Sunday, August 23, 2009

BATV and Yankee Doodle on "Bowen on Billerica" - Billerica, MA - Billerica Minuteman


BATV and Yankee Doodle on "Bowen on Billerica" - Billerica, MA - Billerica Minuteman

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I'm going to be interviewed on a radio station tomorrow, a first for me! The show is called "Bowen on Billerica", and it is my chance to plug my upcoming performance at the Billerica Yankee Doodle Homecoming, alongside of my esteemed colleague and friend Jim LaChapelle. Tune in on WCAP 980 AM between noon and 1pm!

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

There Be Dragons!

Doria tells "The Four Dragons"
at the July 2009 MouthOff hosted by massmouth,
in Central Square, Cambridge, Mass.

I am on a Dragon-binge! Lately, I have been telling stories about dragons; I just can't get enough of them. And I'm beginning to think that here in the West, we have greatly misunderstood these mythic sky-flyers. I particularly love the Chinese legend of the Four Dragons, because the eponymous lizards not only show compassion for those less fortunate than themselves, they also stand up for us puny human underdogs - against a tyrannical Oppressor, no less - knowing that the consequences for themselves will be dire. (The embroidery to the left is from Embroidery Library Inc.)

The dragons in this story have the choice to either live a life of comfort and ease, ignoring human misery, or to make a tremendous personal sacrifice in order to make change. Acting out of compassion and selflessness, they come up against the callous Jade Emperor. The ultimate bureaucrat, this tyrant is totally indifferent to the sufferings of his people, and is roused to action only when he sees that the dragons have dared to exercise their powers to make up for his lack of initiative.

Like Prometheus, the four dragons are cruelly punished for having used their powers to help the human race. However, each leaves a lasting and benevolent mark on the very geography of our human world, so as to ensure our continued survival.

So what, besides dragons, is so compelling about this particular story, and why am I blogging about it? As so often, the villain of the tale is as fascinating as the hero(s). Just what is up with the Jade Emperoranyways? His character - capricious, vindictive, all-powerful, unforgiving, jealous - reminds me of others of his ilk:







The stories tell us that Sky Gods are remote and powerful, all-seeing and unforgiving. Short-fused and quick to anger - like most of his aerial brethren - the Jade Emperor will not tolerate any perceived threat to his authority, and he strikes back as quickly as lightning, with devastating cruelty. The patriarchal Sky Gods rule over their subjects with humorless might, brooking no defiance. And yet, from time to time, someone is brave enough to speak up and take action against these lofty thugs. And that's when great stories are made.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Girl Power

At Toscanini's on June 22, 2009,
telling "Tokoyo" for the MouthOff

The story of Tokoyo and the Sea Serpent is one of my special favorites. Set in the far flung Oki Islands, it describes the journey a young woman must take in order to be reunited with her father. It's sort of like "The Journey of Natty Gann", except for the medieval Japanese setting. And the sea serpent.

When her father is unjustly banished by the mysteriously ailing emperor, Tokoyo sets out alone to track him down and find him. Armed with nothing but her father's dagger and her training as an Ama, or pearl diver, the teenager eventually arrives at the forsaken Oki Islands, where inconvenient and unwanted nobles were traditionally sent to live out their days in exile. But before she has the chance to find her father, Tokoyo happens upon a scene of human sacrifice. Every year the islanders push a young girl into the ocean to be devoured by an underwater dragon, an attempt to placate the beast so that it would spare their fishing fleet and not condemn the local population to starvation. Tokoyo volunteers to go in the girl's place and dives into the roiling waves.


Luckily for Tokoyo, her training stands her in good stead, so the scene in the story where she faces off against the evil submarine flesh-eating serpent is very exciting (although it ends badly for the serpent). Tokoyo is hailed as a hero, finds her father, and inadvertently heals the sick emperor. The latter is so grateful that he recalls her father in exile, and the story ends happily for everyone, except for the sea serpent.

