1. Girls have no problems going by guy names but guys are insulted if you call them a girl's name. Alexandra will be Alex. But I've never met an Alexander who goes by Lexie. When I look up my name I get "feminine form of Eric." But I can't think of a single name that would be described as the masculine form of something. Some names slip from gender to gender, like Taylor, but they're considered unisex names rather than girl names. If you ever meet a Joesph who goes by Sophie be sure to let me know.
2. Foreign names aren't always the kind of foreign you think they are.
While reading some family history today I came across a relative named Anita. Hispanic? Nope. Danish. Anita is originally a nickname for Anne or Anna, which are quite possibly the best international names. Plenty of countries have their own form. They're short and easy to pronounce. I know a Brazilian girl named Ana. When I talk about her, people hear the American form, Anna. Her sister Maria is more obvious. Never mind that Maria is used in plenty of European countries, especially German speaking ones. It's currently trending in Ireland.
3. Exotic names don't always work.
Another one of my Danish ancestors had the name Inger Sophie. Her daughter Ane, who emigrated to Utah, named a child Emma Sophia. She had several daughters but never called one of them Inger. I wonder why. Sophie travels well. Inger only works in Denmark.
4. Nicknames don't work internationally.
An American boy names Nicholas will go by Nick. But a Russian boy will be Kolya.
5. Not all belles are created equal.
Annabelle is classy. Clarabelle? Not so much. Isabelle wears silk gowns and kid gloves. Idabelle milks cows. Even though they're only one letter off, the two names conjure up very different images.
This goes for all old fashioned names. In 1914, Anna ranked #6 for girl names. It's timeless. Evelyn snags the #11 spot. It sounds cute and modern. Rose, #15, has a graceful old fashioned touch. But I've yet to meet a young Mildred (#7) or Florence (#13). They're too ugly and old fashioned.
My friend L'ren invited me over for a Barbie movie day. Yes, we're seventeen. No, we're not ashamed. We picked The Princess and the Pauper because it was my favorite as a child. That, of course, has nothing to do with the fact that one of the protagonists is named Erika. If you've never seen a Barbie movie, you probably don't expect much, but the plot's actually well drawn. That makes up for the animators' laziness. We kept seeing the same extras.
Even though the story tied together really well, I couldn't help but guess at the twists. It's been nine years since I watched it last. All I really remembered was
1. Character with my name
2. The kingdom, which seems to rely entirely on a specific empty gold mine, is saved when Princess Annelise discovers geods at the bottom. This bugged me as a child. Do you know how worthless those are? I had a whole box in my garage back in second grade.
But even with my limited memory, I knew this story already. The Prince and Pauper switch pops up a lot.
It started with the original Twain story
Mickey Mouse got in on the fun
Pokemon didn't want to be left out
Neither did Disney Channel
A popular variant is The Princess and the Popstar.
Here's Veggie Tales
The Lizzie McGuire Movies uses this plot, though the title doesn't tell it.
As does this Janette Rallison novel.
Barbie even did another one of these eight years after the original.
Did they really think no one would notice?
A story I see even more is A Christmas Carol.
And the inevitable Barbie movie.
Here's a good rule of thumb: If Barbie (or the Muppets) has made a movie inspired by it, then it is no longer a story, but a formula. I've heard it said that it's impossible to create a new story. Every idea you have for a plot comes from another plot. This is true. And so very, very wrong.
Let's strip The Prince and the Pauper down to its bare bones. We've got a Rags to Riches story. Let's see, who else has done that?
We've also got a Twin Swap story.
I'm sure Twain didn't pitch his book as Cinderella meets Parent Trap. But that's what it is. That doesn't mean it's bad or that he stole the idea. Ideas don't get recycled. They get smashed and twisted and blended and vaporized and reassembled again.
What about A Christmas Carol? We've got a holiday story. We've got a ghost story. We've got a change of heart story. Did anyone before Dickens think to combine those three ideas? Maybe. But he did it in a way that will never get forgotten.
The point of storytelling isn't to create something new and original. Stories have to power to make new things familiar and familiar things new. Don't stress about finding 'already done' elements in your favorite shows. Look at what they did to make them fresh and exciting.
