Discovery #1: GALAXIAS (One-shot) by Ao Hatesaka

Throughout history, cultures around the world have told and created stories of powerful inhuman creatures. Who were able to assume human form. They were used in the past to explain natural disasters disrupting civilization. Some explained as the ‘wrath’ of the gods or similar entities, showcasing mankind’s complicated relationship with nature. One such story is the manga one-shot GALAXIAS by Ao Hatesaka. The story draws on the shared mythology of dragons—a stand in for natural disasters—that mirrors the broader human challenge of facing nature’s destructive forces. The protagonist struggles to find a reason to keep living after his family were killed by dragons. Through his encounter with a dragon who transforms into a girl, the protagonist begins to rediscover his will to live. Finding healing through his connection to this force of nature. Reflecting the beauty of life that nature reminds us to properly heal.

The story of Galaxias takes place on a fictional island nation, plagued by reoccurring dragon attacks. Following teenager Nereid living on his own collecting scrap on the beaches to sell and tending to a lighthouse to make ends meet. However, he is bitter about his current lot in life. Having what he cared for (both his normal life and family) taken away from him. He even says he’s ‘enduring’ life rather than living it.

These panels below panels showcases in a similar fashion to natural disasters how part of life dragon attacks are. That its something the nations of the world have to prepare and act against when possible. Both its setting and the frequent attacks are most likely inspired by creator’s Ao Hatesaka own personal experiences. As in Japan, tsunamis and earthquakes are fairly common.

Nereid after a day’s work encounters a dragon’s corpse, that soon after transforms into a young girl. Named Jio. Put in charge of caring for Jio, Nereid finds Jio is passive and child-like. Not the aggressive monsters he’s known dragons for. Forced to live with Jio and care for her over a long period of time, she frustrates him beyond belief, BUT its more than he’s felt in a long time. During a one on one conversation with Jio, he finally admits to her that he despises dragons. However, by this point he begins to question himself.

Dragons shown in the manga while being described as aggressive, aren’t shown on ‘screen’ as being so. The first dragon introduced, Jio, brings life back to Nereid. This is most likely again due to creator Ao Hatesaka’s culture, as dragons in East Asia aren’t seen as symbols of destruction. But as a symbol of good fortune and as spiritual guardians. The only instance of a dragon being shown on ‘screen’ in the manga attacking humans, its in response to humans attacking first. Dragons here are very much like natural disasters in that they aren’t inherently malicious. Its in a similar vein to how some wild animals attack humans but don’t do it because they’re evil or cruel.

Nereid learning of this sees past his hate and begins the road to recover, like how many modern humans who undergo natural disasters learn to do. Jio, who in the story is presented as nature being sent to Nereid, reminds him he still has a home on this wonderful earth to go back to.

Discovery #1: Man vs. Mermaid

In Chapter 14: “Betrayal” from The Romance of the Faery Melusine, we are introduced to Melusine’s true form as a mermaid and her lover, Raymondin’s reaction to his perception of this new profound information. Prior to his discovery of the truth of Melusine’s true identity as a mermaid, we find him glancing at a tapestry, one which included a faun. He initially felt feelings of angst, followed by subsequent calm when he realized he could easily kill the creature. Why did Raymondin feel peace in the thought of killing the faun within the tapestry? The faun foreshadows the eventual reveal that Melusine is a mermaid, paralleling one subhuman creature, a mermaid, with another, the faun. Therefore, by exerting control over the faun by fantasizing about its demise, Raymondin seeks to regain the control he has lost by his wife’s secrecy by killing a subhuman creature similar to his wife. This dynamic aligns with the common depictions of the relationship between men and mermaids, where men attempt to conquer mermaids, since mermaids represent agency and knowledge. 

