The Emperor’s New Clothes by Hans Christian Andersen continues to fascinate modern day children. Of course everybody loves the famous underwear scene, but that’s not the only reason it has endured. It also touches on an array of virtues and vices like wisdom versus foolishness and humility versus pride in highly palpable ways. What’s more, it offers lessons for the everyday person and the statesman alike.
In order to unpack those ideas, let’s first examine the
plot.
PLOT SUMMARY
Exposition – The
Background
There lives an emperor who is particularly fond of his appearance and spares no expense to dress in the finest attire. So obsessed is he, that he spends virtually all of his time consumed with his looks instead of the affairs of state.
Inciting Incident –
The Problem
Knowing the emperor’s disposition, two swindlers seek to deceive the king and thereby make a profit. They pretend to be fine tailors and offer to sew him an outfit of such unmatched quality that none but the wisest can see it.
Rising Action – The
Build-up
Greedy for such finery, the emperor commissions the tailors and follows their progress most eagerly. However, fearing his own foolishness would be revealed if he could not see the clothes, he sends in several of his advisors one after another to look at the clothes on his behalf.
As the tailors are not actually sewing anything but simply pretending to cut fabric and sew seams, none can see anything. Yet, all pretend to see a fine outfit for fear of being thought foolish. As the days progress and the pretend outfit nears completion, the emperor plans a royal procession throughout the streets of his kingdom to show off his new clothes.
Climax – The Point of
No Return
Finally, the emperor steps into his dressing chamber to try on his new outfit. Of course he can not see the clothes because they do not exist, but he pretends to get dressed in them just the same. There is no way he is going to admit that he does not see them because he, too, does not want to be thought a fool.
Falling Action – The
Unraveling
And so the king processes through the streets with a grand
entourage wearing only his underwear but believing himself royally clad.
Anti-resolution – The
Truth is Out
All but a small child pretend to see the outfit. The child,
not concerned with the thoughts of others, blurts out the obvious truth that
the emperor is wearing nothing but underwear. The rest of the crowd soon also
acknowledges this to be true.
Even the king realizes he has been made a fool of, but he
continues on his procession, unwilling to acknowledge his shame.
PLOT ANALYSIS
Clothed in Falsehood
There are a number of figurative interpretations at play in
this timeless story. Perhaps the first and most obvious has to do with vanity.
After all, the king is obsessed with his looks, and that is what leads him down
a foolish path.
When we dig just a little deeper, it becomes clear that his vanity relates not only to his looks but also to his power. He is obsessed with “being king” yet cares nothing for the real duties this entails. Instead, he spends his days playing dress-up, so to speak, and pretending to be in charge of the kingdom.
What’s worse, he knows he is a fool and is worried sick that
anyone should find out. That is why he refuses to look at the outfit himself.
He knows from the beginning that he is not wise enough to see it. And when he
finally looks into the dressing room, his doubts about himself are confirmed.
He cannot see the outfit.
Ironically, what he really cannot see is that he has been tricked. When he parades through town in his underwear, he believes himself regally clad. Just as the truth of his nakedness is revealed, so too is the truth of his power. He has none. All his wisdom and authority are empty, so much so that even a small child knows it.
It does not take an act of war or even well-planned subterfuge to bring about his downfall. It takes only two swindlers. He truly was not fit to be king.
Historical Lessons
This story, though about a king, was not written for a king. It was written for the people.
We know that because the narrator lets us readers in on the
trick the swindlers are playing. From the beginning, we know they are not
really sewing a fine outfit, and we anxiously look forward to seeing how the
king will deal with them. We may hope he does not fall for their trick, but we
thoroughly enjoy that he does.
Hans Christian Andersen, writing in the 1800s, knew that most of his readers would feel a level of disdain for kings whose right to rule was far more arbitrary than we could ever claim today. A king was either born into power or took it by force. Meanwhile, the people plain-old had to fall in line.
Many a real king leisurely sat in his palace “admiring his power” while the people toiled away paying taxes, ready to suit up for war on command. For them, the emperor’s new clothes were nothing but a well-worn reality.
