|RATIO OF OUR WORK
The influence of the great world religions has been diminished over time by totalizing ideologies aimed at emancipating men and women from their subjection to the sacred – which is ordinarily organized by the powerful for their own profit. Thus a great illusion has fallen, because these great ideologies, inspired by Marxism or liberal capitalism, have not freed us. The horizon of hope has faded away, together with utopias and the promise of a prize awaiting us in the afterlife. On the one side, we respond with a widespread depression, as if we were powerless orphans, forgetful of the fact that life goes on precisely by changing its forms. On the other side we remove our mourning chaotically, using identity props, be they new-old racisms or pseudo-religions, with a disheartening proliferation of surpassed myths taken as truths.
There are myths without people, but not people without myths, and this means that we need stories to draw a map of our inner and outer reality. This cultural map is a space that is necessary to constitute human identity.
Fairy tales, like myths, tell of heroes and heroines, impossible tasks, deadly risks, metamorphoses, good and bad relations with transcendent beings. But their existence and their permanence are independent of the institutions of the people who tell and retell them. A corpus of fairy tales has never served to form the imaginary foundation of a nation. A dictator can get consent by posing as a mythical hero, but not as the main character of a fairy tale.
We call fairy tales those narrations that contain ancient materials – possibly even as ancient as language itself – that we simply all recognize as such. Though we can hypothesize that they already existed in oral form, we can be certain of their existence in written form since the 16th century in Venice, with the publication of The Facetious Nights by Giovan Francesco Straparola, and since the 17th century in Naples, with the first collection of fairy tales, The Tale of Tales or Pentamerone by Giambattista Basile.
Fabulando was born from our love for fairy tales and from our desire to make them accessible to everyone. We chose our fifty-two stories among those with the greatest degree of poetic beauty, which coincides with the highest intensity of meaning.
These features are common both to the works of Straparola, Basile and Perrault, and to the popular fairy tales collected by scholars like Giuseppe Pitrè.
We have given shape to every paper, every image, every e-book, every note of Fabulando, recognizing in the fairy tales the presence of countless variants of the sacred, articulated in narratives and symbols that do not owe anything to particular belief systems and local idols.
Knowing and understanding fairy tales is like listening to an immense choir: every human voice has a place in it, and the choir is improved by each voice that is added. This choir has always existed, but we cannot listen to it as long as our identity opposes rather than recognizes the other. Our human identity ordinarily forms itself through a mirror, a magical mirror like the one belonging to Snow White’s homicidal mother. As long as we perceive ourselves as being handsome and righteous in opposition to the reflection of an evil and ugly other, we cannot enjoy this immense human choir.
We hope our effort, however small, will contribute to listen to the choir and join it.
Claudia Chellini & Adalinda Gasparini, Firenze, April, 10 2016
Fabulando was born of the Authors' wish and committment. They took care of its realization together without any disagreement. They are both responsible for every choice and decision made within the project. Claudia Chellini put in most of the IT work, whilst Adalinda Gasparini mainly curated the graphic aspect. The texts and e-books worked on personally by one of the Authors are marked with their name or initials.
The English version was made following the common choice to make Fabulando available also to non Italian users. Any error should be attributed solely to the translator, Adalinda Gasparini. This page was edited with the assistance of David Ginsborg, with whom the needful editing of the other pages is in progress, to whom Fabulando owes the english translation of The Mammone Cat and Meni Fary.
The original soundtracks of the movies (Puss in Boots and The Frog Prince) are by Federico Riondino (variations on O che bel castello, I' te vurria vasà, Te voglio bene assaje); guitar: Federico Riondino; drums: Ugo Nativi, sound effects and recording by Lorenzo Nardi.
Fabulando is also a free app available on the Apple Store, thanks to Gabriele Corsinovi, its developer.
This story begins with my little voice spreading out of a cassette from the Seventies. The voice is uttering some words, punctuated by a brief silence, and I see myself touching coloured pictures on a small preschool book. Who knows if I could read those words or if I had just learned to identify the objects, or if I had memorized the order of the words on the pages. I was four or five years old, and my parents enjoyed recording my voice.
In the second stage of this story, I see myself sitting cross-legged on the green fitted carpet in my room. I have a big book of Cinderella in my hands and I am telling the story, using the exact words of my book. I am just six, and I cannot read so well, but I have listened so many times to this fairy tale’s forty-five record that I know it by heart.
In the third stage, I am about ten years old, and I am always asking, “What is the difference between Apollo and Hyperion if they are both sun gods?” Then there are my father’s embarrassed and imaginative answers and a gift from my mother: a book that tells children stories of gods and heroes. Many other books followed it, and many more are still following it, from stories told by classical poets to stories told by contemporary scholars, through which I could understand, years after my university studies, the historical depths and sensitivity of authors of different periods, first of all Giovanni Boccaccio, then the nineteenth century great scholars.
