Tuesday, May 21, 2019

Guest Post: Chrissie Perella's "Marvels, Monsters, or (Wo)Men?"

A member of the Tales after Tolkien Society since 2016, Chrissie Perella is the Archivist at the Historical Medical Library of The College of Physicians of Philadelphia. She is interested in Old English literature, particularly charms, magic, and medicine; the "monstrous" in medieval and post-medieval sources; and manuscript waste bindings. You can read some of her work on waste bindings here. The Society is pleased to present her "Marvels, Monsters, or (Wo)Men?" below--and to encourage further submissions. Please email them to talesaftertolkien@gmail.com with the subject line "Guest Post Submission."

Editorial adjustments to the text are minimal.


“…The same author affirms that while he sailed in the Red Sea, he saw a monster in the hands of certain Indian merchants, which in the bigness and shape of his limbs was not unlike a tiger, yet had the face of a man, but a very flat nose: besides, his fore feet were like a man’s hands, but the hind like the feet of a tiger; he had no tail, he was of a dun color: to conclude, in head, ears, neck, and face it resembled a man…: for the other parts they were like a tiger; they called it Thanacth.”

- Ambroise ParĂ©, The workes of that famous chirurgion Ambrose Parey translated out of the Latine and compared with the French by Tho. Johnson…, London, 1634.

“This is no fairytale.  The stories are real.  What they wrote about really happened.  You are one of the last Grimms.”

- Marie Kessler, “Pilot” (season 1, episode 1), Grimm, 28 October 2011.

𝔚hat is it about monsters that have fascinated us for centuries?  From The Odyssey and Beowulf to Dracula and It, stories featuring the monstrous have always captured our imaginations.  We are drawn to them, and yet at the same time fear them.  In our modern times, so-called ‘monster-of-the-week’ TV shows seem to air on every channel or streaming service.  In similar fashion, the images in prodigy books attracted the general public five hundred years ago.  By comparing the two, we can get a glimpse of what monsters embody for us.

NBC aired the last episode of Grimm in March of 2017, just as the exhibit I co-curated, Imperfecta, opened.  Grimm was a monster-of-the-week TV program that aired on NBC from 2011 to 2017.  The show’s main character, Nick Burkhardt, is a homicide detective in the Portland, Oregon, police department, and also a “Grimm.”  Grimms are descended from the Brothers Grimm (of fairy-tale fame), and have the ability to see the dual natures of “Wesen” (Ger., noun, “nature”), human-like creatures who can “woge” (Ger., verb, “wave;” used in the show as “shift”) into animal-like beings with animal-like traits.[i]  Nick does not discover he is a Grimm until his last-known living kin, Aunt Marie, is dying.  She leaves him a trailer full of diaries dating back to the beginning of the Grimm line, which detail the appearances, traits, and methods of killing all sorts of Wesen.  Traditionally, Grimms were hunters of Wesen, although Nick takes a different approach.  Each week, armed (literally) with a plethora of specialized Wesen-killing weaponry and the diaries, Nick must balance his heritage as a Grimm with his job as a homicide detective and navigate the sometimes morally grey areas of modern society.

Imperfecta opened March 9, 2017.  Since I work in a historical medical library, the exhibit is focused on shifting perceptions over the past 500 years about abnormal human development.  It examines physical anomalies and their causes from early beliefs in divine influence and supernatural causes to later scientific and medical facts.   Imperfecta encourages visitors to question what it means to be ‘monstrous’.[ii]  The exhibit starts off by introducing the subject of “teratology” (scientific study of physiological abnormalities and abnormal formations) using some of the prodigy books in our collection, which illustrate the co-existence of supernatural and natural influences on physical anomalies, and ends with late 19th-century clinical studies on abnormal births.  Supplementing our books are several fetal specimens showcasing fatal birth defects.

Curating the exhibit forced me to think about what makes one monstrous, and watching Grimm every week made me think about the ways the use of the word “monster” has (or has not) changed in the past 500 years or so.  Of course, many of the stories and Wesen we encounter in Grimm are inspired by Grimm’s fairy tales, which were collected over a period of years and can cite medieval, classical, and earlier origins.  This illustrates that there is something to be said about our long-standing fascination with monsters, and how even old stories still captivate us today.

The Wesen in Grimm reminded me of the creatures I encountered in the chapter entitled “Des monstres” (“On monsters”) in a 1614 copy of Les oeuvres d’Ambroise ParĂ© (The works of Ambroise ParĂ©).  While not medieval, “Des monstres” echoes, and adds to, the travel literature and natural histories concerning monstrous races popular during the medieval era.  During the later Middle Ages and the Early Modern period – no doubt partially due to the invention of the printing press – texts known as prodigy or wonder books became popular.

The line between prodigy books and wonder books is fluid, and I use the terms interchangeably here.  Prodigy books generally described monsters’ raisons d’ĂȘtre as omens of some impending doom, often wrought upon the community as signs of God’s displeasure.  Wonder literature generally took a more light-hearted view of monsters and presented them as marvels of nature.

Just like the books Nick discovers in Aunt Marie’s trailer, wonder books such as “Des monstres” catalogued strange creatures: fantastic beasts, humans and animals with non-normative bodies, or some unholy combination of the two.  Often, the tales of these monsters were allegedly eye-witness accounts.

