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Beyond the Disney Spell, or Escape into PantolandAuthor(s): Justyna DeszczSource: Folklore, Vol. 113, No. 1 (Apr., 2002), pp. 83-91Published by: Taylor & Francis, Ltd. on behalf of Folklore Enterprises, Ltd.Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1261008 .

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Folklore 113 (2002):83-101

TOPICS, NOTES AND COMMENTS As contributions to this section, the Editor welcomes comment and debate on topical issues or on recent articles or reviews appearing in the journal. Shorter, accessibly written items of general interest, reports on work in progress, notes and queries, are all also welcome.

Beyond the Disney Spell, or Escape into Pantoland

Justyna Deszcz

Introduction

This article examines the contemporary status of the fairytale, as seen in the light of Jack Zipes's socio-historical approach, according to which the existence of the genre is contingent on the culture industry: the fairytale becomes another mass-mediated commodity. Yet, one can discern a tendency to create texts challenging canonical works and interpretations. This article presents such a tension on the example of the Disney fairytale being interrogated by Angela Carter's short-story "In Pantoland," in which the carnivalised character of Pantoland emerges as a parody of Disneyworld. [1] Commenting on his Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), Walt Disney said, "We just try to make a good picture. And then the professors come and tell us what we do" (Tatar 1992, 229). Indeed, the animated tales made by Disney himself, as well as those produced by his followers, are simply flawless, as evidenced by the enthusiasm with which several generations of viewers have been relishing the animators' techni- cal brilliance. What the importunate critics wish to point out is most probably the fact that across the world "children from seven to seventy" (Rushdie 1992, 18) predominantly relate such fairytale characters as Cinderella or Snow White with their cartoon versions created by Disney. These automatic associations are reinforced by the readily available Disney paraphernalia (T-shirts, mugs, watches, posters, books, etc.), which attract hundreds of buyers. One of the most spectacular examples of this mercantilisation, apart from Disney amusement parks, is the fusion of Disneyfication and McDonaldisation-you can visit a McDonald's restaurant and have a snack as well as receive a free soft and huggable Tigger or Winnie the Pooh. As Robert Wiszniowski rightly points out, the primary aim of such a business practice is "to awaken in the addresser a sense of gratitude, obligation, and conscious or semi-conscious loyalty" that will pass from one generation to another (Wiszniowski 1999, 105). [2]

In other words, the Disney fairytale is no longer confined to the sphere of the imaginary, but enjoys an alternative world, continually spilling from the fantastic fairytale realm into a real one, Disneyland. At the same time, it has started

ISSN 0015-587X print; 1469-8315 online/02/010083-19; Routledge Journals; Taylor & Francis Ltd ? 2002 The Folklore Society. "Wassail This About, Then?" ? 2002 Chris Barltrop DOI: 10.1080/00155870220125462



84 Topics, Notes and Comments

to overshadow the literary fairytale, which in practice means that for many it is now equivalent to the entire genre. How can one cast light on the spiralling popularity of fairytales from the House of the Mouse? Is it just Disney's fabulous animation that mesmerises audiences? How do we explain why Disney has become a household name all over the world? How do we interpret the persistence of the enchantment Disney gives to the genre? Finally, is it possible to envisage a fairytale beyond the categories of the fairytale canon, in which Disney conventions exert marked domination?

In this article, I attempt to use Jack Zipes's political and socio-historical approach to the cultural phenomenon of the fairytale as a springboard for my exploration of Disney wizardry and the cultural significance of Disney produc- tions. It is within this framework that I will discuss Angela Carter's short story, "In Pantoland," a subversive fairytale, providing interesting parallels to the lineaments and dimensions of Disneyland. The manner in which this text radically infringes the limits of the classical fairytale tradition, while also resisting the pre-eminence of Disneyland as a fountain of spellbinding, sacchar- ine and illusory images, will also be addressed. To conclude, I position Carter among a host of other writers for whom the fairytale not only provides a haunting commentary on both the standard aesthetics and politics of the genre, but also problematises the "ordinary," and encourages readers to creatively question their own reality.

