Little Red Riding Hood, from Clever and Self Reliant Human to Helpless Caricature of Girlhood
And My Urban Retelling "The Story of Little Red Riding Hood in the City"
Prologue:
In recent weeks I’ve managed to develop a routine with my substack writing practices. And now that I’ve done that, I’ve decided to add an extemporaneous element to my practice and interpose smaller things between the essays, including fiction and poetry.
So, I’ve chosen to call these in-between things ‘Extempore Pieces of Refuge’.
Extempore Piece of Refuge : #1
This one began with “Animal Husbandry is the New Vegetarian: From Lierre Keith's The Vegetarian Myth to Robert Lustig's Metabolical” by Tereza Coraggio. June 6th, 2023.
Tereza’s recently published a great article on the myth of vegan/vegetarianism. It is well written and nuanced with great references and expansion vision and somehow she seamlessly weaves into it how our woke culture (my phrase, not hers) has been artificially sanitising life to keep our ‘sacred’ children safe from it.
Tereza inspired me to comment on several aspects of her thought, although the hypocrisy around children as sacred appealed to me. I wound up ranting about ethics because my society’s ethical behaviour around children is currently, and has been historically, horrific. In part this is likely because many years ago I explored the history of Little Red Riding Hood. I wrote a paper on this, including the brutal, by our standards, first version. And my own retelling of the story.
To begin, here is an edited version of Tereza’s and my discussion:
Guy:
…
Regarding your comment about the history of 'children's' stories that suggest / infer that there has been a movement to infantilise them. Yes, I agree. A fun and interesting look at that is a delightful and informative book called The Trials and Tribulations of Little Red Riding Hood, a look at how that story has changed Red from a creative solver of problems in the face of serious challenge, to a mouse looking for rescue (https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/685677.The_Trials_and_Tribulations_of_Little_Red_Riding_Hood).
When I wrote a university paper on the effect that industrialisation had on the family, the woke class wanted me to write it was horrific. Nope. The opposite, in fact. However, the one part of the woke world that wasn't discussed was how the wealth of industrialisation turned children from assets to expenses. Then we babied children instead of given them function and authority. That eventually allowed for the development, expansion and acceptance of the anti-child, perhaps even a child hating timbre of children as costs and pains in our comics and other entertainments.
Ethics are not just bullshit, they are the foundation for misery and death. They are used to create a false logic that the rational mind uses to rationalise and justify something/ anything. Ethics were used to burn witches, kill heretics, inject babies with vaccines, kill Jews, enslave people across all races and all times, murder prisoners, torture people, etc. Have you read William Blake's 'Songs of Experience' and 'Songs of Innocence?' In the latter he satirised the hypocrisy of the 'ethical' church their once a year praise for children while turning their eyes from the misery of child poverty and chimney sweeps. Have you researched the brutality of that? Children forced into 4" flues, naked, with their feet being burnt? Bodies deformed, often dying young of cancers and lung diseases. Oh! And this was done ethically to prevent fires in the chimneys.
And here is an example:
Holy Thursday ’Twas on a holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean, The children walking two and two, in red, and blue, and green: Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow, Till into the high dome of Paul’s they like Thames waters flow. O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town! Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own. The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs, Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands. Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song, Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among: Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor. Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door. —William Blake via Project Gutenberg.
Tereza:
…
Oh, I love that idea of the washing out of Little Red Riding Hood to being a helpless shade of pink. I have somewhere hardcovers of both Grimm and Anderson from my mother's era--they have certainly been diluted. Fairy tales are a passion of mine, so that looks really great.
And I did know about the child chimney sweeps from Derrick Jensen's The Culture of Make-Believe — a book that was a cornerstone for me. He writes about the normalization of violence, and how it co-exists with everyday life, and the chimney sweeps were a horrifying example. Makes Mary Poppins quite a sinister propaganda piece.
…
Guy:
In the oldest 'western' version of LRRH — it is a world wide archetypal story — the little girl is tricked into drinking her grandmother's blood and then escapes from being eaten by using clever lying about having to go for a crap. No hero came and saved her, male or female. I was so inspired by Zipes' collection I wrote my own version of the story. Hmmmm. Maybe time to change the pace and publish some of my fiction and poetry from time to time.
Tereza:
WOAH! Even my very grim Grimm, straight from Germany, didn't have that level of macabre. Yes to Guy's fiction and poetry!
End of dialogue.
