Failinginart

England, disappointingly, lacks an obvious national storyteller. The only collector of English fairy tales who stands out, even a little, was an Australian fellow named Joseph Jacobs. He published two of the most famous collections of exclusively English fairy tales, the imaginatively titled English Fairy Tales and More English Fairy Tales, published in 1890 and 1895 respectively. These texts help to popularise English fairy tales like ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ and ‘The Three Little Pigs’. However, he did not collect only English fairy tales as he also published collections of Celtic, European and Indian fairy tales. &

  Einäuglein, Zweiäuglein und Dreiäuglein This story is somewhat less well known than Allerlei-Rauh, I think, but still not completely unheard of. Unlike many of the more famous Grimm fairy tales, Einäuglein, Zweiäuglein und Dreiäuglein (Eng: Little-One-Eye, Little-Two-Eyes and Little-Three-Eyes) did not appear in the first editions of the two Kinder- und Hausmärchen volumes (Eng: Children’s and Household Tales) in 1812 and 1814 respectively. It first appeared in volume two of the second edition, in 1819, and remained more or less unchanged throughout all later publications, so hopefully this review b

  In 1812 two German brothers named Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm published a book containing 86 folktales they had collected together. The book was called Kinder- und Hausmärchen (Eng: Childrens’ and Household Tales) the second volume of which was published a couple of years later. These two volumes would see many subsequent re-editions and become two of the most influential fairy tale collections ever published. The final edition within the Grimms’ lifetime was in 1857, by which point many of the original stories had been altered to make them more family friendly, and some had been removed entirely. It’s the 1857 versions o

  Introduction Cinderella is one of the most famous stories ever told and has had approximately a zillion adaptations in every medium imaginable. The Cinderella story is just as prolific within its original medium; that of fairy tales. Just as Cinderella has a zillion different adaptations, it also has a zillion different versions, spanning over hundreds of years and from all over the world. Ever Cinderella is where I will be looking at these stories, writing about their content and commenting on what makes them weird and wonderful, all while trying to be funny. ‘Trying’ is the important word here. I should probably define what I

Chapter Seven- Troubles You were sat in yet another gallery, flicking through a catalogue of the pieces they displayed. You had put off visiting the National Gallery in your search for the Boy in the Portrait, as you had assumed it would be too crowded. This was changed with the coming of the Olympics, everyone had been scared out of London by the predicted swarm of tourists. As a result, London was empty. Even the tourists were avoiding it. You got to your feet when a gallery worker walked passed. “Excuse me,” you called. “I was wondering if you had any portraits of an Arthur Kirkland. I’m trying to do some family tr

Chapter Six- The Twenty-Seventh of July “Thank you. But this I when we must depart. Remember to keep your hearts and minds open and to tip your friendly neighbourhood magician.” You listened to the sound of applause that you had heard every day for over a century. The members of the crowd walked forward as they always did to drop change into your flat cap. England approached after the rest of the crowd had dispersed. He placed a twenty pound note into your cap, causing you to raise an eyebrow. You hadn't noticed him while you were performing, “Hello, stranger.” “Hello.” You tipped the money into your sa

Chapter Five- The Portrait Room There were millions of places you’d rather have been. Your flat was one. The truth was you wanted to be anywhere other than a foreboding mansion in the middle of nowhere. The house was dark and had a nasty, musty smell about it. It was also intolerably stuffy. On the outside it had looked large; on the inside it seemed monstrous felt like a maze of endless corridors and flights of stairs. The walls were lined with old paintings of bleak moors or tragic death scenes. You were glad of Flying Mint Bunny’s guidance. “How can he stand to live here?” You murmured. “He doesn’t com