The Archive of the Ocean

In “Blue Humanities,” John Gillis explains the early perceptions and relationships to the ocean and how the exploration of this environment in modern times leads to a fascination with its history and all that lies below it. By learning more about this previously unexplored environment and shifting perceptions about it, this allows humans to care about the ocean since it is part of our history and home on this Earth.

As a result of the ocean being thought of as “an unfathomable abyss, impenetrable and unknowable “(Gillis 5), there is no personal connection to this part of the Earth because it is simply a resource used for food and transportation. There is no need to truly care about the health and well-being of the ocean since it is seemingly unimportant because of its “impenetrable” nature that makes it difficult for scientists to explore and understand what lies below its depths. The ocean becomes a never-ending resource where sailors go around “extracting the wealth of the seas” (Gillis 5) and not caring about the impact that the sea and humans have on each other. It doesn’t matter if people are overfishing its inhabitants and polluting the waters because humans are seen as separate from the ocean, giving them no incentive to worry about what happens to it.

With the advancement of technology and scientific methods, scientists are then able to uncover “the discovery of the temporal and spatial depth of the sea” and even “recognize that waters gave birth to all life on earth, including our own” (Gillis 5). Here, the author formulates a shift in perception since the ocean is now a “living thing” that has deep ties to humans and our origin instead of remaining a dark void. Humans can no longer separate themselves from the ocean because it is part of our history and can tell us about the evolution of the Earth and those who call it home. We can see parts of ourselves in the ever-evolving ocean knowing that our livelihoods are intertwined, and allows it to develop into “a place of spiritual and physical recreation”(Gillis 6) for people. Subsequently, this becomes important because it changes the way humans interact with the ocean and those who live below it. This connection entices humans to see the ocean as more than just an asset, but as a place that provides meaning for us because it allows us to better understand ourselves and our past since it “gave birth to all life on earth.” We have more reason to care about this vast element because it is an archive of history that is often forgotten. If we don’t see the ocean as a place that needs to be preserved and cared for, then humans lose a section of history that can tell us more about who we are as a species and how the environment evolves through time.

“Who Tells Your Story:” The Importance of Legacies in Undine

In “The Day after the Wedding, from Undine,” Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué categorizes the elements as having an “evil particular” to them because “not a vestige of [them] remains” after death since they don’t have a soul, but Humans are deemed “purer” because of this divine connection that gives them the ability to live on (Penguin 105). By making humans superior to the elements because of their permanence, humans now have the validation to reign over the environment because the elements are seen as fleeting. This allows for the industrialization of the land to create a more lasting legacy.

In the middle of her speech where she confesses to her husband that she is a spirit of water, Undine explains that “there is one evil particular to [beings like her]” since they “vanish into dust, and pass away, body and spirit, so that not a vestige of [them] remains behind” since elemental beings are soulless (Penguin 105). Before Undine even describes what “evil” elements these beings contain, it is explicitly stated that it is something that is not approved of. The use of the word “evil” by Undine showcases that she does not view this feature of elements as something to be celebrated, but as something that is a blight to their kind. This positions the reader’s mind to understand that whatever default elemental beings contain is wrongful. By describing these elemental beings as having an evil component, they are already being put in an inferior situation through their flaw that is only “particular” to them. When Undine finally reveals the crime of elemental beings in the next line as being scattered back to nature so that “not a vestige of [them] remains behind” when they die, the reader already understands that lacking a soul is a defect because they do not have a chance at a permanent afterlife. It is through this negative tone used before the reveal of the specific “evil” among the elements that paints the action of the elements “[vanishing] into dust” as something to be frowned upon. Their inability to achieve a legacy becomes an evil action since they simply “pass away” and “not a vestige of [them] remains behind.” These beings are then categorized as fleeting because they do not leave any footprint on the Earth. They do not have to worry about creating a mark or doing what is right to reach a divine afterworld because they do not have a soul to help them achieve that goal. Rather than spend their afterlives in heaven or hell, the elements cease to exist and return to the environment from which they came. Nature becomes something insignificant since it can be erased “without having aught to grieve [them]” and no one there to remember it (Penguin 105). The environment is then seen as something to be dominated because it is construed as an unimportant part of life due to its temporality.