The Trial and Tribulations of Little Red Riding Hood ed by Jack D. Zipes
From my paper of 20+ years ago:
Zipes cites what may have been the story which preceded Perrault's version, Perrault's being the version, with its heavy handed morality and relative "cleanliness," from which all "modern" versions derive. In the oldest version, called "The Story of Grandmother," the werewolf kills the grandmother and puts some of her meat in the cupboard and blood in a jar. When Little Red Riding Hood comes, the wolf invites her to eat the meat and imbibe in the blood, which she innocently does. A cat says `A slut is she who eats the flesh and drinks the blood of her granny!' Now the wolf asks Little Red Riding Hood to undress, which she does in a kind of strip-tease, one article of clothing at a time that gets tossed into the fire. When the werewolf says "All the better to eat you with!" the girl says:
"Oh, Granny, I've got to go badly. Let me go outside."
"Do it in the bed, my child!"
"Oh, no, Granny, I want to go outside."
"All right, but make it quick."
The werewolf attached a woollen rope to her foot and let her go outside.
When the little girl was outside, she tied the end of the rope to a plum tree in the courtyard. [Predates one of the escape seems from the movie Cool Hand Luke by 300+ Years.] The werewolf became impatient and said: "Are you making a load out there? Are you making a load?"
When he realised that nobody was answering him, he jumped out of bed and saw that the little girl had escaped. He followed her but arrived at her home just at the time she entered (5-6).
Once again I am reminded of Thurber's version, which was published in 1939. In this telling, which is only two paragraphs long, the girl, upon quickly discerning that a wolf was in bed, pulled out an automatic pistol from the food basket and shot the wolf dead. Thurber's moral? "It is not so easy to fool little girls as it used to be" (210).
Perrault eliminated the cannibalism, the strip-tease, the cat, and the girl's escape using defecation as a decoy. He ends it with the girl being eaten by the wolf. No one comes to the rescue. In Montresor, which has a rather gruesome picture of Little Red Riding Hood's head in the wolf's mouth, the story ends with three large paintings of the wolf lying in bed, asleep, Little Red Riding Hood inside its stomach with her eyes closed. The last plate shows a hunter in silhouette.
The Zipes’ collection is a great read and I was inspired to retell the story in an urban setting.
So, here is
The Story of Little Red Riding Hood in the City
by Guy A. Duperreault
Once upon a time, in a dark and treeless part of the city, there lived with her mother a little girl with short black hair. The little girl was known as Little Red Riding Hood because the bright red coat she always wore had a big hood and because no one in the neighbourhood knew her name. Everyone thought that Little Red Riding Hood was very strange because she wore that coat every day, rain or shine, and because she did not play with anyone. What they did not know was that the coat was a cherished gift from her beloved grandmother, who lived in a suburb beyond the other side of the city. Nor did they know that Little Red Riding Hood's mother was afraid of the city and the people in it and so forbade Little Red Riding Hood from playing with or talking to the other children.
Little Red Riding Hood was very lonely. Because her mother took pride in her responsibilities to provide a clean home and good and abundant food for her daughter, she worked at two part-time, low paying, jobs. And she took night school classes in order to get her grade twelve and a high paying job. But this meant that she was too busy to play with Little Red Riding Hood. "I'm too tired tonight," she said almost every night, or "Can't you see I'm doing school work?" Nor would she take her out shopping. "I don't have time to look out for a little girl in the hustle and bustle of the city," she said many times. Nor did she let Little Red Riding Hood help in the kitchen. "The kitchen is a dangerous place!" her mother said over and over. "I don't have time to look out for you and cook at the same time." Little Red Riding Hood did not even have the opportunity to love or hate a baby sitter. "We can't afford a baby sitter. Besides, you are a big girl now and don't need one any more." Little Red Riding Hood could not remember ever having had one.
Because Little Red Riding Hood's mother was frightened of the city she went to self-defence classes twice a week. After getting home from them she would show Little Red Riding Hood the new punch or block or kick or fall. Little Red Riding Hood strove to master them with the hope that her mother would then let her play with the neighbourhood children. But no matter how good Little Red Riding Hood got she was still forbidden from playing with the other children.
For a long time Little Red Riding Hood begged her mother to let her play with the children whose laughter and crying she could hear through the windows and in the hallways outside their one room apartment. But Little Red Riding Hood's mother refused to even consider it and even threatened to lock Little Red Riding Hood her in her room with nothing to eat if she disobeyed. Eventually Little Red Riding Hood stopped asking to play with the others, even though her heart ached to be with them. Instead she hugged Piglet, her rather ragged teddy bear and only friend. With each day that went by Little Red Riding Hood felt a little more lonely and spoke a little less often.
