6 Books that need an English translation

Every once in a while I ask English-speaking people if they have heard of a book and only realize that it has not been published in English after I get a bunch of blank stares. At first I was shocked that "not published in English" is a phrase that exists, but apparently it does, and people who don't read all those other languages are missing out of some of my favorite books I have ever read. To try to correct this awful mistake, here is a list of some books that are very dear to my heart, and they need an English translation, a.s.a.p.

The Eternal Love of Khodja Nasreddin, by Timur Zulfikarov 
For everyone who loves the stories of Hodja Nasreddin, this book is the most gorgeous of all. Zulfikarov is a Tajik writer and poet who created an origin story for the Trickster like no other. Before he becomes the wise fool everyone loves, before he is smart and loud and well-known around the world, Nasreddin is just a teenage boy who was found on the Silk Road and raised by an old couple, a teenage boy who dreams about flying, and gardens filled with quince trees. His life changes when one day he saves the life of the local bey and as a reward he gets admitted into his harem for a night, where he meets his daughter, Suheil, a love he was never meant to have...
Original language: Not entirely sure, Tajik or Russian

Gelsomino in the country of liars, by Gianni Rodari
One of the favorite books of my childhood. Gelsomino is born with an unusually loud voice that breaks things if he speaks above a whisper, and ultimately makes him an outcast. Leaving his home he wanders into the strange Land of the Liars where it is mandated by law that no one shall ever speak the truth. Not a good place to be where everyone can hear you whisper from a mile away. But even in this weird upside-down world, Gelsomino makes some friends, just as weird as he is: A three-legged graffiti cat that his voice brings to life, a painter who can make anything he paints become real, and an old man called Benvenuto who only ages when he is not standing up, but then with alarming speed. It is one of the greatest children's books ever.
Original language: Italian

The Moment, by Magda Szabó
In my opinion one of the best books ever written in Hungarian. It is a female Classics author's take on the Aeneid. Consider this: While Troy is burning, Aeneas, son of Aphrodite, runs from the city with his son and his old father, and his wife kinda sorta just... gets lost and dies. To which Szabó asked the obvious question: What mother would possibly let go of her child in the middle of the burning of Troy?! So she added a twist to the tale: Aeneas (who is pampered and annoying, just as the son of a love goddess would be) dies, and his wife, Creusa, puts on his armor and helmet and goes on... to do the entire Aeneid out of sheer determination. It is a smartly written book, at the same time funny and deep, from someone who understands mythology as thoroughly as she understands the female soul.
Original language: Hungarian

Fortune de France, by Robert Merle
I cannot believe this one has never been published in English. Seriously, people?! It is quite possibly that greatest historical fiction series ever written. Merle is a master writer, and Fortune the France has been one of my favorites. Starting in the middle of the 16th century, the 13-book series follows a family through many turbulent decades of French history, through religious conflict and plague and war. Unlike a lot of historical fiction, it actually has likable characters, and a lot of humor added to the adventures. Fascinating to read (and learn history from).
Original language: French

Jaime I el Conquistador, by Albert Salvadó
Another historical series worth reading. It tells the story of Jaime I of Aragon, one of the most influential and famous kings in Spanish history, from birth to death, in 3 volumes. Since I have not been familiar with this part of Spanish history, it was a fascinating read. Especially because the entire second book is about Violante de Hungría, Jaime's Hungarian wife and queen consort of Aragon for many years. The book is written in an easily readable Spanish, and is as entertaining as exciting.
Original language: Spanish

Escanor (original language: Medieval French)
This one only exists in Old French and in German, and it's killing me, so please please please, some bored Medievalist please translate it. It is an Arthurian romance (I read English excerpts and summaries) that seems like a lot of fun, and, more importantly, contains the only Arthurian story where Sir Kay, Arthur's grumpy foster brother, falls in love-hate with a lady and then they spend most of the romance yelling at each other. It sounds vastly entertaining, and I would love to tell it. But I don't read old French. Meh.
Original language: Old French

What storytellers should take away from Frozen, or, "Wait, did Disney just beat the original....?"

Yes. Yes it did.

As a person who had to listen to The Little Match Girl read aloud by her teacher year after year before Christmas, the name of Hans Christian Andersen to me is eternally bound to childhood emotional trauma. I have never cared for any of his stories (and I had all the picture books), and most of them just downright made me want to curl up in a ball and wail.

Okay, so I had my doubts when I heard that Disney was coming out with a Snow Queen movie.
Even after I heard that it has most of the creative team from Tangled.

