The Three MSU Athletes Gruff

Ok, I have to admit, my story wasn't well disguised. I had no idea so many people were familiar with the story of the Three Billy Goats Gruff. Then it all came crashing down when my story's thunder was stolen by a (much better) previous performance involving a toll bridge and some fantastic accents. So I guess it should be no surprise that everyone guessed my displaced fairytale. But I must say, this was pretty fun. And I was pleased with the story that developed on the page. This was a great exercise and I can't help but think that if everyone wasn't fervently searching for clues about what fairytale I was stealing for my story, I think maybe I could have at least fooled a few people.

That's basically how I approached this thing. When I started writing the story, I tried to eliminate all mention of goats. During revision, though, I couldn't help but drop little hints, like the names of the characters and their features. I know I totally blew it, but I really couldn't resist the temptation. And I think it not only added to the story's depth, but also to the humor. Once everyone discovered the thinly veiled fairytale, I think the hints became comical. I could hear the chuckles in the audience as I made references to "kids" and "nannies." In case you missed any of them, I tried to italicize the little hints dropped throughout the story below. Some of these included references to goats and some referenced the fairytale itself.

My favorite was the "Norseman's beard," an obvious reference to the origin of the story and, perhaps, even the original story teller's facial features. I picture a large goatherd with a meaty beard overlooking his land, a steep hillside descending into a fjord, in which his goats graze. He spends hours looking across the fjord at some distant, pristine patch of grass on which he would love to turn his herd loose. But the fjord, his relentless troll, will not allow passage and so he devises a way to beat the troll and cross the forbidden bridge so that his goats can get fat and happy. Of course, I also imagine him getting blotto drunk at the equivalent of The Crystal in Norway while telling the story to his friends. (Photo: Brett Keisel, BEST BEARD EVER!)

So here it is again, in the written form:

Billy, Reid and Buck were on their way to the bar one night. Billy was a member of the track team. A skinny guy, he nonetheless was an eating machine, once consuming three large pizza's in one sitting. Reid was a Canadian by birth, a hockey player and a champion of the keg stand. He had a goatee and was meatier than Billy, but not nearly as big as Buck, who was the largest of the three, by far. A lineman on the football team, Buck had a large Norseman's beard and was easily 300 pounds; by all accounts he was a scary dude.

It was a winter night and mostly quiet as they walked down the snowy sidewalks of downtown Bozeman. But they could hear in the distance the loudly boisterous revelry of the Crystal Bar permeating the crisp night air. As they strolled through downtown, they discussed where they might go for their night of drinking.

“I'm tired of 317,” said Buck to the other two. “It's always a sausage fest. Let's try the Crystal tonight. It looks wild in there.” The other two quickly agreed.

As they approached the bar, the music grew louder and as they gazed up above the doorway, they became even more excited. “Wednesday is Ladies Night,” a banner proclaimed. And it was definitely Wednesday!

But...there was a problem. “Awww...Damn! Look who's working the door,” said Billy.

“Aw, man, I hate that guy,” cried Reid. “Always gives MSU kids a hard time. I think he's from Missoula or somethin. Roots for the Griz. One time I heard he broke some guy's nose just because he looked at him funny.”

“Horseshit,” Buck said. “We're going in there. It's ladies night. LADIES night!”

“But it says there's a cover,” whined Billy. “I didn't bring any cash.”

“Me neither,” protested Reid. “How're we supposed to get past him?”

“Don't you two worry,” said Buck, as he called for a huddle, “I have a plan.”

Billy approached the doorman first.

“What's up kid?” said the bouncer.

“Nothin man.” Billy said, a little unsure of himself. “I'm...I'm here for the chicks!”

The bouncer looked him up and down. “Riiiiiiight. Chicks are free. But dudes have to pay a cover charge,” he said in a gruff voice. “Five bucks, Casanova.”