However, further down in her speech, Undine uses a more positive tone when characterizing humans as righteous because their souls allow them to “awake to a purer life” instead of “[remaining] with the sand and the sparks and the wind and the waves” after death (Penguin 105). In these lines, Undine places humans in a superior position with the use of the word “purer” to describe the fate of humans after death. Their ability to have a permanent afterlife grants them a higher status because they are not forgotten to the “sand,” “sparks,” “wind,” or “waves,” because there is someone there to grieve them and carry on their memory, while the elements are forgotten in time. Whether through memories or physical objects, humans leave traces of their lives on Earth for generations to come long after their death – something that Undine describes as “purer.” In turn, humans become virtuous beings because of the lasting impact they have on the world around them. This signals to the reader that it is noble to be impactful and leave a legacy on Earth because it is “purer” than being left to remain with the temporary elements of the environment, such as the “sand” and “waves,” which may only last a moment. Thus, the human afterlife becomes increasingly appealing to Undine to the point where she is willing to marry a human so that she can obtain a soul and get access to an afterlife and not remain with the elements. Subsequently, the author creates a boundary between human and elemental beings, where the elementals are painted as being beneath humans because of their fleeting nature. Creating the dichotomy between good versus bad through Undine explicitly using the word “evil” to describe the plight of these elemental creatures in comparison to the “purer” humans serves to paint permanence as something to aspire to.

With this in mind, the characterization of the elements as “evil” because they are fleeting and humans as “purer” since they have the ability to leave a legacy becomes significant by giving humans the license to dominate the environment. When placing nature in an insignificant position because they have no lasting tether to the Earth, humans no longer have to worry about the preservation of the environment since it is deemed an inferior entity. There is seemingly no reason for humans to care for beings that “pass away, body and spirit” and leave no trace of their existence, which is presented by Undine as a particular “evil.” Humans can conquer the environment and use it as they see fit because it is not worthy of value since it “vanishes” back to the environment without any lasting legacy. This then leads to the industrialization of the environment because there is no reason to work with nature since it is an “evil” being, leading nature to be neglected to allow the creation of more permanent objects like buildings and homes to create large cities to fulfill the righteous action of cementing a footprint on Earth. Nature becomes a canvas for human advancement since these elementals are viewed as subservient and therefore are delegitimized, making nature there for the taking.

The Intertwining of Humans and the “Wilderness”

While humans often think of the wilderness as an entity separate from humans, “The Trouble with Wilderness: Or, Getting Back to the Wrong Nature” by William Cronon highlights the notion that we can find nature in our own backyards and in remote areas, intertwining humans and nature. This changes the way humans think about nature since it erases the boundary between humans and the environment around them, because the “wilderness” can exist in “civilized” environments.

Humans often depict the wilderness as this grand fantasy where “[t]he torrents of mist shoot out from the base of a great waterfall in the depths of a Sierra canyon, the tiny droplets cooling your face as you listen to the roar of the water and gaze up toward the sky through a rainbow that hovers just out of reach” (Cronon 8). The wilderness becomes this awe-inspiring entity that dazzles and wows us with its grandness. It is on a massive scale where humans feel insignificant to the “roar of the water” and the “rainbow that hovers just out of reach.” In turn, humans feel detached from this form of nature because it is outside our scope of what we deem as civilized because people view it as being formulated by “nature” itself. There was seemingly no human involvement in creating the “mist [shooting] out from the base of a great waterfall,” forcing nature into the category of “other” since it evolved without any help from humans.

However, Cronon dispels this idea when explaining that “[t]he tree in the garden is in reality no less other, no less worthy of our wonder and respect, than the tree in an ancient forest that has never known an ax or a saw” (24). Wilderness becomes something that is part of everyday life as we breathe in the scent of pine trees wafting through the air or sit on the grass in the backyard on a hot summer day. Every tree and blade of grass brings us into the realm of wilderness without having to venture to far off places to experience it since they both arose from the same Earth and conditions. As a result, “the tree in the garden” becomes a symbol for the untamed environments around the world and brings the wild right to our backyard. We essentially live in the wild if we view the tree in our backyard as having a connection with a tree found in a remote area. Here, the separation between nature and humans is blurred when we realize that the wilderness is all around us. Simply because it sprouted in a civilized environment doesn’t mean that it makes the tree, plant, animal, etc. any less part of nature.

By intertwining humans and nature, it shifts the way we think about the environment since it becomes something that is part of our daily lives and all around us. Rather than thinking of wilderness as a foreign place, we can appreciate the wilderness outside our windows. It is then that we can truly create a change by noticing that the “other” (aka nature) is actually part of our lives. This allows us to see the responsibility we have to take care of the environment because it is essentially on our doorstep. The fate of the “other” then becomes the fate of humans, for whatever happens to the environment will then impact the way humans live on the Earth.