And bad as all this was, which was very bad, the worst was that Little Red Riding Hood's mother had no time to listen to her stories. Whenever Little Red Riding Hood would ask "Mom, can I tell you a story," her mother would say "Not now, dear. I'm busy. But I'll be happy to hear it later." Or she would say "Not now dear, we're eating. It is improper to eat and talk at the same time. Tell me later." But later never came. Eventually Little Red Riding Hood stopped speaking altogether, but her mother didn't notice.
The only fun that Little Red Riding Hood had was on Tuesdays. On Tuesdays her mother would give Little Red Riding Hood a cookie tin filled with blueberry muffins and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies to take to her Grandmother's house. Her mother would walk Little Red Riding Hood to the bus stop. Sometimes when they walked Little Red Riding Hood would smile at the children who had stopped playing to watch her, but invariably her mother would say "How many times have I told you not to talk to strangers? And that includes smiling!" On those days it was only the thought of visiting her Grandmother that kept Little Red Riding Hood from crying.
On this particular Tuesday, when the bus came, her mother said "Remember! Don't talk to strangers!" She had not noticed that Little Red Riding Hood no longer talked at all. Then, as usual, her mother told the bus driver to look out for her little girl. And, like he did every Tuesday morning, the bus driver tipped his hat and smiled. Then her mother turned to Little Red Riding Hood and said "Be a good girl" and kissed her on the forehead. She waved good-bye as the bus pulled away.
About an hour later everyone on the bus was startled by a resounding BANG! The driver quickly slowed the bus and parked it. "Nothing to worry about folks!" he called out over his shoulder. "We've got a flat tire. That's all! Just a flat." The passengers mumbled and grumbled. "I've called the garage to get it changed," he yelled over the muttering, "so please wait outside until the next bus comes. That should be in an hour or so. Have a nice day!"
And so Little Red Riding Hood found herself amidst a group of milling disgruntled adults. No one noticed her, least of all the bus driver. When Little Red Riding Hood looked around she realized that she knew the way to her Grandmother's house from here, so she began to walk.
She looked at the beautiful trees and flowers in the yards. From the bus she had never really noticed how beautiful everything was. Nor had she been able to stop and smell the flowers as she was now did with great delight. This is my lucky day, she thought. Eventually she came to a huge park, one filled with trees which reached the sky and touched the clouds. At the sight of the park she knew she was almost at her Grandmother's house because they had visited it in the past.
As she was walking by it, she saw beneath the trees she saw a big and beautiful squirrel. It nervously looked at her while it put its tiny hand-like paws to its mouth, took a bite from the nut or piece of grass then, in bursts of rapid jawing, chewed the morsel. Little Red Riding Hood was fascinated. She had never been this close to a squirrel before.
When the squirrel finished eating it looked at her and seemed to ask "Do you have something else I can eat?" Little Red Riding Hood looked at the tin of muffins and cookies in her hands. She thought that her Grandmother wouldn't miss anything because, despite thick glasses, she had been declared legally blind two years ago. So Little Red Riding Hood carefully opened the tin and took from it one of the cookies.
Little Red Riding Hood carefully put the cookie on the open palm of her hand and reached out to the squirrel. The squirrel did not move. Little Red Riding Hood inched closer and closer until the squirrel bolted into the park and up a tree. Little Red Riding Hood rushed into the park after it. Once inside she stopped short. All about her were tiny wild flowers, the most beautiful she had ever seen. Some were yellow, others white, others pale lavender. She was enchanted and, for the first time in many weeks, began to hum a happy song.
These flowers would be a great gift for her Grandmother, Little Red Riding Hood thought. So she began to pick them. She followed the tiny flowers deeper and deeper into the park, humming and singing.
"Hello, little girl," a deep, gravely voice said, as if out of nowhere. Little Red Riding Hood jumped with fright and dropped all the flowers. "Don't be frightened," the voice rumbled, scaring Little Red Riding Hood even more. "Here, let me help you," it said, and out from the shadows strode a gigantic Wolf. Little Red Riding Hood was too frightened to move.
The Wolf gently set the cookie tin in front of her. "Here," he said, "I believe you left this behind." And then, with surprising tenderness, the Wolf gathered up the dropped flowers. Without a word he held them out to her.
"Th-th-thank you," Little Red Riding Hood stuttered.
"My pleasure, Miss," the Wolf said. As she took them her hand brushed, oh so lightly, the Wolf's paw. It's fur was so soft and warm that Little Red Riding Hood's fear immediately disappeared.
"Who are you?" Little Red Riding Hood politely asked.