CONCLUSION
Such is often the case today as well. Be it the politics of state or family, church or school, fame or fashion, one needs ever to be on the lookout for falsehood.
And therein is the lesson I like best about The Emperor’s New Clothes. It teaches children to look critically at the world around them. In a sense, it shows them that they have power far greater than that of a king for theirs is the power of critical thinking. With it, they can judge the world around them and rule their own lives with wisdom and virtue.
Before reading The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis with my five- and six-year-old sons, I spent some time reviewing the storyline. Though I had read it more than once as an adult, I was still searching for something new about Susan. As you’ll see from the story summary below, her path does not follow that of her siblings or any of the other friends of Narnia. She is “left out,” so to speak, of their glorious ending, and I was worried about how to handle that with my sons.
In my hunt to learn more, I was somewhat dismayed to find so much criticism of C.S. Lewis for his treatment of Susan. Perhaps the most pointed (and dramatic) was a short story called The Problem of Susan by Neil Gaiman, in which the author imagines her as a grown-up with all sorts of psychological problems.
“They’re all missing the point!” I thought.
So what is the point? Well, far be it from me to know exactly what C.S. Lewis had in mind, but I do think his faithful readers know he was a careful teacher, profoundly concerned with the interior life of his readers. As I’ll explain in the reflection, I think Susan was Lewis’s last and, perhaps, most important lesson.
THE STORY
The Last Battle is the only book in the series that starts off in Narnia. It begins with two talking animals: a donkey named Puzzle and an ape named Shift. They find a lion’s skin floating in a river, and Shift convinces Puzzle to put it on and pretend to be Aslan. Puzzle, who is very simple-minded and eager to please his bully of a friend, goes along with the ruse, and word gets around Narnia that Aslan is back.
King Tirian hears this news as well and hopes it to be true. But when a tree spirit stumbles into his presence and reports that her kind is being chopped down in Aslan’s Name by Calormene soldiers and then falls down dead herself, King Tirian is beside himself with anger. He sends Roonwitm a loyal centaur, to gather his army and sets off himself with the unicorn Jewel to confront the tree murderers.
When the King and Jewel arrive, they fall into a fit of passion at the sight of a Calormene soldier beating a talking horse and end up killing him. A troop of more Calormenes arrive on the scene immediately thereafter and arrest King Tirian in Aslan’s Name. Full of remorse, King Tirian and Jewel willingly accept Aslan’s punishment.
Only it’s not Aslan who punishes them; it’s Shift. King Tirian is bound to a tree, and Jewel is tied to the back of a stable in which the fake Aslan spends his time awaiting a nightly appearance before the gullible Narnians.
The appointed hour arrives, and Puzzle comes out in the lion’s skin and pretends to be Aslan. A great bonfire is ablaze, and King Tirian sees the donkey for what he is—an imposter. He implores Aslan, the True Aslan, to come to his aid and calls upon the children who helped Narnia throughout its history. Next, he has a vision of a gathering of people dressed very differently than himself, and one of them, a teenage boy who calls himself Peter the High King, demands to know what has happened to Narnia. But the vision vanishes, and King Tirian is left alone, sad and forlorn.
In addition to Peter, the gathering includes Edmund, Lucy, Eustace, Jill, a grown-up Digory (aka Professor Kirke), and a grown-up Polly (aka Aunt Polly). Susan’s conspicuous absence is eventually explained as being because she is “no longer a friend of Narnia.” The group had gotten together at the initiative of Aunt Polly so they could talk about their adventures in Narnia.
When they see King Tirian, they want to help him, but they don’t know how to get back to Narnia to do so. After all, only Eustace and Jill are presumably young enough to go. So they come up with an idea to retrieve the magic rings Professor Kirke and Aunt Polly had used as children. Peter and Edmund carry out the plan, which involves sneaking into Professor Kirke’s old backyard, and travel by train to bring back the rings. The remainder of the group, meanwhile, waits for them at the train station, but something happens that sends Eustace and Jill flying into Narnia. Though many days have passed in their time, they arrive in Narnia only moments after King Tirian had his vision.
