National Book Award-winning poet and author of the internationally best-selling Iron John, Robert Bly revisits a selection of fairy tales and examines how these enduring narratives capture the essence of human nature.Few forms of storytelling have greater power to captivate the human mind than fairy tales, but where do these tales originate from, and what do they mean? Celebrated poet and bestselling author Robert Bly has been asking these questions throughout his career. Here Bly looks at six tales that have stood the test of time and have captivated the poet for decades, from “The Six Swans” to “The Frog Prince.” Drawing on his own creative genius, and the work of a range of thinkers from Kirkegaard and Yeats to Freud and Jung, Bly turns these stories over in his mind to bring new meaning and illumination to these timeless tales. Along with illustrations of each story, the book features some of Bly's unpublished poetry, which peppers his lyric prose and offers a look inside the mind of an American master of letters in the twilight of his singular career.
Robert Bly was an American poet, author, activist and leader of the Mythopoetic Men's Movement. Robert Bly was born in western Minnesota in 1926 to parents of Norwegian stock. He enlisted in the Navy in 1944 and spent two years there. After one year at St. Olaf College in Minnesota, he transferred to Harvard and thereby joined the famous group of writers who were undergraduates at that time, which included Donald Hall, Adrienne Rich, Kenneth Koch, John Ashbery, Harold Brodky, George Plimpton, and John Hawkes. He graduated in 1950 and spent the next few years in New York living, as they say, hand to mouth. Beginning in 1954, he took two years at the University of Iowa at the Writers Workshop along with W. D. Snodgrass, Donald Justice, and others. In 1956 he received a Fulbright grant to travel to Norway and translate Norwegian poetry into English. While there he found not only his relatives but the work of a number of major poets whose force was not present in the United States, among them Pablo Neruda, Cesar Vallejo, Gunnar Ekelof, Georg Trakl and Harry Martinson. He determined then to start a literary magazine for poetry translation in the United States and so begin The Fifties and The Sixties and The Seventies, which introduced many of these poets to the writers of his generation, and published as well essays on American poets and insults to those deserving. During this time he lived on a farm in Minnesota with his wife and children. In 1966 he co-founded American Writers Against the Vietnam War and led much of the opposition among writers to that war. When he won the National Book Award for The Light Around the Body, he contributed the prize money to the Resistance. During the 70s he published eleven books of poetry, essays, and translations, celebrating the power of myth, Indian ecstatic poetry, meditation, and storytelling. During the 80s he published Loving a Woman in Two Worlds, The Wingéd Life: Selected Poems and Prose of Thoreau,The Man in the Black Coat Turns, and A Little Book on the Human Shadow. His work Iron John: A Book About Men is an international bestseller which has been translated into many languages. He frequently does workshops for men with James Hillman and others, and workshops for men and women with Marion Woodman. He and his wife Ruth, along with the storyteller Gioia Timpanelli, frequently conduct seminars on European fairy tales. In the early 90s, with James Hillman and Michael Meade, he edited The Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart, an anthology of poems from the men's work. Since then he has edited The Darkness Around Us Is Deep: Selected Poems of William Stafford, and The Soul Is Here for Its Own Joy, a collection of sacred poetry from many cultures.
Throughout history mankind has used to myths, stories – if you will – to explain the inexplicable, to retell events that are monumental or to drive home lessons that desperately need to be learned. Some of these were in the form of pictures (cave drawings,) some set to music, still others were passed down orally and told and retold through each generation, across lands and waters and continents and generations. It is how mankind has learned. It is how we have adapted.
In “More Than True,” poet Robert Bly surmises that fairy tales have been a way for man to learn very valuable tools of civilization. Using the ideas of philosophers as varied as Kierkegaard to Carl Jung, as well as interspersing his own poetry throughout the book, Bly closely examines six well known tales, such as The Frog Prince, and looks deeper at their hidden meaning.
At this juncture, if the reader is not familiar with Bly and his work, it might be good to note that he is the leader – the Leader – of the mythopoetic men’s movement. This is the movement that suggested that “men” had lost their masculinity due to the industrial revolution, the five day work week and the feminist movement. In order for these wayward, lost men to regain their masculinity they had to go to sweat lodges, retreats (male only of course) and drum circles. Yes. That’s correct.