This story has inspired a great deal of dramatic art, enjoy!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

The Changeling

                               

This video was made on May 18, 2009 at the newly opened Rhone Plaza in Central Square, Cambridge.  The occasion was our monthly MouthOff, hosted by MassMouth, a Massachusetts-based Storytelling organization.  Stu Mendelson, Norah Dooley and I came up with the theme of "Working Mothers" as a good theme for the month of May, in honor of Mothers Day and International Workers' Day.

I have long been drawn to the story of the Changeling: a counterfeit child left by the Faerie folk in exchange for a human baby who is stolen to replenish the dwindling ranks of that secret and magical race.  The Celtic peoples in particular tell many tales in which small children - especially those who have not yet been named or baptized - are stolen away while their mothers are not looking, and replaced by a supernatural substitute.  Such stories invariably end with the restoration of the "real" child, usually after the determined mother tricks the Changeling to betray its true nature and threatens it with physical harm.  The threatened Faerie being gives back the child, who is none the worse for wear, and all is well.


(from "Labyrinth", my favorite Jim Henson flick)

Or is it?

Stories about healthy children who are spirited away and replaced by sickly inhuman monsters, draw upon a deep and elemental terror that lurks in the heart of nearly every parent: the fear of losing a child.  But there is a subtext - and a sub-fear - to the story of the Changeling, which beneath its frightening surface narrative of kidnapping and restoration, presents us with the equally terrifying idea that a baby who seems normal and healthy can drastically and mysteriously change in some dreadful way, with little warning or explanation.  Thus, the concept of the magical Changeling is rooted in a harsh human reality: a child who seems "normal" at first, but then shows signs of "inhuman" abnormality.  Perhaps some parents - confronted by the sad truth that something was wrong with their child - were comforted by the notion that "this isn't really my child".  And so the story of the Changeling was born.

Interestingly, but cruelly, these stories also imply that the terrible transformation/ailment of the Changeling is due to some form of negligence on the part of the mother: she left the child alone for a moment, she forgot to hang rowan berries over its cradle, she didn't baptize the child in the Christian faith, etc.  The loss - or transformation - of her offspring is thus presented as a punishment for maternal misdeeds. It naturally follows that she must somehow redeem herself in the eyes of some supernatural authority before she is considered worthy to have her "true" (i.e. healthy) child restored to her.  She must perform a mysterious nonsensical ritual, and then - in a parallel of the story of Abraham and Isaac - she must threaten her "child" with violence or even death.  Only then will she be rewarded by the return of her little one.

The moral of this story? Be a good mother, or else.


Saturday, May 2, 2009

Dawn of a Literary Friendship

Dawn of a Literary Friendship (<- this is a live link, go ahead and click!)

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My late grandfather, Robert Phelps, was a very different kind of storyteller than yours truly, but there is no doubt that he had a way with words, especially when he took the time to write them down.  Arguably, his true and preferred mode of expression was epistolary, and it is a testament to his particular genius that, decades after his passing, his friends (in this case, Jim Salter) and relatives have kept and treasured his letters.  They are each gems of his own unique brand of distilled wit and wistful wisdom; well worth reading, and re-reading.  

In our brave new world of Twitter, blogs, e-mail, facebook, and instant messages, a good old-fashioned letter has a compelling beauty that has the power to connect us with another human being in a way that is increasingly rare and precious.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Vardiello

You've read about it (see below, for my previous blog posting), now you can watch it!  Last night, I performed "Vardiello" at our April MouthOff, hosted by MassMouth and the ever-gracious staff of Toscanini's, in Central Square, Cambridge, MA.  To enjoy the other storytelling performances, please click here (my MassMouth video page)!

Monday, April 13, 2009

Fooling Around

"Loudly sing cuckoo!"  So said a wise man once.  April is a wonderful time to explore tales of Fools, Numbskulls, and Noodleheads, and I recently had the pleasure of performing one such story.  Known as Tale #4 of the Neapolitan Giambattista Basile's famous collection of elegantly re-worked folktales called "Il Pentamerone", it is subtitled "Vardiello".