After untying the King and feeding him a small meal, the trio sets off to arm themselves at a nearby garrison and disguise themselves as Calormenes. Newly fortified, they sneak back to the stable on a reconnaissance mission. Jill goes rogue, enters the stable, and takes Puzzle prisoner. Although King Tirian is angry with her disobedience, he is glad to have Puzzle. Now they can show Narnia that he is a fake. They go back to the garrison to await a more advantageous hour to expose the enemy.
Along the way, they rescue a group of Dwarfs forcibly bound for Calormen. The Dwarfs turn down the friendship of the King and say the Dwarfs are “for the Dwarfs.” They don’t want anybody’s allegiance, not even Aslan’s, and they walk away caring only for themselves. King Tirian had not anticipated such a response, and he begins to lose hope. Thankfully, one Dwarf comes back and joins their cause.
They soon learn from a hawk named Farsight that Roonwit and his entire army have been killed by the Calormenes. No one is left to help them. They must choose to give up or fight on, and King Tirian says he will take the adventure Aslan has in store. He offers for Eustace and Jill to leave, saying they don’t need to die for Narnia, but the children refuse to leave. Besides, they don’t even know if they can get back since they had not used the rings in the first place.
A deep stillness sweeps across the land, and they suddenly see a terrible creature with the upper body of an ugly bird and the legs of a man. It’s Tash, the god of the Calormenes. His presence in Narnia is unprecedented and portends evil. Nevertheless, King Tirian’s small band ventures forth at the appointed hour in order to expose Puzzle as a fake and thereby convince the Narnians to stop listening to Shift and the Calormenes. Perhaps with their awakening, Narnia stands a chance.
Once again, they hope in vain. Two evil co-conspirators, a talking cat named Ginger and a Calormene soldier named Rishda, have effectively removed Shift from power, making him their puppet. Ginger and Rishda are much cleverer than Shift and, indeed, more nefarious in their intentions. They correctly understand the danger of Puzzle’s absence and decide to out him as a fraud themselves. So, they have Shift “warn” the crowd that a donkey is dressed in a lion’s skin pretending to be Aslan.
Though the Narnians are still fearful of Shift, they muster the courage to challenge him and ask for an audience with Aslan, who, allegedly is just inside the stable. Shift then makes a shocking revelation. He says there is no such thing as Aslan; there is only a god named Tashlan, a god who is both Aslan and Tash at the same time. This is the lie of all lies, but the Narnians don’t know what to think. Shift revels in their confusion and dares the Narnians to go into the stable one at a time and see Tashlan themselves. Really, a Calormene soldier is waiting inside to kill the Narnians as they enter.
Knowing the Narnians are scared to go in, Ginger goes in first as an example. He, however, has nothing to fear because the Calormene soldier knows not to kill him. But a strange thing happens. Ginger screeches loudly and runs out of the stable unable to talk. He’s been turned into a “dumb” cat. Next, a Calormene named Emeth goes in. A moment later he comes out, stumbles, and falls down dead.
From his hiding place, King Tirian sees that the man is not Emeth after all; some great mystery is at play inside the stable, but there is no time to wait and uncover it. The king reveals himself and calls upon the Narnians to fight with him against the Calormenes. Talking dogs and talking horses and a great many other talking animals join his side in what will be Narnia’s last battle. The tide seems to turn in their favor, but the Dwarfs stubbornly fight against everybody, still insisting that they’re only for themselves. They don’t want either side to win, so they pick off Narnians and Calormenes alike with their bows. Victory slips from their grasp.
Jewel fights bravely but is killed. Eustace holds on a little longer, but he gets backed into the dreaded stable, and Jill and King Tirian are forced inside last of all.
But the stable is unlike a stable on the inside. It’s another world entirely with lush green grass, a beautiful blue sky, and a crowd of humans crowned in royalty. It’s the friends of Narnia dressed in regal attire: the High King Peter, King Edmund, Queen Lucy, Lord Digory, and Lady Polly. Even Eustace and Jill appear as king and queen. Magically, they have all passed into Aslan’s Country. Jill and Eustace passed through the battle, but the others passed through a train crash. It turns out, that was the terrible jerk they felt at the train station.
A crowd of Dwarfs is also among them, but they cannot see the royals or any of the splendor that surrounds them. They see only the blackness of a dank stable.