“I didn't bring cash tonight, man; credit card only. The guy behind me's gonna pay,” said Billy. “Let me in and he'll get my cover.”

“Go ahead in.” The bouncer waved him inside, “but if you're lying to me I'm coming in after you.”

Reid approached the door next.

“Ten bucks man.”

“Huh? The sign says five. You tryin' to stiff me, fool?”

“Fool? Harumph. Your boy in there said you had his cover. Now do you or don't you?”

“Not me. But 'ol Buck back there said it was his treat tonight. Talk to him.” He gestured over his shoulder and slipped by the bouncer, disappearing into the smoke and neon.

Buck walked up quickly and flashed his ID. The bouncer was beginning to look kind of pissed.

“That'll be 15 bucks, bro.”

“Say what? I ain't payin that.” And Buck too tried to brush past him. The big, scary bouncer put his meaty hand on Buck's chest and gave him a shove backward.

“Uhhhh-aaaah. No way, man.” The bouncer stood up from his perch on the bar stool. “You gotta pay for you AND your two friends. You got a problem with that you take it out on them. Now, give me the money or I kick your ass first and then I go grab your scrawny little friends and wring their scrawny little necks!”

Buck smiled to himself and said, “Let's do this!” and charged at him as if he were a practice dummy. He lifted the heavy bouncer off his feet and knocked him into the stone wall. The bouncer quickly got up, but Buck was on him just as fast. He grabbed him by the ears and gave him a mighty butt with his head. The bouncer fell backward and Buck proceeded to stomp on his face with his size 15 shoes until blood gushed from his nose. Then he tossed him into the street where the Streamline bus hit him square in the forehead. The bouncer just lay there, motionless on the pavement, covered in his own blood, his body and bones crushed to bits.

Buck wiped his hands on his Carhartts and walked into the blaring music to join his buds. That night they each found a lady. Coincidentally, all three were nannies for rich families in Bozeman. And from that day forward, they made Ladies Night a tradition, for when the management at the Crystal learned of what had happened to their mangled bouncer, they hired Buck on the spot. And Billy and Reid never had to pay a cover charge at the Crystal again.

Romance Requirements

I'm going to choose the foggiest of the four requirements of romance to blog about, since it is probably the most obscure part of a story for me - and that is the revelation, the remembrance, the recognition or the apocalypse, whichever label you prefer.

Frye, on page 54, writes of the cyclical nature of romance, how romances begin with the idyllic world, or very close to it, and end right back at that same spot - the happy ending. This is a fairly simple concept - two people start at point A and end at point B. It is what happens in the middle - the fun stuff - that builds up to the revelation. The revelation is closely associated with the climax in each story, as the action builds to a crescendo and, ultimately, the path that the protagonists are destined to take is revealed. I guess I just kind of said it in the previous sentence. Everything is "revealed" and this allows the characters to make the "right" choice, the one that will lead to happy endings for the just and probably less than happy endings for the unjust.

The revelation can take many forms. There can be an epiphany, as in the case of The King and the Corpse. It can take the shape of chance encounters or recognition, such as in An Ephesian Tale. Or there can be a discovery of noble birth, as in Daphnis and Chloe.

In The King and the Corpse, describing the revelation of the King, Campbell quotes Novalis' observation that "the moment one impossible thing becomes possible, simultaneously another impossible thing becomes unexpectedly possible: the hero overcoming himself simultaneously overcomes nature." In romance, the revelation can be even more spectacular than in other genres, which makes the revelation even more fun. In the end, the corpse, or the ego, becomes the King's savior, the only one who can "save us from the magic circle of our own self-created evil" (229). At least in this story, the revelation even comes with a lesson. But not all revelations have to teach us something.

Whatever it is that creates the so called turn in the plot, what remains is the resolution of the story, where all the struggles, the quests and/or the apparent deaths are laid bare for all to see, as is the path that the characters must now embark upon. Only, now the path must be static. It must not contain uncertainty or danger. In this way, the revelation must not only contain a resolution for the past aspects of the story, but a future in which all uncertainty is eliminated, at least on the surface.

