Swan Lake: The Ballet (and Original Story)

It's time for another sarcastic summary of a fairy tale! And Swan Lake is a bit of a new venture for me because it is not, in fact, a fairy tale, but a ballet.

But when I was planning of fairy tale retelling series (click here for my version) I knew I wanted to include the main heroine, Odette, from Swan Lake. This is probably because I grew up with the cartoon movie “the Swan Princess” and Odette was one of my all-time favorite princesses.

But long before that movie existed, there was the ballet...

Swan Lake was composed by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky in 1875-76–making it the most modern story I’ve adapted. Though many now consider Swan Lake a classic/well-known ballet, when it first debuted it was a pretty big failure. (Based on what I’ve read, it was mostly due to the dancers who played the main roles) It wasn’t until it was “revived” in 1895 that it begin to enjoy some popularity. (As a Tchaikovsky fan, I think it’s important to note that Tchaikovsky’s original score was changed for that revival, and this very same revival is the one that is now usually seen on stage.)

Now because it’s a ballet, there are no speaking roles in Swan Lake, which meant I got to be really free handed with how I interpreted some of the stuff.

The basic gist of the story, though, is as follows.

Prince Siegfried is partying hard with his childhood friend, Benno, when his mother waltzes in and tells him he needs to get married. The Playboy prince is super bummed, and decides to go hunting when he sees the flock of swans flying overhead. Prince Siegfried and his hunting party follows swans all the way to the lake. There the prince get separated from his friends, but finds the swans. Just as he begins to take aim at them with his bow, they transform into beautiful maidens.

Siegfried meets the most beautiful of all the swan maidens, Odette, the Swan Queen. She explains to him that she and her friends are victims of a curse cast on them by the evil sorcerer Von Rothbart. By day, they must be swans, and at night they can turn into humans again if they are by the lake. Of course, the spell can be broken (one of the many reasons why Swan Lake fits in so perfectly with the rest of my fairytales) but only if one who has never fallen in love before swears to love Odette forever.

Von Rothbart comes around to break up the party and gets in a fight with Siegfried, but eventually he leaves. Siegfried and Odette spend time together, and fall in love. (Because that wasn’t predictable.)

Prince Siegfried’s mother throws a party, intending that Siegfried will choose his future bride at it. Siegfried is totes not interested because he’s in love with Odette, but he sits up and takes notice when von Rothbart arrives in disguise with his daughter, Odile, transformed to look exactly like Odette. Because Siegfried has known Odette for exactly one day (no joke, it seriously happens in one day, as fairytales have to take place in a 24-hour window or it’s not dramatic enough) he mistakes Odile for Odette, and dances with her. Although Odette appears to him in a vision (yeah, I don’t get that part either) Siegfried announces to his courts that he is in love with Odile and intends to make her his wife. Von Rothbart reveals his trick, and Siegfried, horrified with his actions, rushes back to the lake.

Odette is heartbroken by Siegfried’s betrayal, and resigns herself to death for all of two seconds until Siegfried shows up and reaffirms his love for her. Von Rothbart drops by (I gotta say I’m weirdly fond of him, he is the only fairy tale character I know of who has impeccable timing) and demands that Siegfried honor his vow and marry Odile. Siegfried refuses and declares that he would rather die with Odette, so naturally the happy couple decide to jump into the lake? This manages to break von Rothbart spell, so all the other swan maidens are free of the curse. The broken curse affects von Rothbart’s power, and he is killed as a result, and the swan maidens watch as Siegfried’s and Odette’s spirits ascended to heaven together.

Not gonna lie, the ending reminds me a lot of the ending from the original version of the Little mermaid.

Now, while I do mock the original story, you have to remember that I do this only because I love it just as I love all the other fairy tales I have taken apart and criticized. In preparation for writing the book, I watched quite a few clips of the ballet. I actually watched clips from around the world; New York, London, Moscow; Swan Lake is popular, and after seeing it I can definitely see why. (Just sayin’, I think Tchaikovsky did an awesome job at the music!)

Now, I think it’s important to add that while there is no original fairy tale for Swan Lake, there is a German fairy tale (the stolen veil) and a Russian folktale (the white duck) that supposedly were source material for Tchaikovsky’s ballet. In doing research for my version of Swan Lake, I looked up both of those fairy tales, and it is true that pieces of them bear structural resemblances to Swan Lake, but it’s my opinion that neither of them are nearly as dramatic as the ballet.

I’m going to end it here, thanks for reading, and have a lovely day.

And here are the links again to my book if you are interested in reading a fantasy retelling of the Swan Lake ballet:

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Snow Queen: the Original Fairy Tale

The Frozen animated movies series is world famous but did you know the original story was based on the Snow Queen fairy tale? Disney himself originally wanted to create a movie for the Snow Queen but he couldn't come up with an idea he was satisfied with (keep reading and you'll see why).

I love writing sarcastic summaries of fairy tales as homage to all the research I do when writing my fairy tale retelling books. I even have a full Epic Fantasy series which is an adaptation of the Snow Queen fairy tale which is available for you to read right now!