Aslan appears, opens the stable door, and ends the world just outside of it with a tremendous roar just as He had once started it with a tremendous song. Spirits come flooding through the door as darkness washes over Narnia. When nothing is left, Aslan shuts the door and beckons everyone to follow Him further in and higher up. A great race follows in which the children alternately run and stop to talk to friends they had thought lost. They see Roonwit and Jewel and a repentant Puzzle. They see Emeth, who explains that another Calormene had tried to kill him when he walked into the stable but that he had bested him. It was the “bad” Calormene who came out and died. The reason Emeth had gone inside the stable in the first place was that he had begun to doubt his leader. He had served Tash faithfully all his life, and it didn’t make sense to him that Tash could be the same as Aslan. Given the chance to confront his god face to face, he wanted to know the Truth. Aslan rewards Emeth for his honor and service and says that every good thing he had done, though it was in Tash’s name, was really done for Aslan because Tash is unable to accept good works.
As the friends of Narnia climb further in and higher up, they realize the land looks like Narnia, only more like Narnia. It turns out, the Narnia they had known before was merely a shadow of the more beautiful Narnia in Aslan’s Country. They eventually come to the garden in which Digory had picked the apple for Aslan in The Magician’s Nephew. They eat of the tree and have more happy reunions with the likes of Mr. Tumnus and other old friends. They even find their own parents there! As it turns out, they had been on the train, too, and now they are all together in Aslan’s Country, a world without end.
REFLECTION
So ends The Chronicles of Narnia, but we are left to wonder what becomes of Susan. In a letter to a boy named Martin dated January 22, 1957, C.S. Lewis explained, “The books don’t tell us what happened to Susan. She is left alive in this world at the end, having by then turned into a rather silly, conceited young woman. But there is plenty of time for her to mend, and perhaps she will get to Aslan’s Country in the end—in her own way. I think that whatever she had seen in Narnia she could (if she was the sort that wanted to) persuade herself, as she grew up, that it was ‘all nonsense.’”
This quote, which is included in Letters to Children, sheds light on C.S. Lewis’s thinking about Susan. Let’s look at three of his points and see what lessons unfold.
“Silly and Conceited”
It’s sad to hear Susan described this way, especially when we think about her having once been a Queen of Narnia. Nonetheless, we remember how in The Horse and His Boy she allowed herself to be courted by the Prince of Calormen, a deceptive man who coveted her beauty above anything else. We remember, also, how she did not want to see Aslan when he first appeared to guide the children to Aslan’s How in Prince Caspian, suggesting she was trying to shut Him out of her life. So, too, do we remember how she was sent to America at the beginning of The Voyage of the “Dawn Treader” because she was considered “the pretty one.” Presumably, being seen and admired in a foreign country was within her limited “skill-set,” making her (and her parents) seem rather shallow.
Poor Susan! Through a mixture of nurturing and her own willful decisions, she grows “silly and conceited.” In other words, she is too consumed with her own ego to have any room left for Aslan.
“She Grew Up”
In another of C.S. Lewis’s letters to children, he expressed that he did not think age mattered all that much. He felt people could be old and young at the same time in their being. His view is much like the idea of an old person being young at heart or a young person having an old soul, but we need to take these popular images a little further.
To be young at heart in the Lewis sense of the phrase doesn’t mean that one loves toys beyond the normal age. We would call that childish. Instead, being young at heart means being child-like in spirit, or having a simplicity of mind that allows one to see the obvious. (Think of The Emperor’s New Suit.) Susan “grows up” in spirit because she pretends that Narnia was just a game of make-believe. She was there. She saw it for herself. Yet, she closes her heart to it in the end because Narnia does not fit into the “reality” she prefers, a reality, we might add, that feeds rather than checks her ego. In short, Susan decides Narnia is all nonsense and thereby rejects the Truth Aslan had directed her toward.
“Time for Her to Mend”
C.S. Lewis probably brought much consolation to Martin with these words. Thankfully, all is not lost for Susan. While Narnia is closed to her because Aslan ended that world, she can still get to Aslan’s Country in “her own way.”