The Paradoxical Mermaid

In the tale of The Little Mermaid found in The Penguin Book of Mermaids, Hans Christian Andersen uses both sexual and religious imagery to highlight the sexual nature of mermaids and the possible redemption they can achieve through piety. The little mermaid is presented as a sexual being since she “was the prettiest [mermaid] of them all” (Penguin 108) and also has a “lovely form” (Penguin 122). Her body and beauty become the traits she is ultimately known for, painting her into a being that is meant to stimulate attraction in those who see her. The little mermaid is put into a position to be wanted and desired because of her beauty. It is not a choice made by the mermaid but is one that she is born with. Andersen also notes that as a young mermaid, she contains sexual impulses that are featured when she treasures a “pretty statue, representing a handsome youth” (Penguin 109) and “[plants] a bright red weeping-willow beside the statue” (Penguin 109) so that when the leaves grow, “it seemed as if the top of the tree were at play with its roots, and each trying to snatch a kiss” (Penguin 109). The little mermaid sees the statue in more of a sexual way through the imagery of “[snatching] a kiss” and the “red weeping-willow,” evoking a sense of sensuality as red is often a symbol for sexuality and love. Andersen indicates that not only does she serve as a sexual icon, but also a being that harbors sexual feelings. The mermaid becomes a dangerous/sinful being since she represents the sin of lust because of her desire for men and her ability to “befool a man’s heart” (Penguin 122) with her beautiful body and face.

Despite the little mermaid being a sexual creature, Andersen notes that she can still be considered a “moral” being because of her good deeds towards the prince. Not only did she “bore him across the sea to the wood where stands the holy temple” (Penguin 125) when his ship began to sink, she also refused to kill the prince and “hurled the blade far away into the waves” (Penguin 129). By highlighting these good deeds, Andersen formulates the idea that even people who are considered “sinners” can still have a chance at a divine afterlife and redeem themselves. Though the mermaid is an embodiment of lust, the daughters of the air tell the little mermaid that mermaids “can obtain [souls] by their good deeds” (Penguin 129). Despite being painted as a sexual being, Andersen flips the narrative by illuminating the duality within the mermaid. She is both a being that is sexual by nature, while still containing Christian qualities like selflessness, since she saved the prince twice. This redemption forces people to change the way they look at people who are deemed sinners through the paradoxical characterization of the little mermaid. The qualifications to enter the “Kingdom of Heaven” (Penguin 130) are not solely based on who you are, but the actions you commit on Earth.

The Rise of Christianity in Undine

In this week’s reading of Undine in The Penguin Book of Mermaids, the author showcases Undine’s revelation to her husband that she is a water princess who did not have a soul until she married him. While making this confession, the author builds a religious tone as Undine explains the tragedy of not being in possession of a soul. Subsequently, the confession creates the notion that humans and supernatural beings do not exist on the same level and creates a boundary between these two worlds, where humans’ relation to religion makes them inherently better “beings” since they have a soul. 

During the revelation, she explains to him that there is an “evil peculiar to [those like her]” as they “vanish into dust, and pass away, body and spirit, so that not a vestige of [them] remains behind” (Penguin 105). However, humans are placed on a pedestal when Undine notes a further on in the passage that their soul allows them to achieve a “purer life” (Penguin 105) than supernatural creatures. It is here where the author creates a boundary between human and the supernatural nature, where the supernatural is painted as being beneath humans. Creating the dichotomy between good versus bad through Undine’s use of the word “evil” to describe the plight of these supernatural creatures in comparison to the “pure” humans serves to paint piety as something to aspire to. If beings like Undine do what is “right” and obtain a soul, then they are essentially promised a “purer life” (Penguin 105) because of this attachment to religion. The lack of souls that supernatural beings possess puts them at a disadvantage since they don’t have a connection to a higher being like God and, therefore, are seen as unholy. Humans become the ideal since their souls are given to them by God and are then deemed sacred, which puts them a step above the supernatural.  

This religious tone becomes important because it validates religion as a way to judge someone’s character in order to police society. The notion that the closer you are to God, the better of a person you are helps solidify the standard to which people are then measured. Calling those without a soul (aka religious affiliations) “evil” and those who do have a religious connection “pure” indicates to people that they should be more pious in order to avoid being seen as wicked. Knowing that humans often feel the desire to fit into society, people are then more likely to join the Church to keep from being ostracized or deemed a lesser person like Undine. In turn, it grows the power of religion since it is seen as necessity for a good life.

The Chivalric Husband: Truth or Myth?

