Jane Eyre, Beauty and the Beast, Cupid and Psyche and Little-Burnt Face: The myth of the monstrous man.

Jane Eyre is quite an innocent when her tiny slipper crosses Mr. Rochester's threshold.  She has lived through much, having survived Lowood and Mr. Brocklehurst, but she is still quite new to the world. Jane has a tolerably hopeful opinion of it when she sets out to become a governess and even when she is nearly run down by a large dog and a horse. 

Jane has been surrounded by good women and good girls to a good degree. She knows about cruelty from her aunt and the man her aunt entrusted her to, but for the most part the scales are tipped toward the good in humanity in her eyes.

She is totally unprepared for the depth of deception Mr. Rochester is capable of. Mr. Brocklehurst was cruel, a children’s school despot. Brocklehurt's evils were direct and without subtlety. He did not try to hide his nature. He was too stupid to know how. Still, one may wonder why Jane would trust another man in a superior position so soon or at all? 

We know that superiority did not move Jane. She had not learned to fear it or even be a little suspicious of it, making her an innocent. Mr. Rochester is a "gentleman" in wealth and appearance. He is a gentleman who knows how to keep secrets like an illegitimate daughter, a wife and a mistress. He is of higher rank than Jane but of lower morals (since his were not trained.)

Still, Jane does not distrust Mr. Rochester even when she is warned by Mrs. Fairfax. She knows something is wrong in the house but innocently leaves Mr. Rochester blameless because he does not look the part of a villain like Grace Poole. Appearances are deceptive in this story. Nothing is as it seems, yet Jane trusts Edward. She never wonders why a man of his station would want to marry her. Her naive view of the world as a place of equality of spirit blinds her to her possible danger.

Rochester is the “lover” in the story, but he is far from a romantic ideal. In fact, he is a bit of a monster. He is cruel, calculating and manipulative, yet Jane loves him. How can that be? Aren't lovers always good? Not necessarily. As romance readers today will attest, ”everyone loves a bad boy.” 

This is not a new concept. We have "bad boys" even in ancient myth. One of the first is Cupid. In the myth of Cupid and Psyche, Cupid kidnaps Psyche and takes her to a castle where unseen hands serve her and an unseen lover services her. Psyche is informed, by  her sisters,  that her husband is a monster,  specifically a giant snake. Very phallic indeed and very familiar.

Cupid may have been one of the first monstrous lovers, but he is not the last. The fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast has many similar elements: a beastly lover, a hidden castle where the Beauty is served by invisible servants, and a prince who must be seen as other than a monster.

Sound familiar? Let's look again at Jane Eyre. Jane goes to a beautiful mysterious mansion. She is a servant, but her not-so-handsome lord and master is not what he seems. A loving eye is necessary to see Rochester truly for what he is. Only the right way of looking at this "monster" will allow Jane to recognize his pain and his misery.Seeing is essential when dealing with monstrous lovers and men.

There is a similar example in Native American Culture. It is one of my childhood favorites. It is called, “Little Burnt-Face.” Like Jane, Little Burnt-Face does not have a great childhood, as her name suggests. She is burned and beaten constantly by her sisters. One day, a Great Chief's sister comes to the village looking for a wife for her brother. She asks only, "what does he look like?"  to all the girls in the village. Some girls say, "I don't know." Others say, "he is handsome," or "he has a nice fur tunic," or " he has nice moccasins." The sister sends them away.They have not seen him.  Finally, only Little Burnt-Face is left. She drags herself into the tent. The sister is kind to her. She is asked the same question. What does he look like? Little burnt-face says that he has a rainbow as  his bow,  the stars are his eyes ,and the earth are  his shoulders. She has seen him! She is healed and marries him.

In all these stories, the art of seeing is the key (suffering of the heroine is also important because it gives her the ability to empathize with the monster's pain and recognize the inner beauty that others cannot see.)  Jane must see past rank, deception, and lies to the truth of a terrible marriage and the heartache of a desperate man. Rochester’s pain is on the inside unlike the Beast, perhaps suggested by his ugliness. When he passes through the fire, a fire that redeems him, frees, and brands him, his wounds are laid out in the open for the world to see. He is even more unacceptable to others, but Jane still sees the good man that loves her within. Seeing is an art especially when it comes to the heart. To see beyond the hideous pain of another to the real need for love and companionship that is at the heart of the monster, of the beast, of the Great Chief, of Mr. Rochester is one skill a heroine must have in order to get her happy ending.

Candice Raquel Lee

Author of The Innocent (A Paranormal retelling of Jane Eyre)    

  

Do you Believe in Love? You should because it saved your life.

Do you believe in love? I've discovered a lot of people don’t. They think love either does not really exist or it’s just a synonym for sex. I’m here to tell you it does exist, but it’s hard as hell to get. It’s not easy to love someone. In fact, it is very hard and that is why a lot of people just don’t. People hurt us, and people we love hurt us more.

So, why bother? Because love is the thing that keeps old people holding hands when they walk down the street even though their sexy parts have dried up. Love is what keep babies alive. If babies don’t get love and touches, they die. It's called "failure to thrive." Love is what makes life bearable and livable. 

Love  can hit like lightening. It can strike out of the blue when you are walking down the street. People call that meeting your soul mate. I think it is just one soul recognizing another soul it knows, but that does not mean things will be easy from then on. In fact, that will pretty much guarantee that the shit is going to hit the fan because for some reason the universe test lovers. It tests the hell out of them.

In twenty years of marriage, I have discovered that in order to truly love, you have to forgive. You have to forgive yourself, others, God, your parents. You have to forgive that they do not live up to your high moral standards or any standard of perfection as made up by all of us imperfect people who want everyone else to be perfect.