The hero of our tale - the eponymous Vardiello - is a silly fellow who lives alone with his mother, a sensible and intelligent woman, except where her son is concerned.  The fun begins when she leaves him home alone to babysit her valuable chicken, currently brooding over a clutch of eggs.  Her proactive attempts to protect the hen and its offspring from her son's well-meant "help" result in one absurd household disaster after another.  Upon her return, she finds the hen gone, the eggs crushed, her wine spilled, her carefully hoarded supply of walnuts devoured, and her foolish son hiding in the oven after a failed suicide
 attempt.  And that right there would have been an appropriate ending to this silly tale of woe, but Vardiello was only getting warmed up!

Why his mother gave him a second chance, we'll never know; her persistent albeit unfounded belief in Vardiello's mental capacity is the underlying engine upon which this story runs.  This time, she tries sending him out of the house, with the goal of selling an expensive bolt of cloth (see image above).  Fearing that he will be easily swindled by some clever fast-talker, she warns her son to avoid buyers who talk too much.  Which results in Vardiello selling the cloth to a statue.

The poor mother's frustration can only be imagined, however Vardiello is not finished!  Returning to his customer, with the innocent expectation of being paid for the cloth which he had left at the taciturn fellow's feet the day before, Vardiello is shocked and outraged when no payment or explanation is forthcoming.  In a fit of uncharacteristic rage, the poor fool crushes the "man" with a rock, only to find that his client is hollow and contains a large quantity of gold coins!!

Gratified as his put-upon mother is to receive this unexpected but very welcome treasure, she is left with the problem of how to deal with Vardiello.  He can't possibly be trusted to keep his mouth shut about all that gold, and what will the neighbors say then?  Vardiello's mother now proves herself to be something of a genius: she tricks her son into believing that it is raining figs and raisins; thus, when he inevitably blabs about finding treasure to all who will listen, he explains that his good fortune occurred on the day when fruit fell from the sky.  Pitying him as a supposed madman, a concerned judge sends Vardiello away to a madhouse, leaving his mother - with the gold - in peace at last.
                                                                  
What fascinates me about this complex and episodic story is the connections it has to other tales and tale-telling traditions.  For instance, Vardiello's mother attempts to prevent him from eating her carefully saved stash of pickled walnuts, by telling him that they are poisonous. Ironically, her precaution backfires when Vardiello decides to take his own life for fear of facing his mother's wrath, having killed her chicken, crushed its precious eggs (in an attempt to keep them warm by sitting on them), and inadvertently poured the contents of an entire keg of wine on the flour.  Despondently, he eats her all of her walnuts and placidly waits for death's release in his mother's oven.

The motif of the fool who purposely eats hoarded food disguised as poison as an attempt at suicide is found in Isaac Bashevis Singer's lovely collection of Yiddish folktales "Zlateh the Goat and Other Stories" in the story of Shlemiel.  Shlemiel is a classic fool in the Yiddish tradition; he tries and tries but simply cannot get anything right!  When his wife leaves him to take care of their baby and rooster, he similarly goofs up, although thankfully in this tale there are no fatalities, human or avian.  But like Vardiello, Shlemiel fears female retribution when his misdeeds are found out, so he eats his wife's delicious "poison".  We, the Readers, chortle knowingly, enjoying the fruits of Shlemiel's "logical" thinking.

Similarly, when Vardiello is tricked into thinking - and then telling - how food has fallen like rain from the sky, there are cognates in other traditions.  A wonderful German folk tale called "The Blabbermouths" features a wife who successfully prompts her husband to convince a magistrate of his own supposed madness, when he describes how donuts fell the day he dug up treasure.

The moral of these silly tales?  Fooling fools is a complex yet lucrative business for enterprising wives and mothers!