Mary, now is your time.
From 1880 to 1961, Mary was the number one baby name in the US. It didn't drop out of the top ten until 1972. In 2013, it hit an all time low at number one hundred and forty.
Old fashioned names are making a comeback. Leading girls' names for 2014 include Isabella and Sophia. But after watching Mary Shelley, Mary Wallstonecraft, Mary Astor, Mary Cassatt, Mary, Queen of Scots, and Mary-the-one-they're-all-named-after-anyways parading across history, we're finally getting over it. That's right, Mary is now slumming with names like Genevieve and Angelina. This means that if you want to name your daughter Mary, she doesn't need to call herself Mary Ann or Mary Johnson to set herself apart from her friends. But, unlike most uniquely named people, she won't have to spell it every time she introduces herself.
This last year I had the pleasure of being in a choir class with Xantha, Azurdee, Camrie, and Daryll, all female. There were also two girls named Molini and Losena, but they're Polynesian. The rest of these parents don't have an excuse. I've met girls called Lakyn and Kyndriee. Autocorrect hates them.
Names are important. It makes an impression before people have a chance to see your face. Try not to screw this up.
First, if your child is female, don't give her a name that belongs to boys 99% of the time. Taylor is fine. Tristan? Not so much. She'll constantly be mistaken for a boy on paper. The same goes for you people who think Stacey is a good male name.
Avoid line of sight names. My dad's friend named his daughter Female, pronounced Fee-Molly, because it was already on the birth certificate. A guy in my driver's ed class had the name Kansas. A nod to his parents' beloved home state, perhaps? No. His mom popped him out in the backseat on the way to the hospital. The car ahead of them had a Kansas plate.
If your kid wants a unique name they'll make up their own. My friend Lindsey spells her name Lindzi to stand out. And then there's L'ren, legal name Lauren. She pronounces it weird and I thought she was Lorraine for a month until I finally saw it written down.
Sometimes the best thing you can do is run your name by another person. For example, my middle name is Elizabeth. It was my mother's middle name as well and I want to pass it on. I like the names Esther and Eve, too, so I thought, "Why don't I go with this theme and give all my daughters biblical E names?"
Then one day I was sitting in the aforementioned choir class and realized I might have four daughters. So I pulled out my iPod and searched for another name. The only one I could find was Eunice. So I wrote it down all my names in the margins of my notebook.
My friend Kelly glanced over. "What are you doing?"
"Naming my future children. Gwendolyn Elizabeth, Tatiana Eve, Anastasia Esther, and Valentine Eunice. What do you think?"
Her face looked pained. "Well...if that's what you really want to do..."
I've also had people try and talk me out of Valentine. My mom flat out said that any grandchild named Devonny shouldn't count on birthday visits from her. Sometimes you just have to cave into other people's opinions.
But, in the immortal words of my reasonably named friend, "if that's what you really want to do", then go ahead. Populate the world with Aeriths and Xaidens. Just keep in mind that you can pick a normal name and still feel unique.
Like Mary.
Last year we read The Tempest in English class. A few weeks after we finished the school had a group of actors come preform it. When my teacher asked the class what we thought, a few kids said, "It was nothing like the book."
Book? The Tempest is a play. What we read was a script. I realize that most people only read books and don't know the difference. But it has stage directions and everything. They should've been able to figure it out. We called it "the play" often enough during our study.
The actors followed it. Oh, I'm sure they ad-libbed here and there, as actors do. They tossed in a few of their own touches. Several of the actors were female and the characters are mostly male, so that altered things a bit. But they didn't "change" it. No scenes were cut out. No characters combined. No plot threads twisted in bizarre new ways.
And yet my class found things to complain about.
The adaptation of Catching Fire follows the book more closely than most movies. Because of that, I got a little nit-picky in the theater. In the scene where Effie draws Katniss' name, I muttered, "She had her hand in the jar longer than that!" The amount of time Effie's hand spends in the jar does not affect the course of the story. But I felt as if I had to find something wrong.
Yesterday I went to see The Fault in Our Stars with two friends. The author himself called the movie "amazingly faithful" to the book. As I watched, I almost felt it was too faithful. All my favorite scenes were in there, along with my second favorite scenes, and tertiary favorite scenes, and some scenes I didn't really care to see at all. Yes, I enjoyed hearing the conversations I loved spoken aloud. Yes, I liked seeing characters who only existed in my head breathing and moving on screen. But at the same time, I knew exactly what was going to happen. When you go into an original movie, it's "What happens next?" that keeps you watching. Go into a book adaptation and it's "What are they going to leave in?"
From wikipedia: Erich von Stroheim attempted a literal adaptation of Frank Norris's novel McTeague in 1924 with his film, Greed. The resulting film was 9½ hours long. It was cut, at studio insistence to four hours, then without von Stroheim's input, to around two hours. The end result was a film that was largely incoherent. Since that time, few directors have attempted to put everything in a novel into a film. Therefore, elision is nearly mandatory
So, in other words, we worked out ninety years ago that it's not possible to cram every part of a book into a movie. And still we complain.
No movie can be exactly like a book. Unless you want a sixteen hour movie about a guy who sits in a chair and reads to the audience. We should look at movies not as a visual, audible version of a book, but as a representation of the story. And maybe that's a good thing, because however close a movie gets, we'll find something to complain about anyways.
Facebook is home to heroes. Veterans (preferably elderly, disabled, or female), dying children (preferably bald with oxygen tubes), or puppies rescued from a shelter (preferably still matted and broken). They don't do much but stare out at you with their big, imploring eyes, collecting millions of likes.
Really, is there a bearded general in the Middle East somewhere staring at a laptop? "Oh no, the Americans got 692,401 likes! Time to surrender!" Are there doctors who say, "Sorry, sweetie, we can't treat you for leukemia until your picture goes viral." Do animal shelters photograph each wounded puppy who limps in, post their photos, and kill off the ones with under 10,000 shares?
Liking a stranger's photo does not benefit them in any way. Of course people like knowing 692,401 people have seen their face. But they don't care if that photo receives 692,400 instead. What is the point of you, you special little human being you, showing your support?
It's a form of selfishness, really. We do it for our own benefit. Everyone likes that rush of satisfaction that comes from solving a problem. You, you special little human being you, probably haven't devoted the last decade of your life to curing cancer. But hit that thumbs up button for little Grace and her oxygen tank and you think you've made a difference in the world. Just like when you turn off the lights when you leave the room and stop global warming. Pat yourself on the back. Because no one else will.
Awhile back I read that people are more likely to say they'll "support" a candidate than "vote for" them when surveys ask. What's the difference, exactly? No one will vote for a candidate they don't support. While there are other ways to support a politician, like attending meetings and planting a sign on your lawn for the world to see, the main way to help them is by voting. But "vote" implies getting off your butt and dragging it down to the nearest polling booth. There's no way to do it in bed with bag of Doritos. Support can mean voting-but it can also simply mean caring.
Caring does nothing. Caring will not win a war, cure a disease, or give a bedraggled boxer a home. But we carry on with our button clicking, not really caring about these people after we scroll down for the rest of our news feed. That little action is delusion enough to believe we've made a difference.
`1. Classics
These books were published 150 years ago. They're supposed to have great literary value
Examples: Pride and Prejudice, Oliver Twist, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
Bought by: Mostly high school students using them for book reports
Authors: They're all dead. Good luck getting a reply to your fanmail.
Analysis: Since they're taught in classrooms, you can find hundreds of critical analysis essays. Oh, and the teaching guides. No need to look for themes or symbolism. It's already been found. Analysis mostly consists of theme and rhetorical strategies.
2. "Normal" books
Examples: Well, anything
Bought by: A decent number of people
Authors: Still alive. They promote their books through social media. They'll personally reply to email, tweets, and blog comments. When they release a new book you can probably win one in a giveaway. Only 23 other people entered, so you've got a good chance.
Analysis: You can find reviews in newspapers. Amateur critics, like book bloggers, post their rants online. Analysis mostly consists "Is this a good book or a bad book?" debates.
3. Fandom
These are the hugely popular books. The ones that stay on the New York Times Bestseller list for 62 weeks. The ones that turn into movies.
Examples: Harry Potter, Hunger Games, Lord of the Rings
Bought by: Everyone. You can have a conversation about the characters and assume everyone in the room knows who you're talking about.
Authors: Usually still alive but too busy to talk to you. If you're lucky, you can meet them at a convention and get a quick autograph.
Analysis: More thorough than either of the other book types. Millions of people go online to argue about their interpretation of the books. Answer a simple question like "Who's the best character?" and you could get hate mail. Most of the analysis concerns plot, characters, foreshadowing, and world building (setting).
Normal books are supposed to be inferior to fandom builders because they don't have as many readers. Fandom books are supposed to be inferior to classics because they haven't survived the tests of time yet. And classics are supposed to be inferior to normal books because they're not "accessible" enough for the casual reader.
Can't we all just get along?
My personal favorite are the normal books, though I dabble in the others as well. I can't reference them in an essay or in casual conversation.
Each has their merit. Normal books make up most of the literature world. Fandoms rule the internet. As a result, people learn about them secondhand. I've only read 15 of the 28 books shown in that picture but I can give you a basic description of all of them. And classics? These all started out as normal, grew to fandom proportions, and then lived on through time.
There's room in the world for all types of book. Why argue about which one is the best?
Once upon a time, the word damsel simply meant girl. It comes from the French demoiselle, which you may recognize as similar to mademoiselle, meaning a girl or young woman. Damsel-in-distress, then, means a girl facing a plight. Damsel alone does not imply she'll be rescued. Damsel alone does not imply that a handsome knight on a noble steed will gallop to save her. Damsel alone does not imply she's incapable of solving her own problems.
However, damsel-in-distress is five syllables while damsel is simply one. So we shortened it. The word itself is antiquated. When did you last hear a girl referred to as a damsel-when she wasn't being criticized for weakness?
The most frequent targets of the word damsel-though by no means the only one-are fairy tales. This puzzles me. Few fairy tales are actually about a tower-stuck princess being saved by a knight in shining armor. Where did this stereotype come from?
I'm a bit of a fairy tale fanatic. My research has led me to discover the Aarne Thompson Uther system, a numerical way of classifying fairy tales. For example, Rumpelstiltskin is a type 500 tale. If you want to find other "Name of the Helper" stories you simply read down the list and look for the 500. The number for "The Maiden in the Tower" stories is 310. But there's only a tiny handful of them, especially compared to popular ones, like Rumpelstiltskin.
We like to think of the Grimms' version as the "official" source material. But the Brothers Grimm pulled their inspiration from all over. One of the most prominent influences for Rapunzel is the French story "Persinette". It was written by Charlotte Rose de la Force. A woman.
And she wasn't just any woman. Charlotte-Rose was the party girl of 17th century France. She had more than her fair share of lovers and defied social conventions by trying to elope with the much younger Charles de Briou. And by tried, I mean she snuck into his bedroom disguised as a dancing bear when the circus came to visit. It worked. Until their families forced them to annul it.
After that affair, Charlotte-Rose got into a little bit of trouble with the French king because she wrote some satirical poetry about him. That, and she might have had an affair with the Dauphin. Might have. They couldn't prove anything.
Charlotte-Rose was exiled to a convent for her crimes. Rather than shape up and live a life of purity, she wrote a few fairy tales. One of them was about a certain imprisoned maiden who rebelled against her mother's wishes and had an affair. Persinette was banished from the tower-not rescued-but eventually met up with her prince and raised a family with him.
Nowadays, we scorn Rapunzel for daring to sit around and await rescue. But in Charlotte-Rose's time it was obscenely radical. Provocative, even. It encouraged the notion that a woman's sexuality could be used as a weapon to defy social conventions. She had to publish it anonymously.
Persinette: Dreary Damsel or Radical Rule Breaker?
Sometimes, it's our perception of fairy tales that changes everything. Other times they simply get forgotten. That's the case with Molly Whuppie. You've heard of Jack, that greedy little farm boy who shimmied up a beanstalk, killed exactly one giant, and came home. In this Scottish fairy tale, a girl named Molly slaughters an entire family of giants. With her wits, not a lame ax and some help from gravity. She kills them a few at a time. While she's at it, she gets the king to promise her rewards, like his son's hand in marriage. She also gets her two sisters hitched to princes as well.
