Monthly Archives: February 2008

Beauty

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“You are being polite,” he said.

“Well, yes,” I conceded. “But then you called me beautiful last night….”

“You do not believe me then?” he inquired.

“Well — no,” I said, hesitantly, wondering if this might anger him. “Any number of mirrors have told me otherwise.”

“You will find no mirrors here,” he said, “for I cannot bear them; nor any quiet water in ponds. And since I am the only one who sees you, why are you not then beautiful?”

Why, indeed? These lines from Robin McKinley’s Beauty: A Retelling of the Story of Beauty and the Beast capture two things I like about the story: the heroine’s discomfort within her own skin, and the gentle challenge to her paradigms of beauty. I read it years ago, but I didn’t remember anything about it other than that I liked it. I read through it again this week, and much though I enjoyed revisiting it, it leaves me feeling restless in a couple of ways, too.

The narrator is the slightly unconventional Honour: her hands and feet are large, and she’s physically strong, loves horses, loves to read, and is part of a riches to rags family drama. She thinks she’s ugly, but her ugliness is never very convincing. The beast in the enchanted splendour of his palace, with his unfailing wisdom and gentleness and generosity, would have been more interesting if he’d made a misstep or two somewhere along the way. But these things didn’t keep me from enjoying the story. I liked the way Beauty struggled as much with her appearance as the beast struggled with his, and I also liked that “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” wasn’t confined just to how the beast looks, but to Beauty, the castle itself, its books, many aspects of life. McKinley does justice to the power of our inner eye, and to the way it’s strengthened and clarified by sympathy and love. 

I found myself wondering about the fairy tale that this one retells. One question is, what’s the original source of this story? What was the earliest known version? I’ve seen the Disney movie, and I was familiar with the story before that somehow. But I’d like to do a little digging to find out more. I started here, and think I’d like to find a few older versions to see how the story has evolved.

Another question is, are there any versions out there of more seasoned, middle-aged Beauties and Beasts? (I may have seen the motif here and there in movies, though right now I’m drawing a blank.) I wonder if there are any formal retellings of the original fairy tale, in the spirit of this one, that don’t make youthfulness and physical attractiveness prerequisites for Beauty, and even for the Beast at the end.

One other thing. Is the pattern ever reversed? Part of the text of the above link points out,

‘Beauty and the Beast’ tales, which all require a woman’s patient tolerance of an ugly mate, have no companion tales in the modern period in which the obverse obtains, that is, a man who must love an ugly wife. In the medieval period, however, numerous companion stories circulated, the most famous of which is the Wife of Bath’s story in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales…

Surely there are some modern ones out there, somewhere…? The way I’ve understood the story is that it’s about the power of love to transform beasts into royalty – in the eye of the beholder, and perhaps in actuality, too. But I can’t at the moment recall ever reading a version of Handsome and the Beast.

I liked Beauty, and I enjoyed reading it as I always enjoy reading Robin McKinley. I liked her characterization of Beauty as a young woman feeling like an ugly duckling and learning the deceptiveness of mere eyes. But at the same time, I’d like to find a truer and more convincing vehicle of the oft-repeated idea that beauty is what you are inside. It’s often said. But it’s hard to find evidence that it’s really believed — not just in our supposedly shallow, media-drenched culture, but even in our old and established stories.

Lessons from a badger

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It’s Russell Hoban’s birthday this month, and this post is a birthday tribute. His writing is much more extensive than I realized till I stumbled upon this site. I know him as the author of the Frances stories, which were a staple of my own childhood and now of my children’s as well. In fact, they listen to this audiobook of several of the stories, read by Glynis Johns. (I like my way of singing Frances’s songs better, though! ) This collection includes Bread and Jam for Frances, Bedtime for Frances, A Birthday for Frances, and A Baby Sister for Frances, all good ones. They deal with some typical family situations and conflicts in the context of a very loving and civilized family of badgers.

When I was little, though, my favorite, far and away, was A Bargain for Frances. I had a slightly mean friend much like Frances’s friend Gloria, and I liked the way Frances gets revenge when Gloria cheats her out of a tea set she’s been saving up for. As an adult I still like the story, but now it’s because it opens up opportunities to talk with my daughters, ages 6 and 4, about saving up your money, what to do when people are mean to you, and whether Frances’s response is fair or not. (Okay, true confession: I still always chuckle when Frances calls Gloria and tricks her into thinking she’s left a small fortune in the sugar bowl!) Frances and Gloria end up deciding that “being friends is better than being careful” - a fact I as an adult often need to be reminded of. In the long run, it is better not to take refuge from people in hyper-carefulness. Thanks, badger child, for keeping me straight on that point.

Another I liked was Harvey’s Hideout. Harvey and his sister Mildred are muskrats who have very cool secret burrows and fake each other out about how many friends they have coming to cookouts and parties there. It turns out that the burrows are back to back, a fact Harvey discovers by eavesdropping through the wall, and in the end they work out their sibling squabbles and mutual deceptions and are able to enjoy each other’s company. I loved it as a kid. The dugouts were neat, and they got to actually COOK even though they were kids. As an adult, I wonder what the Hobans were thinking; the name-calling between brother and sister is hard to read aloud, and sometimes the parental interventions are real head scratchers. For instance, when Harvey calls Mildred, “loud-mouthed, bossy, mean and rotten,” their father insists that she’s loud-mouthed and bossy, but not mean and rotten. ??? Can’t really imagine mediating a sibling spat that way with my kids. So they’re missing out on this one.

It’s interesting to remember that it never phased me as a kid, though. I accepted Harvey and Mildred Muskrat, meanness included, because I knew kids could be that way. The strength of all these stories is their gentle treatment of some of the real difficulties of being young: mean friends, sharing things, sharing parents, getting along with siblings, allowances, bedtimes, finicky tastes and other matters. There was enough reality to Frances to keep me coming back for more. As an adult, there’s enough reality to her parents – and enough wisdom – to bring me back again.

The Celebrate the Author Challenge for February is here.