Hans Christian Andersen

Fans of biographical criticism have a luxurious source in the works of Hans Christian Andersen. Like Lewis Carroll (and, to a lesser extent, Kenneth Grahame), Andersen was near-pathologically uncomfortable in the company of adults. Of course all three had to work and interact with adults, but all three really related well to children and their simpler worlds. Andersen, for a time, ran a puppet theater and was incredibly popular with children, and, of course, he wrote an impressive body of fairy tales which have been produced in thousands of editions since the 19th century.

Most everyone has read or at least knows the titles of many of Andersen's works: "The Ugly Duckling," "The Emperor's New Clothes," "The Nightengale," "The Little Mermaid," "The Match Girl," and many others. Though, as with most folk and fairy tales, they strike adult re-readers much differently than they do young first-time readers.

Charming tales of ducks who feel awkward because they don't fit in, only to exult in the discovery that they are majestic swans, gives child readers clearly-identifiable messages: don't tease people because they're different; don't fret about your being different because some day you'll discover what special gifts you have.

A closer, deeper look at many of Andersen's tales (including "The Ugly Duckling," which is not on our reading list), reveals a darker, harder, more painful thread. People are often cruel and unfeeling, love is torturous--in general, the things of the material world cause suffering. There is often a happy ending, but it's not conventionally happy. Characters are rewarded, but only after they manage (often through death) to transcend the rigors of the mortal world.

"The Little Mermaid" and "The Match Girl" are prime examples, but you might also want to read "The Steadfast Tin Soldier" (not on our list) with its final image of love being requited only after it completely consumes the two long-suffering characters. In fiery death they are finally united.

Comparing Disney's film version of The Little Mermaid with Andersen's story makes a wonderful essay topic, so I won't go into too much detail discussing differences. Many adults will be more approving of the comfortable, antiseptic stereotypes of the Disney version. Good is rewarded; evil is punished; the headstrong princess melts the heart of her father and of the handsome prince, and she finds completion in a fairy-tale marriage; there are also plenty of chase scenes and moments of comic relief (and a rather nice soundtrack).

Andersen's version is much more complex, and the Christian (no pun there) symbolism is apparent. The mermaid is interested in marrying the prince, but her real goal is to acquire an immortal soul. She endures pain (graphically described) and ultimately, because she is willing to sacrifice herself, is elevated to a sort of purgatorial existence as a daughter of the air. She will be given an immortal soul (though at an indefinite time in the future). The earthly love and the riches of the court are less significant; in fact, they invite satire. Happiness in this tale is found in transcendence.

Similarly, "The Match Girl" is about transcending the ugliness and the meanness of the material world to find happiness in an afterlife. The story is reminiscent of William Blake's "Chimney Sweeper" with its attack on the callousness of society and the exploitation of child labor. The treasured Christmas memory of her now-dead grandmother is much more attractive than the thought that she is likely to be abused by her father if she returns home.Note: remember this story when you read The Giver.

Andersen's works, like Blake's, are pointedly satirical--attacks on social injustice and the pettiness of human nature.

At the same time, and here we have a pretty clear view into Andersen's own psychological state, there are a few feeling, loving misunderstood individuals who don't fit into this cruel world; in the end, these individuals become the transcendent heroes of his stories.

Joseph Jacobs

Here's a thought which you may wish to complete (it might even make an interesting essay topic):

If there's something characteristically English about Jacobs' tales, is there something uniquely Northern European about Andersen's works? Do the stories collected by the brothers Grimm give us insight into the Germanic character, and do Perrault's tales reveal anything about the court of France at the time?

Certainly folk and fairy tales can be read as straightforward fantasies or as small moral examples; they also seem to invite psychological, feminist, biographical, historical, and other interpretations. They work on many levels.

Jacobs compiled many of the tales that we in America are most familiar with: "Jack and the Beanstalk," "The Story of the Three Little Pigs," "Henny Penny." He also included some of the oddest tales popular in England of his time: "Master of All Masters" is a prime example.

Actually, you might find the versions he included in his his collection to be just a bit different than what you remember having been read to you when you were a wee little child. "The Three Pigs" is different only because the version that most modern readers were raised on has more to do with Walt Disney than with folk literature. The pigs in the Disney short owe as much to "The Grasshopper and the Ant" as to the Jacobs story. The Disney version is much more preachy--the lazy pigs (who want to sing and dance rather than work) are nearly gobbled up; the industrious pig saves the day--the message is Puritanically clear. Jacobs' first two pigs are just victims of inferior building materials. The third pig doesn't reveal so much industry as he does cleverness (sneakiness really). The latter part of the story where the pig tricks the wolf repeatedly is absent from Disney's version.

This theme of cleverness (bordering on downright sneakiness) is common in many of these stories; it seems to be the central value that the various heroes (male and female) possess. "Molly Whuppie" uses her wits to survive and to win favor with the king. Along with craft, the main characters are often lucky. Jack climbs the beanstalk a third time to "try his luck again," and "Lazy Jack" wins the princess because (not in spite of) his blundering.

Most of the stories are very tightly crafted, with repeated catch phrases, events coming in the conventional threes. There is a joy and wit and oddness about many of the tales that many might find at the heart of British comedy. The high are often brought low (we imagine the Master of All Masters is going to burn to death, or at least lose all of his possessions, because of his pompous silliness).

There is a marvelous (well I think so) quirkiness to the version of "The Three Bears" that Jacobs chose to repeat. Both this version (told earlier by Robert Southey) and the Goldilocks version were widely known; he chose the version most of us are not familiar with: the vagrant woman and the three bears. And, in a sense, he has really captured the essence of the story. Even as a young child I was aware that Goldilocks was not a victim who escaped just in time to avoid being eaten. Here was a little girl who broke into someone's house, stole from them, vandalized their property, and then moved in. The old woman (who may now be in the House of Corrections according to the author) was a woman up to no good, and that's exactly what I always felt about Goldilocks too.