The Disney Fairy Tale as a Cultural Institution

To introduce this concept, I begin, in this section, with the work of Jack Zipes, discussing in particular his theory of "contamination." In a later section, I use the theory to examine Carter's reconfiguration of "the standard values and dream package" (Bacchilega 1997, 143). Adopting Frederic Jameson's concept of an individual literary work as a symbolic act of inscribing social values within the text, Zipes concludes that both the fairytale and its oral predecessor are not so much an expression of communal values or general humanist themes, but rather, indicate a particular social reality and reflect attitudes embraced by their originators in regard to their social environment. [3] Moreover, in the case of the fairytale, a given text is also the symbolic outcome of a writer's interactions with folklore, with other fairytale authors, and with implied or unimplied readers. [4] In other words, the fairytale is radically intertextual, as its meaning not only results from a self-contained linguistic system, but also emerges against a background of complex inter-relationships between the author's dialogue with him/herself, "language, audience, text, other texts, and the socio-cultural deter- minations of significance" (Stephens 1992, 85). In his recent book, Sticks and Stones: The Troublesome Success of Children's Literature (2000a), Zipes vividly describes this complex interaction with "the sociocultural web" around the fairytale (Zipes 1999, x) as "contamination," a process through which a fairytale author introduces motifs, themes, or messages into a traditional tale. [5]

Theoretically, the authorial interaction with contemporary and past writers, and with storytellers of folklore is twofold: the author may choose either to duplicate given patterns and ideas, and thus confirm the existing order of the world, or to question and subvert them so as to criticise the dominant forces in



Topics, Notes and Comments 85

the society. This fundamental distinction implies that one can speak of two tendencies within the phenomenon of contamination: on one hand, contamination may mean disfigurement or effacement of the "genuine" character of a given tale; on the other, it may be seen as the fairytale's plasticity and its potential to address social and cultural changes. [6] As such a dynamic oscillation has been operating since tales first began to be disseminated, it is impossible to point to one "true" version of a given tale. Therefore, what has to be investigated in order to comprehend the magical significance of the genre is the way in which it was instrumentalised and appropriated by particular authors to articulate their personal wishes, political opinions, and artistic preferences.

Part of the aforementioned movement within the genre has been highly regularised by society. As Zipes observes, the fairytale has become a cultural institution, which exists within an institutional framework of production, distri- bution, and reception, as well as fulfilling specific social functions, such as the preservation of the cultural heritage of a given country. Today, the institution- alised life of the genre is determined by the conditions of the culture industry; that is, it is contingent on the marketplace. This in turn means that to some extent, the fairytale has been reduced to a mass-produced commodity, to be purchased and owned, and to bring in considerable profit. What is more, the fairytale is being used as a source and a vehicle of powerful self-mirroring images affirming the existing value system, and thus lulling audiences into passivity and compliance. Naturally, this has led to the obliteration of the utopian impulse of the genre, which, according to Zipes, constitutes the social marrow of the fairytale and may be an incentive to oppose the dominant culture, or may even lead to a willed transformation of oppressive power relations, ideally followed by the establishment of a more emancipated human order.

Instead, some fairytales have been repackaged and are selling like hot cakes (Tatar 1992, 235); they are a fleeting, illusory and undemanding diversion from everyday life, comparable to a visit to Disneyworld, and they do not leave room for free thought. Worse still, consumers do not realise that the commodified fairytale is actually designed to reinforce their consumerist status rather than to address them as individuals. As noted above, the success of a given cultural institution is based on the public's longing for the re-creation of standard configurations. The mass-produced fairytale gratifies this desire by emphasising the sense of familiarity achieved through the outward material and ideological sameness. What really counts in the marketplace is performance, fast and efficient service, guaranteeing good profit. Among all the forms of the culture industry that inundate audiences with projections of false utopias, it is undoubt- edly the Disney fairytale that has taken the lead.

Disney began "to harness wonder through animation" (Zipes 2000b, 129) in the 1920s, but it was only after the invention of sound and colour technology that his first feature-length cartoon, Snow White (1937), met with success. With this film, and others (Pinocchio, 1940; Fantasia, 1940; Dumbo, 1941; Cinderella, 1950; Alice in Wonderland, 1951; Peter Pan, 1953; Sleeping Beauty, 1959; and Mary Poppins, 1963), there evolved a set of Disney-brand conventions which were later adopted by other producers. The characteristic Disney protocols are as follows. Firstly, the key formula of the film draws on a