This movement is important to this review for two reasons: First, his primary supposition is correct. There is wisdom in fairy tales. Anyone who has studied the “flood narrative” that most have read in the Bible, knows that it is found in every civilization, in every culture, throughout time, although few include Noah or an ark. If you’ve ever said the children’s poem, “Ring Around the Roses,” then you have told the story of the Bubonic Plague which was told and retold through stories, myths and even in rhyme. So the premise is correct. However, the poems that Bly has chosen has been carefully done so in order to further his errant beliefs regarding this men’s movement. He uses the hierarchy of needs by Carl Jung to prop up his own ideas of masculinity when Jung was an existentialist who couldn’t have cared less about gender issues.
All of that to say and explain why this book was fascinating and frustrating and a complete failure for me as a psychology major and as an historian. I absolutely do not recommend this book. The very last thing this world needs is more men sitting around a circle getting hyped up on testosterone and beating drums!
In 1976, child psychologist Bruno Bettelheim published his acclaimed The Uses of Enchantment which explored fairy tales through a psychoanalytic lens. His premise was that fairy tales appealed to children because they articulated important psychological processes and conflicts. Robert Bly and analyst Marion Woodman later built on Bettelheim’s ideas, examining fairy tales through a Jungian lens for an adult audience. I read Bly’s Iron John years ago and enjoyed it. The pull of fairy tales has always been strong for me, and it is not a far stretch to regard them as repositories of essential psychological truths. I’ve read many stories to kids, but fairy tales seem to have had more power and compelled more interest than just about anything else. (Even in teenagers!)
Given all this, I was eager to read Bly’s newest book. In it, Bly explores six tales, mining them for the lessons they provide on psychological conflict and growth. Each chapter opens with the retelling of a tale. The story is then followed by a discussion of it. I read three of these tales and the commentaries on them before giving up on the book. I’ve changed or Bly’s powers have weakened—because I was less than enchanted. Jungian interpretations are quite fanciful in general, but Bly’s way of looking at the stories seemed weaker and less convincing than I recall. The interpretations also reflect a very male perspective—which is probably not surprising given that Bly was considered a major figure in the men’s movement of the 1990s (with all its hippie-ish drumming!) At this point, I think I probably prefer just thinking the stories through for myself. Bly’s way of looking at them felt strained and less than true to me.
The esteemed poet Robert Bly plumbs the depths of six fairy tales in an attempt to illuminate their archetypal human truths.
This book and I got off to a shaky start, and though it ultimately recouped a second star, I can't in good conscience say that I liked it. Each chapter starts off with a lovely summary of a fairy tale, most not widely known. Then Mr. Bly shares his interpretation, frequently highly personal in nature and amplified by his own poetry. I wish that the personal aspect of the book had been played up and the "basic human truths" part downplayed because these interpretations struck me as highly idiosyncratic.
The first tale is "Six Swans." An evil stepmother transforms her six stepsons into swans, and to break the curse, their sister must weave them six shirts of starwort in six years, all the while not speaking or laughing. In the meantime a king falls in love with her and marries her, and her mother-in-law tries to frame her for filicide. She is on the brink of being burned at the stake when she finishes the last shirt, breaks the spell, and can finally defend herself.
So far, so good. But then Mr. Bly sallies forth with his interpretation, in which we are to view each person in the story as facets of a single male consciousness that, in part owing to a corrupting motherly influence, has devolved into perpetual irresponsible boyhood. The sister is the part of the male consciousness that must be purified by way of muteness and artistic creation: forget the shirts—she's really a poet!
If the above interests you, you might like this book better than I did. If you think the above is ridiculous, come sit by me. In particular the denial of gender upset me: our heroic sister, clearly the protagonist of the tale, who sacrificed so much and in some ways revealed some pretty fundamental feminine truths, is really just the poetic potential of a male ego. And why, oh why, must writers see in everything a metaphor for writing?
Granted, the first fairy tale was the most problematic of the bunch for me. Later in the book, I was sometimes touched by Mr. Bly's strivings and musings; I was intrigued by how this book illuminates the male ego, and I'd welcome the chance to learn more about Mr. Bly's own life. But these were diamonds in the rough, and there was quite a bit of rough.
Thank you to the publisher and to NetGalley for the opportunity to read and review this book.
Perhaps not as powerful as Iron John but a poetic and welcome addition to Bly's impressive oeuvre and to the study of fairy tails. Review to come at memphisflyer.com.
At first “More Than True: The Wisdom of Fairy Tales” by Robert Bly (2018) may seem like an over-analysis of children’s stories. Even taken as the psychologically dense stories for adults that they really are, Bly’s writing is a bit jarring at first, to the point of one wondering whether his opinions have come out of unreflective musing, or the thin air, being too far-fetched to be graspable. But rest assured – the man knows damn well that he is right in his thoughts on the power and depth of these tales as pieces of cultural history worth the time of true poetic examination. Readers will pick up on this feeling of righteousness presented within the pages. Slowly, Bly no longer is seen as the crazy professor but instead, a sage of interpretation, believable if only because of an honest to goodness obscurity that finally brings a special common sense grounded in critical thought. Simply, it is hard to detect any of Bly’s ideology at work here – which makes this the perfect book for studying fairy tales.
Bly is particularly interested in the uncanny, the dark, the strange, and the obscure. A sophomoric understanding of fairy tales will deconstruct each story as one with an underlying moral code. However, Bly is smarter than this. What makes these tales (six tales in particular) so fascinating to Bly is their commentary on fear. What are humans not in touch with? And what are the consequences? Bly believes that people tend to forget, neglect, or run away from the “raw” stuff of being alive - and when this happens something gets lost – many times something like our inner being, or our soul.
The six tales Bly writes about in “More Than True: The Wisdom of Fairy Tales” include “The Six Swans”, “The Frog Prince”, “The Lindworm”, “The Dark Man”, “One-Two Man”, and “The White Bear King Valemon”. His thoughts are idiosyncratically written - which makes them utterly interesting – even as he reflects back on historicity.
In his analysis of “The Six Swans”, Bly reflects on Celtic stories, writings by W.B. Yeats, Chinese folklore, and Greek mythology to make his points. For Bly, each character of the story may represent a different aspect of the psyche or body. Bly is particularly sensitive to femininity and masculinity and what society has had these “roles” perform or do for a higher cause. Reflecting on the story of “The Six Swans”, he writes:
“If we imagine that the task of the soul is to help the young male become human again, recover his ground, that is to help the young male descend from his compulsive, rather heartless spirituality so that he can commit himself to hunting-gathering, or agriculture, or fatherhood, or husbandhood, or religious fierceness, or love itself, the task is like living for six years without talking or laughing, and it is like making entire shirts from delicate blossoms.”
In his chapter on “The Frog Prince”, Bly understands the “last straw” of the princess throwing the frog against the wall as a sign of completion. Patience is a task that gets a well-earned reward. In this case a prince:
“Her blow against the frog’s suggestion had the effect of the frog’s becoming human. When we really have lived with the hidden and buried and cold-blooded, when we see who we are and understand something of what it means to have pockets of the prehumen in our hidden nature, then finally it’s possible to say, ‘Okay, you are always there. But you have to stop trying to have it all your way. I’ve had enough.’… Then even the cold-blooded alien part of ourselves gets a bit more human.”
By far one of the most striking revelations made by Bly is in his understanding of the “The Lindworm”. The only girl who breaks the curse of the snake brother is the one who is willing to do the dirty, tough work of soaking and scrubbing that earthly animal until all layers of his skin are shed – and everyone knows what is underneath. Another reward – of course, a handsome prince. But being able to feel comfortable with the fact that there was something reptilian and slimy that needed to be given some care, and then actually giving it, is the task. Only a person who undergoes giving that care could appreciate the final result, so says Bly.
The last three chapters in the book are phenomenal and worth reading many times over. It cannot be stressed enough how unique Bly’s analyses are and how wonderfully written. He includes lines from his own poems which help to illuminate the tales as well as strengthen his own opinions, and he includes lines from all sorts of poetry that has moved him. His approach is holistic and respectful of spirituality and religion in its major and more obscure forms. “More Than True: The Wisdom of Fairy Tales” provides not only knowledge of the Western and Eastern humanities but also keen insight on daily living and mindfulness, without ever being trite.