I just watched the movie, braving throngs of excited children (ADORABLE) and pre-Thanksgiving-dinner stressed out mothers (LESS ADORABLE).
And as a traditional straight up "The Book is Always Better than the Movie" kinda Storyteller gal, I just have to suck it up and admit:
I am SOLD.

HERE BE SPOILERS I KID YOU NOT

Disney seems to have recognized two very important things:

1. Apart from their age-old princess image problem, the Disney princes, well, have always also kinda sucked. Especially the early ones. Girls need role models sure, but seriously, guys did not fare much better either. But Tangled and Frozen seem to have picked up something very important: Male characters also need character. And damn do they have one now.

2. Love alone does not a happy ending make. Princesses might be teenage girls of 16-18, but that doesn't mean that they will get married and live happily ever after.
Because what if the guy picks his nose?
All men do.
(Yes that was a reference)

And here is something else that I as a Storyteller need to suck up now:

As much as we like to wail on Disney, let's admit: That is exactly what the "fairy tale canon" tells the kids. There will be One person, One Love, AT FIRST SIGHT, and it will be magical and perfect and your braces won't get tangled and the guy won't be a jerk. You might stray and wander, but you will always come back to your Perfect Match in the end. Even if you have only known each other for a day.

I don't know about anyone else, but I am taking a second look at my repertoire as we speak.
(Snow White. Oops. Sleeping Beauty. Ouch. Cinderella. Yeeeah...)
I pride myself in telling folktales and fairy tales that are not well known at all, and it is still hard to find one where a person, especially a female hero, goes through (um) multiple men before finding the right one. It's no wonder, most of these stories were born in a different time.
Don't get me wrong. I have always cringed at the idea of "modernizing" folktales and fairy tales. I did not like the kind of "feminist" re-tellings where "Cinderella goes to college." I did not like them when I started storytelling, and I don't like them now.
But there are other kinds of tales out there. Many of them. about stories that end with achievements other than love and marriage. Stories that talk about sisterhood, and family, and adventure. Many of us are already telling many of them. We will just have to double down and make sure they are told often. Told well. And that they are heard.

Storytellers, seriously, do we want to let Disney beat us to a positive message?...

My Loki is not your Loki, and that's okay

Trickster has taken over the Internet, and is laughing out loud at all of us.
...
Of course I am talking about Loki. Geez, everyone's talking about Loki these days.

Thor: The Dark World is premiering worldwide, bringing along a renewed interest in Marvel comics, Norse mythology, and, most of all, a certain trickster so masterfully embodied by Tom Hiddleston that it gave birth to this gemstone of a meme:

I really tried not to go there, but as a storyteller a little voice (probably masculine with a Scandinavian accent) keeps needling the back of my mind: I liked Loki before it was cool.
My Loki is the Loki of Norse mythology. It's the Loki of the Lokasenna. It might not be Eric the Red's Loki, or Snorri's Loki, but it is the Loki I imagined as a kid when I first devoured my way through Norse mythology books like the Very Dorky Caterpillar. When I grew up to be a storyteller, the idea of Loki grew up with me. I have always had a thing for tricksters.

And then Thor came out followed by the Avengers and then Dark World, and now I hear people all over yelling at each other in text and in person, going "THAT IS NOT WHAT LOKI IS LIKE, YOU ARE TOTALLY WRONG."
In Corner A, you see Team Hipster Loki - People who, just like me, liked Loki long before it was cool. Straight from Norse mythology, or anyhow as close as you can get without reading Icelandic and living in the 10th century. They claim that Loki is a Trickster, a god, and an all-around complex character. They quote the prosaic and the poetic Edda, and make obscure clandestine jokes about horses and Mother's Day.
In Corner B, you find Team Marvel Loki - People who read comics and have been familiar with Loki Of The Cricket Helmet for a while now. They quote comics and comic authors, frown on Jane Foster, and hang up garlic to keep away the next group on the list, known as...
Corner C, or Team Loki Hiddleston - Here Be Fangirls. These are the people who have an interest in Loki as portrayed in the Marvel cinematic universe (Earth 199999, to be completely nerdy). This Loki is a villain and a fan favorite at the same time. Some people say he only needs a hug. Some people say he is an evil psychotic bastard but damn he is sexy. Some people say he is an unappreciated genius among spandex-sporting heroes. Some people don't say anything. They just squeal. It gets uncomfortable.