I’m cutting off any other fanfare and jumping straight into looking at the original Snow Queen because it is one massive long story (for a fairy tale).

The Snow Queen was written by Hans Christian Andersen, which was published in 1844 in a collection of fairy tales. Andersen starts his story by explaining that a mean hobgoblin built an evil mirror that distorted everything good in the world. The hobgoblin ran a school for demons (Go figure) and one day his students take the mirror and fly off with it. The clumsy demons-in-training drop the mirror and it shatters, scattering all over the world. Each piece of the mirror–no matter the size–contained the strength of the whole mirror.

Enter, stage right, our protagonist and her BFF: Gerta and Kai. Gerta and Kai are next door neighbors and are quite poor. They get along like siblings, build gardens together, and listen to Kai’s grandmother tell stories. One unfortunate day, Kai gets a fleck of the mirror in one of his eyes so everything good and beautiful looks horrid and ugly. If that’s not enough, a shard of it pricks his heart–turning it into a cold lump of ice. This gives Kai quite the change of attitude. He no longer likes Gerta because she looks horrid to his mirror-hazed eyes, and he is generally uncaring because of his cold heart.

A little bit of time passes, and Kai continues to be mean to Gerta and his grandmother. One day he goes sledding alone, where he meets the beautiful and mystical Snow Queen. The Snow Queen still looks beautiful to Kai because she is neither good nor bad, so her image isn’t changed. Kai grows smitten with her–or something, I’m not sure how else you would describe it–and goes back to her winter palace with her.

Back in the village everyone assumes Kai is dead, except Gerta who sets out on a journey, hoping to find him. This is where things get a little…odd. Gerta throws her new red shoes–which she liked more than anything–into the river. The river argues with her a while before giving her a boat, which she hops in to. The boat takes her to old woman, who sort of hypnotizes Gerta into forgetting what she was doing and turns her into an adoptive daughter. Because…reasons?

Eventually, with the help of the old woman’s talking flower garden, Gerta snaps out of it and continues on her journey. She meets a Crow, who tells her about a boy who won the heart of a princess and married her. Gerta goes to see the newly wed pair, hoping the prince is Kai. (Spoiler, it’s not!) The prince and the princess dress Gerta up and send her on her way in a fancy coach. The coach is eventually waylaid by a group of bandits. The leader of the bandits–an older woman–was going to kill Gerta, but the woman’s daughter–the little Robber Maiden–stops her and claims Gerta as a sort of pet.

The Robber Maiden has a fascination with animals, is verbally abusive, and has a dagger that she loves to flash everywhere–she almost stabs Gerta several times while flinging it around. Eventually Gerta wins the little Robber Maiden over after telling her all about Kai. The Little Robber Maiden gives her a reindeer to ride and instructs the animal to mind Gerta and take her to the Snow Queen.

The Little Robber Maiden (DO YOU SEE THE DAGGER?!) seeing off Gerta and the reindeer.

Whew, are you still with me? Hang in there, we’re about to reach Kai!

Gerta and the Reindeer set off but are forced to stop at the houses of the Lapland Woman and the Finland Woman. Gerta is told she must continue to the Snow Queen’s palace alone, and she sets off without boots or warm clothes. She nearly dies until she starts praying and some angels come help her.

Meanwhile, Kai is unknowingly freezing in the Snow Queen’s Palace. He is pretty close to dying–though he doesn’t know it–and he’s trying to complete a puzzle to spell out a word he doesn’t know. (Yes. I can’t even. I love this fairy tale a lot, but this part never fails to throw me.) The Snow Queen is off making it snow, so when Gerta busts in she is able to confront Kai alone. She cries on his chest, melting his heart of ice and washing away the mirror shard there–re-warming Kai’s heart. Kai then cries–washing away the speck of mirror in his eye–clearing his vision and returning him to normal.

The end. NOT!

Gerta and Kai begin the journey back home, first by running into the reindeer (and a friend) who carry them back to the home of the Finland woman, and then to the Lapland woman’s house. Both of the old ladies give them directions and provisions, and they set out south. They run into the Robber Maiden, who congratulates them and swaps stories before they part. Gerta and Kai make it all the way back to their village, where Kai’s grandmother reads to them. After arriving home, they both realize they have become adults, but they are blessed because they continue to have the heart of children. Also, it’s pretty heavily implied–in my opinion at least–that they are in love.

THE END!

Feel free to stretch–that was quite the long haul. I really trimmed the story down and glossed over a lot of the details, so if you’re interested in the story I suggest you read the full account.

The story gets pretty Alice-in-Wonderland several times in there, and Andersen adds quite a few Biblical and religious references as well, so it’s a bit of an odd combination, but I am absurdly fond of this fairy tale. I love how many female characters there are, and I especially love how strong they are. It’s a refreshing read when most fairy tales cast females as damsels in distress–Little Mermaid, anyone?

Although I have always found it a little strange that the title character is only seen twice and she has very few lines. Which is why I changed this aspect for my retelling of the story! In my version the Snow Queen is the main heroine and while Gerta and Kai make an appearence the story focuses on the Snow Queen's journey to save her homeland from invading magic users.

The full Epic Fantasy series is available in audiobook, ebook, paperback, or in Kindle Unlimited, so you can start reading right now!

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Puss In Boots: Themes

As I mentioned in a previous post, the themes of Puss In Boots are highly unusual. Perrault–the author of the specific version I based my story on–claims that the main moral is:

“Hard work and ingenuity are preferable to inherited wealth”

And he claims that the secondary moral is:

Womankind is vulnerable to external appearances.

(He essentially states that fine clothes and a pretty face is enough to make them fall in love.)

But here's the issue... that doesn't match the story he wrote!

Both of these moral miss the mark–the first one quite spectacularly as the idiot third son is neither ingenious nor does he work hard. As for the observation on womankind, it could be reflected right back because the third son was happy to marry the princess as she was the most beautiful in the land.

What makes the story even stranger is that the main character–the third son–is absolutely not deserving of all the good fortune the cat brings him. That’s not to say he is an evil character–he’s certainly better than the king from Rumpelstiltskin–but he has no positive personality traits, or anything that would make him worthy of owning a magic cat. Wild Swans, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, all of these tales have heroines who sacrifice and have positive character traits. We want them to succeed, and we want to believe that they will be rewarded for their behavior. The the third son blows through all of those hopes with his sniveling temperament and his inability to work.

The thing that has most folklorists and academic up in arms, however, is the cat’s actions. Maria Tatar–an American academic–says that there is very little to admire in the cat as he flatters, deceives, threatens, and steals in order to promote his master. His amazing charisma that bags him the King’s respect is more along the likes of older oral tricksters. (Think Loki of the Avengers.) What I find fascinating is that criticisms of the cat’s actions is a long standing pattern. While Tatar is a more modern scholar, George Cruikshank–he was the friend and illustrator of Charles Dickens, and he died in 1878–said he was shocked parents would allow their children to read the story as it–through the cat’s actions–praised and taught lying.

I don’t know, those so called “boots” look more like shoes. And why didn’t he need two pairs?

However, not all literature lovers see the cat as a less-than moral character. Jack Zipes, another American scholar, claimed that the story was meant to illustrate the desires of the French upper class, and that the cat is “the epitome of the educated bougeois secretary who serves his master with complete devotion and diligence.” He claims that all of the cat’s deeds can be seen in a better light because he is performing them out of loyalty.

Another interesting analysis site–Raven’s Shire–suggests that the cat wasn’t a mere cat, but a fairy creature. In the traditional stories, fairies have tricky moral compasses, so it is likely the cat wasn’t acting out of a vindictive and evil nature, but rather his loyalty to the third son for giving him shoes. Raven’s Shire isn’t really a literature academic, but it takes an interesting, more historical look at fairy tales that I find fascinating–I actually referenced her site when I was trying to understand the theme behind Rumpelstiltskin.

So what did all of this mean for me when I was writing my retelling?  I liked Perrault’s moral about hard work and ingenuity being preferable to inherited wealth, but his remarks about womankind irritated me. So I set out to create a story that would follow the first moral and counter the second.

It’s impossible to miss Gabrielle’s attitude towards outer beauty. As she is incredibly pretty, she knows first hand that not only is there very little worth in it, but it says nothing about a person. If you remember, she disliked Steffen upon first glance just because he was handsome. (HAH! Take that Perrault!) Moreover, Steffen wasn’t all that impressed with her, even though she was breathtaking. It isn’t until the pair fight bandits together that they become friends, and even after that they meet up in adventure after adventure, further revealing their character. THAT is what it takes to make a woman fall in love!

I got the moral of hard work and ingenuity being superior across through several layers of the story. First of all, while Puss is smart and clever, Gabrielle works with him as a team and does a lot of the physical footwork. Moreover, she was the one who had the cunning to out smart the ogre–something Puss didn’t think of–which grants her the title of Marquise. If Gabrielle had stayed behind and accepted the life her parents presented her with–aka inherited–she would have been a farmer’s wife. While there’s nothing wrong with being a farmer’s wife, I think we can all agree that a character as vivacious as Gabrielle would be happier with an adventurous life. Gabrielle had to work hard for her new title, and in a way she had to work just as hard to snag Steffen’s affection.

Puss is another character that backs up the main moral. It’s obvious he’s ingenious, but before he met Gabrielle he was barely more than a pampered pet, and he was quite unhappy about it. It isn’t until he and Gabrielle work together that he becomes satisfied with life, and chooses to serve her as a result.

So, what do you think? Was the original cat an old-fashioned version of Loki, or does he deserve praise and recognition–like my Puss? What do you think about Perrault’s morals?

And if you'd like to read a fairy tale retelling with a talking cat and his heroic female owner who actually appreciates him, you can check out my standalone story in Kindle Unlimited or in ebook and paperback!

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