Not being a spinner of fiction, I have no real experience in weaving such a complicated web. I've always wondered how authors come to such complex climaxes, seemingly ending their stories with all the answers. I suppose that's the subject for another blog, but I would like to know how the writing process for romance works. I've heard of authors starting with the revelation and working backwards, building the plot and characters around the story's climax. If this is true, could we then call the revelation the cornerstone on which the rest of the story is built? Is it the most important block in the wall? Or is the quest or the happy ending the true climax, in terms of writing process? Or does it matter? Do all of these have to synch in order for the story to be "good?"

Frye'ing My Brain

I was going back through Frye and I noticed that I had underlined and starred the following passage:

"But a myth on this lower level may be a lie and still represent true indoctrination, and true indoctrination is the real social function of literature" (Frye, 19).

This was more than likely one of those sentences that flew right over my head as my eyes flew over the page, trying to digest what I could late one night. I really didn't understand it and probably still don't. So I thought it might be a reasonable thing to try to pick apart here, since it will force me to think about it a little deeper.

On the surface, this seems to give a very crisp answer to the question, "what's the use of stories that aren't even true?" What's the use? Apparently it's indoctrination - shoving ideas down people's throats. Ok, that's a little harsh, but it seems sort of funny to me that we use fiction - something that obviously isn't true - to plant unproven ideas, ideas that we are told not to question, into other people's heads. Basically, Frye is saying that the real function of literature, as it pertains to the social aspects, is to tell people how they should think.

Weird.

But is it true? I guess it kind of is. A full understanding takes a deep understanding of truth, as Plato seemed to perseverate on in his teachings about reality. But Plato seemed to say that reality in our own heads is guided mostly by perception. And how a particular story is perceived determines largely how we view the story's content, and therefore, our reality.

Frye uses the example of myth versus fables, "one being at the top and one being at the bottom of his vision of reality." The indoctrination in myth is more widely accepted because of its tradition. Therefore, the teachings of myths are thought to be more true.

I can't help but think that some of this has to point back to the popularity of romance among the masses. Romance has a high morality and, thus, a comfort factor, among its readers. The quest, the revelation, the happy ending, even the apparent death all sit well with most people. It justifies what most people hold in their brains as "right" and we, as do Chloe's sheep to the fields, follow that primal instinct to our comfort zone.

So the structure of the story, rather than the content, will lend it its ethos. Invoking more of the oceans streams leaves us with more warm fuzzies by showing us first something that is familiar and only teasing us with adventure, death or tragedy. Because, in the end, we will be left satisfied, if that is how our brain works. If we are a sheep, we will accept almost anything within the romance structure, as long as there is a happy ending.

But I must ask, then, who is the sheep? The author or the audience? As a writer, I take offense to the idea that I must accept a certain genre as the way to communicate my ideas. As a reader, I reject the idea that I am unknowingly being indoctrinated because I enjoy a story such as Daphnis and Chloe. I feel sophisticated enough to be able to pick apart what I enjoy and what is morality woven into the story. Or am I?

I am reminded of a passage from The Two Gentlemen of Verona here:

Speed: "The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me. Therefore I am no sheep."

Proteus: "The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee. Therefore thou art a sheep."

As maddening as this line of logic is, I think it represents the spinning in which my brain is now engaged. I suppose as a writer I need to write to an audience in order to accomplish my goal of having someone read my work, if that is indeed my goal. And perhaps the price of ingesting a good story may be absorbing a bit of ideology from the author.

Did the authors of the Christian bible really want a romance as the basis for their epic story? Who can say? But they certainly employed this genre as evidenced by the quest of Jesus to spread Christianity, his apparent death, the revelation of his resurrection and the happy ending, in which he and all "good" Christians will ascend into heaven to be with God, the very definition of Love as expounded by the religion.