Now, here is the Law of All the Universes, people:

EVERYONE IS ENTITLED TO THEIR OWN LOKI.

Deal with it.

My Loki might only be my Loki, but as a storyteller, I know a few things about Tricksters. And one thing is sure: Whenever someone tries to define what a trickster is, things merrily meander off to hell in a neat little hand basket. The entire thing that is the Trickster thrives on breaking rules and definitions. And yet, people keep trying. I have heard and read arguments over whether or not Hiddleston Loki is a trickster or "just a villain." Seriously, if you have to question it, it is already decided.

One thing to note about Dark World: It has plot holes the size of Asgard, but they did Trickster right. If you don't believe that, refer to Cory O'Brien's handy Norse Crisis Flowchart on the left, summarizing the issue.

Trickster is an archetype. That means, everyone gets their own version of it, and that is just fine.
With that said, keep arguing. Keep talking about mythology, and tricksters, and stories. Most of all, keep fighting over Loki. I am sure he loves it.

Universal declaration of children's rights to listen to stories

(This declaration in ten points has been circulating among Spanish and Latin-American storytellers for decades, and has been recently posted again by the Red Internacional de Cuentacuentos. I made an English translation so it can spread even further.)

1. Every child, regardless of race, language or religion, has the right to listen to the most beautiful stories of every nation, especially the ones that inspire their imagination and teach them critical thinking.

2. Children have every right to demand a story from their parents any hour of the day. Parents who refuse to tell stories to their children do not only commit a serious crime, but they also risk that the children will never ask for a story again.

3. Every child that for some reason does not have anyone to tell them stories has the right to ask any adult of their choice. The adult shall tell the stories with kindness and love, for that is how stories should be told.

4. Children have the right to listen to stories sitting on their grandparents' knees. The children who have four living grandparents can lend some of them to others who for some reason do not have any. Similarly, grandparents who do not have grandchildren have the freedom to go to schools, parks and other places with many children, and offer to tell as many stories as they want.

5. Every child has the right to know José Martí, Hans Christian Andersen, the Brothers Grimm, Elena Fortún, Lewis Carroll, Carlo Collodi, Gloria Fuertes, María Elena Walsh, Frank Baum, J. M. Barrie, Dr. Seuss, and others.

(Every country gets to add their own authors and storytellers, so feel free to add to the list)

6. Every child has full rights to know all the myths, legends and folktales of their own country.

7. Every child has the right to invent and tell their own stories, or make their own versions of existing tales. In cases when children are primarily influenced by television, it is the adults' responsibility to lead them down the pathways of imagination and put good children's books into their hands.

8. Children have the right to demand new stories. Adults are obligated to continually provide these tales, their own or by others, with kings or without, long or short - all that matters is that they are beautiful and interesting.

9. The child always has the right to ask for one more story, or ask for the same story for the millionth time.

10. Last, every child has the right to grow up with Alice, Little Red and the wolf, Dorothy, Puss in Boots, Jack and the beanstalk, the 'happily ever after' and the 'Once upon a time', magic words that open up the gates of imagination, and fill childhood with the most amazing dreams.

Why is marriage always the end of the story?

This is exactly the kind of question that usually makes me feel like throwing a classic storyteller’s hissy fit; yet here I am asking it.

People usually think of “all stories” in terms of the classic fairy tale canon, the list of tales solidified by years of telling and re-telling, and also by Disney. You know the ones I am talking about. Even when you are a storyteller with long years of experience, your brain automatically jumps to Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, or Little Red first, just like when someone throws a ball at you and you use your dominant hand to catch it. It’s the way most of us is Western culture are wired when it comes to fairy tales.

Usually, when people ask big general questions like the one above, the Trickster in me jumps up and goes off collecting tales to torpedo it into oblivion. In my philosophy, there is a folktale out there for everything, even the most unlikely of life situations, because stories are a reflection of things people think about often and long. Life-changing events such as birth, death, love, marriage etc. are the most common examples. So, when someone comes up to me and asks “Why is marriage always the end of the story?” my first instinct is to answer: “Not always.”

With that said, the tales most often told do little to nothing to prepare anyone for life after marriage.

Marriage, more often than not, IS the end of the story. It’s the ultimate goal. They won, they got married, they lived happily ever after. Curtain, credits, copyright note, no animals were harmed, and not even a bonus scene in the end for the fans.

What does this tell to children who hear these stories over and over again, I wonder? That marriage equals the end of story, for one. No more dragons, no more adventures, no more exploring the world. The End. Game over. The only thing that comes after is happiness, forever and ever (or, in the case of Hungarian tale ending formulas, happiness until they die.)

