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eBook Category: Fantasy/Young Adult
eBook Description: If you are after a sugar-coated, Disney-fied fairytale, you have found the wrong book. Seen through the eyes of the magic-wielding, sword-brandishing heroine Roberta is a tale too chilling for the faint-hearted. Meet the woman whose life spawned the fairytales "Rapunzel," "Cinderella," "Sleeping Beauty," and "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves" (but with all the horrifying bits kept in!).

eBook Publisher: SynergEbooks, Published: SynergEbooks, 2005
Fictionwise Release Date: November 2005

10 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [1.2 MB], eReader (PDB) [319 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [313 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [270 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [299 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [299 KB], hiebook (KML) [720 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [368 KB], iSilo (PDB) [257 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [319 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [386 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [402 KB]
Words: 98260
Reading time: 280-393 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 0744309670

EZRA WRENCH

"Once upon a time, a wise man said 'Come Faeries, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame.' Can anyone enlighten us on the creative mind who conjured up those words?"

Professor Quinn Novak looked out on the sea of young faces, most of them looking expectantly back at him anticipating his response to his own question. His students would have been staring back at a tall, 33-year-old in a pinstriped blue shirt and cream slacks, ill-matching black chequered tie askew. His sandy brown hair cared not for a brush or comb and the seemingly permanent facial feature of stubble would have contributed much to his slightly disheveled appearance. However his piercing blue eyes, aquiline nose and strong jaw promised intellect and conviction behind his apathetic frontage.

It was funny how the architecture of the lecture theatres reminded him of the Acropolis--standing in front of his elevated audience as he prepared to take them on a journey of discovery and wonder, guiding them as far as his meagre understanding would allow. Whether his students would then venture beyond solo or with the benefit of another more experienced guide was a thought too premature to contemplate at the moment. The myriad of faces, as if resting on the incline of a mountain, continued to stare at him, patiently waiting for his response.

"The owner of those words was W. B. Yeats. He recognized the significance of fairies and their place in fairytales as vehicles of creativity, imagination and wonder. W. S. W. Anson in his book 'Asgard and the Gods,' believed, and I quote, 'fairytales are not senseless stories written for the amusement of the idle; they embody the profound religion of our forefathers.'"

Quinn paused for effect, allowing the words to sink into the normally impenetrable minds of his college students. When he believed that his students had either absorbed the impact of Anson's statement or at least woken up from the interruption silence afforded his monologue, Quinn continued.

"That's what makes the examination of fairytales so fascinating--each story's ability to convey the political and social mores of the generation who is relating it. As each story is passed down from generation to generation, the tale is inevitably modified to suit the dictates of the time and culture it continues to exist in; from the bloodied tales as told by Grimm to the saccharine sweetness as squeezed out by Disney."

Quinn noticed a hand go up hesitantly.

"Yes, you have a question?"

"Yes, Professor Novak." A strapping boy decked in the college colours of green and black by way of his sweater leaned forward to ask his question. "Why would each generation choose to alter the stories as they retell them? I've always thought history harboured conservative, delicate sensibilities so what is it in those fairytales that could have compelled writers and directors of books and movies to alter the stories? I mean, today's version of fairytales seem quite tame when compared to the action thrillers born of Thomas Harris through the Hannibal Lector series or from the minds of today's crime writers."

Most of the students in the auditorium who had been paying attention moved their gaze from the question-bearer to the teacher, almost in synchronisation. Quinn cleared his throat in preparing his response.

"You'd be surprised at how bloodied and gory fairytales originally were. In the days when these tales originated, there was no study conducted as to the impact violence has on children. Also, fairytales were not really designed for children's ears. Fairytales were actually for adults to warn them about dangers as well as to give them hope. For example, Little Red Riding is actually a story about rape. In the story of Cinderella, what is omitted from current versions of this story is that the two stepsisters were said to have severed parts of their feet in an attempt to fit their large feet into the delicate glass slipper. It was only the volume of blood splashing out of the slipper and staining the hems of their dresses that tipped the prince off about their duplicity."

Muffled exclamations of horror reverberated throughout the lecture hall. Quinn felt encouraged by his audience's involvement in what had developed from a monologue to a bona fide discussion. A few more hands shot up, more resolutely this time. Quinn looked at a hand to his far right which he thought had sped upwards before the others. After Quinn nodded in acknowledgment, a young lady in yellow sat up straighter before saying, "Professor, was it just the violence that current storytellers muted?"

"No, the changes were not limited to just toning down the violence. You will notice that in many fairytales, the stepmother is often evil personified, usually taking out her malice on a nubile, innocent girl, not of her kin. What proved advantageous to the evil protagonist was that the damsel in distress characteristically lacked a strong mind of her own. If the damsel had been armed with such a character trait, she may have met with more success in defending herself from the evil designs of the witch or stepmother as opposed to waiting for Prince Charming to rescue her from her predicament. What many people are not aware of is that originally, the fairytales spoke of the evil as being manifest in the mother, not the stepmother. But as successive generations fell in love with the stories and desired to retell them to children, many people believed it to be too horrific for children to comprehend that their own mother would be plotting their ruin. So eventually, the mother-figure was replaced by the stepmother-figure, much to the chagrin of decent stepmothers everywhere. But what hasn't changed is what has defined fairytales and differentiated them from legends and myths. Legends are reports of events and people from the recent past while myths involve events or people from the remote past. Inherent in the definition of legends and myths is their underlying reality. However, with fairytales, the origins are less clear and theorists are inclined to believe more in their association with the fictitious. Fairytales have heroes and heroines whose purity and goodness allows them to solve problems and conquer evil. They all convey moralistic messages and most do not have a verifiable author. The fact that they usually start with 'once upon a time' should tell you that the story transcends time, exists above and beyond the parameters of time. More importantly, all fairytales reveal to its audience that true love and goodness possess their own element of magic, which promises to endure. The promise that Good will always prevail over Evil is always embraced by fairytales."

When the students observed that Quinn had finished answering the question, many hands shot up in the air, desiring to be acknowledged. Quinn looked to the left of the lecture hall and gestured for another student to relate her question.

"Professor, why are the women in fairytales portrayed as delicate flowers incapable of protecting themselves or promoting their own interests?"

"In fairytales, beautiful young women embody all that is good, pure and wholesome in the world. Because they are so pure and wholesome, they would know nothing about sword-fighting and purposefully killing another person, even if it were for self-preservation. Men, on the other hand, are not portrayed as pure and wholesome. Their strengths lie in their overt masculinity and what better way to display this than through sword-fighting and bravado, particularly if it's for a noble cause like the rescue of a pure and wholesome maiden. Some of my favourite stories deal with this. Rapunzel is abandoned by her family, lives out her formative years with a witch in a tower and is eventually rescued by a handsome prince who provides her with her happily-ever-after. Cinderella is forced to put up with the cruelty inflicted on her by her stepmother and stepsisters when her father decides to marry again. However, upon attending the ball and falling in love with the prince, he rescues her from a life of slavery and, again, provides Cinderella with her happily-ever-after. Sleeping Beauty is subject to a witch's vengeance at not being invited to the royal christening and is made to sleep for a hundred years when she pricks her finger on a needle. Afterwards, a prince wakes her up from her slumber and--surprise, surprise--provides Sleeping Beauty with her happily-ever-after. In Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, the naiveté of the damsel is the most pronounced since the witch makes numerous attempts to kill her in the original tale. Disguised as an old peddler-woman, the evil queen tempted her with bogus bodice laces, cursed combs and ultimately a poisoned apple on three separate occasions. In each instance, Snow White opened the door to the old peddler-woman and each time the items induced a deathlike sleep on Snow White. One would think that after the comb, Snow White would know better than to open the door to strange peddler-women, much less accept gifts from them. But such is the delicate naiveté inherent in a maiden who exists in a fairytale. Again, it is a prince who wakes Snow White from her deathlike slumber and whisks her away to the sanctuary of his castle and her 'happily ever after.'"

The discussion was getting into full swing now with a multitude of hands pleading to be picked. Quinn knew that it was not wise to go into too much detail in this introductory lecture but he also wanted to encourage as many students to stay in his class. If this year's enrolment numbers proved to be the same or less than the number of students who enrolled and stayed in his class last year, the faculty board may decide to terminate his tenure and not offer the subject anymore. Quinn looked to another hand and nodded acknowledgment, signaling the student to ask his question.

"Professor, I read in an article a few months ago that you believe fairytales are true. Is this right?"

Quinn used the following silence to prepare a carefully worded response to the question. "As much as Anson believes that fairytales embody the religion of our ancestors, I believe that it is not such a great leap of faith to wonder whether these stories are grounded in reality. I'm not saying that I believe in fairies and witches causing havoc across the countryside, but I do believe that just as these stories have experienced numerous adaptations in their continuing existence, the original tales may have been based on the real life adventures of a real person or people. These adventures could have been so compelling that they were told and retold multiple times before taking a life of their own with the addition of magic or demons to enhance its entertainment value as well as to highlight its moral elements."

The student who had asked the previous question persisted.

"But I heard that you are actively searching for proof to these stories, offering monetary incentives, and so on." The clear sound of the bell signaling the end of class rang out to the annoyance of the students but to the relief of Quinn. He was not about to get dragged into a whole discussion about what many of his peers deem as foolishness. Quinn smiled to the class as they gathered their belongings and made their way out of the lecture theatre.

"Unfortunately, we will have to delay further discussion of this till our next class. I hope this introductory lecture has provided a taste of this course's content. I promise you that if you continue with this course you will be challenged and captivated by the parade of witches, fairies, maidens and princes we will be studying and their relation to current times. Till then."

Quinn gathered up his own notes and prepared to leave. He didn't notice a rather small, stocky gentleman standing by the door trying to fight against the tide of students clamouring to get out and make it to their next class. Quinn bent down to put his papers in his satchel when he noticed two small black shiny shoes directly in front of him. Expecting to see a child, Quinn straightened and found himself looking down at the small stocky gentleman who had been by the doorway. The man looked to be in his late 70s, his hair already a mop of white under a black derby hat that fitted snugly on his crown, complete with a small feather trapped in the band. The small man wore a dark maroon three-piece suit, again of a snug fit, teamed with his black shoes. If it weren't for the age as reflected in his face, Quinn would have mistaken the stranger for a child in fancy dress. In fact, the stranger looked so short--yet spry--that Quinn would not have been surprised had he discovered that the man came from a long line of midget circus performers.

The stranger's face was lined and craggy with age, indicating many decades of sun. However the man's brown eyes were bright and alert, hinting at a sharp mind. Quinn got the impression that just as he was evaluating the cute appearance of the stranger, the stranger was also just as fastidiously evaluating Quinn's appearance. What stopped Quinn from feeling uneasy at the stranger's obvious interest in him was the warm curl of the little man's mouth, which gradually turned into a hearty smile.

The stranger spoke.

"Professor Quinn Novak?"

"Yes. Can I help you?"

"Professor, my name is Ezra Wrench. You don't know me and we don't have an appointment to meet but I believe I have some information that you may find invaluable to your cause."

Quinn looked at the lecture theatre doors as the last group of students filed out of the auditorium. He and Mr. Wrench were now alone. Quinn returned to the conversation with the strange little man.

"Mr. Wrench, I--"

The little man interjected. "Please call me Ezra."

"Okay, Ezra. I'm a little pressed for time at the moment since I have to prepare for my next class. But if you leave me your contact details, I'll--"

Ezra hastily cut in. "Professor Novak, I assure you that you will want to hear what I have to say. It involves your search for proof regarding fairytales."

Quinn abandoned his annoyance at being cut off by the little man. Did he say proof about fairytales? Ezra was encouraged by Quinn's silence.

"Are you not searching for proof supporting the truth behind fairytales? Have you not been interviewed in certain print media, indicating your need to validate your theory that fairytales are actually adventures based on real people that have evolved through their absorption of the cultures of the storytellers relating them? Is this not your quest, Professor Novak?"

Ezra stared imploringly at Quinn. Quinn stared back at him, then answered, "Yes, that's right. I am looking for palpable links between fairytales and reality."

Ezra beamed widely. "I know this because I've been reading up on these interviews with you. You see, I know someone who you will be very interested in meeting. She's my neighbour, Miss Lovelace. She's the oldest woman I know and for as long as I can remember she's been telling those fairytales and claiming they are actually stories relating the exploits of an ancestor of hers--"

Now it was Quinn's turn to interject. "Ezra, I need more than just family anecdotes in bridging the gap between fairytales and reality."

"I know and I was initially sceptical of her ravings regarding her ancestor. However, my scepticism was checked when she gave me this." Ezra produced a miniature glass bottle from the palm of his hand. Quinn glanced at the object. "It's an empty bottle."

Ezra marveled at the bottle in awe. "Isn't it exquisite?"

Ezra raised his palm, inviting Quinn to study the bottle more closely. Quinn leaned forward to examine the bottle. It was about five centimetres in height and shaped in an hourglass figure. Its flat base was of a dark porous wood, as was the lid of the bottle, which was fastened by a string loop. The sides of the bottle were entirely made of an evanescent glass. As Ezra angled the bottle slightly this way and that, the light bouncing off the glass sides reflected in a variety of pale pastel colours, like a mother-of-pearl shell. There were no markings on the bottle that might have indicated what it had once contained. Although Quinn was intrigued by its delicate beauty, he was still not convinced.

"Ezra, it's a lovely bottle and I must admit I haven't seen anything like it. But I think you need to return it to your neighbour so it doesn't spoil whatever collection it must have come from."

"No, Professor, you don't understand. You see, I am giving this to you. Get someone to study the bottle, what it's made of, and I guarantee that you will want to return the bottle to Miss Lovelace yourself--if you would want to return the bottle at all! If it is nothing more than a glass bottle, you can throw it away and I will never darken your doorstep again. But if it is something more..." Ezra tantalisingly lifted the glass bottle to Quinn's face. Quinn reached out for the bottle, his hand hovering uncertainly above the object. Ezra continued, "C'mon, Professor. Leave this dull word, ride the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame."