I’m going to try something a little bit different right now...
which is to publish the latest unrevised progress on my jungian interpretation of The Magic Tinderbox.
And while posting the material in this raw form is less than ideal, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I don’t start sharing it as is...I’m NEVER gonna finish writing it out...much less finish revising it.
As I’ve said on my website kristo.com, I’ve already finished analyzing The Magic Tinderbox in the Jungian classes I held in Chicago.
But none of that information was ever written down; so I’ve been waiting for the time and space to put my analysis in writing.
GOOD writing, that is.
Naturally, the added pressure of writing an elegant, erudite analysis of ANYTHING a la Carl Gustav himself is driving me crazy.
But then it struck me today that just going ahead and blogging my unrevised notes might be the closest I can get to how it felt discussing the fairytale in real time; which was, in fact, exhilarating.
Now being the Hemingway fanatic I am, I remember eagerly and hungrily reading that awful, 1999 edition of “True At First Light”; a manuscript left by the old man and edited into a book by his son, Patrick.
The book was about hunting in Africa, and so it was probably assumed that Patrick, having the experience of being a so-called white hunter in Africa, might be a good editor for his father’s story.
Well...Patrick might have been a good editor, but you could easily tell that the old man had left mostly sketchy notes about a story that only came alive in the very few places where he alone had been able to spend adequate time working and revising the text.
And while the book as published was flat as a pancake, you just knew from those familiar moments when the old man’s true voice was strongest, that this would have been a dynamite story if only he had been able to spend enough quality time with it.
That said...I’m giving The Magic Tinderbox whatever time I’ve got.
And when I’m done it’s gonna change the way you look at fairytales.
In the meantime, here are the earliest drafts of the latest installment.
kristo's jungian interpretation of The Magic Tinderbox, part six
the text:
One evening, he realized he had never used the old witch’s tinderbox.
So he rubbed it, and as it sparked, the dog with the eyes like saucers suddenly appeared.
“Tell me your wish, sir,” it said.
“...bring me heaps of money!” gasped the soldier in amazement.
A second later, the dog was back with a bag of coins.
Every time he rubbed the tinderbox, the dog brought him more money.
Then when he rubbed it quickly twice in succession, the dog with eyes like mill stones stood before him, carrying silver coins.
And when the soldier rubbed the tinderbox three times in a row, the third dog came carrying gold.
Rich all over again, the soldier chose the best hotel in the town and went back to leading the life of a fine gentleman.
The soldier was told that the King would not allow anyone to meet his beautiful daughter, for he believed in a saying that the Princess’s destiny was to marry a simple soldier.
That evening, the soldier rubbed the tinderbox.
“Bring me the Princess,” was his new order.
kristo’s interpretation:
It seems hilariously clear that there’s some sort of masturbatory business going on here...but the emphasis seems to be on the sustainability of this resource.
Or at least, the sustainability of its rewards.
And so we have to wonder if the fairytale implies that orgasm on demand is the end-all and be-all of everyone’s fantasy.
(And I say everyone’s, not every man’s, because I must remind you that this was, in fact, the very same prize that the witch was originally after.)
Now considering that money itself is only a talismanic symbol of the power to motivate, move, and otherwise persuade others to obey our commands, we seem to be hot on the trail of understanding today’s typical investment banker.
And well, if not, our soldier certainly seems to be living the life of one.
Even despite the fact that current populist sentiment would hardly include calling these guys fine gentlemen.
The soldier was told that the King would not allow anyone to meet his beautiful daughter, for he believed in a saying that the Princess’s destiny was to marry a simple soldier.
That evening, the soldier rubbed the tinderbox.
“Bring me the Princess,” was his new order.
So, the King has forbidden anyone at all to meet his daughter...and the fairytale goes on to explain why.
And even while it’s obvious that our soldier is the prototypical bad-boy the King fears as a son-in-law, this simple and effective device for creating storytelling tension packs quite a wallop.
In typical, yuppie fashion, our nouveau riche banker...er, I mean soldier...decides that he wants nothing but the best of the best.
And since money is no object for material things, he can easily afford to live in the best hotel in the town.
But why, when faced with a royal prohibition against obtaining a fairytale trophy wife, does he turn to his newfound masturbational / orgasmic skills???
I suppose that if I'm going to insist that this fairytale has everything to do with a metaphor for orgasms...I’d better explain.
But I can’t.
Not quite yet, anyway.
And that’s the way it goes with metaphor and hermeneutics.
We’ve simply got to try this quirky metaphor on for size, a little bit at a time, and see how well it fits.
More to come...