Nearly ten years ago, I was surfing the Net, looking for something that would stimulate my mind which was at that moment a little sleepy. When I saw Nello specchio delle favole (In the Mirror of Fairy Tales), I got curious and my eyes lit up. It was a seminar and its subject was just fairy tales. I might have at once understood, even before it started, that the seriousness with which it faced the question was the same seriousness of my own question about the two Greek sun gods, the same with which I went on reflecting on the myths. Then I met Adalinda Gasparini, who lead that seminar, and this encounter was so fruitful that I started thinking again about storytelling.
I work as a trainer. I learned this job when I was still a student, and improved on it over the following years. It would not be possible for me to do this job without a constant care about narratives, both individual and collective. Everyone who attends my seminars arrives at the classroom with his own story, often sketchy, and he stages it by doing or saying something, or even by doing nothing or keeping silent. He presents his story for me, as the leader of the group, as well as for the other participants. He may know the other particpants very well, because they are his colleagues, or not know them at all, seeing them for the first time. My subject may be “public speaking”, “conflict management”, “effective relationship”, “writing in organizations” or “improving one’s own professional resources”. A real learning may occur if one’s own narrative enters as an integral part in the group’s narrative, when the participants see on the one hand that they are helping to make that collective narrative, and on the other hand that their own narrative gains something new from the collective one.
Encountering mathematical thinking, I discovered other forms of tales, other ways to see, to feel, to represent something. Then when I saw braids drawn on a flip chart, by the mathematician Luca Migliorini who playfully defined them as «the most narrative mathematical object», I smiled again with the same curious smile that had lit up my eyes years before.
Adalinda and I then had the same intuition: braids, which we had discovered together in that seminar, could be a suitable tool to represent the structure of fairy tales.
There began our long path that brought us to build up Fabulando, walking through new territories whose outlines were quite unusual for us.
We imagined together a braid whose threads (curves) would represent the actants of a fairy tale. But what might represent the crossing between two threads? Moreover, when should a thread pass over or under another one? In the Theory of Braids by Emil Artin, the notation of the passage of a thread over another one has the sign +, while that of the passage of a thread under another one has the sign -. What should these two signs mean in our formalization? Moreover, what order should we have chosen for the threads representing the actants? Should the main actant’s thread be the first to left side? Alternatively, should we rather place there the parental actants, since they predate the young main actant?
When we began this research of ours, we thought of Propp, of formalism and structuralism in narratology, and of those scholars who devoted themselves to the huge task of classifying fairy tales. We had on our mind the functions that Propp established in Morphology of the Folktale and by Aarne and Thompson in their motifs index. But nevertheless, we knew that we were looking for something different.
To understand how we might use the braids, we chose Cinderella, taking the first version that we know of, La Gatta Cennerentola by Giambattista Basile. Soon we understood that drawing with paper and pencils was not enough: we had to make our own braid of Cinderella. Therefore, we armed ourselves with coloured threads, pins and cork panels, then we drew the straight line L1 and we started to order the threads, whose colours were different for each actant; then we reduced the number of colours to four, one for each type of actants. Attributing the pink to the “princess” and the light blue to the “prince” – so we were calling the main female and male actants - was natural, as well as giving a darker colour to the parental actants. Then a red thread represented the mother figure, and a blue one represented the father figure. Which colour should we have chosen for the fairy, and which one for the stepsisters? We chose yellow for the fairy and green for the stepsisters. This was our first choice of colours.
After that braid of Cinderella, we made many braids to represent different versions of many fairy tales. Getting to a tale’s crucial point, we often realized that we had made a mistake, and then we started over. Therefore, we bent our threads following the narration, and then we stopped to watch our new braid: each time it surprised us by showing us something new, which we never saw before in that fairy tale.
We spent many months making coloured braids, trying to answer those questions that had arisen from the start and that still were haunting us: the meaning of the signs plus and minus and the initial position of the threads. At a certain point we gave an answer to this question. But every answer we gave was nevertheless a provisional one, with which we could go on working. We then chose to pass the thread (curva) representing the actant by somehow choosing or deciding to pass over the thread of the other actant for or against whom the first was acting. With regard to the order of the threads (curves), we simply followed a purely functional criterion to represent the actant’s interactions.
After nearly a year, we began to use the formal notation, following the model given by Emil Artin. The German mathematician indicates the braid's crossings, named generators, with the Greek letter sigma (σ) accompanied by a subscript number and sign (+/-) to note its position and whether it crosses over or under. We needed to formalize also the different interacting actants. We needed a deeper reflection of the types of actants. We had already identified the four most important types: the female or male main actants, and their parents. We were missing… everyone else: helpers, be they magic or not, persecutors, brothers and sisters... We were still thinking of Propp’s morphological categories, mixed with something different that was taking shape. Then we made a choice that proved itself to be fruitful and full of developments: we decided to use two pairs of Greek letters, ε and H – epsilon and eta – to identify the daughter and the mother, ο and Ω – omicron and omega - to identify son and father. Children and parents have a similar sound, shorter for the youths, longer for the elders, similar to comparing the youngster's life compared with the elder’s one; small letters for children, who are growing up, capital letters for parents, who are grown up.