A faun, similar to a Mermaid, is sub-human. It is half man and half goat, a creature whose connection to nature is deeper than that of Raymondin’s, as exemplified by the tapestry’s depiction of the Faun immersed in nature, “He gazed at a fine tapestry which showed birds surrounding a page, on the ground and in flight, in an orchard full of flowers in which the colours of wings and petals combined. But while he saw nothing of that, he noted in the frame, filigreed in thin golden wire, a lively faun with open legs, and on its forehead two long horns that seemed to mock him” (Pg. 119).  Raymondin couldn’t see beyond the greenery, and detailed nature depicted, but was hyperfixed on the faun and the inadequate feelings it induced within him. The horns signifying power and strength, which Raymondin doesn’t have within the dynamic with his partner. Therefore, it brought Raymondin peace in having the thought of killing the faun within the tapestry, “[…] whatever the nature of the struggle, when it came to the end, however perfect his armour, he could, if need be, kill him. This thought calmed him for a moment […]” (Pg. 119). The betrayal for Raymondin may also be in how he can’t find peace in killing her, unlike the faun. One way to regain his power where the circumstances of control with Melusine and her boundaries are out of his hands, is through the imagined killing of the faun.

It’s important to note the way the faun is posed with its open legs, yet another parallel with Melusine. The sexual pose in which the faun is displayed, embodies the same sexuality depicted as Melusine combs through her hair as Raymondin found her, “Her bent back magnificent in profile, her breasts raised, as she combed her long golden hair […]” (Pg. 125). A common symbol of self gratification for mermaids, is combing through their hair with a comb. Raymondin sees this and realizes she has agency, no real need for him, and is doing so while enjoying her time alone in a space where he isn’t welcomed, “In her other hand she held a mirror, its crystal reflecting the moonlight on her face, which despite the life that animated it as she smiled to herself, gave it an almost lifeless quality” (Pg. 125). Melusine smiled at herself and enjoyed the space she had created for herself, given that she is a “fish” out of water within Raymondin’s natural habitat, just like the faun. The Faun and Melusine are both prisoners confined to unnatural environments where they don’t belong. She is in her space while holding her mirror, a symbol of her vanity, but also the acceptance she has for her circumstances unlike her partner’s immediate reaction, who has just become aware. This revelation illuminated Melusine’s other world, knowledge that she was actively choosing to hold it from him. Raymondin realised that his involvement in her life, or what he thought he knew about her, turned out to be further from his truth.

While Raymondin went against Melusine’s wishes by not respecting her clear boundaries, he was also betrayed by his lover.  Besides the dishonesty from Melusine, the reveal of her true form was the ultimate betrayal. Not knowing Melusine’s secret drove him insane, and his selfish desire for knowledge and power transformed him, “It was as if his reason, blind to other issues, was confined to a desperate will to know, which ended almost transforming him into another being” (Pg. 120), his desperation making him reminiscent of other sub-human creatures. Raymondin’s desire to know all leads him to break Melusine’s boundary, which will inadvertently harm their marriage. Even though he went against Melusine’s request, his betrayal felt justified because at least he was fighting to save her from “the devil”, which are really his own internal demons he was trying to save himself from, as further evidenced by the text’s religious assertion that, “[…] he fought on the side of God” (Pg. 121). It seems as though Melusine was the one in power, even within the confines of her own prison, without a God to act out for other than what her own needs are.

Melusine and the faun, while completely different beings of nature, share similar circumstances. Both of them are placed within unnatural environments limiting their ability to live freely in a world made to serve man. Each of them hold power over Raymondin which leads him to become a sub-human creature just like them. Even with the differences between the sub-human creatures and Raymondin, Melusine would not be the one found in the same circumstances as her beloved husband. Transforming into a creature hungry for knowledge, and eager for power. 

The Little Mermaid, or Aerial

By becoming an aerial, a daughter of the air, is the little mermaid saved or sentenced to 300 years of suffering? Either way, she has attained a soul at the end of her sentence, a soul that is not tied to a man who treated her like an animal. 

Like most, I grew up watching and loving Disney’s The Little Mermaid, and Prince Eric was the sweetest and most handsome to me. I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I read how he treated her like a pet, and gave her “leave to sleep on a velvet cushion before his door (124).” It was heart-wrenching to read of her dehumanization by the prince and the way he expected her to be happy at his marriage. 

I can see how Han’s Christian Anderson wrote this story as insight into life as a queer man in a society that punished it through moral and religious doctrine encoded into rule and law. Living a queer existence meant living a life in hiding, and even if love found a way to flourish, it would not be socially accepted. The little mermaid must make constant sacrifices to appeal to the prince and the people of his kingdom, and she is often warned: “Your fish’s tail, which is a beauty amongst us sea-folk, is thought a deformity on earth, because they know no better.” However, I appreciated this clarification and assurance by her grandmother; that humans’ lack of knowledge was not the fault of the little mermaid, and how this was Anderson’s way of commenting on queerness as something beautiful and misunderstood due to the fault of society, not the individual. 

Nonetheless, I can not excuse the actions of the prince in this tale, because he was completely in power, and never under the spell of the sea witch (although I’m not 100% sure what happened with the bride being mistaken as his savior). He had complete autonomy and flaunted it in the face of The Little Mermaid, whom he took advantage of because she could not speak for herself. He paraded her around, essentially kept her as his pet, and likely intended to keep her as his mistress if she had not become a daughter of the air. He was despicable, and I’m glad she got the soul that she wanted without any help from him, but despite him.

The Little Mermaid: Full Commitment. No Payoff.

At first glance, it would be a lie to claim that one began read the story without thinking (at least subconsciously) about the Disney iteration. However what is truly surreal is the fact that the Hans Christian Anderson story of “The Little Mermaid” was truly nothing as expected in terms of tone and over all motives displayed throughout the tale. Apart from the huge disparities between the film adaptation and the tale by Anderson, there seems to be a reoccurring sense of longing for something that we as the readers, already know that it is only highlighting the positive aspects of being human without truly understanding the hardships and flaws humanity has to offer.

The claim that Anderson’s “The Little Mermaid” is a cautionary tale that showcases the attractive qualities of being a human is not only supported by moments where the characters glorify certain superficial and materialistic things, “The little mermaid swam close to the cabin window, and as often as the water lifted up, she peeped in through the transparent panes, and saw a number of well-dressed persons” (Penguins, 113). Now this is just an observation on the mermaids part and can entirely be done just out of sheer admiration for the clean and presentable appearance of the gentlemen, but it is also a telling piece of information which implies that this sort of fondness towards all things “classy” and “fancy” is natural and tailored only to humans (which is why the mermaid is so intrigued by the prince). Not only does this correlate with humans as a whole, but it also demonstrates the sacrifices women make in society as a result of marriage and motherhood which can be interpreted from the witch’s warnings, “if once you obtain a human form, you can never be a mermaid again!” (Penguins, 120). While not blatantly stated, this may very well be an allegory for dedicating ones entire life and leaving everything behind in order to seek for marriage and a relationship that is built on materialism and physical qualities. The ending (which is quite depressing) serves as an example of said sacred bonds that do not have a legitimate foundation comprised of love and understanding, rather one that is constructed by unrealistic expectations and hope which in the very end, leads the little mermaid to end up risking everything for someone that did not share the same passion.

Week 8: To make of the world below

While reading Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid, what stood out to me in this tale is just how different the underwater world is compared to the terrestrial world. Since the underwater world remains largely unexplored, we can only make of its supposed beauty through what we think lies below. That the depths of the ocean hides a world that is completely alien to the land above.

In the beginning, the narrator reminds us that the ocean is “so deep … that no rope can fathom it; and many church steeples need be piled upon the other to reach from the bottom to the surface.” (108) Just how deep is the ocean, and how much of it have we not explored? Humans are not capable of breathing underwater, so we have to rely on submarines and scuba tanks to explore only a part of it. Even then, the crushing depths make exploring the bottom of the ocean almost impossible. Even in reality, there are thresholds set in place by Nature that we literally cannot cross, even if we wanted to.

In the next paragraph, the narrator tells us that the ocean must not “be imagined that there is nothing but a bare, white, sandy ground below,” and proceeds to describe its environment: “The soil produces the most curious trees and flowers, whose leaves and stems are so flexible that the slightest motion of the water seems to fluster them as if they were living creatures.” (108) This exemplifies the alien nature of the ocean, and it also implies that even the depths are connected to terrestrial life. The “trees and flowers” can be made out as coral, but it is described in a way that makes them seem as though they are a part of a forest. The fish are likened to birds, further demonstrating the parallel between sea and land.