And the ways are many—if she chooses to look for them! Aslan mostly appeared to the children in the form of the Lion, but he also appeared at times in other forms. At the end of The Voyage of “The Dawn Treader,” He appeared as a Lamb because He wanted the children to be able to recognize Him better in their own world as the Lamb of God, who is Christ. Susan was not present in that scene, of course, but the point remains that Aslan, as the Logos Incarnate, is bigger than Narnia. He transcends all of creation. As such, He can be found wherever one looks. The problem, then, for Susan is whether or not she wants to find Him.
The Lesson
Now we arrive at the lesson. Much like an anti-fairy tale in which the ending is somewhat of a warning, I think C.S. Lewis used Susan’s character to tell his readers that “happily ever after” is found through Christ alone. The choice is ours whether to follow the path of Susan or the path of the friends of Narnia. Aslan, though a King Himself, does not treat His people as slaves, nor does He force His Will upon them. His way is to invite. Although Susan has not accepted Aslan’s invitation at the end of the series, His invitation remains for the extent of her mortal life.
In a letter to a young girl named Pauline Bannister dated February 19, 1960, C.S. Lewis indicated that since Susan was still alive in this world, her story was not yet over. Nevertheless, he said, “I could not write that story myself. Not that I have no hope of Susan’s ever getting to Aslan’s Country; but because I have a feeling that the story of her journey would be longer and more like a grown-up novel than I wanted to write. But I may be mistaken. Why not try it yourself?”
I hope Pauline took his suggestion and wrote something beautiful. My sons and I have. In our version, Susan gets married and has children, and they teach her to be child-like again. Together, they find their way to Aslan’s Country in an all new adventure complete with an ivory horn and plenty of archery. It’s a simple storyline but a True one. We find the Logos Incarnate most readily when we become like children, full of wonder and longing for Truth.
FINAL THOUGHTS
C.S. Lewis wrote so well to people of all ages, not simply because he was full of wisdom but because he could make it so plain. Now many weeks after having finished The Chronicles of Narnia, my sons and I are still making references to the characters and their adventures, not merely to relive the fun but to explain other things that come up.
“It’s just like when Digory looked at Aslan face to face for the first time,” one of us will say. Or, “Doesn’t that remind you of when no one believed Lucy?” The connections to the everyday adventure of raising children in the Faith are endless.
What’s more, I read this blog series to my sons in draft form, and they provided unexpected fact checking. They remembered with pristine accuracy what happened in individual scenes, while I sometimes lumped details together. I was amazed. They saw themselves as guardians, so to speak, of the storyline. Happily, they are simultaneously becoming guardians of the Truth it represents.
There is something about reading fairy
tales that is quintessentially classical. After all, classical
education considers the great stories of Western culture one of its core
foundations. So if at the end of a school day I have read a fairy tale with my
students, I am usually pleased. But, if that’s where it ends, I am all the more
disappointed.
Rich as they are for the moral imagination, I try to draw as much from them as possible. Here is a breakdown of some of my favorite extension activities to do with students.
DISCOURSE
Socratic Discussion
A classical mainstay, Socratic discussion is at the heart of
my approach to studying fairy tales. We discuss the stories in small groups and
as a whole class, often rearranging the desks and chairs so we form one large
circle or several smaller ones. This discursive format helps students break
down the plot and unpack its core symbols.
I guide the discussions but play a limited role in order to
encourage active engagement from the students. Plus, it lets them tease out the
ideas that they find most
interesting. In this way, students feel a greater sense of ownership in the
discussions and make more personal contributions.
Disputation
This is a really fun one that serves as a natural outgrowth of Socratic discussion. Disputation involves debating key aspects of the story, typically those that pose moral dilemmas. For example, in reading Cat and Mouse in Partnership, we might debate whether the mouse should have formed a partnership with the cat. Or when reading Cinderella, we might debate whether or not it is a good story for little kids.
Sometimes our debates are very formal with preparation and
regulated rounds. Other times, they are of a more impromptu style. Either way,
the students get very animated and impassioned.