However, unlike Aunt Marie’s books, prodigy books sought to explain the origins of the monsters or simply acknowledge their existence.  These books did not provide a ‘how-to’ for killing monsters.  Prodigy books regaled the reader with tales of cities incurring the wrath of God (Ravenna, 1512); women desiring pomegranates or strawberries while pregnant (the cause of birthmarks); speaking sea monsters appearing prior to the death of popes; and women holding frogs in their hands (to cure a fever, obviously) when they conceived.



The monsters in prodigy books are threats to humanity only in the sense that they act as portents for some inevitable catastrophe, which was likely caused by some moral deviance of humankind (if you subscribed to contemporary Christian beliefs, that is) in the first place.  But Grimm’s monsters are different: they do not have supernatural origins; they are not portents of doom.  They are too much like ‘us’ and yet not; they are primal and uncontrollable and yet not; they are our plumbers, shopkeepers, neighbors, friends; they are our thieves in the night, murderers, and deepest desires and fears come to life.    

Wesen’s true forms – their animalistic forms – can be seen by non-Grimms only when the Wesen woge.  Unlike ParĂ©’s monsters, the bodies of Grimm’s Wesen generally remain somewhat human in form when they woge; it is the face which changes and becomes animalistic.  The monsters in wonder books (those that are part human, anyway) tend to have human heads and animal bodies.  Which makes us more uncomfortable?  The body of an animal with the face of a human, or the body of a human with the face of an animal?  Does the level of uneasiness depend on the situation, the context, or on societal norms, customs, and beliefs?

In some cases, the Wesen in Grimm are only monstrous because of their physical features, not because of their actions or seeming lack of morality.  It is their differences in appearances, their ‘Otherness,’ which humans fear.  However, when woged, Wesen will do what is natural to that form, such as a Blutbad (Ger., noun, “bloodbath”; in the show, wolf-like Wesen) chasing down a Bauerschwein (Ger., noun, “farmer pig”; in the show, pig-like Wesen).  Nick’s friend Monroe, a Blutbad, tries to suppress these urges; he removes himself in situations where he may lose control; even in human form, he does not eat meat.  Do these instincts make Wesen monstrous?  Do we think wolves are monstrous for doing what comes naturally to them?  Or is it because Wesen look like ‘us’ much of the time that we expect them to act like ‘us’ all the time?

And that is the heart of the matter: We are simultaneously drawn to, and repulsed by, monsters because they represent the dark, deep-down, uninhibited parts of ourselves that we try to hide or ignore; because we see our true selves mirrored in them – just as Wesen can see their true selves mirrored in a Grimm’s eyes.

In a way, our monster-of-the-week TV programs are a 21st-century version of wonder books.  Through the monstrous, we are given free rein to examine the darker side of society and ourselves, using them as a ‘safe’ way to reveal our deepest fears and desires, to question contemporary prejudices and injustices, to make political or religious statements, to consider solutions to societal problems.  In the end, we are all a little bit monstrous.


Selected bibliography / Further reading

Asma, Stephen T.  On Monsters: An Unnatural History of Our Worst Fears.  Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009.

Brown, Nathan Robert.  The Mythlogy of Grimm: The Fairy Tale and Folklore Roots of the Popular TV Show.  New York: The Berkeley Publishing Group, 2014.

Dahn, Tristan, and Sara Ray.  Further Into Imperfecta.” The College of Physicians of Philadelphia Digital Library.  8 September 2017.

Datson, Lorraine and Park, Katharine.  Wonders and the Order of Nature, 1150 – 1750.  New York: Zone Books, 1998.


Grimm Wiki.”  FANDOM powered by Wikia.  1 July 2018.  Accessed 18 May 2019. 


Wilson, Dudley.  Signs and Portents: Monstrous Births from the Middle Ages to the Enlightenment.  New York: Routledge, 1993.


Digitized prodigy books



ParĂ©, Ambroise, Antonio HernĂĄndez MorejĂłn, BarthelĂ©my MacĂ©, and Real Colegio de CirugĂ­a de San Carlos (Madrid).  Les Oeuvres.  7e ed. rev. et augm. A Paris: Chez BarthelĂ©my MacĂ©, 1614. [In the original French]

ParĂ©, Ambroise.  The Workes of That Famous Chirurgion Ambrose Parey.  London: printed by R. Cotes and Willi Du-gard, and are to be sold by John Clarke ..., 1649. [Translated into English]




[i] For the purposes of this essay, I only look at your ‘run-of-the-mill,’ everyday sort of animalistic Wesen – not extremist groups like Black Claw or the more ‘supernatural’ Wesen like Hexenbiests and Zauberbiests.
[ii] Many medical terms used in the past are words that we find insensitive or cruel today. Up until the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the term ‘monster’ was used as a medical term to describe abnormal births (think conjoined twins, people with Roberts syndrome or hydrocephaly) and other physical anomalies.  This is the manner in which we use the term ‘monster’ in the exhibit Imperfecta. In this essay, I use the term ‘monster’ in a more familiar sense: fantastic, often frightening beasts that aren’t human.

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