Molly is far from the only fairy tale heroine to slay her own monsters. Remember, it was Gretel, not Hansel, who shoved the witch into the oven. He was no prince. He was her brother and she simply wanted to save him.
I can't think of a single princess character in recent media who fits into the distressed damsel stereotype. We're actively aware of the stereotype now, and when princess characters do show up, it's to make fun of it. We mock so called damsels in film, books, and even music. Take Sara Bareilles' "Fairytale", which twists happily ever afters into falls from grace. The Cheetah Girls' "Cinderella", on the other hand, defies the fairy tale and sings about empowerment.
I can't help but wonder what everyone's complaining about. I loved the Disney Princess franchise as a child. But at the age of eight, I ditched my pretty pink princess backpack, a relic of my kindergarten days. I refused to go into third grade with a princess backpack. It wasn't until my teen years that I allowed myself to fall in love with the franchise again.
The same year my backpack went bye-bye, I discovered this book:
To Be A Princess tells the stories of twelve real princesses and their fates. It really opened my eyes. Until then, I always thought princesses were a fictional concept, like fairies and unicorns. Now I know better.
To me, princesses are poor unfortunate souls who got their heads chopped off like Marie Antoinette. Or shot in cellars like Anastasia Romanov. Or watch their countries get annexed like Ka'iulani. Or had their castles bombed by Nazis like the current queen Elizabeth. Their stories fascinated me as a child, but I certainly didn't want to be one.
The memory of those Disney heroines didn't hold me back. I didn't grow up believing I could count on a boy to rescue me. When I worried about my looks, I compared myself to women I knew in real life, not cartoon characters. I certainly never thought those fictional girls were the definition of femininity.
Maybe if I hadn't discovered this book, I would've grown up with a media-driven idea of what it meant to be a princess. I would've associated the word with tower-stuck females awaiting rescue. But I didn't. I can't see why so many modern women-and men-blame old cartoons and even older fairy tales for "damaging" young girls.
What worries me most is that we shove female characters into two categories: Team Damsel and Team Action Girl. When ABC released Once Upon A Time in Wonderland, a spin-off from Once Upon A Time, creator Edward Kitsis said this:
"We never wanted Alice to be a damsel in distress. We liked the idea that she is going to go back down that rabbit hole, sword in hand, to find her man."
And so she does. Alice, who gets about five minutes of on-screen combat training, easily takes out guards, soldiers, and monsters. Meanwhile, her boyfriend Cyrus sits in a cage for the better part of the series, not getting much character development.
In the original story, Alice is no damsel in distress. She's a seven year old tourist who wanders around a plotless, dreamlike landscape and has tea parties. She doesn't get rescued. She has no love interest. But she also doesn't wage war on anybody, so by modern definition, she's a damsel.
A male character can just be a compelling, well developed character. But a girl has to be a warrior. A male character can cry and it's emotional development. Girls crying is a sign of weakness. A male character can have a love interest and save the world. A girl tries that and we tell her to get her priorities straight.
Whenever I want my dad and brothers to watch a female lead movie with me, I have to assure them "It's not a chick flick". I have more luck if she's in an action role. "There's explosions and stuff-you'll like it, I promise!" You need bombs and bloodshed to convince anyone that a girl is more than a demoiselle.
I have to wonder. If damsels are few and far between in traditional fairy tales, if no one dares put a princess in a tower today, if media actively defies it, what are we complaining about? Where are these demoiselles who offend us with their femaleness and princessness?
I love "strong" heroines just as much as anyone else, but I worry when we begin to lump female characters into one of two archetypes: Strong Female Character and Damsel in Distress. Isn't there room in the middle? Can't we have whiny girls and funny girls and scary girls and constantly-betraying-the-rest-of-the-characters-yet-they-still-trust-her girls? When the only acceptable character type is an Action Girl, it's harder and harder to create a female protagonist anyone will enjoy.