But what if they were not happy ever after? Shhh. We don’t talk about that. If you are not happy, you bet on the wrong prince. Or princess. The whole thing is botched from the start. You just gotta wait for the One to show and save you.

Of course, there are folktales that talk about problems within married life. Most of them talk about not having a child. But it is usually the beginning of someone else’s tale (usually the child’s). Some of them, like selkie legends, tell you how you will lose your freedom to a significant other. That is, in the end, just another version of “game over.”

As a storyteller, one has to know the context these tales come from: in terms of marriage and happiness, it was a very different time. The idea that connects romantic love to marriage is a fairly new one, and far from universal even today. The idea of getting married and coming into one’s power is often connected – even the latest progressive Disney movie, The Princess and the Frog, ends with a common girl transformed into a princess through marrying a prince (sorry for the spoliers). Merida, everyone’s new favorite Mary Sue, only gets away without “game over” because she refuses to marry at all.

So, what message are we sending when we solely rely on these stories to determine the “fairy tale canon?” That marriage is a terrible thing? I would argue that not even that. What happens after the fairy tale wedding is a large white spot on our mental map, a “here be dragons” uncharted territory, and folk- and fairy tales that have held our hand through all the adventures of parent-child relationships, brotherhood, sisterhood, coming of age and courtship, stop at the border and toss us forward into oblivion without as much as a hand-drawn road map. Figure it out for yourselves, guys.

I am NOT saying that there are absolutely no folktales about married couples. Actually, there is a LOT of them. I am saying we don’t hear them enough.

Someone should compile a list.

(By the way, the illustration above is from the Persian manuscript of Nizami's Haft Paykar, the tale of the Seven Wise Princesses. The Yellow Princess from Greece tells one of the best marriage-negotiation stories I have ever read. Because Nizami is amazing, that's why.)

Goodreads Book Giveaway! - Tales of Superhuman Powers

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Tales of Superhuman Powers

by Csenge Virág Zalka

Giveaway ends October 23, 2013.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Who is the patron saint of storytelling?

(No, really, who is it? I have always wondered.)

Saint Aloysius (known endearingly as Saint Al's) Catholic School took me up on my offer to adopt them as a storyteller, and they are giving me all kinds of great stuff to do. I did three hours of Greek Mythology on Monday in 6th and 7th grade, also known as Percy Jackson Fan Club. The kids were the audience every storyteller dreams of (they literally cheered every time a familiar god or creature was mentioned), and I got to tell some of the stories I have not told in a while - Dionysus and the pirates, Momus, and the alternate myth for Achilles' heel that I researched for my book. I also snuck in some Roman mythology, since some of the girls claimed that the Romans stole everything from the Greek. Bah. All in all, I had a great time.

Today I went back to 7th grade to tell saints' legends in religion class, and I discovered something new:
It is a special privilege for a storyteller to tell to an audience that takes every word as truth.

I have always wanted to tap into saints' legends; I was raised Roman Catholic, after all, and one of the additional benefits of that is that it comes with an endless supply of stories, ranging from really amazing to really weird. But somehow, I never got around to actually doing a full storytelling performance of them, and I have always wanted to try. And what better place for a test run than a Catholic school and a roomful of 7th graders?
I selected saints that I personally like, and also saints that have a connection to Hungary, in the hopes that they would be new to the students, and maybe for the teacher as well. I started with St. Martin (who was born in Pannonia), then digressed to St. Helena (who is the patron saint of archaeology), and then even though I only had half an hour left I still managed to cram in St. Elizabeth of Hungary, and St. Margaret of Scotland (who was also half Hungarian). As I was working my way through the stories, from origins through miracles and relics, it started to dawn on me that this time, maybe for the first time in my career, the kids were not listening to the stories as stories - they were taking them all at face value, as they are taught in religion class. To them, everything I was saying was completely true. I was not sure at first what to do with that - being religious myself, but also a storyteller that pokes and prods at stories and symbols until they show their layers - but as the stories progressed, I felt like I was incredibly lucky to have this experience. When the bread in St. Elizabeth's apron turned into roses, the entire class gasped at the miracle. When I told the story of St. Helena finding the Cross, they all wanted to know where it is now (which led to a whole discussion of how relics work, and I am proud to say, I escaped without my foot in my mouth on that one). All in all, it was a new experience.

I am looking forward to seeing what else storytelling at St. Al's is going to teach me.