malymin: A pink and purple catlike creature made in Spore. (Sporecat)

I was pointed to the Sunken Castles, Evil Poodles collection by an anonymous commenter on a post I made on [community profile] little_details asking for help researching German folklore and folkways.

I was already aware that poodles, despite their modern association with France, are descended from German water-dogs, where they are known as pudels - I did a research paper on poodles in elementary school. And, I had once read a more obscure fairy tale from the Grimm Brothers' collection, "the Pink", which involves the transmogrification of its antagonist into a fire-vomiting black poodle as punishment by the main character, and wondered at the odd specificity of the form imposed. Jürgen Hubert's translations of non-fairytale folklore into English makes it clear that the firey black poodle (often implicitly or explicitly a ghost or demon) is a wider motif in German folk stories.

One can compare these stories to host/devil-dog folklore of the British isles - the stuff the average English-speaker has most access to. But the Grims, Shucks, etc of those stories are not, to my memory, associated with specific breeds, landraces, or types of dogs.

The narrator of this video suggests that perhaps part of the reason poodles, specifically, are so common in German black-dog stories is that poodles are known for their intelligence, relative to other docks, and thus one could imagine a human or demonic intellect inhabiting that form. And standards poodles - when not shaved into fancy cuts - are awkward, shaggy creatures, looking weirdly muppetlike when I see them bounce and run around. It's comical in the daylight, but I can see how it would be unnerving to see from a feral animal lit only by lamplight.

malymin: A wide-eyed tabby catz peeking out of a circle. (Default)

The Only Good Wolf: Hunting Culture and the Medieval Werewolf

Introduction

Though werewolves are traditionally portrayed as rapacious and murderous even back to antiquity, several stories in the late twelfth century instead portray the werewolf in a sympathetic light: a chivalrous knight trapped through some deceit in the form of a wolf. Most modern scholarship interprets these unusual stories as representing medieval attitudes toward metamorphosis and hybridity, or as part of a wider cultural exploration of the boundary between human and animal. Little has been said, however, about the relationship between the sympathetic werewolf story and the increasing importance and popularity of hunting and pet-keeping during that same period. This paper redresses that gap by contextualizing three stories, “Bisclavret,” “Melion,” and “Arthur and Gorlagon,” within the broader medieval literary tradition of pet-keeping and hunting. This contextualization demonstrates that these werewolf stories are very much a reflection of medieval attitudes toward wolves and dogs. Examination of four key scenes appearing in each of these stories shows that the representation of the “tamed” werewolf in these stories parallels the representation of wolves and dogs found in a variety of contemporary sources including historical records, hunting manuals, ethnographies, hagiographical stories, bestiaries, and fables. Moreover, a close reading shows that the tamed (were)wolf is described in terms similar to those used to describe a well-behaved dog; and, in turn, the well-behaved dog is described in terms similar to those used to describe the ideal knight. The emphasis these stories place on the civility of the tamed werewolf therefore challenges traditional readings that stress the boundary these stories purportedly draw between human and animal; rather, these stories productively collapse those very boundaries.

malymin: A wide-eyed tabby catz peeking out of a circle. (Default)

Monster as Victim, Victim as Monster: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,Redemptive Suffering and the ‘Undead’

Abstract:

When surveying the vast pantheon of monstrous incarnations, from Frankenstein’s creation to Godzilla, it is nearly impossible to find a creature in the definitive works of fictional monstrosity that doesn’t, in some way, owe its creation to a violently traumatic event. This paper analyses the monster as victim by comparing the symptoms of monstrosity to the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. It would appear that monsters, most specifically the undead monsters such as vampires, zombies, and Frankenstein, are merely hyperbolic representations of human post-trauma symptoms. The persistent presence of violent trauma at the birth of the monster, as well as a violent death at his end, implies that these monsters were purposely created as a way to manage society, as examples of how not to act in the face of overwhelming personal catastrophe. The fact that we, as consumers of monster stories, do not recognize monsters as victims and cannot pity them is due to our cultural belief in redemptive suffering. We believe, innately, that all suffering results in redemption, that all stories have a happy ending. The possibility that this might not be true is may be the most horrifying thing that we as human beings could be made to face. Either the monster deserves his fate, or our long-held belief in redemptive suffering must be called into question.

Hhhhh

Sep. 28th, 2024 02:36 pm
malymin: A wide-eyed tabby catz peeking out of a circle. (Default)

Losing my mind trying to write a HUGE post on the gendering of animal-shapeshifter lovers in european folklore for Reasons and trying to figure out what to quote directly vs paraphrase, how to cite my sources, etc...

In the meantime, the two original paragraphs I have are this:

In popular English-language discussion and re-imaginings, the motif of the animal-wife with the stolen skin is probably best known through the selkie legend of the British isles. In my time on Tumblr, it is the version of the motif I have seen most frequently called upon for queer and feminist retellings and re-interpretations, as well as for transformative fanworks hybridizing copyrighted characters and stories with the bounty of the cultural commons. In my time at the local library, it is the version of the animal-wife I have most often seen in published graphic novels. It is the selkie-story that had an animated adaptation in Cartoon Saloon's Song of the Sea (2014), ten years ago as of writing.

And this:

Male shapeshifters, meanwhile, are not typically trapped into marriage-bondage in European folk stories; within the patriarchal gender roles of these stories, reflecting the cultural norms from which they have been born, the husband is always the master, and the wife the servant. Rather, male shapeshifters tend to be unbound threats, ruining human men's access to human virgins and wives. Whether they be Celtic seals, Slavic dragons, German water-horses, or whatever else - the man-shapeshifter tends to come and go freely of his own will, as lovers and seducers. They are far more a danger to the girls who love them than the other way around, with their untamed animal sexuality: they may drown her, make her sickly, or spirit her away to their own home.

The thing is, the selkie isn't even the main point of the post - I primarily want to talk about swan maidens, but I feel the need to draw comparisons to the selkie because there's more thorough accessible literature written on it in English, and also because I need to hilight the shapeshifter-seducer-man archetype being widespread to point out the absence of such a male counterpart to the swan maiden. (Outside of like, the very singular example of the Zeus and Leda story in Greek mythology.)

Does anyone have advice for how to not get overwhelmed? ^_^;

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