Cinderella's Modern Dream

I will always remember the first time my daughter watched Disney’s Cinderella. She was sitting on our couch at home, her eyes glued to the TV screen, and on her face stretched an expression of deep longing. She might have been no more than two. I looked on in dismay. I admit I am often appalled by the mistakes I make as a parent, some of which I had no idea would be a mistake until I see the results. As I gaped at Eden’s wide-eyed admiration of Cinderella marrying Prince Charming, I could not believe I had been guilty of such a horrifying mistake. Here I was, teaching my daughter at the tender and impressionable age of two, that nothing in life matters more than catching a man.

Feminism is defined by the Merriam-Webster Dictionary as “the theory of the political, social and economic equality of the sexes” as well as “organized activity on behalf of women’s rights and interests.” Though I might not call myself a feminist -- I do not actively pursue women’s rights, nor do I feel particularly discriminated against as a woman -- there is one aspect of traditional literature which I dislike: that the girl almost always gets together with a guy by the end of the story. Why, oh why do so many novels, whether it be romance, adventure, dystopia or fairy tale, have to have a love story as part of their plots?

Young adult literature today abounds with strong heroines: Calla of the Nightshade Trilogy, Katsa of Graceling, Elisa of Girl of Fire and Thorns. I might not be crazy about The Hunger Games, but Katniss is a strong, capable woman, a born leader. All these young heroines are upstanding examples of the strong woman. Gone are the damsels in distress, weak and fragile maidens. Instead we find girls who are leaders, warriors, hunters, all of whom are intelligent and physically strong.

But despite the independence of each of these literary girls, their respective novels include love plots which are nearly as important as the main action, and -- spoiler alert -- other than Elisa who at least at the end of book one finds herself standing alone at the head of her nation -- each of these female leads ultimately attaches herself to a boy. I wonder, do our novels still send a message to young female readers that no matter how many achievements they attain, still none is more important than that of catching a man?

To come back to my two-year old daughter, gazing starry-eyed as Cinderella marries her prince, perhaps I could argue that it is in our blood, in our nature as women, to yearn for love. Perhaps no matter how many Elisas triumph over their enemies alone, our wish as women is also to establish a family and a home? And I wonder, is it that bad to teach our children the importance of connection, love and intimacy? In Hebrew we say, "It is not good for man to be alone." There is little doubt in my mind that being alone is also not that great for a woman. In the end, I do believe, love conquers all.

It Is Good to Die for One’s Country

Saving the world is a favored literary theme. Like Atlas, nearly every hero or heroine of fantasy must carry the burden of the world on his or her shoulder, an often thankless job. Most of them, in true “reluctant hero form,” dislike the job very much. And yet someone has to do it. The same someone (or sometimes someone else) has to pay the price.

In Andrea Cremer’s Nightshade Trilogy, that price is measured in freedom fighters, the searchers. The searchers risk their lives fighting magical beings who cannot be killed so that Shay, Calla, Ren and their friends can save the rest of mankind.

As I read through the three novels, I wondered at the single-mindedness of the searchers. They know that many of them will not return from their missions, but though overwhelmed by truly supernatural odds, they still do not hesitate to volunteer their lives for what they believe is the greater good. Like ants, they work together for a single purpose, some dying so that others, more important than them, could go on. More than that, the sacrifice of a loved one is accepted as honorable and vital.

Having grown up with Joseph Trumpeldor’s famous last words, “It is good to die for one’s country,” I am torn between admiration and resentment for this utter dedication to a cause. Trumpeldor’s death as defender of Tel Hai is, in fact, inspiring when remembering how many Jews had gone like sheep to the slaughter throughout history. Fighting for one’s country, being willing to risk one’s life for one’s country -- I was raised on these values, and they still fill me with a sense of pride at belonging to a nation where such heroes abide. And yet sometimes, hearing that soldiers, young men, were killed defending (for example) a grave which may or may not be the grave of a forefather who had died thousands of years ago, I am filled with anger at the sacrifice.

It is much easier for me to sort through my emotions when I’m only reading a work of fiction. Everything is so much clearer when there is really only one (or maybe two) plots going on. Love and war -- those are the two themes in Nightshade and its sequels. Some love and lose, others love and triumph. Some dedicate themselves to the fight, sacrificing themselves so that their son or daughter, their friends, or simply the next generation could survive.  It is so simple, really. The world must be saved. There is only one way to do it, and it is called self sacrifice.

We have a world to save, the young characters say. Indeed, they do. The story unflinchingly propels them forward through one sacrifice after another, through the deaths of comrades and parents. It is good to die for one’s country, for one’s group, for the greater good, for the world. Maybe, because it is fiction, those who die could come back, but still, they never do.