Last month I shared with you the story of "Stribor's Forest." Now it's time to discuss the story further.
Ivana Brlic-Mazuranic (lived from 1874-1921). Ivana was born to a prominent family, privately educated, married a wealthy man (in an arranged marriage) and had seven children. She began by telling these stories to her children and resisted publishing her work for quite some time because, in those days, it was inappropriate for women to write. Fortunately, she later changed her mind. Her work was first published in French in 1913. The English translation of this collection entitled “Croation Tales of Long Ago” was published in 1924. It is a compilation of six stories, one of which is “Stribor’s Forest.”
These literary fairy tales were inspired by folklore, mythology and Christian morality just like the work of Hans Christian Anderson. In fact, Ivana is sometimes called the “Croation Anderson” or even the “Croation Tolkien” (although I think the Tolkien analogy is a bit of a stretch). Both Hans and Ivana’s writing offer a moral lesson using the motifs found within folktales. However, Ivana’s tales tend to be more uplifting and Anderson’s darker in tone.
Many of Ivana’s stories explore issues of motherhood and this one is no exception. In our story she offers a portrait of a woman who is selfless, sacrificing everything for her son. Nature also plays a significant role in many of her tales. The forest depicted in this story was inspired by those of her childhood where the Slavonian Oaks thrive. This story is a journey like many others, but the magic of Stribor’s Forest can be good or bad depending upon the intention of the traveler. As you’ll discover this old woman has a profound choice to make. She’ll show herself to be a very wise crone indeed.
The story begins with the young man entering Stribor’s forest. The forest is enchanted. “Some of its magic was good and some was bad – to each according to his desserts.” The forest looms ominously throughout the story. It ultimately becomes the force that determines the worth of each of the characters in the tale. Each according to their desserts.
The forest was magical because it was under a spell or a curse. It would remain enchanted until it was entered by “someone who preferred his sorrows to all the joys of this world.” That’s a real head scratcher, isn’t it? Who would ever prefer their sorrows to all the joys available in this world? Now, you might say, “I think I’d prefer my sorrows to someone else’s.” After all, it’s usually better to live with the devil you know, as they say. But this is ultimately the question and the moral of the story. It’s something we are asked to grapple with. But first, let’s see what the old woman does.
The story begins with a young man and his mother. The young man reveres his mother as a saint. He loves and cherishes her, perhaps a bit too much. His view of his mother is too idealized to be sustained. If you can remember back to an earlier podcast, “The Old Woman and the Tiger,” we see here a different scenario. That Chinese folktale is a story of filial piety and a tiger who takes on the role of a dutiful, departed son. This story has a more predictable track, for the son, who begins by being dutiful, is soon overtaken by carnal desires. While visiting the forest, he meets an enchanted snake who transforms into a beautiful woman with wily, evil ways and sexual alure. He seems helpless, just as Samson was in the Bible. Ivana who draws on Christian morals and stories, plucks this character from the Garden of Eden – half snake, half Eve.
When the mother tries to warn her son about his bride, he rebels and calls her a witch. She knows what’s going on with this creature, because of her wisdom. She alone can identify the snake because she uses her knowledge and experience to watch and observe. But the young man doesn’t listen to his mother and he doesn’t even check out what she says. He just stays under her spell. Now, this part of the story rings true, for most parents know it’s best not to criticize a child’s love interest. It just tends to cement their bond and cast the parent out.
Obviously, this mother didn’t understand the unfolding dynamic which now descends upon her – such cruelty and abuse from her daughter in law and son. The mother’s whole reason for living was to serve and protect her child. But in return he gives her nothing. All he does is laugh or stay silent as his snake bride torments and tortures his mother. Meanwhile, his mother doesn’t even pray to God for fear God will discover the sins of her son.
Now, we can say much about the son, and I could write volumes about the co-dependency of his mother. We all know women who are co-dependent. It’s still a strong part of our culture. Self-sacrifice is a virtue for mothers, not tough love (even when that’s the greatest love of all). We praise acts of codependency no matter the consequence to the child or the family. This is one of those sticky, so called “Christian” virtues, that appear in Ivana’s stories. The story cries out for women to aspire to such selflessness too. Any takers? I certainly hope not! Kindness, caring and service to others is a virtue but not when you lose yourself in the process. Can that even apply when your son and daughter in law follow you into the forest hoping to see your demise?
Sadly, this old woman is not saved by her son. She is aided by the magic of this world, the Brownies who came out of the logs and especially Tintilinkie, who heard her cries and gave her advice. He was the helper. It’s magic that leads her to safety and ultimately transforms her life. How might that magic be a metaphor that we can use in this life? Is it hope? Imagination? Potential for change? The old woman embodies each of these.
She finally meets Stribor who is a force of both magic and nature. He listens to her story and then makes her an offer. She can either choose to go back to the village of her youth and live there as she did 50 years ago OR stay as she is. But that is the catch. If she goes back to the past, she will no longer remember her son. She declines the offer.
“I would rather abide in my misery and know that I have a son, than that you should give me all the riches and happiness in the world, and I forget my son,” she says. And in so doing, the curse is broken. The magic is gone, and her son is back to normal. He asks for her forgiveness, which she grants for she is now the wise crone. Her son marries the kind girl who gave his mother wood and the three live happily together.
But I think we should pause for just a moment to reflect on the choice she made. Most of us have a heavy heart. It’s the nature of this world for us to suffer and experience sorrow. But would we exchange that sorrow for all the happiness in the world? That’s the question we are left with in this story. What most often haunts us and hurts us is not the misfortune and suffering we experience but the moments of beauty and grace that remain. It’s the poignancy of “if only” or “what if.” Think of your most difficult experiences. Are there any memories left from death, divorce or illness to hold on to? The true magic of Stribor’s forest is accepting our sorrow as proof that we once loved so much that it hurts. It’s this love we always want to remember.
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Illustration by Vladimir Kirin.
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