With snow enveloping some corners of our planet during this time of the year, as winter begins to march into our lives, this week we delve deeper into one of my favourite fairytales and one twisted to the core.
Twisted because, as most folktales want, The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Andersen is a little odd, but that’s exactly what makes it extraordinary. The story was published in 1844 in “New Fairy Tales. First Volume. Second Collection”, and it centres around the forces of good and evil, pure and tainted, narrated in the adventures of a little girl named Gerda and her friend, Kai. The fable is already peculiar per se, for it contains seven chapters, unlike Andersen’s other tales, and it starts, most surprisingly, with the devil, god, and a mirror.
This unusual demon, described as a troll, is in fact the sole culprit who manufactured this sort of evil looking glass that distorts every reflection. All that’s virtuous and beautiful shrinks; meanwhile, all that’s wicked and immoral simply grows. As the story wants, the devil has scholars—funnily enough—who praise the mirror and take it around the world to contort everything, with their ultimate objective being heaven itself. Their sinful purpose humours them, but as these demons try to reach god, the glass gets heavier and shakes with laughter, eventually falling and breaking into infinite pieces. And if you thought that the shatter would have finally destroyed it, dear reader… you’re wrong. We quickly get to know how each shard of the mirror carries its full power either way; therefore, as some fragments become windowpanes or glasses, the rest are carried by the winds, travelling from land to land, and piercing through people’s eyes and hearts. If they end up in your gaze, they warp your sight, but if they end up deep in your chest, they turn to ice.
A quite detailed and interesting first chapter and introduction, indeed. However, the folktale that pops up in everybody’s mind when they hear the name “The Snow Queen” starts, instead, with the second one. Here we are finally introduced to Gerda and Kai and the loving relationship between their families. We encounter a grandma, lots of roses, the Snow Queen, a witch, two royals, and other unique and peculiar characters; yet the most important thing is that the folktale is about Gerda’s rescue of Kai, who has unfortunately had both his eyes and heart pierced by the glass. The story is in fact a true odyssey fuelled by what lies within the protagonist and her unknown powers of love.
The fable obviously ends with a happily ever after, but as I flipped through the pages, something stirred my mind.
The Snow Queen is not even the main figure of her own story. She appears only a few times and is depicted as evil, although she commits no crime.
I wondered why.
Hans Christian Andersen may have been one of the greatest inspirations behind modern fairy tales and many artistic projects; however, he presumably draws on a combination of Nordic folklore, literal creativity, and broader cultural archetypes as well. Scandinavia has a long tradition of myths and tales with spirits, trolls, and personifications of natural elements like snow and ice. We can say the same for many cultures around the world, like the Huldra in Norse mythology, the Snegurochka in Russian folklore, or the Yuki-onna—a Japanese yokai. All beautiful feminine figures associated with snow, winter, and, sometimes, icy demeanours.
Sounds familiar?
As a 19th-century prolific author, we must also keep in consideration how Andersen was deeply acquainted with German Romanticism and the everlasting, popular tales of the Brothers Grimm—like the Frau Holle, a magical woman ruling a snow-covered realm, much like our Snedronningen (The Snow Queen).
Extremely peculiar is how many cultures anthropomorphise natural phenomena as women. Since the earliest of times, female deities often governed transitional seasons, and that is especially true in terms of winter, which is paradoxically nurturing yet destructive. It is no surprise at all then that the femme fatale, cold maidens, and other heartless female figures often stem from patriarchal anxieties about the gentler sex‘s independence, power, and sexual autonomy. Painting, consistently, women as life-giving and life-ending personas simultaneously.
Especially in the past centuries, maidens and ladies who were “cold” challenged societal expectations of what a woman should be.
What a woman must be.
In Andersen’s original tale, as expected, the feared Snow Queen is not inherently evil. She does not even oppose Gerda when she reaches her frozen palace, as the ruler is not present on her own throne. She is just a character and a personification of nature who is rather indifferent than malevolent. Winter, like the Snow Queen, can be harsh but is necessary.
Although the 1800s are not that long ago, this fairytale was born during a time with strict rules and expectations that women needed to adhere to. The Snow Queen’s traits might be read as attributes that opposed the ideals of femininity and warmth of that period, painting her as the ultimate villain.
Which, of course, we know, is not true.
Perhaps, exactly like the cursed mirror at the beginning of the story, she reflects human fears or—better—men’s fears, which are sometimes rooted in misogyny.
As December approaches, Andersen’s tale can remind us to look beyond the frosted glass.
Winter is coming, but mind you, dear reader… don’t let the shards of ice cloud your vision.
Up, The Snow Queen by Edmund Dulac (1911)
Sources:
The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Andersen
Skogsrå and Huldra: The femme fatale of the Scandinavian forests
Fiabe by Hans Christian Andersen (1989) — a book in my library
The Library of the Unseen 
Beautiful description of my sign! Thank you ☺️ 😘😘