However, both of these worlds are separated by water as stated before; humans and aquatic beings are incompatible with water and land respectively. There are things in their world that we desire but cannot have due to the nature of their world, and vice versa. Alas, we can only describe what lies at the bottom of the ocean, and we have yet to see the beauty of it in the distant future.

Week 8: The Little Mermaid

After reading the Hans Christian Andersen version of The Little Mermaid, I realized that this story has quite huge differences in comparison to the other Mermaids in previous stories we have read. For starters, the most obvious difference that stood out to me was the little mermaid’s infatuation with the upper world, “There was nothing she delighted in so much as to hear about the upper world” Pg. 109, which Mermaids such as Melusine, seemed to have honestly cared less about the humans and their ways of life. For example, she would lock herself up in her own make-shift fish tank, away from Raymondin, and the rest of the human world. The little mermaid on the other hand, yearns for her rite of passage at fifteen so that she can go see the upper world.

As I was reading the story what came to mind was how there seemed to be several themes of coming into womanhood, or in the case of the story, mermaid-hood. The little mermaid’s garden seems to represent her innocence, and over time, the end of it. Her garden consisted of, “[…] the youngest planted hers in a circle to imitate the sun, and chose flowers as red as the sun […]” Pg. 109, which could hold a symbolic meaning of her innocence, the red flowers being representative of her menstrual cycle. Not to mention, there is a, “[…] pretty statue, representing a handsome youth, hewn out of pure white marble that had sunk to the bottom of the sea […]” Pg. 109, which could be interpreted as a form of lust for her. I say this because as she gets older and officially reaching the age of maturity, fifteen, she started to feel lustful towards other beings like the Prince she rescued, or the marble statue within her garden, “The mermaid kissed his high, polished forehead, and stroked back his wet hair; she fancied him like the marble statue in her garden […]” Pg. 115, the garden signifying her “deflowering”.

The Meaning of Tears in The Little Mermaid

The first thing that struck me and intrigued me in Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid was the motif of tears and one’s ability, or lack there of, to cry. When the little mermaids’ sisters rise “up arm-in-arm through the water, the youngest would stand alone, looking after them, and felt ready to cry; only mermaids have no tears, and therefore suffer all the more” (113). Symbolically the absence of tears represents the mermaid’s separation from humanity, or what makes something human. Though she can internally feel sorrow and longing she cannot externally express those emotions. Furthermore, there is an irony to her environment; the sea, which is made of endless water, surrounds her and contrasts her inability to cry tears. Externally, she is surrounded by water, yet lacks inner “water” of empathy or a soul. Andersen uses this moment to depict that suffering without expression (tears) is cursed pain, and it is with this awareness of her lack of tears (emotional expression) that the little mermaid starts to yearn for a soul. 

By the end of the story the little mermaid is able to transcend with the daughters of the air, marking the turning point in her journey. As one of the daughters of the air welcomed her as an “aërial spirit,” “the little mermaid lifted her brightening eyes to the sun, and for the first time she felt them filled with tears” (130). Her tears are now symbolic of her “true” humanity and capacity for moral and emotional depth. As she looks up at the “sun” she becomes spiritually enlightened, the sun represents her transcendence to having a divine soul. Suggesting that emotional pain, when expressed and understood, is the way to immortality. Her tears are a literal presentation of her invisible soul.

Moreover, the daughters of the air explain that “when [they] see an ill-behaved or naughty child, [they] shed tears of sorrow, and every tear adds a day to the time of [their] probation” (130). The story ends with the tears not just being a representation of having a moral soul or a pathway to immortality, tears now carry a moral consequence. Andersen’s motif of tears is used to define humanity. Tears, in this case, transform ones suffering into a sort of salvation, without tears or the ability to cry there is no hope of such salvation.   

