At the end of your commentary, you mention that this tale actually falls under the religious tales category. This makes so much sense to me, in light of the religious atmosphere and history of Western Europe. To me, I see the parent as the church and the child as the potential religious subjugate. In this lens, the gender of the child doesn’t seem to matter. What matters more is the power of dogma and the mentality that there is only “one right way” to view the world. Whatever moral compass the “child” has is viewed as wrong by the church and must be corrected. However, the “child” continues to stir the land even after death (or forced subjugation), and their moral compass lives on within the earth.
Yes, the Grimms' acknowledge, too, that an earlier version of the same tale is recorded by the Franciscan Johannes Pauli in his book of didactic (though also often humorous!) tales, so I think you're spot on that one way of interpreting this story is as a sort of parable.
It's interesting to me that the child's main 'sin' seems to be disobedience (they did no do what their mother wanted), which both reminds me of the commandment about honouring (or obeying, depending on your context/faith) your parents, AND makes me wonder what the mother wants the child to do.
I think your reading strongly aligns with what Alice Miller has to say about 'poisonous pedagogy', though here the child isn't stained by original sin, but by their own refusal to submit to their mother.
So many writers enjoy troubling old tales and rewriting them to reflect more contemporary morals and ethics. I wonder what a contemporary version of this tale would look like?
I do love the ambiguity of the child's gender - and I think it right for the tale. It is more about the discipline of the child than whether a boy or girl is more 'eigensinnig' (what a marvellous word to trip off the tongue!). Although, I immediately thought of it sitting alongside Clever Gretel, which is my one favourite Grimms' tale, and contains the epitome of a wilful hero... and one would never dare strike her down.
How fascinating that you've made that connection to 'Clever Gretel', with her red shoes. That story always reminds me of Andersen's 'The red shoes', though of course clever Gretel gets away with her trickery of her master (and their guest), whereas Andersen's Karen is narratively punished for her delight in her flashy footwear (among other things).
I quite love the idea of considering a range of the wilful characters in fairy-tale lore, perhaps especially the girls and women; it's a nice push back against the 80s-ish feminist criticism of fairy tales as filled with passive heroines. <3
Andersen did not like girls who enjoyed their pretty red shoes! I always thought Gretel was an odd fit in the Grimms collection, and utterly loved her for it. She's greedy, vain, sly and wilful and altogether wonderful.
I think it would be great fun to explore those wilful characters! I was playing with a story based on Goat-Face at one point - she is sort of punished, but only 'sort of.' And earlier Cinderellas were a hoot. Not to mention some of those fairy godmothers...
Thank you for this thoughtful and informative essay! I have long wondered what to make of this story, and as I have no German, I had no idea about the issue with translating "eigensinnige." That understanding really does put a different cast on the tale for me.
Isn't it a curious fragment of a thing, barely a story at all! I'm pleased to have offered you some food for thought.
It's a challenge, don't you think, being so often limited to accessing (other people's) translations? We rely on the translation to be faithful, but translation is a slippery and personal art!
Absolutely! There's an interesting book written on different English translations of the Grimms by Martin Sutton, but I don't think it looks at this story (I've read parts of it, but not the whole thing).
And in some ways, a perfectly faithful translation is impossible, as I know you know, because each language encodes a different way of being in and thinking about the world, and because how can you reproduce the aural effect of the sounds (I'm thinking here of the effects of alliteration, of meter in verse, etc.)? When I was in college, a Spanish professor of mine said there was a saying in Spanish that translated as "The translator is always a traitor." But I think of a translation as a new work of art, a collaboration between the translator and the originators of the text being translated. In that way, I suppose, it's like any other variant or retelling of a tale!
I haven't read the Sutton, but I'm intrigued, and will definitely search it out. I see he completed a thesis looking at early English translations (1823-84): is that the one?
That's such a great analogy: that each translation offers something very like a new variant of a tale. As you say, translating poetry--or anything where attention to sound as well as sense--is incredibly challenging, and often requires that a translator create a new poem that's not quite the original, and not quite their own brand-new work, but something wholly other/collaborative. Edith Grossman, who translates from the Spanish mostly, I think, wrote a passionate defence of this idea, insisting that translators are writers, not handmaidens. She prefers the terms 'first writer' and 'second writer' (!).
Yes, I love that quotation about translators being traitors! And do you know the famous one from Borges, via his translator Ben Belitt? Belitt said in an interview: 'If Borges had had his way--and he generally did--all polysyllables would have been replaced by monosyllables, especially in the third and fourth revisions, to which he often pressed his absent collaborators. People concerned about the legitimacy of the literal might well be scandalized by his mania for dehispanization ... [Borges said] "Simplify me. Modify me. Make me stark. My language often embarrasses me. It’s too youthful, too Latinate. I love Anglo-Saxon. I want the wiry, minimal sound. I want the power of Cynewulf, Beowulf, Bede. Make me macho and gaucho and skinny".'