relatively uncomplicated sequence of adventures, revolving around impeccably positive characters, who, depending on their gender, either conquer evil or passively wait to be rescued. Significantly, even though evil is vanquished, there is no change in the power relationships; each of the Disney personae is involved in the prescribed plot of substitution: "chaos and conflict are followed by the restoration of order which affirms the goodness of the existing system" (Zipes 1979, 113). To counteract the banality, such a structure is often embellished with catchy tunes and songs, ingenious visual effects (for example, the computer- generated tricks in Mulan, 1998, making full use of China's exotic beauty), or slapstick gags reminiscent of silent comedies. Of seminal importance are the cute or grotesque anthropomorphic subcharacters, such as the merry animals helping Snow White with housework, or the compassionate kitchen utensils in Beauty and the Beast (1993). [7] The aim of this standard feature of Disney films is to divert the viewer's attention from the schematic dichotomy between good and evil, as well as to provide "comic relief from the romantic business of the fairytale" (Zipes 2000b, 32), to say nothing of the excellent opportunities for marketing Disney products.

Naturally, all of these adornments, together with the elimination of ambigu- ous, controversial or indelicate elements, imply the contamination of the traditional fairytale material. Such is the case in Snow White. In the Grimm's version of the tale, there can be discerned symbols and notions relating to a life-and- death power struggle, jealousy, rivalry and oppression, whereas the cartoon reinforces the conviction that individuals should accept their position and unquestionably carry out their duties. This subliminal message is evoked through spotlighting the figures of the hard-working, orderly and diligent Seven Dwarfs, who in the literary version are actually of minor importance. [8]

The sanitisation inherent in Disney fairytales can be attributed to the social and economic situation in America of the 1930s, when the need "to mollify and apologise for broken promises of a better life as working conditions and social relations became more stressful and alienating" was particularly pressing (Zipes 1983, 131). As Zipes points out, in order to soothe social conflicts, the public had to be given a feeling of security, freedom from doubt and a new sense of life. Equally important was to show the nation that one can succeed by adjusting to capitalism, a system which is portrayed as extremely beneficial and requiring only slight corrections. Simultaneously, Disney's own biography has to be taken into account when trying to comprehend the changes he introduced into his films. Indeed, the trials and tribulations of Disney male characters are strongly reminiscent of his own career-just like them, Disney came from a poor family controlled by a cold-hearted and tyrannical father and it is very likely that the happy endings of his tales were to compensate for his distressed childhood.

Today, although the historical context and the private significance placed on the tales are no longer relevant, the Disney spell has not lost its potency. In light of Zipes's understanding, this is so because the endless inventions of animators create a general impression of the absolute newness. Consequently, audiences, inundated with remarkable special effects, forget about the literary predecessors of Disney retellings. Disney films enter the canon and establish themselves as dominant versions of a given tale, shaping viewers' assumptions about its nature and meaning. However, regardless of whether one watches Snow White, whose




dreams come true through being beautiful and very houseproud, or the feminist Mulan, who nevertheless falls under the spell of a happy ending-a successful marriage-Disney fairytales unremittingly generate the same one-dimensional message. This is coupled with the no longer exclusively American dream of an orderly world where the "flat, oversimple and commercially cute" Cinderella who "looks like a Barbie doll" (Lurie 1970, 43) easily distinguishes good from evil, and where hard work and honesty guarantee success. However, as Zipes rightly notices, the destabilisation of the classic, mythical Disney fairytale is exceptionally difficult for audiences of children, for whom Disney retellings are frequently the only point of reference. In view of this, perhaps it would be more appropriate to begin with making audiences aware of their consumerist attitudes, as well as instilling them with caution or even suspicion towards the traditionally privileged fairytale constellations.

It seems that it is this standardised vision that attracts audiences and makes the synthetic bliss of Disneyland so seductive. It is there that people can perceive themselves as members of one united community that shares norms and values, and cherishes the same concept of happiness. Unfortunately, this feeling is actually an illusion, a short-lived escape from reality. Therefore, the question of whether it is possible to remove the spell cast by the wizard of Hollywood seems of particular relevance.