More Than True: The Wisdom of Fairy Tales is a detailed look at six fairytales. Bly is an American poet, essayist, activist, and leader of the mythopoetic men's movement. His most commercially successful book to date was Iron John: A Book About Men a key text of the mythopoetic men's movement, which spent 62 weeks on The New York Times Best Seller list. He won the 1968 National Book Award for Poetry for his book The Light Around the Body.
Throughout history, stories have been used as entertainment, to keep history alive, and to embellish praise on leaders and heroes. Stories were set to rhythm by use of meter or beat. Later stories were told by bards and set to music. Religions used oral traditions to carry on the beliefs. No one recorded the actual words of deities or even the actual teachings of Buddha. Word of mouth and oral traditions were how stories were kept alive.
We look at fairy tales and even nursery rhymes and find out there is much more to them. Baa Baa Black Sheep was about a wool tariff. Sleeping Beauty is a tale of rape in the 17th Century Italian version of the story. The original versions of Little Red Riding Hood did not have a happy ending for Red. So many of our favorite tales are actually pretty violent and not the happy endings we know. These tales were more for adults than children. What if there is a deeper meaning in fairy tales and their symbolism.
Bly looks at six fairy tales in this books and examines their meaning and symbolism. Of the five stories used I was only familiar with The Frog Prince. The examination of the tales ties them to earlier versions and earlier symbolism, sometimes going back to ancient Egypt. Since stories are oral traditions they mixed and intermingled with other similar stories that carried more meaning. What may seem like a stretch at times is actually researched and well connected to other stories. Very well done, but perhaps a much deeper look at fairy tales than one would expect. Enjoyable, but be warned it is a scholarly work and not light reading.
In the description it says, "Drawing from his own creative genius and the work of a range of thinkers from Kierkegaard and Yeats to Freud and Jung, Bly turns these stories over in his mind to bring new meaning and illumination to these timeless tales."
The description for this book was a bit deceiving. I normally find it fascinating when fairy tales and myths are psychologically dissected, but Robert Bly's version of this dissection is taken to a new level. I don't have any problem with him using more obscure fairy tales, that's actually kind of appreciated, but his method of analyzing them is also pretty obscure.
The way he uses his work, as well as the work of others, never really enhanced the analysis of the fairy tale. It actually just made it feel like he was posting his unpublished works in this book and trying to create an analysis off it. Overall, it was more confusing than anything else.
To be honest, this was a disappointing read. The description got me excited, but the execution wasn't what I expected. I do, in a way, appreciate the new way Bly wanted to examine these fairy tales, but his observations were so "out there" for me that they didn't seem to make sense.
I was a real fan of Bly's Iron John, a deep dive into one of Grimm's Fairy Tales that has a lot to say about the life of the modern man.
In More than True we have a very good poet and thinker really just scratching the surface of six tales from a number of different cultures. There is a fraction of the depth of IJ, but those who have carefully read IJ are equipped to get more out of these tales than even Bly does.
The highlights for me were the well-written stories. My favorites were "The Lindworm" and "The White Bear King Valemon," both told in timeless, fascinating ways. Bly weaves in his own poetry in many of the commentaries.
Authors who have built a lot of trust in readers--like Bly--can probably get away with books like this. It is worthwhile reading, but nothing close to insightful as a reader might expect from Bly.
I was a bit disappointed to find that this interesting premise (that fairy tales hold fundamental truths) was analysed in a way that skewed towards finding male power through old stories. Guess I should have checked out the background of the author first before being tempted by the lovely cover. Robert Bly is part of a literary movement that seeks to rediscover traditional male roles through ancient stories. The movement specifically claims that it is not anti-feminist or anti-woman. That's possibly true. Women are rather absent from the discussion, to my mind, which is almost worse...Just my opinion. Disappointed as there are so many ways to look at archetypal tales. The book is well presented, good illustrations and retellings of some old fairy tales, but I didn't enjoy it.
Eh, as the other posters suggest Bly's perspective on some of these tales seem one-dimensional, since he has focused so many of his years on how myths can help men become Men . But, yet, his careful curation of these six tales with his personal interpretations was well-worth the read, especially the retelling of the Frog Prince, Lindworm, and the White Bear King. However, because of its condensed length, and the many ideas he touches upon--it may require a second read to truly appreciate his efforts of making the metaphors of fairytales more accessible to adults.
I liked Bly's Iron John, and I want to like Bly's poetry. But the problem for me with all of it is that what Bly reads into fairy tales and poems seems so conjectural and usually barely plausible. I like the points he makes about emotionality and development of the soul, but I don't really see how he gets there. Perhaps it is connected with the larger issue that I have trouble seeing in poems what experts say is there to be seen. But I feel like the struggle is worth it--so I keep coming back to things like this now and then. For example, I just got Bly's Collected Poems for Christmas!
Robert Bly takes us on a journey through six fairy tales. Shining a light on the tales themselves and why they are still popular and relevant. Each tale is taken apart, studied and viewed through the eyes of not only Bly but several great thinkers.
These fairy tales are timeless. And magic and Bly always gives us something to delve deeper into and discover a new meaning to them.
This one is a bit deep. I love fairy tales, so I thought I would love this too. The deep meanings for some of the images were interesting. It was a short book with lots of ideas. "The naïve person discounts anger, fear, or greed, and assumes more goodness in the world than perhaps there is." This is written in his critique of the dark man character in fairy tales. A few of the ideas seemed too elusive for me.
I didn't realize, when I picked up this book, that Bly was the founder of the Mythopoetic Men's Movement. Honestly, I'd never even HEARD of the MMM. But I realized pretty quickly that there was some sort of male-oriented agenda going on as I read the first few chapters, and then I read the author bio and figured out what I'd borrowed from the library.
Here's the thing, though, even if you completely agreed with Bly, or somehow removed his biases from the text, his analysis was really terrible. It consisted almost entirely of using psychology to read as much as possible into a story that was certainly never about what Bly said it was. I don't even know HOW he managed to make the logical leaps he did.
I can't possibly recommend this book, and nothing about it made me at all interested in reading anything else by him.
Sometimes his interpretations were okay, sometimes they were little more than hit-the-nail-on-the-head and included with self-inserts of his own poetry.
Okay, so that's totally allowed if you're the one writing the book.
It just wasn't for me, though I did enjoy being introduced to several fairy/folk tales I was previously unfamiliar with, especially the last one!
20+ years after Sibling Society, Robert Bly still has lessons to give. Bly looks at six tales that have stood the test of time, handed down from generation-to-generation. From “The Six Swans” to “The Frog Prince.” Bly turns these stories over in his mind to bring new meaning and illumination to these timeless tales.
I picked this book up the other day. Some of the stories are good. But, reading it, was a bit different....idk how to put into words. The wording didn't really match with what I was reading. There wasn't much details about what was going on in the stories.
I love the idea. The execution could have been better. The tales we obscure and unfamiliar. And his writing style has such a poetic flair that for me it was kind of hard to follow.
I like the playful, subversive, ecstatic dimensions in Robert Bly's poetry, and his translations of such wise poets as Kabir and Rilke. His writing in prose, however, can be uneven, as it is in More Than True. As in Iron John, Bly reads fairy tales in light of Jungian archetypes and kindred forms of depth psychology, treating the stories as revelations of deep patterns in the human psyche. Among those patterns are the transition from childhood to adulthood, the search for meaning and identity, the role of male and female elements, the division between consciousness and the unconscious, and the struggle between the civilized self and the “shadowy, hostile side that invades our lives at times and seizes us” (p. 8). He narrates the tales in a vivid manner, but his interpretations--especially as they apply to his own experiences--are often cryptically brief. Even when it's unclear how a given tale bears on Bly's life, the tale may evoke deep stirrings in the reader. Who can resist the allure of a story that begins with a phrase such as "Once upon a time" or "In earlier times, when wishing still helped a traveler" or "A young girl goes out in the forest one day"?