When I was little, I was a great fan of fairy tales. One of the stories that kept me up at night was the tale of the little mermaid.
Now, I’m talking about the original Little Mermaid, the Hans Christian Andersen story, not the Disney version. There were no singing crabs and merry lobsters in the HCA tale. The story was a dark one. The Little Mermaid rescues a prince from drowning, leaving him on the shore and running off to hide. When the prince wakes up, he sees a woman gazing at him and thinks she was his savior. Naturally he falls in love with her. Distraught, the Little Mermaid goes to the sea witch asking to be transformed so she can walk on land like men. The witch agrees to give her legs, but asks the mermaid to give up a) her hair, and b) her voice. She also warns the mermaid that her new legs will stab like knives. The mermaid agrees.
So now the mermaid is on land; a fish out of water (quasi-literally). The prince takes her in, but since she can’t speak and she has unchic, choppy hair, he’s not exactly dazzled. The mermaid, who’s the very model of codependency, only wants the prince to be happy, so she doesn’t object to dancing at his wedding to the other woman.
Eventually the mermaid has had enough, and wants to go home. She’s told that the only way to get her tail back and return to the sea is to stab the prince in the heart with some specially provided daggers (I told you this was a dark tale). She’s warned that if she doesn’t do as she’s told she’ll die. At the last minute, she can’t bring herself to kill her beloved prince, and turns to sea foam. The end.
Keep in mind that this is a tale read to children. Little ones.
Now even at a young age, I always thought that the Little Mermaid was a damn fool. Why give up your voice, your tail, your hair, and your domain, for an alien life full of uncertainty?
Dc Media Girl Permalink
Comments (11)
|
A fairy tale