Carnival in Pantoland

The underlying principle of revision is the use of various defamiliarising techniques that upset the reader's expectations. Two major techniques are the transfiguration of classical fairytales, and the integration of traditional motifs with contemporary references within atypical settings and plotlines. The former method relies on the reader's recognition and awareness of the original tale, which is then abruptly, and often humorously, distorted to "liberate the reader from the contrived and programmed mode of literary reception" (Zipes 1983, 180). More centrally, the provocative effect may be achieved through a sudden reverse of the anticipated plot, the use of unique and strange metaphors, a shift in the narrative perspective (for example, a retelling of a story from the villain's point of view), the lack of happy endings, or growing intertextuality. Interest- ingly, such stories are often referred to as fractured fairytales; they reshape traditional plots so as to update their social or moral purpose.

Conversely, the new-fashioned fantastic landscapes created within the other method are contingent on the reader's need for mystery and novelty, and allow the bringing together of "all possible means for illuminating a concrete utopia" that offer solutions to human predicaments (Zipes 1983, 180). Of course, aside from the transfiguration of fairytales and the fusion of references to actual social occurrences, there exists a multitude of other revisionist techniques, which, because of their uniqueness, become clear only in a closer analysis of a given text. Nevertheless, they all aim to enrich the genre so that fairytales can generate philosophical and intellectual disturbance, or "discomforting comfort" (Zipes 1983, 191), corresponding to the moral sense and sociocultural background of the audience.

The tale which I think highlights some of these revisionist tendencies in a




particularly graphic way is Angela Carter's story, "In Pantoland," included in the section with the tell-tale title "American Ghosts and Old World Wonders" of Burning Your Boats, a collection of tales published posthumously in 1995. [9] The title of the story refers to the British tradition of pantomime ("panto" for short), performed during the Christmas period. For those unfamiliar with the tradition, I should perhaps explain that pantomimes are family entertainments, stage performances customarily based on fairytale narratives such as "Cinderella" or "Jack and the Beanstalk." They feature music, spectacle, comedy, burlesque, and a great deal of audience participation. Characterisation is highly stereotypical, and the sex roles of key characters are reversed, so that the "Principal Boy" (Prince Charming or Jack, for example), is played by a girl, and the "Dame" (Cinderella's stepmother, or Jack's mother) is played by a man. The "joke" is that the sex of the actor is emphasised not disguised. If the plot allows, pantomime- writers also like to include an animal, cute like Jack Whittington's cat, or grotesque and funny inventions such as "Daisy the Cow," or a pantomime horse, visibly played by two humans.

Though Carter's title hints that the reader is about to enter another imaginary land, it is not a "real" self-sufficient fairytale realm, independent of an objective reality in the way Oz or Narnia are. It is simply one more amusement park similar to Disneyland, which, being subject to the laws of our world, lacks any magical dimension. One becomes aware of it immediately in the initial para- graphs, which abound in the narrator's comments about the reactions of visitors and the programmes they receive at the entrance. The narrator's job is to show guests around the park. "In Pantoland everything is grand," he says (Carter 1995, 382), then as an afterthought, "Pantoland may not be tip-top, but after all, everything is colourful, there is music all around" (for example, golden hits of the sixties). Just as in Disneyland, one can bump into a lot of recognisable characters-Cinderella with family, Aladdin, Snow White, Robin Hood and Marian, and Mother Goose. There are also historical personages with almost mythical status-Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Francis Drake, Admiral Nelson.

Unlike Disneyland, however, Pantoland is governed by chaos, accidents, fluidity, and change. According to the narrator, these effects are caused by the Saturnalia, the Carnival, and the Feast of Fools, all taking place concurrently in Pantoland. The resulting anarchy legitimises the interrogation of the "normal" (Disneyfied) world, undermines the domination of official public institutions, and allows the questioning of accepted truths and norms. Moreover, because Pantoland is pantomime, a stage performance, there is ample opportunity for fashioning counter-discourses and using a "hidden transcript" such as character- ises theatre in situations of oppression (totalitarian rule, slavery, colonialism) to develop an alternative representation of reality (see Scott 1990; also Fletcher 1994, 9). In this light, the Bakhtinian carnival, the culture of laughter, and Pantagruelism, as well as such textual strategies as intertextuality or instability of genres, are legitimate means of political expression on stage. As James C. Scott avers, "the [carnivalesque] grotesquerie, profanity, ridicule, aggression and character assassination... make sense only in the context of the effect of power relations the rest of the year" (quoted in Fletcher 1994, 9). It is only then that the all-pervasive spirit of frankness, inherent in carnival, leads to a disenchantment of the world. This in turn creates new perspectives on the usually clear-cut




distinction between the highbrow and lowbrow, the sophisticated and vulgar, the serious and ridiculous, the certain and ambivalent, the right and wrong, or the true and false (but not: Serious, True or Right). Carter's tale seems a spectacular example of this practice.

