I love fairy tales.
Unfortunately, the rosy variety we frequently find, the ones that typically
begin with “once upon a time” and end with “lived happily ever after”, don’t
measure up to my language passion.
I bought the Complete Grimm’s Collection a while back and never got around to
reading it until now. I didn’t resist snooping inquisitively inside it for a
little sample now and then.
The stories I recognize are somehow different than the ones depicted in modern
versions. Most of the odd tales in this expansive collection, I am unfamiliar
with. I am enthralled. Castles and forests remain compellingly unchanged;
however, tales are crude, violent and merry, greatly more pleasurable and
engaging than Disney’s. The disorder in character and storyline is charming and
authentically “folkish” and bizarre. It is clear that the unpretentious but
embellished transcription of the tales owes to ages of existing indelibly
through oral tradition.
The magical stories have universal morals, ornamented with gruesome details. It
is what I call a satisfactory experience, like a big bowl of chocolate ice
cream, topped with fudge; and an added swirl of salty caramel.
I bought this book with the intention of exposing my daughter to original
material, richer vocabulary than she encounters in toddler books, and inspiring
tales that would enhance her little imagination while teaching her significant
lessons. For my pleasure as much as hers, the collection is enchanting.