In Chapter 19 of The Romance of the Faery Melusine, André Lebey throws the reader into the conflict by showcasing Raymondin breaking his vow not to see Melsuine on Saturday as he breaks into her private chambers to try and spy on her. More specifically, an important element within the chapter is the way in which Raymondin breaks his vow in a particularly violent manner by breaking down her door. By using violent imagery during Raymondin’s betrayal, the author critiques the notion of the chivalric husband as a constructed idea since Raymondin’s facade as a loyal husband is broken down when he unearths an aggressive side within him, highlighting the idea that men are not as different from what they deem as “other.”

Raymondin exhibits this violent behavior when he “pulled out his flat knife” (122) and “inserted a little more of the thin blade to enlarge the space he had with such difficulty obtained” (123) to get to Melusine. The barrier between the “supernatural” Melusine and the “human” Melusine is broken down with a knife, a violent object. Raymondin’s desire to know every part of Melusine ends up “transforming him into another being” (120) as he discards “his original oath [that] seemed to rise before him” (121). Here, the author reveals his hostile nature that is hidden beneath his identity as a gentleman. Despite him trying to uphold his reputation as a chivalric husband, the conflict of Melsuine’s privacy proves to be more than he can handle and causes him to become a destructive husband. When faced with conflict, these chivalric men will abandon their codes and honor to become a more animalistic version of themselves. Raymondin’s chainmail, the symbol of his chivalric knighthood, makes him now look like a “strange serpent with iron scales” (124) due to the shedding of his trustworthy identity. The author’s comparison of Raymondin to a snake indicates that, while he may view himself as a good husband, he is no better than the snake as he slithers his way into Melusine’s private world. 

With this in mind, the author proposes the idea that expecting men to constantly be in the position of a gentleman or chivalric is not natural. While one may act like a gentleman, there is always an underlying nature of violence that is revealed under pressure. It is easier to pretend to be a gentleman than to adhere to that code when they are put to the test. The gap between gentleman and animal becomes smaller as they both exhibit similar tendencies.

“I’m Every Woman”: The Duality of Women and the Supernatural

While reading the “Legend of Melusina” from The Penguin Book of Mermaids, something that stood out to me was the theme of duality and hybridity. Specifically, what piqued my interest was the idea that, despite Melusina being “a serpent…from the waist downwards” (87) who can inflict harm, she is also depicted as being a doting wife who builds an empire for her husband. By creating this paradoxical characterization, the author forces readers to contend with the idea that although Melusina is this “supernatural” creature who is capable of damage, she is not an inherently evil being – showcasing the idea that women are multi-faceted. 

At the beginning of the story, we are shown that Melusina “conceived the design of being revenged on [her father]” (87) after he had violated his wife’s privacy and trust. In turn, this results in a curse that forces Melusina to become part serpent on Saturdays as punishment for her crimes (87). This aligns with the nefarious characterization of hybrid creatures that most readers are accustomed to reading about. She is posited as a trickster to highlight that there is still this “deviant” nature within her as a result of being part human and part otherworldly. Starting the story with this dangerous characterization allows the reader to play into their biases so that the later actions of Melusina illuminate her complexity.

However, we are then shown that Melusina has the capacity to be what is considered a “good” wife to her husband and help him succeed since “Out of her great wealth, she built for him… the castle of Lusignan” (88) and other properties. Rather than simply keep the wealth for herself, she used it to help build him up and elevate his status in society. The author shows us that she has the capacity to care for Raymond and their family, which goes against the previous notion of her “untrustworthiness.” The opposing characterization helps rethink the notion that simply because a being is a hybrid, there is something inherently wrong with their disposition. In spite of Melusina having what some would deem “dangerous” characteristics, it does not mean she can’t possess the ability to be loving and caring.

Much like women in real life, Melusina illustrates how women can have many characteristics and qualities. Illustrating Melusina as a complex being allows readers to move past the idea that both women and hybrid creatures are essentially “one size fits all.” The duality that Melusina possesses can be seen in all women since they are made up of a multitude of aspects. To say that all women or supernatural beings possess a limited set of characteristics would be to ignore the complexities that they both experience. Therefore, the story empowers readers to see the duality that can exist in an entity instead of seeing it as a rigid being.

The Forbidden Fruit of Knowledge

For centuries, stories about Sirens have been used to tell morals or pass down certain values to the next generation due to their wisdom. Though some stories use explicit language to tell readers what they should or should not believe, other tales are more subtle in their messages, and it is through literary elements (such as tone) that the audience is able to come to their own conclusion about the story. The use of literary elements to send a message can also be found in “Odysseus and the Sirens” from The Penguin Book of Mermaids, as the author uses negative language to describe the Sirens and their seductive ways. In particular, the author paints the Sirens as more animalistic than human to paint them as “devious” and “dangerous.” By painting the Sirens in this negative light, the text aims to illuminate the idea that, though these creatures are harbingers of knowledge and wisdom, humans must resist the temptation of knowledge that is not meant for them.

