Throughout time, literature has been riddled with stories for children in which there is a pronounced absence of the child protagonist’s biological mother. These missing mothers, who as a rule are loving and perfectly maternal women, when contrasted with their ill-reputed replacements, reveal something about the gender roles that have been outlined by the some of the literature written for children over time. The differences in the ways in which living and dead mothers are presented in children’s literature can help reveal undertones that in effect define female gender roles, often resulting in a dichotomy in which there are only two types of women: good and virtuous or evil and sexual. This dichotomy can be observed through an examination and comparison of the numerous samples of mothers, both living and dead, that can be found in the children’s literature throughout time.
With a just a mild look into the histories of children’s tales, it does not take a very long time to realize that is not too uncommon at all in classic tales for a living mother to be portrayed rather poorly. In the Brothers Grimm version of Hansel and Gretel, for example, the children’s mother is alive, but she is selfish, cruel, and abandons the children (not only once, but twice). She calls her husband a “fool” for refusing to abandon the children. She then scolds the children upon their return and turns the blame on them. “You wicked children! Why did you sleep so long in the woods? We thought you were never going to come back” (Tatar 186). This is type cruelty is a common attribute given to the mothers in many stories who are either still living, or who have been introduced as a replacement to a deceased biological mother.
The living mother is also commonly associated with flesh as a motif. Bruno Bettelheim draws a parallel between the flesh mother and the witch’s gingerbread house, in which he states that the house, in actuality, is a symbol of the flesh mother’s body. He asserts that “a gingerbread house, which one can “eat up,” is a symbol of the mother, who in fact nurses the infant from her body. Thus, the house at which Hansel and Gretel are eating away . . . stands in the unconscious for the good mother, who offers her body as a source of nourishment” (Tartar 275). The house, however, turns out to be a trap; this gives the impression of a caution against the temptations of the flesh, aside from what it suggests about a child’s struggle to cope with being weaned from the breast. The old witch, who Bettelheim believes is commonly accepted, at least unconsciously, as the mother and witch simultaneously, is also associated with food, fat, and flesh as depicted in her intentions to eat the children (Tartar 277).
This theme of a “fleshy” living mother is also evident among the stories by the Brothers Grimm. Take for instance, The Juniper Tree, in which the child’s living stepmother, (whom, it should be noted, is also the biological mother of his sister) is depicted as cruel, jealous, hateful and devilish. Her jealousy is suggested in the fact that looking at her stepson made her “sick at heart.” When it is stated that “the Devil got a hold of her so that she began to hate the little boy” there is no doubt of the association of the living mother with evil and hatred (Tatar 191). Her affiliation with flesh also comes in the form of cannibalism, when she feeds her stepson’s flesh to his own father (Tatar 192).
This pattern can also be found outside of classic fairy tales, as is evident from a look into Ronald Dahl’s James and the Giant Peach, in which a young and recently orphaned boy is sent to live with not one, but two aunts who prove to be the epitome of narcissism and cruelty. While little is said of James’ dead mother, it is made clear that she was a “gentle” mother and that the life she provided him with was one of peace and joy (Dahl 1). The aunts, on the other hand, were “selfish and lazy and cruel” (Dahl 2).
The hill atop which the aunts live with James is depicted as a rather barren and sterile place: “The garden, which covered the whole top of the hill, was large and desolate, and the only tree in the entire place . . . was an ancient peach tree that never gave any peaches” (Dahl 4). This bleakness serves to assert the aunts as anti-mothers, as they are set in opposition to fertility and motherhood by their surroundings.
Their link to infertility, however, does not seem to diminish their association with sexuality and flesh, as the aunts are shown to exhibit a rather strong fascination with their bodies: “‘Behold my gorgeous curvy shape, my teeth, my charming grin! Oh beauteous me! How I adore my radiant looks!”’ (Dahl 7).
Yet another example in which a protagonist is stripped of a mother can be found in J.K Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Like James, Harry is an orphan who is sent to live with an aunt and her family. While aunt Petunias’ links to sensuality and flesh are not as pronounced as the earlier works of the Brothers Grimm, her indulgence of her fat and gluttonous son Dudley is enough to draw a parallel. Dudley is described as having “a large pink face, not much neck . . . [with a] thick, fat head . . . Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig” (Rowling 21). The fact that Aunt Petunia is the clear enabler of this fleshy monstrosity likens her to him. She is the mother of hideousness. If the living/ replacement mother is not barren, like Aunts Spiker and Sponge, they can only birth wretchedness.
