The first link is by Charles Perrault, whose Little Red dies by wolf. The version I read is by the Grimm Brothers, which features the Woodsman and Little Red survives. Even the latter is slightly different in that there are two wolves who attack Little Red (one in a post script after the main story ends.)
As someone who is super close to their grandmother, this story means to me that you should pay attention to them and don’t take them for granted. And you should probably be able to tell if your grandma is being impersonated by a wolf.
I wonder what Little Red’s name was before her grandmother made her that cape.
What kind of diet for a sick elderly woman is cakes and wine (even if cake is like, bread, or something, can’t she gets some veggies or something)?
Red meets the wolf and isn’t scared. Wolfie asks a bunch of questions, including sketchy questions like: "What have you got in your apron?" [and thus the analogy of wolf to rapist is cemented?] Red is a motormouth and tells him exactly where her grandmother lives.
Wolfie distracts her with flowers and birdsong while he makes his getaway and eats grandma up! Then he puts on her clothes and waits for Red. Why not just spring on Red? Why dress as the grannie? Creepy much? Red arrives, alerted that something is off when the door is open (he had time to put on her clothes, but not close the door?)
Perrault’s version ends with the famous back and forth:
"Grandmother, what big arms you have!"8
"All the better to hug you with, my dear."
"Grandmother, what big legs you have!"
"All the better to run with, my child."
"Grandmother, what big ears you have!"
"All the better to hear with, my child."
"Grandmother, what big eyes you have!"
"All the better to see with, my child."
"Grandmother, what big teeth you have got!"
"All the better to eat you up with."
And, saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon Little Red Riding Hood, and ate her all up.9
The Grimm Brothers continue on. A nearby woodsman stops by to check in on grannie, sees wolfie, who he’s been looking for. He cuts wolfie open and pulls out grannie and Red. [of course ignoring the biology of having two whole persons in the stomach of a wolf. Maybe that’s why Perrault ended where he did.]
Red gets stones and they fill wolfie’s belly. Did he not die from having his insides ripped open?!!!? Wolfie takes the skin as a trophy, grannie eats the cakes, and Red promises not to wander off.
The Grimm Brothers add a PS. Red meets another wolf in the future, this one meaner and scarier, but Red doesn’t fall for his tricks. He follows her and gets on the roof. They know he’s there, so they cook sausages in the pot, tempting him to the chimney, where he falls in. Wonder who told who first, Red and Grannie or the Three Little Pigs (who probably live down the road).
It is said to have been published around 1844, by Hans Christian Andersen.
This story, according to SurLaLune references Hans Christian Andersen’s life.
Our fair duckling is born the last of his mother’s children, all whom look like their father. He takes the longest to hatch and when he’s born, everyone is shocked at how he looks. Everyone teases him (except perhaps his mother, who only gives him backwards compliments —> “he’s not so ugly after all.”
“He is too big,” they all said, and the turkey cock who had been born into the world with spurs, and fancied himself really an emperor, puffed himself out like a vessel in full sail, and flew at the duckling, and became quite red in the head with passion, so that the poor little thing did not know where to go, and was quite miserable because he was so ugly and laughed at by the whole farmyard.
Mr Turkey has an attitude problem and a big ego. Also, he seems to be overcompensating, all puffed up like that. Poor duckling.
After he is banished from home, he meets some other birds.
Will you go with us, and become a bird of passage? Not far from here is another moor, in which there are some pretty wild geese, all unmarried. It is a chance for you to get a wife; you may be lucky, ugly as you are.”
When I first read that, in a different translation, that they wanted him to be their wingman; here they are kind of trying to be his wingman. Then I laughed and groaned at how corny that pun is.
Towards evening, he reached a poor little cottage that seemed ready to fall, and only remained standing because it could not decide on which side to fall first.
The duckling meets a woman who tries to get him to lay eggs.
He flew first into the butter-cask, then into the meal-tub, and out again. What a condition he was in! The woman screamed, and struck at him with the tongs;
So he was dipped in butter, then in some kind of bread crumbs? Seems he was almost popped into the oven for Christmas dinner…
“Kill me,” said the poor bird;48 and he bent his head down to the surface of the water, and awaited death.
how sad that he almost accepts death, but as SLL points out, in the narrative, he is no longer called a duckling, but rather, a bird.