Wow. Breakthrough? I think not. But I think I'm getting a little bit more of the forest through the trees here. Abu Kasem's Slippers is a pretty good story. I know it's not true, but I get the message. Sure, it made me think. I'm not ready to change my shoes in the literal sense, but I get the methaphorical significance, the "visible sign of his unpalatable greed" (Campbell, 9). It made me think about my karma and my ego. If that makes me a sheep, so be it. But I'll bet it makes me a smarter sheep than the rest, and I think that's probably a good thing.

Sheep Go To Heaven, Goats Go To Hell

What struck me about Daphnis and Chloe was the simplicity not only of the story and its characters, but also of the setting - that of the pastoral life. Daphnis the goatherd and Chloe the shepherd coexisting not only in the pasture, but in love. Perhaps it is a romanticized representation of life in the fields, but there is something primal and instinctual about this life that is rooted in our psyche.

So when I saw this representation of the story in Wikipaintings, I stopped. The sheep and goats are as woven into the tapestry of this story as they are into the understanding of physical love between Daphnis and Chloe. This leads me to perhaps the most memorable part of the story, in which these two are attempting to unravel their feelings of sexuality and their desire to fulfill their love for each other physically.

Indeed, it is the coming together of their flocks that lead to their coming together, ultimately, in love and marriage. And it is the animals that teach them many of the lessons that they learn in love.

Daphnis observes that the rams and ewes and the "he-goats and she-goats" engage in an act that he doesn't necessarily understand, though "after they've done the thing they do, the females don't run away from the males anymore and the males don't have the labour of chasing the females...they graze together in future as if they had together enjoyed the same pleasure" (179).

This is the next step in their quest to be joined in physical union. Though their naivete still prevents them from performing the act which they unknowingly desire, it is the collaboration of the animals and the random people who pop into their lives that ultimately teach them what they need to know.

The painting, by Leon Bakst, is of Daphnis and Chloe bidding each other goodnight. It shows a pure white Chloe contrasted with a dark-skinned Daphnis, separated by their flocks. Their union not complete, they must say goodnight after spending the day together. Though the intermingling of the sheep and goats shows the closeness of their relationship. In the painting, it even seems as if some of the flock have begun to meld together, showing their physical union is imminent.

As we talked about in class today, the pastoral landscape is often thought of as an idyllic setting and can be used to enhance a romance. Indeed, Bakst seemed to be struck by this notion and felt compelled to include not only the greens and blues and oranges found in nature, but also the blacks and browns and whites of the animals in his representation of Daphnis and Chloe. All this comes together to provide an influence of the pastoral on the lives of the characters. How could one separate the story of Daphnis & Chloe without the goats and sheep that follow them and are followed by them?

Virgin Stories

There certainly are such things as virgin stories, but are there any virgin stories? In other words, romance is filled with those stories about protecting virtue, preserving virginity, etc. But in presenting this theme throughout the genre, are any of these stories original? And does the repetition of this theme, the formulaic quality of the romance, turn certain people off? Is it the cliche that sends some of us into groans?

Many of my fellow students alluded to the fact that they do not enjoy the repetition of the archetypes found in romance. But for the very same reasons, there are those who are die-hard fans of romance. Is it the familiar that we cling to, but also reject? As Dr. Sexson said last Friday, is it our ancestral memory, our collective unconscious that leaves us pining for this comfortable "happy ending?" What, then, of originality? Will there ever be another cherry popped in the annals of romance?

There certainly are those off the wall romance stories, like Natural Born Killers or True Romance, where the conventions of romance are stretched to the breaking point. For some, this may be the only romances worth paying attention to. This certainly negates the idea that no one may die in a romance, as we see in both of these stories. Corpses litter the landscape in these modern romances. So, I wonder what other conventions may some day be stretched. And as we pull apart the ideas of romance, do we automatically turn them into irony and tragedy? Or do we simply classify them as "bad romance?"