Konstantin's Gifts, by Kathryn Anthony: The Rusalka

Rusalka by Ivan Bilibin, 1934
From Wikipedia (see entry for public domain data)

       I recently reviewed Kathryn Anthony's novel Konstantin's Gifts on Amazon and Goodreads.  I wanted to elaborate a bit here and discuss the entity from Slavic folklore called the rusalka, which Kat Anthony adapted for her story.  We see lots of werewolves and vampires in current popular writing, but the rusalka is much rarer.  Fel Wetzig in a post on her folklore-oriented blog recently mentioned the rusalka: "In Slavic folklore, the rusalka dwells in waterways–part fish, and part women. At night the left the water to dance in the meadows, seducing handsome, young men and luring them to the river to die." 

       Wikipedia describes the rusalka thus:

       "In most versions, the rusalka is an unquiet dead being, associated with the 'unclean force.' According to Zelenin, people who die violently and before their time, such as young women who commit suicide because they have been jilted by their lovers, or unmarried women who are pregnant, must live out their designated time on earth as a spirit.

       "The ghostly version is the soul of a young woman who had died in or near a river or a lake and came back to haunt that waterway. This undead rusalka is not invariably malevolent, and will be allowed to die in peace if her death is avenged.  ...  While her primary dwelling place was the body of water in which she died, the rusalka could come out of the water at night, climb a tree, and sit there singing songs, sit on a dock and comb her hair, or join other rusalki in circle dances (Polish: korowody) in the field.  ...  Rusalki like to have men and children join in their games. They can do so by enticing men with their singing and then drowning them, while the children were often lured with baskets of fruit. Men seduced by a rusalka could die in her arms, and in some versions hearing her laugh could also cause death. Alternatively, they would attract men, mainly bachelors, and tickle them to death."  (Rather amusing!)

        Wikipedia goes on to list a number of literary adaptations of the rusalka legend:  novels by C. J. Cherryh and Poul Anderson, operas by Dvorak and Dargomyzhsky, short pieces by Gogol, Turgenev, and Pushkin, and several others.

       Kat Anthony's novel concerns a fire rusalka, which is not mentioned in Wikipedia.  When I Googled "fire rusalka," I came up with a post by the author herself in which she discusses what title to give her novel:

       "So what about: “Fire Rusalka“? This is closer. Vasilisa, my main character, is a unique hybrid–she has the strength of the lycanthrope, without any of its negative side effects. And, she has the charisma of the rusalka–a kind of nymph in Russian mythology whose voice and face create a kind of compulsive fascination that they use to draw unwitting mortals to their watery graves. I made up the idea of a rusalka associated with the element of fire, so this is a different take that might intrigue those who are familiar with the mythology. So, for the tiny subset of the population who are fond of the rusalka myth, this might be an intriguing title."

       So we see that the fire rusalka is an invention or adaptation of the author's.  It makes some sense to do this; since the rusalka is an elemental spirit, it could easily take different forms.  As for the title, I'm glad Anthony settled on Konstantin's Gifts, since I think it captures the irony of the book -- what the mad scientist inflicts on his victims are hardly gifts in the positive sense, and yet they are gifts in that they enable the victims to rise about their victimhood, both as serfs/slaves and as powerful deviants.

 

       The novel could be stronger; see my review.  I would have preferred to see more done with uncommon concept of the rusalka and perhaps even to have omitted the vampires and werewolves altogether.  It might have been possible to emphasize the relationship between Konstantin and Vasya and develop the Prince's character, making him more complex.   I had originally intended to discuss here a few more aspects of the book that could be improved, but I think I'll leave the topic alone.  As readers of this blog know (see my post "Analysis: Katabasis, by Kathryn Anthony"), I think Kat is a very good writer with lots of potential to write ever improving fiction.  You can try Konstantin's Gifts for yourself, and I would recommend that you do so.  It's available at Amazon.

Analysis: Katabasis, by Kathryn Anthony

       The collection of seven short stories by Kathryn Anthony entitled Of Myth and Memory is based on retellings of myth.  I originally reviewed this book on Amazon and Goodreads back in May 2012, but it was impossible to consider all the stories in depth  there.  Since their themes fit my proposal to broaden this blog with discussions of the use of myth in literature, my plan is to discuss at least three of these stories over the coming weeks.  Today we’ll talk about “Katabasis.”

       The author is a strong writer with a fine command of the English language.  Two highlights of this collection are her ability to create mood and atmosphere and to turn a metaphorical phrase.  Here are a couple of examples from “Katabasis”: “She heard a distant, brittle clash of laughter, like shards of dawn, splintering and smashing into a fine, crystalline powder.”  “He was grappling with a dilemma, his gaze touching on her brows, her lips, her chin, like the feather-light explorations of a blind man’s fingers.”) 