Christianity: An Apparent Constant for all Earthly Creators

Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid depicts the lives, but more importantly, the inner thoughts and perspectives of Merpeople. Andersen wrote about what he can only imagine it would be like to look into our world from such an unimaginable viewpoint. Somehow, he still managed to integrate Western Christianity into a fairy tale about a young woman who lived separate from all things “worldly”. This proves that, as much as we try to understand the incomprehensible, and walk in the shoes of or (swim in the tails) of others, our own learned perspectives will often prevail.

On page 108, he writes, “It was the little birds that her grandmother called fishes, or else her young listeners would not have understood her, for they had never seen birds”. According to this logic, the young mermaids had no concept of the world on land whatsoever, yet in basically the same breath, he mentions how enticing the church bells are to the girls. On page 109, he mentioned the church three times, and yes, mostly intended as an example of the sounds of humans, heard from afar, but nonetheless, it was mentioned. Andersen takes the time to point out that they don’t know what dogs are, yet skims past the fact that they’d never been inside a church and still had a full understanding of what they were. If these young girls could understand the reason for church bells, and not birds singing, then well, they were clearly written to be religious mermaids.

This may seem to be very insignificant, but I felt I needed to point out such a minute detail because it really does play a larger role in this story. If this young mermaid knew the significance of the church or religion, or in some ways, morality, then she would, in turn, also know shame. Organized religion has been a tool in inducing shame for centuries, and it was especially potent at the time of this telling. Although shame is a less intense theme in this story than it is in other merpeople tales, its presence is more interesting when it relates to a LITTLE mermaid. A 15-year-old child feels shame for wanting love, for wanting beauty, and for wanting human connection.

I do not think this distinction was necessarily purposeful or intended to be significant, but I do think it points to writing about unknown beings in general. That is my point, I suppose. Andersen was submerging himself in this perspective, over-explaining the way things look to someone who had no concept of them, down to little details. Yet he subconsciously or consciously decided that, of course, mermaids would inherently have a concept of religion, the church, or God.

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.

On The Topic of Pain

In Hans Christian Anderson’s fairy tale The Little Mermaid there are multiple references of pain below and above the water. This story is clearly meant to be shared with children and like most fairy tales there is a concurrent of morality and coming of age allegory, in when and how pain is felt for this young mermaid.

When it is time for the the Little Mermaid to visit the surface, to break through the barrier of her world to enter into a broader and more complicated world, adornments of oyster shells are fastened to her tail by her grandmother. These shells symbolize her rank are so painful that the Little Mermaid voices this discomfort. Her grandmother’s response is “pride must suffer pain” (Penguin, 113). This statement has endless connotations such as religious implications, monarcharical responsibility, the mermaid symbolism of pride, or the mermaid’s ascension into womanhood. The story tells us early on that the Grandmother wears a dozen oyster shells in reverence to her noble birth, but not until the Little Mermaid is gifted the symbol do we know how painful they are. This means that the Grandmother has endured this pain as matriarch for a significant part of her life, without complaint because the Little Mermaid did not know it would be painful.

This has been a common denial in history, this discomfort of body in those who menstruate and birth, many times being categorized as a natural occurrence one must just endure. That there is goodness and purity in this endurance. The Little Mermaid is in some ways a 1800s child-appropriate way to explain to those who menstruate what their experience will be in their adult body. What pain is natural and unnatural in these bodies and how one of the most unnatural things to do is to disobey a parents’ wishes.

The pain of the shells is not mentioned again, it is a brief discomfort that the Little Mermaid adjusts to, a pain of the responsibility and pride she has being part of her family. But when she is in an unnatural state the pain is constant. When the Little Mermaid receives her legs, in rebellion of her family and position every step is painful. She experiences this pain all to be near someone who will never rebel against his title or family and who treats her (in my opinion) like a pet. A condition of the Little Mermaid’s task is convincing the Prince to forget about his parents, putting the Little Mermaid first. With the pair both having royal obligations, not listening to their the parent/family is more than a private rebellion it is a political rebellion with larger implications for their court and country. One must be obedient to the greater good. Making the lesson of the tale about how one will only experience pain when betraying your familial obligation, is not only a way to prove parents know best but to covertly imply it is against nature to do so.