CREATIVE WRITING
Plot Reinvention
Another exercise I really like is plot reinvention. First,
students have to thoroughly understand the original plot of the story, meaning
they can express the inciting incident, climax, and resolution for themselves
much as I have done in this blog series. Once they can do this, they choose an
element to change.
If, for example, the father in Godfather
Deathwere to choose God, then the whole story would change. The
student’s job would be to tell that new story. One of the great things about
this exercise is that it gives students a concrete place to start writing,
which can be very difficult with more open-ended prompts.
Character Reinvention
Character reinvention follows this same principle. What if Little Red Cap were a naughty girl? Or what if the fisherman had a tougher upper lip? Or how about making the youngest sister in Twelve Brothersa real chatter-box?
When students develop a whole new approach to a character, it
affects all of his or her motives and actions and can lead to a different, not
to mention highly entertaining, story altogether.
Working from Art
I also like projecting beautiful paintings or sketches from fairy tales and having students write just one scene based on the picture. This approach is a little more contained than the previous two, so it makes it easier for students to develop sharp, properly formatted dialogue and well-planned narration. As such, it readily doubles as a grammar lesson as well as a creative writing exercise.
In preparation for writing a scene for Cinderella, I might depict the painting above by John Everett Millais and prompt students with the following: Describe the moment in time depicted here. What are the character’s thoughts? Words? Actions? Draw your ideas together as a scene from the story. Be sure to include dialogue and narration.
ARTISTIC RENDERING
Reflective Journaling
There are a number of mediums one could use for reflective
journaling, but one I really like is water color. This entails students
painting something they found inspiring in a fairy tale.
After reading The Little Match
Seller, one might paint a wood stove, another a Christmas tree, or even
the little girl flying up to Heaven. Once students have painted their pictures,
they reflect in writing on what they have depicted and why. When that’s done,
they walk around and view everyone else’s journals in what we call a “museum
walk.”
All the while, we play classical music and otherwise
maintain silence. It makes for a very relaxing, thoughtful environment, not to
mention beautiful work.
Story Board
This one is borrowed from the publishing industry wherein editors lay out words on a story board and then contract illustrators to matches them with pictures. I have students do the same thing with a fairy tale.
Their story boards can be very elaborate or more of a quick
sketch, true to the story or reinvented using one of the models above. Either
way, students fine-tune their understanding of the plot and have the
opportunity to do so in an artistic, visual way.
Act Them Out
Most of my students like acting out the fairy tales best of all. I give them liberty to keep or change whatever they want in the plots. For that matter, they can even combine plots as long as it makes sense. Their job is to write the script, memorize it, and present it in a formal production. Ideally, we invite other classes in the school to come and watch.
CONCLUSION
These types of exercises cause students to think deeply about the fairy tales. This is extremely valuable from an educational standpoint, not least because it helps students to really understand the stories and develop their own insights.
It is perhaps even more valuable from a moral standpoint because the lessons can serve as a guide for life’s real-world difficulties. When, for example, they are discerning the nature of a friendship, they can draw from Cat and Mouse in Partnership. They can look to The Mermaidor The Snow Queenwhen trying to understand the true meaning of love. Perhaps they will think about The Emperor’s New Clotheswhen they eventually come to critique politics. Or maybe, they will take heart from The Little Match Sellerin the face of personal suffering, which no doubts awaits everyone at some point or another.
Whatever the case may be, by extending the fairy tales with additional exercises, students come to embody them in a way that will enrich their lives forever. At least that’s my hope.
The Fisherman and His Wife is one of the lesser known tales by the Brothers Grimm, but it is right up there with the best of them. It is has a gripping, imaginative plot that offers many lessons about the dangers of greed. Better still, those lessons are not black and white, so there is ample room for debate. Let’s begin by looking at the plot and then examine two controversial questions my students engage.
PLOT SUMMARY
Exposition – The
Background
A fisherman and his wife pass their days living in a shack
by the sea.
Inciting Incident –
The Problem
All of that changes one day when the fisherman catches a
magical, talking fish who had once been a prince. The fisherman at first plans to
cook and eat his catch like any other, but the fish begs him not to. Being of a
generous heart, the fisherman releases the fish.