How then, is the ironical unmasking of the artificial Disneyfied happiness executed? Firstly, Pantoland operates on the principle of unhealthy kitsch opulence: the castle is afflicted by an overabundance of turrets, the friendly cow Daisy has more udders that a typical cow, and the forest is "considerably more impenetrable" than a regular one (Carter 1995, 382). Yet, in spite of this sickly, lavish and extravagant ornamentation, Pantoland is not a profitable enterprise. There are no funds to build a new castle and the inhabitants of fairyland have to do without it. The only thing they can do is to wax the kitchen floor.

Moreover, nobody in Pantoland makes an effort to hide another salient aspect of the amusement park, namely, that its existence depends entirely on stereotypes and archetypes deeply rooted in mass subconsciousness. Naturally, this implies the guests' confinement to those symbols and notions that can be identified automatically, without any meaningful reflection. Therefore, nobody minds the two-dimensionality of the local architecture and the fact that when Marian looks out of the window to listen to Robin's serenade, one can notice behind her back a bed painted on the wall, or that when she slams the door, the whole building makes a hollow sound and trembles as if in an earthquake.

The illusory quality of Pantoland can also be observed in the Bakhtinian elements or, in Carter's words, the "inescapable incursion of the real" (Carter 1995, 383). Here pantomime horses excrete on the stage, and Chuckles the dog forgets his role and barks at an inappropriate moment. What is particularly interesting is that it often seems to Chuckles that his position in Pantoland ought to be similar to Toto's in Oz and that he should have landed in a genuinely fantastic realm over the rainbow, not in its poor copy. It is no wonder he feels disappointed; but he is also relieved that he is no longer deceived by the seemingly magical contraptions of Pantoland.

The most scathing and ostentatious parody of Disneyland is achieved through the suspension of "the male outlook" and the exposure of the arbitrariness that permeates the customary conceptions concerning sexuality. Contrary to the clear-cut sex divisions in Disneyland, in Carter's literary theme park they are imprecise. On the one hand, one can come across quintessential womanhood, as represented by Mother Goose, whose total attention is taken up by an egg, and her male counterpart Dick Whittington's cat. But what about Daisy the Cow, "who is so female that it takes two whole men to represent her" (Carter 1995, 386)? Even more perplexing is the Principal Boy, who ignores any fixed categories of sexuality. For Carter, the Principal Boy is a "male/female cross" (Carter 1995, 388); for the narrator, a door that opens both ways. As the narrator explains, all can be arranged through additional gestures, artificial eyelashes, make-up, or emblematic costumes. All the more so because within the mocking atmosphere of Pantoland, prescribed scenarios are not strictly followed-fairytales not only intermingle but also unexpectedly invade reality. As a result, the visitor who encounters Aladdin in the launderette can never be sure whether he is in, or out of, role.

Naturally, as in all carnivals, the sovereignty of Pantoland does not last long




and the freedom from the hegemony of stereotypes and Disneyland efficiency and routine must end. The imaginary land cannot replace reality, as "things don't change because a girl puts on trousers or a chap slips on a skirt, you know" (Carter 1995, 389). Yet, what remains is the transgressive power of such texts as Carter's.

Conclusion

In his discussions of contemporary fairy tales, Zipes draws attention to the constructive efforts of subversive fairy tales, which undermine "familiar percep- tions cherished by readers, so that they could reflect on the negative aspects of anachronistic forms and perhaps transcend them" (Zipes 1983, 180). Carter is not, of course, the only writer to achieve this effect. There has been a real upsurge of innovative and unruly tales that similarly interrogate the mainstream tradition. Perhaps the most eloquent and earnest of such voices are post- modernists (Robert Coover, Donald Barthelme, or Salman Rushdie) and feminist writers (Anne Sexton, Olga Broumas, Tanith Lee, A. S. Byatt, or Margaret Atwood). Just like Carter's intricate structuralisation of fairytale conventions, their transformations of the genre are edged with radical values of de- mystification, paradox and disenchantment. Apart from examples in literature, provocative endeavours to deconstruct the established interpretations of the genre can be discerned in adaptations of fairytales for film (Jim Henson, Tom Davenport, Shelley Duvall, Tony Bill or Eric Idle). All these compel viewers "to realize how we can fight terror and cunningly insert ourselves into our daily struggles and turn the course of the world's events in our favor" (Zipes 1999, 29).

