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"Welcome to Sherwood"

14 May, 2009

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I can't remember when I didn't know the story of Robin Hood: robs from the rich, gives to the poor, saves innocents from the evil Sheriff of Nottingham, wins an archery contest by splitting an arrow, secretly engaged to Maid Marion, and defends the throne of absent King Richard from the machinations of the evil Prince John. A classic, right?

I'm not sure what my first exposure to the Robin Hood legend was--I have vague, flickery black-and-white memories of Robin Hood adventures watched on television when I was very young. But I do remember that I was about eleven years old when one of my aunts gave me a book full of classic tales which contained a Robin Hood section. I remember the book version because it was so confusing and bore almost no relationship to the stories I knew.

There was a sherriff who Robin opposed in one section, but it wasn't clear why he opposed the sherriff. There were several incidents involving a knight who needed to pay his brother's debt. Robin extorted money from a monk for the knight, but it was never clear why it was okay to take the money from the monk. Then the King appears, desguised as an abbott, and allows Robin to capture him, so that he can capture Robin. There is finally an archery contest, but Robin loses it.

Being the book nerd I have always been, I turned to the library, where I learned that the oldest references to Robin Hood and his adventures survive only in fragments from the 12th and 13th century. From the 15th century a few complete ballads and tales survive, though they are mostly disconnected comic tales of an outlaw who wasn't always the hero of the piece. It wasn't until the late 16th and early 17th century that most of the elements that we now all recognize were added to the saga.

I remember being a bit shocked to learn that my beloved legend of Robin Hood wasn't the original. Because at that age I had a firm belief that the original of anything was the most authenticate and authoritative version. Everything else was an imitation, so it couldn't possibly be as good, right? And if anyone suggested that an imitation was better... well, that was simply crazy talk!

But there I was confronted with a very strong counter-argument. The version of the legend I had learned bore almost no resemblance to the original. Yet it was clearly far more entertaining, exciting, and uplifting than the oldest existing version. It was a disturbing idea I wrestled with for a long time.

Entertaining is a subjective term. What's entertaining to most people living in modern times might be completely incomprehensible to someone living in the 12th century. Just as some things my eleven-year-old self thought was the "best show ever" now seem rather shallow and boring.

Truth, on the other hand, is not supposed to be as subjective and variable as the definition of entertainment. The other reason that the Robin Hood revelations were so disturbing was that up until then I had believed the Robin Hood stories were mostly true. Or at least based on real historical events. While historians tell us that there may well have been a 12th-century outlaw who inspired at least some of the tales, almost all the details we now consider fundamental to the legend were added long, long afterward. So whatever basis the stories had in fact, it is an extremely tenuous one.

Of course, truth is not the same as fact. Well-done literature conveys truths about human nature, our relationship with the universe, justice, mercy and many other important things, despite being entirely fictional. So in that sense, all of the versions of the Robin Hood legend are "true" on some level. There's nothing wrong with me (and countless others) enjoying the version of the story we've come to know: from Friar Tuck forcing Robin to carry him across the river, to Little John besting Robin at staves, to Robin winning that contest by splitting the arrow, and all the rest. Just because that isn't the way the story was told the first time doesn't make it wrong.

That's true with any tale, legend, song, or other work of art. Slavishly copying what was done before, without any variation or accomodation for the evolutions that have happened in society since the origin is not--and can never be--art. It's merely duplication, and no different than mass production.

The important questions for any work of art always apply: Does the story it tells now resonate? Does it touch hearts or provoke thoughts? Which doesn't mean is it universally loved--if what you've produced is art, it will provoke a positive reaction from some people, and a negative reaction from others. If it doesn't, you're not doing it right.

Death: YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.
Susan: So we can believe the big ones?
Death: YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.
Susan: They're not the same at all!
Death: YOU THINK NOT? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH
THE FINEST SIEVE AND SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY...
--Terry Pratchett, Hogfather
United We Dance .