An example of the author using animal language to create a negative connotation around the Sirens and the dangers they possess occurs when Odysseus and his crewmen begin to sail past the Sirens. He notes that “Celestial music warbles from their tongue, And thus the sweet deluders tune their song” (34). The word “warbles” is particularly interesting since it is commonly used to describe when a bird is chirping or singing, something that you would not associate with human song. Using the word “warbles” becomes a deliberate choice from the author since it positions the Sirens as more animalistic than human and, thus, more untrustworthy. Rather than describing the Sirens as softly singing, the author uses this term to instill in the audience that while they may have some human features, their animal hybridity gives way to their deceitful nature. Odysseus and his men must resist the temptation of wanting to “learn new wisdom from the wise” (34) since it may not be to their benefit due to the Sirens’ duplicitous nature. Much like in the Garden of Eden, the Sirens try to tempt sailors with “information” that could lead to their downfall. The story of the Sirens becomes a cautionary tale of forbidden knowledge and the dangers it can have on those who are not meant to have this information.

Monster V. Human

As I was reading the introduction of The Penguin Book of Mermaids, something that stood out to me was the idea that humans “are strangely drawn to the other who is in part a mirror image of us and appears within reach, even if mentally ungraspable” (pg xi). There is this push and pull between humans and the unknown – where we are drawn but also fear what we cannot understand. While mermaids and other hybrid creatures have some sort of human element within them, there is also this otherness that accompanies the human aspect of the creature. Why, in turn, are humans engrossed in something that also repels them? 

As humans, we crave order and organization but mermaids and other “monsters” allow us to explore the messy and untouched aspects of our identities. Living in a society that champions heteronormativity, humans often want to stay within the norm for fear of rejection if they deviate from what is supposedly normal and lose their social status. However, hybrid creatures give us insight into what could be if the limits of social norms and expectations were lifted. Specifically, mermaids can tap into the desires and lust that humans are too afraid to explore in real life. This is particularly relevant for women since society frequently looks down on women who explore their sexuality or sexual desires due to it not being seen as “ladylike.” Therefore, mermaids scare us because they may represent this element of humanity that is repressed as a response of societal norms. These creatures permit us to envision a being that is ungoverned by the stresses of society, a version of us in a primal form that is untarnished by expectations. Who are we without the rules of society governing our lives or religion telling us what is right or wrong? It is this anxiety that produces our fear of hybrid creatures, such as the mermaid, because we haven’t lived in a world without guidelines on how to be. Yet, we are fascinated and continue to come back to these creatures because humans are curious by nature – we crave to explore the unknown and the other. Subsequently, mermaids and other hybrids provide the perfect canvas to explore the messy bits of humanity that we don’t want to confront in the real world.

Femininity and Mermaids

What I found most interesting from Chapter 1 of Merpeople: A Human History by Vaughn Scribner was how the author focuses on gender to showcase how mermaids can reveal the sentiment and values of a certain time period. While people may not think twice about gender when it comes to mermaids, the text highlights that mermaids being female was a deliberate design by the Christian Church in the medieval era to keep women inferior to men. With her alluring nature and provocative form, the mermaid was essentially propaganda to illuminate the dangers of femininity and to “[decenter] the feminine” (Scribner 39-40). If women were allowed to be seen as equal to men, then the foundation of the patriarchy would no longer be stable – which is why the Christian Church formed the “dangerous” mermaid to warn society of the risk femininity posed to the community. By creating a feminine creature who represents a plethora of sins and vices, the church has a reason to keep women out of positions in power and to lower their position in society. In turn, current readers can see that the medieval period champions the masculine but despises the feminine through their portrayal of mermaids as sinful and dangerous creatures who lure men into sin and death. The mermaid becomes a figure which each era in time can put their fears or values upon and allow future generations to understand the issues of the period. During an era in which women were seen as inferior and given few rights, mermaids confirmed the medieval fear that femininity could be the downfall of a patriarchal society. Despite many of us growing up on classic mermaid work such as Disney’s The Little Mermaid, looking at the origins of mermaids allows us to think deeper about the relationship between society and how its depiction of mermaids can speak to a generation’s perspective. The history of mermaids and humans become intertwined as they hold up a mirror to society – beckoning us to understand our fears and desires as humans. As humanity evolves and grows, so do the interpretations of mermaids and what they represent.