He runs away and finally sees the swans. He gets a chance to see his reflection and sees he has grown into a beautiful creature, like the swans! As noted earlier with the change in noun, when he is away from the duck family, he is eventually no longer called a duck. That is because he is technically a cygnet, a baby swan. (Well, at this point he is a full grown swan, or maybe just a teenage swan.)
Question: How do we think the cygnet’s egg got with those of the other ducks? Did it roll away? Or was it placed there?
America: Bluebeard; The Forbidden Chamber; How Toodie Fixed Old Grunt; Mr. Fox; The Secret Room. African American: The Little Boy and His Dogs. American, Appalachia: Pretty Polly. America, Louisiana: The Devil’s Marriage. America, Kentucky: The Bloody House. America, Pueblo: A Pueblo Bluebeard.
Arabia: Story of the Third Calendar, Son of a King.
Basque: The Cobbler and His Three Daughters.
Belgium: Wine-Crust, the Blue-Beard of Flanders.
Britain: Conomor and Triphine. England: The Bloody Baker; Bloudie Jacke of Shrewsberrie, The Shropshire Bluebeard; Bobby Rag; Captain Murderer; The Girl Who Got Up the Tree; Jack Otter; The Lass ‘At Seed Her Awn Graave Dug; The Lonton Lass; Mary, the Maid of the Inn; Mr. Fox; The Silk Nightcap; The Oxford Student. Scotland: The History of Mr. Greenwood; Peerifool; The Poor Woman and Her Three Daughters; Sir John Cathcart and May Kennedy; The Widow and Her Daughters.
The practice of medicine bestows the sacred privilege to ask about the unmentionable. But what happens when the door to Bluebeard’s horror chamber opens, and the bloody secrets spill onto your aseptic field of study? How do you process the pain of your patients?
I found my way back to stories. The Grimm fairy tales once seemed as if they took place in lands far, far away, but I see them now in my everyday hospital rotations. I’ve met the eternal cast of characters. I’ve taken down their histories (the abandoned prince, the barren couple) or seen their handiwork (the evil stepmother, the lecherous king).
Fairy tales are, at their core, heightened portrayals of human nature, revealing, as the glare of injury and illness does, the underbelly of mankind. Both fairy tales and medical charts chronicle the bizarre, the unfair, the tragic. And the terrifying things that go bump in the night are what doctors treat at 3 a.m. in emergency rooms.
So I now find comfort in fairy tales. They remind me that happy endings are possible. With a few days of rest and proper medication, the bewildered princess left relaxed and smiling, with a set of goals and a new job in sight. The endoscopy on my cross-eyed confidante showed she was cancer-free.
Once in the wintertime when the snow was very deep, a poor boy had to go out and fetch wood on a sled. After he had gathered it together and loaded it, he did not want to go straight home, because he was so frozen, but instead to make a fire and warm himself a little first. So he scraped the snow away, and while he was thus clearing the ground he found a small golden key. Now he believed that where there was a key, there must also be a lock, so he dug in the ground and found a little iron chest. “If only the key fits!” he thought. “Certainly there are valuable things in the chest.” He looked, but there was no keyhole. Finally he found one, but so small that it could scarcely be seen. He tried the key, and fortunately it fitted. Then he turned it once, and now we must wait until he has finished unlocking it and has opened the lid. Then we shall find out what kind of wonderful things there were in the little chest.
This story was added to the Grimms’ collection as no. 161 (the final tale) of their second edition (1819). Their immediate source was a Hessian story told to them by family friend Marie Hassenpflug. From the second edition onward this story has occupied the last position in the collection (excluding the appendix of ten Children’s Legends). By closing their collection with this enigmatic tale without an end, the Grimms seem to be saying that folktales, too, are endless. There is no final word.
“He had read books, newspapers, and magazines. He knew that if you ran away, you sometimes met bad people who did bad things to you; but he also read fairy tales, so he knew that there were kind people out there, side by side with the monsters.”—Neil Gaimann October in the Chair (via flipfloptiptop)
[This post will be on all three of my blogs: Personal, Fairy Tale, and TV because it applies to all three]
Pushing Daisies is/was amazing. Why isn’t it on TV anymore? I miss it so much. It’s sweet (pies!) and mysterious (murder!) and cute (Couer d’Couer) and fairy tale-esque and narrated by Jim Dale of Harry Potter audiobook fame. There may be posts on any of my three blogs concerning this show in the next few hours. Beware. Enjoy. Go watch Pushing Daisies.
Oh & how weird is it that Lee Pace is going to be in The Hobbit!?