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Princesses Behaving Badly: Real Stories from History Without the Fairy-Tale Endings - Hardcover

Mcrobbie, Linda Rodriguez

 
9781594746444: Princesses Behaving Badly: Real Stories from History Without the Fairy-Tale Endings
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 1594746443 ISBN 13: 9781594746444
Verlag: Quirk Books, 2013

Inhaltsangabe

You think you know her story. You’ve read the Brothers Grimm, you’ve watched the Disney cartoons, and you cheered as these virtuous women lived happily ever after. But real princesses didn't always get happy endings. Sure, plenty were graceful and benevolent leaders, but just as many were ruthless in their quest for power—and all of them had skeletons rattling in their royal closets. Princess Stephanie von Hohenlohe was a Nazi spy. Empress Elisabeth of the Austro-Hungarian empire slept wearing a mask of raw veal. Princess Olga of Kiev slaughtered her way to sainthood while Princess Lakshmibai waged war on the battlefield, charging into combat with her toddler son strapped to her back. Princesses Behaving Badly offers true tales of all these princesses and dozens more in a fascinating read that's perfect for history buffs, feminists, and anyone seeking a different kind of bedtime story.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Linda Rodriguez McRobbie has written for the Boston Herald, Christian Science Monitor, CNN Money, US News & World Report, and Mental Floss. She lives in London with her husband, son, and cat.

Douglas Smith is an award-winning illustrator. He is perhaps best known for illustrating Gregory Maguire’s Wicked novels.

Von der hinteren Coverseite

You think you know her story. You've read the Brothers Grimm, you've watched the Disney cartoons, you cheered as these virtuous women lived happily ever after. But the lives of real princesses couldn't be more different. Sure, many were graceful and benevolent leaders - but just as many were ruthless in their quest for power, and all of them had skeletons rattling in their royal closets. Princess Stephanie von Hohenlohe was a Nazi spy. Empress Elizabeth of the Austro-Hungarian empire slept wearing a mask of raw veal. Princess Olga of Kiev murdered thousands of men, and Princess Rani Lakshmibai waged war on the battlefield, charging into combat with her toddler son strapped to her back. Princesses Behaving Badly offers minibiographies of all these princesses and dozens more. It's a fascinating read for history buffs, feminists, and anyone seeking a different kind of bedtime story.

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Once Upon a Time: An Introduction
“Every girl pretends she is a princess at one point.” 
Lindy, from Alex Finn’s Beastly

Every little girl? Not quite.
     When I was growing up, I didn’t want to be a princess. I wasn’t a tomboy or anything; I just wasn’t into them. Horses, yes, especially the unicorn or winged or, best of all, winged unicorn kind. But then again, when I was a little girl, the Disney princess wasn’t the glittery pastel-colored
juggernaut it is today. You could be a little girl and not limit your dress-up choices to Belle, Ariel, or Cinderella (or Mulan or Merida, if you’re feeling feisty).
     Nowadays, princess obsession is the default setting for many little girls. In 2000 Disney decided to market the doe-eyed denizens of its feature films by their primary identifying characteristic: their princess titles. And thus was born the princess plague. Princesses are now the biggest industry for the pre-tween set. In 2012 the Disney Princess media franchise was the best-selling of its kind in North America, outselling Star Wars and Sesame Street and earning more than $4.6 billion worldwide. Add to that all the collateral stuff—The Princess and the Popstar Barbies, the Melissa & Doug Decorate Your Own Princess Mirror sets, countless pink-spangled princess T-shirts—and you’ve got what social commentators and worried parents are calling the “Princess Industrial Complex.”
     In her fascinating book Cinderella Ate My Daughter (Harper, 2011), Peggy Orenstein examines the obsession with bundling girls into “pink and pretty” princess costumes. Orenstein, among many others, worries that princess play presents unrealistic expectations of feminine beauty, is overly restrictive (pink ball gown, or purple?), and is turning little girls into budding narcissists. So do I. Though no direct evidence supports claims that the ubiquitous princess culture harms girls’ self-esteem, it seems to me that the phenomenon smacks of an unjustified sense of entitlement, a kind of fake power derived not from good decision-making skills or leadership or intelligence but physical attractiveness, wealth, and relationships with strong male characters. “Princess” is a title that establishes bizarre expectations of how one should be treated, of what has value, and of what women will or should achieve in their lives. 
     Obviously, most little girls don’t grow up believing that life is all dress-up heels, fairy godmothers, and Prince Charmings. But the princess fantasy is one that we don’t ever really give up. Witness the fascination with Kate Middleton, the pretty girl-next-door commoner who married Britain’s dashing Prince William in April 2011. Though she’s technically not a princess—her official title is Duchess of Cambridge—Catherine’s story has all the hallmarks of a fairy tale. The royal wedding even looked like a cartoon—I almost expected to see twittering bluebirds carrying Kate’s train.
     Sweetly two-dimensional “Princess Kate” was the image that tabloids the world over traded on, despite the grim reality of what happened to the last British princess given the fairy-tale treatment. Blonde blue-eyed Diana was Cinderella, a similarity not lost on media then or now. Diana’s real story, however—her marriage of convenience, her husband’s infidelity, rumors of her own unfaithfulness, struggles with fame and eating disorders, her courtship of the British press, and her eventual death after being chased by paparazzi—is distinctly not the happy fairy tale everyone hoped for.
     Perhaps the best way to make sure that the fairy tale doesn’t become the expectation is to talk about real princesses and to stop turning their lives into fairy tales. Some real princesses were women who found themselves in circumstances they couldn’t control. Sophia Dorothea of Celle, for example, was forced to marry a man she called “pig snout,” a man who violently assaulted her, cheated on her, and, after she retaliated by having her own affair, locked her in a castle for more than three decades until her death. Others, like Anna of Saxony, were genuinely mentally unstable—a limited gene pool can be just as corrupting as absolute power. Pretty Grimm.
     But some princesses found ways to shape their own destinies. Empress Wu of China showed that princesses can be just as Machiavellian as any prince. Some, like Sarah Winnemucca, used their titles (both real and imagined) to draw attention to a higher cause. Others were just out for a good time, like the American Clara Ward, a so-called Dollar Princess who left her Prince Not-So-Charming to run off with a gypsy violinist. And more than a few weren’t even princesses at all, like Caraboo or Franziska, the Polish factory worker who claimed to be the lost Romanov princess Anastasia.
     Historical princesses have been capable of great things as well as horrible things; they’ve made stupid decisions and bad mistakes, loved the wrong people or too many people or not enough people. They are women who lied, murdered, used sex as a weapon, or dressed like a man to hold on to power. They weren’t afraid to get a little dirt, or blood, on their hands. These women were human, but the word princess, along with its myriad connotations, often glosses over that humanity.
     For each of the women described in the following pages, I’ve tried to strip away the myth and portray something as close as possible to the real person. But history is only as accurate as those who record it, and that goes double when the subject is a woman. I’ve made every effort to track down stories from the most reliable sources, but, as with any reconstructing of the past, some of the tales must be chalked up to rumor, gossip, and assumption.
     Nevertheless, here are the stories of real princesses and real women. They may begin once upon a time, but they don’t always end happily ever after.

Afhild:  The Princess Who Turned Pirate
Ca. 5th century
The icy waters of the Baltic Sea

Princess Alfhild had a choice to make. On the one hand, a really awesome guy had finally managed to bypass her father’s deadly defenses and call on her without being beheaded or poisoned. She could marry this brave young man and enjoy the life of domestic bliss that women of her era were supposed to aspire to. Or she could give up royal life and become a pirate.
     Guess which path she chose?

Daddy’s Girl
The only daughter of the fiercely protective fifth-century Goth king Siward, little Alfhild was raised to be modest, almost pathologically so. She was supposedly so modest that she kept her face “muffled in a robe” lest the sight of her incredible beauty provoke any nearby men to go mad with lust.
     Alfhild had good reason to be so dedicated to preserving her chastity. Her story appears in the Gesta Danorum (Deeds of the Danes), a twelfth-century multivolume work in Latin by historian Saxo Grammaticus. If Saxo is to be...

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Verlag
Quirk Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2013
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1594746443
ISBN 13 
9781594746444
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Auflage
1
Anzahl der Seiten
303
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Verantwortliche Person
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