Telling folktales

“Once upon a time…” Those magic words take us out of this time into no-time, when animals might talk, when fish might grant wishes, when an old crone might help us on the side of the road, and when, at the end, we might, just might, live happily ever after.

I’m preparing to give a workshop on telling folktales, followed by a performance of little-known stories, for Northlands Storytelling Network on March 18, so this question has been on my mind:

Why do I love folktales?

Is it because I’ve always been a daydreamer, and these stories feel like daydreams? When I tell them, I am inviting the listeners into the world in my head. Hmm. That’s not quite it, because I feel that way with every story I tell, be it a folktale, a literary story or a personal tale (factual or not).

Is it because folktales give us a way to sidle up next to Big Ideas, so that we can think about them without being overwhelmed? Maybe. When I tell the Grimm tale Maid Maleen, I remember a time in my life when I felt trapped, though I really wasn’t, just as Maid Maleen and her servant were locked in a windowless tower for seven years, not realizing they could have gotten out.

Is it because folktales are, in the words of the inimitable storyteller Beth Horner, “Personal narratives of an entire culture”? Could be. And yet, while some folktales give us a window on specific cultures, some are so general they could be anywhere.

Is it because I can look for different versions of a given folktale and create my own, without fear of infringing copyright? That’s a piece of it.

Is it mere familiarity, since I grew up reading Grimm and Andersen and the Andrew Lang collections, and they are deep in my heart and in my soul? Possibly.

How about you? Do you love folktales? If so, why? If not, why not?