little Red Riding Hood as it appears in the "Sandman" comic books seems a likely example: she gets eaten. The end.
I'd love to get my hands on some more of the originals; if someone hasn't already done a collection of pre-Grimm stories, they should. In the meantime, I'm going through the school library for old books that can be drawn from to make a fairy tale anthology that really is for the wee ones. It's worked well; I think I've got enough to make a class. Some of the stories are breathtakingly cruel (if you haven't read "Big Claus, Little Claus," wow. Just, wow) but ... well, it was always there, I guess. Perhaps you don't notice these things so much until you're an adult.
One of the classes we're preparing for Intensive this summer is on fairy tales. It's meant for some of the wee ones-- the ones who are reasonably good readers, but who aren't quite of the age to enjoy "The Phantom Tollbooth" (which is also on the reading list). Much to my surprise, finding books of fairy tales for children of this level has been like hunting the proverbial snipe. Most of the books contain some pretty archaic language, the sort that I'd give to a kid at least three years older than this lot. I'm all for authenticity, but what about the truly wee ones? And as for anything actually labeled "Grimm's Fairy Tales" ...
Where was I when the Brothers Grimm grew up? I mean, I'm entirely aware that they've got a century or two on me, but I seem to remember reading their stories endlessly as a kid. Now, anything that actually carries the name of the Brothers Grimm is a straight translation of their work, in deeply archaic language, with all the original gory details intact. "Ashputtle," the old-style Cinderella, is one example: in it, the prince doesn't just come in and find the wicked stepsisters' feet to be too large for Cinderella's dainty slipper; the two wicked stepsisters are instructed by their mother to butcher their own feet. "When you're queen, you won't have to walk anymore!" Later, they get their eyes pecked out by the pair of birds who keep warning the prince when he's got the wrong girl (the prince ain't too bright).
I'd give it to a fifth grader in a second, but these first graders most likely wouldn't be able to appreciate the bloody bits through the opaque language. It seems as though the Brothers Grimm stories these days are mostly translated for grownups with a lingering fondness for fairytales and a disdain for the Disnification of the genre. One thing I'm finding hard to understand is that I could swear that the brothers were credited with having "cleaned up" the stories they collected a good deal. If Neil Gaiman did his homework as well as it seems like he did, the original version of Little Red Riding Hood as it appears in the "Sandman" comic books seems a likely example: she gets eaten. The end.
I'd love to get my hands on some more of the originals; if someone hasn't already done a collection of pre-Grimm stories, they should. In the meantime, I'm going through the school library for old books that can be drawn from to make a fairy tale anthology that really is for the wee ones. It's worked well; I think I've got enough to make a class. Some of the stories are breathtakingly cruel (if you haven't read "Big Claus, Little Claus," wow. Just, wow) but ... well, it was always there, I guess. Perhaps you don't notice these things so much until you're an adult.