Certainly, the liberating potential of Carter's carnivalesque visions, among others, will foster a critical reflection on the grand narrative of the Disney fairy tale and its social environment. By existing only in relation to the dominant culture, the carnival enables the unmasking of commonly accepted phenomena, and renders them nonsensical, even irritating. It provides a crucial insight into the dominant norms and ideals, and the Weberian "iron cage" of rationalisation, "from which hope for escape lessens all the time" (Ritzer 1983, 146).

Notes

[1] An earlier version of this article was published in Literatura Ludowa 6 (1999):33-9. [2] All the quotations from Polish sources have been translated by the author.

[3] Jameson 1981, 77.

[4] Zipes's approach has been strongly influenced by Marxism, the Frankfurt School (Theodor Adorno, Max Horkheimer), the sociological views of Norbert Elias, and by the ideas of Walter Benjamin, Roland Barthes, and Michel Foucault.

[5] See Zipes (2000a) Sticks and Stones: The Troublesome Success of Children's Literature.

[6] In his earlier publications, Zipes often refers to this phenomenon as an oscillation between mythicisation and demythicisation of the genre. For more discussion of these two tendencies, see Zipes 1983 and 1994.

[7] It is worth pointing out that Disney songs are usually performed by popular artists and are often accompanied by video clips consisting of snippets from a given film. Moreover, they are




usually translated into foreign languages and play an important role in advertising campaigns. Finally, they often function independently of films, circulating within the genre of film music and becoming hits.

[8] Not that the Grimms themselves were above contaminating tales. See Zipes (2000a).

[9] The collection also comprises Carter's highly acclaimed feminist and postmodern revisions of canonical fairytales.

References Cited

Bacchilega, Cristina. Postmodern Fairytales: Gender and Narrative Strategies. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1997.

Carter, Angela. Burning Your Boats. New York: Holt, 1995.

Fletcher, D. M., ed. Introduction to Reading Rushdie: Perspectives on the Fiction of Salman Rushdie. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1994.

Jameson, Frederik, The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Act. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1981.

Lurie, Alison. "Fairy Tale Liberation." New York Review of Books (17 December 1970):42-1.

Ritzer, George. Contemporary Sociological Theory. 3rd edn. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1983.

Rushdie, Salman. The Wizard of Oz. BFI Film Classics. 4th edn. London: British Film Institute, 1992.

Scott, James C. Domination and the Arts of Resistance. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990.

Stephens, John. Language and Ideology in Children's Fiction. London: Longman, 1992.

Tatar, Maria. Off With Their Heads: Fairytales and the Culture of Childhood. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992.

Wizniowski, Robert. "Reklama polityczna a komunikowanie masowe." In Studia z teorii komu- nikowania masowego, ed. Boguslawa Dobek-Ostrowska. 82-111. Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Uniwer- sytetu Wroclawskiego, 1999.

Zipes, Jack. Breaking the Magic Spell: Radical Theories of Folk and Fairytales. London: Heinemann, 1979.

Zipes, Jack. Fairytales and the Art of Subversion: The Classical Genre for Children and the Process of Civilization. London: Heinemann, 1983.

Zipes, Jack. Fairytale as Myth/Myth as Fairytale. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1994.

Zipes, Jack. Happily Ever After: Fairytales, Children, and the Culture Industry. New York and London: Routledge, 1997.

Zipes, Jack. When Dreams Come True: Classical Fairytales and Their Tradition. New York and London: Routledge, 1999.

Zipes, Jack. Sticks and Stones: The Troublesome Success of Children's Literature. New York and London: Routledge, 2000a.

Zipes, Jack, ed. The Oxford Companion to Fairytales. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000b.

Biographical Note

Justyna Deszcz is a doctoral student in English Literature at Wroclaw University, Poland. Her current research interests include children's fiction, postmodernism, post-colonialism, folk and fairytales and their contemporary cultural status. She has also published on socio-political and historical approaches to the fairytale.



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