"I am a friend of your mother's," the Wolf lied soothingly, rubbing his head gently against Little Red Riding Hood's side. "She sent me after you to make sure no harm befell you." With these words Little Red Riding Hood scratched the Wolf behind his ears. He in turn began to softly nuzzle her other hand, and gave her small fingers tiny, gentle licks.
"I can help you," said the Wolf after a while. "You can?" Little Red Riding Hood asked. "How?"
"You need a place to put your flowers," the Wolf answered. "Without water they will quickly wilt."
"That's okay," Little Red Riding Hood said. "They are a gift for my Grandmother. She lives nearby. I am on my way there now."
"Of course!" said the Wolf. "If you like, I can take the cookie tin to her. That way your hands would be free to pick even more flowers. Surely your grandmother would be even more pleased?" crooned the Wolf.
"How thoughtful of you," said Little Red Riding Hood with a smile. So she gave him the tin and the key to unlock her Grandmother's door.
"I'm sorry, but I have forgotten where she lives," lied the Wolf a second time.
"That's okay," said Little Red Riding Hood who then gave him the directions.
"Don't be long," said the Wolf. "You don't want to worry your Grandmother!" And with a quick wag of his tail the Wolf sped away into the trees and out of sight.
While Little Red Riding Hood was picking flowers the Wolf hurried to her Grandmother's house and quietly let himself in. "Who is there?" asked Grandmother when she heard the lock click open. "Is that you, Granddaughter?"
"No, it is I," said the Wolf who, in one big gulp, swallowed Little Red Riding Hood's Grandmother whole before she could say another word. While he waited for Little Red Riding Hood he grew sleepy, so he went into Grandmother's bedroom and climbed onto her bed and quickly fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
When Little Red Riding Hood arrived at her Grandmother's house she found the door ajar. That's strange, she thought to herself, because Grandmother always keeps the door locked.
"Grandmother! It's me!" Little Red Riding Hood called out after going in. "Where are you?"
"I am here," said the Wolf, waking himself up as quickly as possible and trying to imitate the Grandmother's voice, "in the bedroom. I'm just resting, dear." When the Wolf hurriedly hid himself underneath the blankets he knocked Rupert, Grandmother's stuffed tom cat, onto the floor with his tail.
"You sound sick, Grandmother. Are you ill?" Little Red Riding Hood asked as she walked into the bedroom.
"Yes, dear, I am," answered the Wolf.
But one look at the bed and Little Red Riding Hood could see that it was not her Grandmother, but the Wolf, who was in bed. "Hello, Wolf," she said. "Where is Grandmother?"
"She is here, in bed with me," answered the Wolf in his normal voice. "Why not join us? It is warm and cosy."
Little Red Riding Hood walked around to the other side of the bed. As she was starting to take off her coat she noticed her Grandmother's stuffed cat on the floor. Little Red Riding Hood knew that her Grandmother would never let Rupert stay on the floor. "Where's my Grandmother?" Little Red Riding Hood demanded.
"She is right here, with me," the Wolf lied as smoothly as he could. "See," he said as he lifted up the blankets invitingly to Little Red Riding Hood.
Little Red Riding Hood went to look. "Where?" she asked.
"Here!" the Wolf growled menacingly. But before he could even try to eat her, Little Red Riding Hood hit him so hard on the nose that his eyes watered up like fountains so that he couldn't see. He howled in pain.
As he tried to dry his eyes and get clear of the blankets at the same time. Little Red Riding Hood ran from the bedroom as fast as she could, yelling "HELP!" as loudly as she could. Somehow, for the first time in a long long time, her mother actually heard her. She dropped the tray of food she was about to serve and ran out of the café and hailed a taxi.
Meanwhile the Wolf had recovered and took chase after Little Red Riding Hood. She heard his claws on the hardwood floor getting closer and closer, but was out the front doorway just as the Wolf pounced. Little Red Riding Hood quickly swung the heavy door closed and the Wolf hit the door head first at full speed with a crash that shook the house. He fell onto the floor in a crumpled heap.
Little Red Riding Hood cautiously pressed her ear against the door to determine if the Wolf was moving or not. There was not a sound, as the Wolf had been knocked unconscious. She tried to open the door but it was locked and the Wolf had her key. Unsure about what to do next, Little Red Riding Hood waited by the giant chestnut tree in the front yard. About twenty minutes later her mother jumped out of a cab and ran to her. "What happened?" she asked.
"A Wolf ate grandmother!" Little Red Riding Hood said. "And it tried to eat me too!"