       Here is what the author herself says about this story in her book description: “‘Katabasis’ is a narrative of rivalry, loss and sacrifice that blends motifs of Snow White with the myth of Inanna's descent into the Underworld.”  The term “katabasis” derives from the Greek words meaning “a going down” or “descent.”  It can mean a military march from the interior of a country to the coast, but in mythological usage it means a descent into the underworld.  Its opposite is “anabasis,” the return from the underworld, which (Wikipedia points out) is essential to creating a “katabasis” rather than merely a death.  The descent into the underworld is a ubiquitous element of epic myth, occurring in everything from the Odyssey to Dante,  and it plays a central role here.

       I must confess the allusions to the Snow White theme rather eluded me at first.  My knowledge of the theme was pretty much restricted to childhood viewings of the Disney version, so I had to do some homework, including reading the original Grimm version, which can be viewed at http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/type0709.html#snowwhite. 

       It happens that I’ve explored Sumerian myth before, with a view to basing a piece of fiction on it.  However, that was back in 1983, right at the time when family problems caused me to give up writing.  In preparation for this post, I pulled out all my old notes (this was in pre-computer days), but I find that even though the notes and copies of material are extensive, they don’t make much sense to me now, so I did some exploring on Google.  If you want to read a translation of the original myth of Inanna and the Underworld, go to http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/section1/tr141.htm (part of The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature, based at the University of Oxford).  For a paraphrase and psychological interpretation of the myth, go to http://www.halexandria.org/dward385.htm (an interesting, New-Agey sort of site).

       “Katabasis” opens with a premise of blood related to “Snow White”:  “All that business about the ebony windowsill, the white snow, the embroidery needle – nonsense, all of it.  The one true thing about that story was the blood. … Blood is life.  … We’re born on its slippery tide and when that tide ebbs out of us … that’s when we die.”  And then immediately we learn that “Elana” (as Anthony calls her “Inanna” character) is Queen of the Wolves – she’s a werewolf.  A new element is introduced that is not present in either myth. 

       After all, what becomes of ancient goddesses when the world moves away from belief in them?  Any goddess worth her salt ought to be able to shape-shift, so an introduction of a werewolf identity isn’t so odd as it may at first appear.

       Furthermore, she’s a modern woman.  We’re never told whether her husband or any acquaintance has the least inkling that this person they live with is also an ancient goddess.  And this modern woman and primitive Great Goddess is about to undergo egg extraction because she can’t get pregnant:  “Elana, Queen of the Wolves, watched as the nurse pricked the back of her hand with the i.v. needle.  Before the other woman could connect the needle to the drip, blood spurted out of the puncture and onto the downy white sheet covering the hospital bed.”  And so we continue the opening of “Snow White.”

       Later in the tale, Elana’s child is stolen from her womb by her sister, Ereshkigal, the Queen of the Underworld (whose name is retained in its common transcription), as payment of a debt and the distraught Elana assumes her wolf form and flees to the forest (an element of the Snow White tale), not to escape an evil queen but to learn how to find and defeat one.  She ends up being rescued by seven woodsman – conflating the dwarves with the Huntsman.  These people can give her the answer she is seeking:  Can anybody be brought back from the underworld?  The answer is yes, but there will always be a price to pay.  Elana dies in childbirth and in so doing initiates a final ironic plot twist that means a good deal more if you are familiar with the Inanna myth.

       The main elements of the Inanna myth that Anthony keeps are the need to enter the underworld, the ritual shedding of garments as Elana passes through the gates, and the birth pangs of Ereshkigal.  Anthony omits many elements, such as Inanna’s death in the underworld and her resuscitation by spirits who take the form of carrion flies.  She also adds elements, such as the emotional price that must be paid at each gate of the underworld in addition to the shedding of garments.  But that’s what you do when you use myth as a foundation for a story of your own: you add and subtract elements to gain a new perspective.

       One other aspect of the myth is retained.  When Inanna returns from the underworld, she must send someone to take her place.  She ends up sending her husband Dumuzi, who had remained largely indifferent to her absence.  In Anthony’s version, Elana’s husband meets a fate that is different but ironically related to what happens in the myth (I can’t really discuss it because I don’t want to spoil the end of the story).

       What makes Kathryn Anthony’s approach so interesting is her ability to seamlessly conflate primitive mythic and folkloric elements with everyday modern life.  She moves among worlds with only minimal transitions, or none at all.  Here are a couple of examples:

       Elana in her wolf form is being nursed back to health by the seven Woodsmen, who are also caring for a seven-year-old boy named Alex:  “It was Eoain’s turn to keep Alex entertained – the plan, from what Elana could infer, was to take the lad to IKEA to play in the ball room, while Eowain picked up a few items, including a pet bed for her.”

       What could set the story more firmly in the modern world than that? – unless it’s this:

       Elana stands before the first gate of the underworld.  “She had donned her full ceremonial regalia: crown, scepter, mantle and gown.  The jewels studded into her breastplate gleamed dully under the compact fluorescent bulbs mounted above the gate – even the underworld was subject to cost cutting imperatives, it would seem.”

       All the tales in Of Myth and Memory are fascinating reads that require some work to appreciate properly.  They get better on the second or even third reading, and they benefit from having some background knowledge.  I recommend them for anyone who likes to probe depths.  The book is available at http://amzn.to/QekB0t