The very name of the genre itself - fairy tale - originated during this time, for the French writers coined the term conte de fee during the seventeenth century, and it has stuck to the genre in Europe and North America ever since. This "imprint" is important, because it reveals something crucial about the fairy tale that has remained part of its nature to the present. The early writers of fairy tales placed the power of metamorphosis in the hands of women - the redoubtable fairies. In addition, this miraculous power was not associated with a particular religion or mythology, through which the world was to be explained. It was a secular mysterious power of compassion that could not be explained, and it derived from the creative imagination of the writer. Anyone could call upon the fairies for help, and it is clear that the gifted French women writers of the seventeenth century preferred to address themselves to a fairy and to have a fairy resolve the conflicts in their tales rather than the Church, with its male-dominated hierarchy. After all, it was the Church that had eliminated hundreds of thousands of so-called female witches during the previous two centuries in an effort to curb heretical and nonconformist beliefs. However, those "pagan" notions survived in the tradition of the oral wonder tale and surfaced in published form in France when it became safer to introduce in a symbolical code supernatural powers and creatures other than those officially sanctioned by the Christian code. In short, there was something subversive about the institutionalization of the fairy tale in France during the 1690S, for it enabled writers to create a dialogue about norms, manners, and power that evaded court censorship and freed the fantasy of the writers and readers, while at the same time paying tribute to the French code of civilite and the majesty of the aristocracy. Once certain discursive paradigms and conventions were established, a writer could demonstrate his or her "genius" by rearranging, expanding, deepening, and playing with the known functions of a genre that, by 1715, had already formed a type of canon, which consisted not only of the great classical tales-"Cinderella," "Sleeping Beauty," "Rapunzel," "Rumpelstiltskin," "Puss in Boots," "Little Red Riding Hood," "Beauty and the Beast," "Blue beard, " "The Golden Dwarf," "The Blue Bird," and "The White Cat"-but also the mammoth collection The Arabian Nights.
It couldn’t have been that bad that he had to hurt you, Leo.”“Oh no, it was bad. It was the fucking first twenty minutes of Saving Private Ryan bad, Jax.” Day paced as he listened to his brother go on about God accepting responsibility for his own actions.“Jax, don’t get me wrong, I’m highly pissed off with my partner. I’m pissed off to the highest of pisstivity. But I still have to know that he’s okay. That crazy brother of his really landed some hard blows on him and God didn’t fight back at all.”“Because it’s his baby brother. That I do get,” Jax said softly. “But I can’t check on him, Leo, because believe me, there is nothing here to clue me in on where he may have went.” Jax paused before speaking again. “I must say I’m curious how he got all that heavy furniture out of here if he was in as bad a shape as you say.”“Well, that wouldn’t be too hard to do. A lot of people owe God favors—both of us actually. If God called someone for help, they’d drop everything and come to help.” Day took a deep breath. “The same as I would if he had called me.” Day’s voice was strained from the hurt in his chest and he had no doubt that Jax was picking up on it.“That asshole,” Jax snapped.“Whoa, big brother. Don’t go cursing away your do-gooder image. You know you’re not a vulgar-language type of person…leave that for us heathens.” Day laughed humorlessly.Day heard his brother laugh an irritated chuckle at him for trying to lighten the situation.“Fine. But, after he apologizes numerous times, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” Jax said.Day did smile that time. He had no doubt his brother would do just that.