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Previous Index Next Email	"Welcome to Sherwood" 14 May, 2009
	I can't remember when I didn't know the story of Robin Hood: robs from the rich, gives to the poor, saves innocents from the evil Sheriff of Nottingham, wins an archery contest by splitting an arrow, secretly engaged to Maid Marion, and defends the throne of absent King Richard from the machinations of the evil Prince John. A classic, right? I'm not sure what my first exposure to the Robin Hood legend was--I have vague, flickery black-and-white memories of Robin Hood adventures watched on television when I was very young. But I do remember that I was about eleven years old when one of my aunts gave me a book full of classic tales which contained a Robin Hood section. I remember the book version because it was so confusing and bore almost no relationship to the stories I knew. There was a sherriff who Robin opposed in one section, but it wasn't clear why he opposed the sherriff. There were several incidents involving a knight who needed to pay his brother's debt. Robin extorted money from a monk for the knight, but it was never clear why it was okay to take the money from the monk. Then the King appears, desguised as an abbott, and allows Robin to capture him, so that he can capture Robin. There is finally an archery contest, but Robin loses it. Being the book nerd I have always been, I turned to the library, where I learned that the oldest references to Robin Hood and his adventures survive only in fragments from the 12th and 13th century. From the 15th century a few complete ballads and tales survive, though they are mostly disconnected comic tales of an outlaw who wasn't always the hero of the piece. It wasn't until the late 16th and early 17th century that most of the elements that we now all recognize were added to the saga. I remember being a bit shocked to learn that my beloved legend of Robin Hood wasn't the original. Because at that age I had a firm belief that the original of anything was the most authenticate and authoritative version. Everything else was an imitation, so it couldn't possibly be as good, right? And if anyone suggested that an imitation was better... well, that was simply crazy talk! But there I was confronted with a very strong counter-argument. The version of the legend I had learned bore almost no resemblance to the original. Yet it was clearly far more entertaining, exciting, and uplifting than the oldest existing version. It was a disturbing idea I wrestled with for a long time. Entertaining is a subjective term. What's entertaining to most people living in modern times might be completely incomprehensible to someone living in the 12th century. Just as some things my eleven-year-old self thought was the "best show ever" now seem rather shallow and boring. Truth, on the other hand, is not supposed to be as subjective and variable as the definition of entertainment. The other reason that the Robin Hood revelations were so disturbing was that up until then I had believed the Robin Hood stories were mostly true. Or at least based on real historical events. While historians tell us that there may well have been a 12th-century outlaw who inspired at least some of the tales, almost all the details we now consider fundamental to the legend were added long, long afterward. So whatever basis the stories had in fact, it is an extremely tenuous one. Of course, truth is not the same as fact. Well-done literature conveys truths about human nature, our relationship with the universe, justice, mercy and many other important things, despite being entirely fictional. So in that sense, all of the versions of the Robin Hood legend are "true" on some level. There's nothing wrong with me (and countless others) enjoying the version of the story we've come to know: from Friar Tuck forcing Robin to carry him across the river, to Little John besting Robin at staves, to Robin winning that contest by splitting the arrow, and all the rest. Just because that isn't the way the story was told the first time doesn't make it wrong. That's true with any tale, legend, song, or other work of art. Slavishly copying what was done before, without any variation or accomodation for the evolutions that have happened in society since the origin is not--and can never be--art. It's merely duplication, and no different than mass production. The important questions for any work of art always apply: Does the story it tells now resonate? Does it touch hearts or provoke thoughts? Which doesn't mean is it universally loved--if what you've produced is art, it will provoke a positive reaction from some people, and a negative reaction from others. If it doesn't, you're not doing it right.
	Death: YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES. Susan: So we can believe the big ones? Death: YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING. Susan: They're not the same at all! Death: YOU THINK NOT? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY... --Terry Pratchett, Hogfather .
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