At the end of your commentary, you mention that this tale actually falls under the religious tales category. This makes so much sense to me, in light of the religious atmosphere and history of Western Europe. To me, I see the parent as the church and the child as the potential religious subjugate. In this lens, the gender of the child doesn’t seem to matter. What matters more is the power of dogma and the mentality that there is only “one right way” to view the world. Whatever moral compass the “child” has is viewed as wrong by the church and must be corrected. However, the “child” continues to stir the land even after death (or forced subjugation), and their moral compass lives on within the earth.
Very thought provoking!!
Hello Cassandra :)
Yes, the Grimms' acknowledge, too, that an earlier version of the same tale is recorded by the Franciscan Johannes Pauli in his book of didactic (though also often humorous!) tales, so I think you're spot on that one way of interpreting this story is as a sort of parable.
It's interesting to me that the child's main 'sin' seems to be disobedience (they did no do what their mother wanted), which both reminds me of the commandment about honouring (or obeying, depending on your context/faith) your parents, AND makes me wonder what the mother wants the child to do.
I think your reading strongly aligns with what Alice Miller has to say about 'poisonous pedagogy', though here the child isn't stained by original sin, but by their own refusal to submit to their mother.
So many writers enjoy troubling old tales and rewriting them to reflect more contemporary morals and ethics. I wonder what a contemporary version of this tale would look like?
I do love the ambiguity of the child's gender - and I think it right for the tale. It is more about the discipline of the child than whether a boy or girl is more 'eigensinnig' (what a marvellous word to trip off the tongue!). Although, I immediately thought of it sitting alongside Clever Gretel, which is my one favourite Grimms' tale, and contains the epitome of a wilful hero... and one would never dare strike her down.
Hello! So lovely to have you here <3
How fascinating that you've made that connection to 'Clever Gretel', with her red shoes. That story always reminds me of Andersen's 'The red shoes', though of course clever Gretel gets away with her trickery of her master (and their guest), whereas Andersen's Karen is narratively punished for her delight in her flashy footwear (among other things).
I quite love the idea of considering a range of the wilful characters in fairy-tale lore, perhaps especially the girls and women; it's a nice push back against the 80s-ish feminist criticism of fairy tales as filled with passive heroines. <3
Andersen did not like girls who enjoyed their pretty red shoes! I always thought Gretel was an odd fit in the Grimms collection, and utterly loved her for it. She's greedy, vain, sly and wilful and altogether wonderful.
I think it would be great fun to explore those wilful characters! I was playing with a story based on Goat-Face at one point - she is sort of punished, but only 'sort of.' And earlier Cinderellas were a hoot. Not to mention some of those fairy godmothers...
Thank you for this thoughtful and informative essay! I have long wondered what to make of this story, and as I have no German, I had no idea about the issue with translating "eigensinnige." That understanding really does put a different cast on the tale for me.
Isn't it a curious fragment of a thing, barely a story at all! I'm pleased to have offered you some food for thought.
It's a challenge, don't you think, being so often limited to accessing (other people's) translations? We rely on the translation to be faithful, but translation is a slippery and personal art!
Absolutely! There's an interesting book written on different English translations of the Grimms by Martin Sutton, but I don't think it looks at this story (I've read parts of it, but not the whole thing).
And in some ways, a perfectly faithful translation is impossible, as I know you know, because each language encodes a different way of being in and thinking about the world, and because how can you reproduce the aural effect of the sounds (I'm thinking here of the effects of alliteration, of meter in verse, etc.)? When I was in college, a Spanish professor of mine said there was a saying in Spanish that translated as "The translator is always a traitor." But I think of a translation as a new work of art, a collaboration between the translator and the originators of the text being translated. In that way, I suppose, it's like any other variant or retelling of a tale!
I haven't read the Sutton, but I'm intrigued, and will definitely search it out. I see he completed a thesis looking at early English translations (1823-84): is that the one?
That's such a great analogy: that each translation offers something very like a new variant of a tale. As you say, translating poetry--or anything where attention to sound as well as sense--is incredibly challenging, and often requires that a translator create a new poem that's not quite the original, and not quite their own brand-new work, but something wholly other/collaborative. Edith Grossman, who translates from the Spanish mostly, I think, wrote a passionate defence of this idea, insisting that translators are writers, not handmaidens. She prefers the terms 'first writer' and 'second writer' (!).
Yes, I love that quotation about translators being traitors! And do you know the famous one from Borges, via his translator Ben Belitt? Belitt said in an interview: 'If Borges had had his way--and he generally did--all polysyllables would have been replaced by monosyllables, especially in the third and fourth revisions, to which he often pressed his absent collaborators. People concerned about the legitimacy of the literal might well be scandalized by his mania for dehispanization ... [Borges said] "Simplify me. Modify me. Make me stark. My language often embarrasses me. It’s too youthful, too Latinate. I love Anglo-Saxon. I want the wiry, minimal sound. I want the power of Cynewulf, Beowulf, Bede. Make me macho and gaucho and skinny".'
This is so powerful! Thank you!
Thank you, Claire, for dropping in to say so. :)