Original Artist - B-trndl at Deviant Art
I chose Bluebeard as I was interested as to the monster archetypes in fairy tales. Most of them seemed to be lumbering, or plain ugly - but Bluebeard seemed to be generally frightening. I have 2,500 words to find between now and next Monday re the first half of the diss. It will be comprised of Perrault/Brothers Grimm (albeit briefly)/Le Fanu and Charlotte Bronte. This could be a HUGE project, but I have to pare it down to the bare minimum. It will have Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber in it at some point too.
Yesterday and today, I have spent making notes on the Perrault/Le Fanu one and tomorrow, I will have to start writing. In between, I will be doing the IAS PP too.
“When I saw him look at me with lust, I dropped my eyes but, in glancing away from him, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. And I saw myself, suddenly, as he saw me, my pale face, the way the muscles in my neck stuck out like thin wire. I saw how much that cruel necklace became me. And, for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption that took my breath away.”
“She stands and moves within the invisible pentacle of her own virginity. She is an unbroken egg: she is a sealed vessel; she has inside her a magic space the entrance to which is shut tight with a plug of membrane; she is a closed system; she does not know how to shiver.”
“His wedding gift, clasped round my throat. A choker of rubies, two inches wide, like an extraordinarily precious slit throat.”
“His touch both consoles and devastates me; I feel my heart pulse, then wither, naked as a stone on the roaring mattress while the lovely, moony night slides through the window to dapple the flanks of this innocent who makes cages to keep the sweet birds in. Eat me, drink me; thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden, I go back and back to him to have his fingers strip the tattered skin away and clothe me in his dress of water, this garment that drenches me, its slithering odour, its capacity for drowning.”
“Your thin white face, chérie; he said, as if he saw it for the first time. Your thin white face, with its promise of debauchery only a connoisseur could detect.”