To fall in love is easy. Most everybody is lovable. Don’t believe me? Look at a baby. Or even think about the novel, movie, and newer mini-series Rosemary’s Baby. Everybody loves babies even if they are Satan’s kid. We all start out lovable. I don’t know what happens later but that cute little baby is still inside all of us.

We all want and need love. We may say we don’t, be we do. How do I know? Because babies will die without touch and holding and affection. It is a basic need whether you grow up into a curmudgeon, scrooge or pessimist. You are alive today because somebody must have loved you.

So, how do you get love? Love. The word is a verb. Love others and they will reflect back love to you. If they don’t, it’s their loss. Some people aren't ready, are too scared, too hurt. But the soul is immortal, so we all have all the time in the world to learn to love and be lovable.

So, how do you keep love? Hold on. Hold on no matter what. And if you can’t, if you have reached your limit with someone you love then let go. As the old saying says, “if you love something let it go. If it returns to you then it is truly yours.” I will warn you they may not come back in this life. They may come back in another or another until the end of time. That is the wonderful and terrible thing about being a soul. You live forever so people can take their time coming back. Good people and bad.

How do you tell the difference between your soul mate and another schmuck? Your soul will tell you. It knows the real from the false. When it is time, you will know. Then hold on like hell because that’s when the universe will try and tear you apart.

“Why?” you ask. Because forever is a long time, and if you can’t hold on for even one life on this earth what chance do you have for an eternity? So, love, open your heart and love and get hurt and grow stronger and forgive. What do you have to lose except all your fears?   

Candice Raquel Lee

Author of "The Innocent" a story about the power of  love.

Author of "Effed Up: Abnormal Romance" about how stupid and funny romance can be.

Kurt Vonnegut and J.R.R. Tolkien Ended My Relationship

When I was dating, I met a brilliant young man. In fact, many said he was a  genius. I was thrilled. I had someone to talk to about literature and nerdy things, sci-fi and fantasy. Little did I know as we traded classics in these genres that these same books would end our flourishing romance. Tolkien heralded the death knell, but Vonnegut sealed the coffin.

We were sitting in his bedroom one sunny afternoon, on his bed, side by side. We were getting comfortable and he decided to take off his shoes. I noted that he had a lot of hair on the tops of his feet. I had never seen that before.
He remarked, "Just like a hobbit."

Oh, yes, I remembered that was how they were described. I blinked, a bit disturbed as I looked him up and down, for indeed, he looked very much like a hobbit. .My world turned surreal.
He continued: "You know, they said at the end of Tolkien's books that humans mated with the remaining species like dwarves and hobbits, and that is why there are people of different statures and body builds. Maybe that is why you look the way you do. You're part elf."

Suddenly, I was no longer in America, but in some ruined, magicless, future version of  Middle Earth. Since I was being pigeon-holed into the world of Tolkien, I was quite sure that my ancestors had been of the race of mighty tree elves. I thought of my proud Numenor heritage as I looked over at him, an obvious hobbit. Then at  that moment, as ridiculous as it was, I thought, "In the name of my mighty race how can I marry a hobbit? Would not my great ancestors roll in their graves at the thought of the sacrilege of those two races combining? Was I not desecrating my imaginary heritage? Would not the Grey Havens belch up its contents in an angry wave at the very thought?"

Still, somehow our relationship limped on. Like Legolas and Gimli, we traveled unabashedly together, though many noted our incongruity, and some remarked upon it, especially my college girlfriends. Well, they did not actually remark, but kind of laughed at me. Still, I persevered. I believed that the physical was unimportant. It was the soul that counted. I saw much in this self-professed hobbit, in the way Gandalf saw much in Frodo. He was witty and logical, but like a hobbit, he could also be stubborn and a bit traditional, especially about women's roles.

While I sung his praises to others, defending my choice, he thought of me as a foolish, flighty elf. I expected the adoration of Gimli for Galadriel, but he was treating me like I was Samwise,  He would explain the simplest things, assuming I was not as intelligent or educated as he was. He sought to control and manipulate my behavior in a variety of ways. But I came from a proud matrilineal people. Everyone knows how handily Galadriel held Celeborn's family jewels at her command, and here this Hobbit was riding me. It was wrong. If I was an elf, I should be treated like one, with respect, and deference, the way I was treating him. Why was I being treated like the silly hobbit in this relationship?!

Then Kurt Vonnegut came into my life. I unearthed a tome called Welcome to the Monkey House from among the books my father had left me. In it I began reading a story about Billy the Poet. That week the hobbit called and asked me what I was doing. I told him.

"I'm reading about a beautiful girl named Juno who lives in a dystopian world, where everyone is a virgin and sex is frowned on. She is kidnapped and deflowered by Billy the Poet, who sent her this poem:
'I'm five foot two,
With eyes of blue,
With brown hair to his shoulders-
A manly elf
So full of self
the ladies say he smolders.'
What do you think of the poem?" I asked him. It sounded a lot like him, a guy who thought much of himself and less of others, a guy who would rape a girl because he thought it was logical and for the greater good.

"I don't know," he said, annoyed.

I went on: "Afterward, Billy tells her 'You're angry because I am such a bad lover, and a funny-looking shrimp besides. And what you can't help dreaming about from now on is a really suitable mate for a Juno like yourself.'

I could hear him swallow. He knew the end was near, but he refused to go gracefully. No. He went down like Gollum holding onto the ring. I suppose a bit too late, he realized he had something precious in me.
              
Though the message had been wrapped in an unsavory package,  I learned from a short story that I would never be happy until I met a man who was my equal mentally and emotionally. I wanted a man who would treat me respectfully, who would honor me, appreciate me, the way I would him. I wanted a man, a good man, and I found him after I finished with the hobbit.

God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut.