Jack and Beanstalk, by Walter Crane (1845-1915). Public Domain.
Among the most disappointing pandemic food shortages, at least for me, has been the perplexing unavailability of Japanese eggplants. At first, it was no big deal. But over time, I began to really miss having them in my quasi-Asian stir fry dinners. I would see them online on Instacart, only to be told by the shopper via text, “sorry, they don’t have any.”
So imagine my delight, a few months ago, when Matt called excitedly from one of his shopping trips out of lockdown, and said, “I see some Japanese eggplants, I’m going to grab them for you!”
It was the weekend, so I started leisurely assembling my ingredients. As I scraped down a big piece of ginger with a spoon, I thought: “This is gonna be good.”
When most everything was in neat little piles on the cutting board, I went rifling through the fridge to find the eggplant. But I couldn’t find them. Walking down the hall to his office, I asked him, “Hey, where’d you stash the eggplants?” Looking perplexed, he finally said something like “Oh, they’re out on the porch” which made no sense to me at all.
And then I got it. Becoming flushed and frustrated, I blurted, “Are you telling me you got eggplant plants, and not eggplants?” I was preparing a meal that wouldn’t be ready for months, assuming careful watering, and successful battles against bugs and fungus.
Its hard to blame someone for miscommunication when the problem is actually with the English language. If the fruit we eat is an eggplant, then what is the plant? An eggplant plant?
After apologizing profusely for my uncalled-for bout of lockdown rage, it suddenly occurred to me that I had been behaving like Jack’s mother from the beanstalk story, derisively throwing the beans to the ground. “Wait, you sold the cow, and all we got are these fucking beans??? What are you, some kind of an idiot??? I asked you for eggplants, and you brought me eggplant plants!”
Later on, I checked Wikipedia for specific details about Jack and the Beanstalk (yes, its true, I’ve had some time on my hands). The first two sentences read, “Jack, a poor country boy, trades the family cow for a handful of magic beans, which grow into an enormous beanstalk reaching up into the clouds. Jack climbs the beanstalk and finds himself in the castle of an unfriendly giant.”
I’m gob smacked. Where is it? The scene between Jack and his angry mother? It’s not there! But it’s the primary emotional event that drives the whole story! He comes back from the market, and opens his hand, and shows her the beans, and she says, “What the hell is this, and she smacks him in the forehead, and then she derisively scatters the beans on the ground and says, “you turn right around and don’t come back without that cow!”
How can it not be there?
And then it hits me. I’ve been trained by PTSD over the last few years to find “the trauma center” in any situation or story, and to assume that all the resulting action and reaction travels out from that, like invisible gravitational waves. Think the story of Jack and the Beanstalk is about a boy, magic beans, and a giant? Nonsense. Anybody can see that it’s actually a re-telling of Kafka’s The Judgement.
Jack brings his mother the beans, and she throws them down on the ground, and says “You little shit! You never were any good! You have no friend in Petersburg! And therefore know this: I condemn you to death by drowning!″
At these words, Jack sprang through the house door, and felt impelled to cross the carriageway towards the water. He held the railing tight like a starving man clutches food. He jumped over, like the excellent gymnast that he had been in his youth, the pride of his parents. He continued to hold onto the railing though his hands were getting weak…He cried softly: ″But dear parents, I have always loved you″, and let himself fall down.