Rising Action – The
Build-up
His wife, however, reprimands him gravely for letting the
fish off the hook without first
demanding a wish. She insists her husband go back the very next day, find the
fish, and demand a wish in exchange for letting him go. When the fisherman asks
his wife what they should wish for, she quickly responds that she wants a nice
cottage instead of their “filthy” shack.
The husband obeys his wife, goes back to the seashore, calls
out to the fish who readily comes swimming back, and presents his wife’s wish.
The fish, in turn, changes their shack into a nice cottage.
When the fisherman returns home later that day, his wife
seems happy with their new home. Feeling satisfied himself, he says, “This is
quite enough.”
“We will see about that,” the wife retorts.
Thus ensues a daily progression of new wishes, each trading
out one home for another and always increasing the wife’s station in life. She
next contrives to have a palace over which she is lord, then a kingdom over
which she is king, then an empire over which she is emperor, and finally all of
Christendom over which she is pope.
The fisherman begs his wife not to keep demanding more wishes
but fears her too much to refuse her bidding. Like an errand boy, he goes back
day after day and fishes for wishes on
her behalf. Though the fish keeps granting them in turn, the water and clouds
turn ever more murky and grey.
Climax – The Point of
No Return
Still not satisfied, the wife racks her brains all night
long trying to think of what could be better than being pope. When the first
rays of light streak across her bedroom, she asks, “Could not I cause the
sun and the moon to rise?”
Falling Action – The
Unraveling
The fisherman fears his wife more than ever as he realizes
she wants to be like God. Amidst thunder and lightning, the man obediently runs
away from her like a madman, calls out to the fish, and presents his wife’s newest
wish.
Anti-resolution – Not
So Happily Ever After
Upon hearing it, the fish simply replies, “Go home. She is
sitting in her filthy shack again.” And just like that, the fisherman and
his wife lose everything they had gotten from the fish.
PLOT ANALYSIS
When reading this story with my students, it is always
interesting to see how intently they follow the plot. Their inquisitive eyes
and furrowed brows race through the storyline, eager to find out what will
become of the fisherman and his wife.
With the first wish, it is not at all obvious what is going
to happen. It even seems like a good thing that they get to upgrade their
“filthy” shack to a nice cottage. As the wishes become greedier and the sky
turns darker, however, the students soon realize things have not gotten better
for the fisherman and his wife but much, much worse.
The First Wish
During our discussions, students unanimously condemn the
fisherman’s and his wife’s greed. Many say familiar expressions like, they
should have “quit while they were ahead.” Or, they should have been “careful
what you wished for.” Indeed, there are dozens of similar adages that can be
readily applied.
It gets a lot more complicated, however, when we discuss
whether or not the fisherman and his wife should have wished for anything at
all. Some inevitably think it was okay that they tried to improve their station
in life. The problem, in their opinion, was that the fisherman and his wife
went overboard.
Others argue that even one wish was too much because it set
them on an insatiable path. Both viewpoints are certainly valid, so the object
of debating the prudence of making the first wish is not to come up with the
“right” answer. Rather, the goal is to have students think deeply about the
nature of greed.
The Final Wish
We also have a rich discussion about the final wish.
Specifically, I ask my students whether or not the fisherman and his wife got
what they wished for. Did the wife get to become like God?
Of course, the literal answer is no. Indeed, they lost
everything they had previously gained.
With a little prodding, though, they begin to come up with figurative interpretations that are extremely insightful. Some say they become slaves to their newfound wealth, distancing themselves further and further from God. As such, they end up losing any semblance of likeness they ever had to Him.
Others suggest that since the fisherman and his wife are humbled in the end, they have a newfound
chance of being like God, who has perfect humility alongside absolute power.
Still others argue that the wife does get her final wish
because she has power over her husband. In their little world, filthy as it is
with the vice of greed, she has absolute power. She didn’t need an empire or a kingdom
to “rule” over her husband, so she got her original shack back. Though hers is
a corrupt kind of power, it is precisely the kind she foolishly sought.
CONCLUSION
The Fisherman and His Wife offers many real-life lessons about greed, albeit with plenty of grey area. While my students never agree on “how much is enough,” they certainly agree that too much is a bad thing. Likewise, they realize that fortunes can easily be turned into misfortunes. That is not to say wealth is bad, per se, but that it comes with a price.
