Fairy Tales: Our Own St. George

 In case you were unaware, I am a huge fan of myths and fairy tales. Greek mythology, fantastical beasts, princess, elves, you name it. The concept of other worlds and beings has always been intriguing to me, even if I know they technically aren't real.

However, the point of fairy tales is not to convince you that those things are real. Not one fairy tale is meant to convince you that ogres are coming to take you, or that a changeling is going to replace your baby. In fact, most myths and fairy tales rely on the suspension of disbelief - the temporary putting aside of your reasonable doubts in order to enjoy the story. After all, the Land of Far, Far Away, is not a real city. Neither is Aldovia, Genovia, Middle Earth, or Wakanda. But we pretend they are for the sake of the story.

In a similar fashion, though fairies may bring the seasons, seasons do not come all at once, no matter how talented Tinkerbell is. We know that's not how it works. But for the sake of the story, or the myth, or the tale, or the legend, we put that aside for just a few minutes, or a few hours, and believe.

On my way back from school at the end of the last semester, I had an interesting conversation with my dad about fictional stories. We were talking about how my dad's brother doesn't see the point of fiction because it's not real and it can't teach you anything. While nonfiction may be entirely fact, that doesn't mean fiction isn't useful, or can't teach you anything.

In fact, I would argue that the whole point of fiction is to teach, and I daresay my dad would agree with me. Have you ever read a fiction book that didn't have a point? No overall lesson, no great theme? Kinda fell flat, right? Even if the storyline and the setting are immaculate, the story isn't interesting unless it has a moral or a theme, no matter how well-developed it is. Really good stories, the ones that stick around for decades or centuries are the ones that teach great lessons in a great way. For example, Æsop's Fables. 

Æsop was a slave who lived in Ancient Greece between 620 and 564 BCE. That's over 2500 years ago! And we still tell his stories today. His stories are a great example of the way fiction is supposed to work: Teach a lesson in an entertaining and memorable way. 

Another great example of the effectiveness of an overarching theme is J.R.R. Tolkien. The Lord of the Rings was first published in 1954, and was given a movie trilogy in the early 2000s, almost 50 years after they were first written. The Lord of the Rings is a great tale of learning to withstand temptation, true friendship, and how to be brave. Without these lessons, I do not believe it would have become the cult classic that it is today, if it was even written at all.

Neil Gaiman wrote in his book, "Fragile Things", that:

Stories, like people and butterflies and songbirds' eggs and human hearts and dreams, are also fragile things, made up of nothing stronger or more lasting than twenty-six letters and a handful of punctuation marks. Or they are words on the air, composed of sounds and ideas-abstract, invisible, gone once they've been spoken-and what could be more frail than that? But some stories, small, simple ones about setting out on adventures or people doing wonders, tales of miracles and monsters, have outlasted all the people who told them, and some of them have outlasted the lands in which they were created.

I love this quote because it shows that even though stories are "fragile things", they still manage to last decades and centuries and eons, longer even than "the lands in which they were created". Isn't that amazing? Æsop is long dead, but his stories live on in the minds and hearts and words of millions of people 2500 years after they were originally created.

We hold on to stories because they are physical, lyrical reminders of lessons we need to hear. G.K. Chesterton said it perfectly:

Fairy Tales then, are not responsible for producing in children fear, or any of the shapes of fear; fairy tales do not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey. 

The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon. Exactly what the fairy tale does is this: it accustoms him for a series of clear pictures to the idea that these limitless terrors had a limit, that these shapeless enemies have enemies in the knights of God, that there is something in the universe more mystical than darkness, and stronger than strong fear.

"What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon". Isn't that just beautiful? Fairy tales give us hope, the understanding that there is something out there stronger than evil. They put the evil and good things of the world in physical entities and show us that there is a way to defeat evil. Sure, they simplify things into one good hero and one bad villain, but the point isn't to make a realistic story.

The point is to show us the victory of good over evil, and inspire us to be able to vanquish our own dragons. To become our own St. George. Our own hero.

That's my favorite thing about fairy tales.

Love,

Raena Belle ♡