Consider, for instance, the descriptions and fates of the mother ogres in Charles Parrault’s Little Thumbling and Joseph Jacob’s Molly Whuppie. Both are mothers to apparently wretched creatures who, like Dudley, are set in opposition to their respective protagonists. The children of the ogress’ ultimately suffer death at the hands of the protagonists, and in the case of Molly Whuppie, the mother ogre meets the same end. In this case, while the mother ogres were not necessarily evil in deed, they were the mothers and wives of monsters, and by their very nature, were monsters themselves. This is yet another example of the negative way in which living mothers are often found to be depicted in contrast to living mothers.
These many associations with flesh among the living mothers and substitute/ stepmothers allude to strong sexual undertones within the stories. The evil living mother, once associated with flesh, becomes a symbol of sexuality and carnality; entrenching in the readers’ minds a relationship between evil and a woman’s sexuality. This association lays the foundation for the construction of one half of the dual female gender role: the evil, sexual woman.
In contrast to the wretchedness of the flesh mother, the dead mother is commonly associated with morality, reverence, a variety of positive maternal virtues, and of course, chastity. The Brothers Grimm, in Juniper Tree, portray the biological mother of the young male protagonist as “beautiful and pious,” adding that “. . . day and night she prayed for a child . . .” (190). The fact that she becomes pregnant after her experience under the juniper tree in which she prays for “a child as red as blood and as white as snow” is reminiscent of Immaculate Conception because she becomes pregenant only after her prayer beneath the tree. This which draws a soft parallel between the dead mother and the holy virgin.
The sequence describing her pregnancy is filled with images of and allusions to nature and fertility. We see this in the description of the green landscape and tall trees, the birds and blossoms; these images of nature associate the dead mother with the universal mother, or mother Earth, which strongly supports her role as a nurturing and maternal figure (compare this to barren, infertile world of the aunts in James and the Giant Peach) (Tatar 190). The fact that she dies from joy upon the birth of her son alludes to the sacrifice his mother made in giving him life; through the act of birth, she has sacrificed her life for his.
Young Harry Potter’s deceased mother, Lily also exhibits traits associated with purity and a positive maternal nature. Aside from the fact her name directly likens her to a flower, a symbol of nature, fertility, and femininity; she is described as a creature of pure and powerful love. This is clear in Dumbledore’s address to Harry: “Your mother died to save you . . . love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark . . .to have been loved so deeply, even though the person loves us is gone, will give us some protection forever” (Rowling 299). Therefore like the mother described by the Brothers Grimm in The Juniper Tree, Lily Potter becomes a symbol of pure love, a positive maternal figure, and the epitome of goodness. Unlike the gingerbread house, which held a false illusion of a mother’s devotion and sacrifice for her child, Lily’s sacrifice is real; she has literally given her body to save her son.
Through their deaths, these mothers are literally removed from the flesh; their deaths separate them from carnality, which further symbolizes their spirituality and purity. Through these connections, we can only conclude that the dead mother in children’s literature is often made to represents feminine purity, beauty, love and spirituality. This forms the other side of the gender role dichotomy in discussion: the virtuous virgin.
Therefore we are presented with the complete dichotomy of female gender roles as defined by much of the literature written for children over time. On the one hand, we have the virgin mother, the Earthly, purely maternal archetype of love and fertility; she is a woman of virtue, faith, and untainted, unconditional sacrifice. On the other, there sits the living mother, a creature of lust and flesh. She is the embodiment of greed, selfishness, the nurturer of gluttony and all that is monstrous. Although exceptions to the trend can be found in many pieces of children's literature, there is no lack of evidence this good/evil dichotomy exisits. This duality offers little to no grey area for young girls. There is no room a woman who walks between the polar extremes of virtue and flesh; there is no middle ground, there is no compromise, there is no amnesty, no slack, no forgiveness; as in so many other social arenas regarding women, there can be only the virgin or whore.
References
Dahl, Ronald. James and the Giant Peach. New York: Puffin Books, 1961.
Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. New York: Scholastic Inc., 1997.
Tatar, Maria, ed. The Classic Fairy Tales. W.W. Norton & Company, Inc.: New York, 1999. Print.
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