I once asked my seventh grade class what a fairy tale was, and one student said, “It’s a story that begins with Tinker Bell waving her wand over the Disney Castle.” She was joking, of course, but her words were illuminating.
Many children today associate fairy tales with the magical world of Disney and know little of the literary let alone the historical background behind them. That’s because Disney has a type of cultural monopoly over fairy tales that allows them to dictate storylines (and insert social politics) according to their commercial business preferences.
Some of their changes are small—just have Cinderella’s dad die so he doesn’t seem like such a deadbeat. No big deal to lose one measly character. Some of the changes are big—let Ariel live happily ever after with Prince Eric. Turning the little mermaid into seafoam as punishment for disobeying her father doesn’t exactly make for a box office hit. Other changes are complete transformations. How exactly is Frozen supposed to be based on The Snow-Queen?
I get it. It’s all about the bottom line. And frankly, Disney’s versions are just as authentic as the so-called “originals.” After all, fairy tales come from a long tradition of oral storytelling which allows the teller to add, subtract, stretch, and reinvent as desired. Even Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm did that.
(Yup! They didn’t “write” the tales that now bare their name. They actually traveled from town to town collecting and recording stories that were already being told.)
Defining Fairy Tales
So what holds a fairy tale together? What do they all have in common?
When I first started teaching fairy tales, I tried to find a definition to share with my students that would answer those precise questions. Most definitions talked about good conquering evil. That certainly rings true, but Disney’s version of “good” is totally different than, say, Hans Christian Andersen’s.
Let’s return to The Mermaid for a moment, which inspired Disney’s The Little Mermaid. The “goodness” of obedience was swapped out for a modern “goodness” of independence. Throw cultural differences into the mix, and you’re left with an even more ambiguous understanding of what constitutes “good.”
What’s more, most stories boil down to some kind of good versus evil paradigm, so there needs to be something further that sets fairy tales apart from other genres. This is where my student’s playful comment about Tinker Bell comes in handy because it captures the dreamy side of fairy tales and the promise of “happily ever after.” No doubt Disney’s branding with the “magical kingdom” depicts the essence of this.
Putting it all together, I eventually came up with the following definition: a fairy tale is a fanciful, make-believe story that reveals a particular set of values about society and pivots around the rewards of virtue overcoming vice.
I like this definition because it allows for differences across time and place (e.g., values which are changeable) while still maintaining a set of universal principals (e.g., virtues which are unchanging). While fairy tales originated in the Middle Ages and are generally set in that time period, they are not constrained by it. Likewise, they are not limited to Western culture.
Just think of the many versions of Cinderella told all over the world. Yeh-Shen, which is a Chinese version, was one of my favorites when I was little. Like the Disney version and the Brothers Grimm version before that, it has the basic “rags to riches” storyline. A major difference, however, is that a magical fish grants Yeh-Shen’s wish to go to the ball. This reflects significant cultural differences in China wherein fish are symbols of good fortune. Nevertheless, the reasons the fish rewards Yeh-Shen are consistent with those of Disney’s Fairy Godmother and the Grimms’ magical tree: Cinderella is being rewarded for her virtues.
Fairy tales are told to bestow lessons and to offer the promise of reward if those lessons are followed. The “happily ever after” motif was a particularly powerful one in the Middle Ages where the vast majority of the population was plagued with hardship. They taught young children that if you live a life of virtue, then you will be rewarded. Of course, that reward was not really expected to be found in an earthly palace but rather in a heavenly one.
Continuing the Tradition
There are countless reasons to study the “original” fairy tales today. They’re enjoyable, for one, but they’re also a lens into the hopes and fears of the common people of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Given how dominated historical accounts of the time were by the affairs of royalty and nobility, fairy tales offer a type of anthropology into the lives of everybody else.
But that’s still not all. Fairy tales give us pause to reflect on our own lives. They remind us that though the world is a scary place wrought with danger, we should take heart. Virtue will prevail, if not in life then in death. As G.K. Chesterton put it,
“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.”