"He did, did he?" her mother said angrily. With her key she opened the door and walked into the house. She tripped over the Wolf which jarred him back to consciousness. Little Red Riding Hood, who had followed her saw that the Wolf was regaining consciousness, cried "Look out!" to her mother. From the floor Little Red Riding Hood's mother swing her foot in a strong kick under his chin which had enough force to snap it back hard against the door jam. Once again the Wolf lost consciousness and lay inert on the floor.
Then her mother jumped to her feet and ran to the kitchen. She returned with sharp knife and with a couple of quick flicks she had cut open the Wolf's belly. Out popped Little Red Riding Hood's Grandmother, a little disoriented, but otherwise fine. She was put to bed, muttering "My, my, my...." Little Red Riding Hood made sure that her Grandmother's stuffed cat, Rupert, was set on the bed table to watch over her.
When Little Red Riding Hood got back to the living room she said to her mother "We can't leave the Wolf like that!"
"You're right," her mother said. "Get some thread and needles," which Little Red Riding Hood did from Grandma's sewing room. Then Little Red Riding Hood and her mother sewed up the Wolf's belly, but not before filling it with the flowers Little Red Riding Hood had picked for her grandmother.
When the Wolf woke up, which wasn't until late that night, he was from that moment on their guardian. And neither Little Red Riding Hood nor her mother were frightened of the city and strangers any more. Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf played with the other children in her neighbourhood and, whenever Little Red Riding Hood had a story to tell, her mother and the Wolf listened.
End
For a reasonably complete overview of the history of Red see:https://www.ranker.com/list/original-little-red-riding-hood-story/genevieve-carlton. (I found the writing here a bit treacly for my taste.)
Thank you for reading.
Writing these essays has helped me more clearly see the truths of my heart. The explorations have expanded my courage to be compassionate with myself and others. This has greatly improved my life. If these essays have given you some of these benefits, I would be honoured if you would support my work by becoming a paid subscriber. Thank you. 🙏
Song of the essay
Warren Zevon - Werewolves in London
Lyrics
[Verse 1] I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain He was looking for the place called Lee Ho Fook's Gonna get a big dish of beef chow mein [Chorus] Ah-hoo, werewolves of London Ah-hoo Ah-hoo, werewolves of London Ah-hoo [Verse 2] You hear him howling around your kitchen door You better not let him in Little old lady got mutilated late last night Werewolves of London again [Chorus] Ah-hoo, werewolves of London Ah-hoo Ah-hoo, werewolves of London Ah-hoo, huh [Instrumental Break] [Verse 3] He's the hairy-handed gent who ran amok in Kent Lately, he's been overheard in Mayfair You better stay away from him He'll rip your lungs out, Jim Huh, I'd like to meet his tailor [Chorus] Ah-hoo, werewolves of London Ah-hoo Ah-hoo, werewolves of London Ah-hoo [Verse 4] Well, I saw Lon Chaney walking with the Queen Doing the werewolves of London I saw Lon Chaney, Jr. walking with the Queen, uh Doing the werewolves of London I saw a werewolf drinking a piña colada at Trader Vic's And his hair was perfect Na! [Chorus] Ah-hoo Werewolves of London Huh, draw blood, uh Ah-hoo Werewolves of London
Excellent post
This is marvelous, Guy! You have a great story-telling voice with intimations of another era even while making a modern, urban version. Oh the psychoanalysis that could be done on this! And I love the transformation of the wolf into a guardian. It reminds me of the Creation Myth of the Jigonsaseh that I talk about in https://thirdparadigm.substack.com/p/when-mothers-ran-the-world:
"I’ll end with the creation epic called the Gayanashagowa of the League of Five Nations from The Dawn of Everything:
… what comes through most strongly in the text is its representation of a social problem with a social solution: a breakdown of relationships in which the country is plunged into chaos and revenge, spiralling to a point where social order has dissolved away and where the powerful have become literal cannibals. Most powerful of all is Adodarhoh, who is represented as a witch, deformed, monstrous and capable of commanding others to do his bidding.
The narrative centres on a hero, Deganawideh the Peacemaker, who appears from what is later to be the Neutral territory … determined to put an end to this chaotic state of affairs. He wins to his cause first the Jigonsaseh, a woman famous for standing outside all quarrels (he finds her hosting and feeding war parties from all sides of the conflict); and then Hiawatha, one of Adodarhoh’s cannibal henchmen. Together they set about winning over the people of each nation to agree on creating a formal structure for heading off disputes and creating peace. Hence the system of titles, nested councils, consensus-finding, condolence rituals and the prominent role of female elders in formulating policy. In the story, the very last to be won over is Adodarhoh himself, who is gradually healed of his deformities and turned into a human being. [483-484]