This was the embryo concept of fairy tales as narratives about the alternation of generations, although we still could not see it.
The first consequence of this choice of ours was a simplification, based on the following reasoning. We read a fairy tale as a dream: just as the figures appearing in a dream represent parts of the dreaming subject, in the same way the actants of a fairy tale represent the parts that a single subject acts to reach its happy ending, moving from a certain initial position.
The subject is fully represented by the main actant. If we then say that Cinderella has a stepmother, which we define as a mother figure, we have to ask ourselves what the fairy godmother, who helps her to get out of the segregation forced by her stepmother, represents. A fairy is a powerful figure, as well as the parent for a child. Therefore, if we thought of the stepmother as a persecutor mother figure, we could think of the fairy as a donor mother figure. So we extended this device to other tales: an ogre and a wizard are father figures as well as a king, be they donors or persecutors. Then a cursing or donor old woman is a mother figure as well as a queen.
About these actants, we had to understand what we were more interested in: either their being parental figures or their function. Maybe we could hold them together, and yet we did not know if this could really be useful. We have been thinking for a long time over this question, and have changed our decisions several times, asking ourselves if the narration, and its formalization by Artin’s braids, would gain or lose meaning through a simplification.
By formalizing many fairy tales with threads of four colours (pink for the female young actants, light blue for the male young actants, red for the motherly actants and blue for the fatherly actants), we got braids showing a meaningful narrative structure. Therefore, giving up the need to work with many kinds of actants, we put away our yellow and green threads and we allowed our embryonic idea to grow up.
In all of our braids there is a significant detail: the first crossing (generator) is always between a pink or light blue thread and a red or blue one. That is to say that the fairy tales have their starting point in the meeting between the main actant and a parental one.
Sixteen hundred records compose the database we compiled, and each record describes a crossing, with its caption, its position in its braid, its sign and the letters identifying the two crossing actants. This work permitted us to explore fairy tales by making maps, which highlighted the relationships between the pairs of actants.
Nevertheless, I see now that something was lacking. We had many separate maps, like fragments of a picture.
From the point we got to we could not find a key to understanding the fairy tales as a whole. We understood something important about Cinderella, another thing about Puss in Boots, something else about The Green Beaubird, but the path we were looking for was still escaping us, a path which would allow us to find out how to travel through fairy-tale land in a new way, different from the ones we already knew from our studies.
Then we changed our approach, going back to a more classical method. We started to reflect following the fairy tales' themes and motifs. Nevertheless, by making our braids we had understood something important. We could see two facts clearly: first, the relations between actants were real generators, bringing about motion and sense (we thought very suitable the word “generator”, by which Artin defines a crossing between two threads in his braids theory). Secondly, the first generator of any fairy tale was the meeting between the main actant and a parental actant. We named it with the word archè, meaning by this Greek word both the origin and the cause from which the tale starts, in relation to the télos, meaning the end of the tale, as both its aim and conclusion. These facts brought with them a new reflection. We asked ourselves how the archè would articulate the tale, and then we asked ourselves how the tale would go on depending on a certain articulation of its archè. The result of this new stage of our work was on the one side the identification of some salient motifs of the tale’s narrative development. On the other side, we identified three crucial models that could distinguish our pair archè-télos: one tells the story of a main actant looking for its missing legitimation; another one tells the story of the main actant going on his or her journey to ascend his or her father’s throne. In the first model, there is a male main actant who gets married, in the second one a female main actant who finds a worthy successor who marries her; a third model then includes them both. Then we started to reason directly on the concept of succession.
We needed two and a half years before that intuition could take shape, in the Fairy Map of the Succession of Fabulando.
In the meantime, we rose to a new challenge: to use digital tools so that anyone could enjoy a fairy tale with the same amazement, pleasure and charm we had once felt and were still feeling. Aiming to do this, we decided to create a tale app. We barely knew what it was, and we certainly had no idea of the amount of work it entailed.
A friend of ours, a developer, took it upon himself to realize the computer part, while we thought at first to take care just of the project as a whole and of the narrative work. But we were soon left alone to take care of the graphic and animation work as well.
In a really short time, we learned how to use programs of which we did not even know the existence. We chose the wonderful illustrations by Arthur Rackham both because, being black silhouettes, they seemed easier to develop and because there were no royalties. However, the main reason is that Rackham captivated us with his amazing intelligence for fairy tales even more than with the beauty of his work. Regarding which fairy tale to choose, we had no hesitation: it had to be Cinderella, since she had accompanied us since our first braid.
Then we started to modify, cut, paste pieces of those silhouettes, somewhat like Lotte Reiniger (forgive us for this comparison) who in 1922 cut out silhouettes for her movie Aschenputtel, one of the first animated films in the world. Which story of Cinderella were we going to tell? We let Rackham’s pictures guide us, and then we drew on many versions by opening up space in our storytelling for Basile, Perrault, Imbriani, The Brothers Grimm... We dismantled and assembled again the fairy tale of Cinderella bearing in mind what we seized from our braids: the difference between female and male threads (curves), the role played by the parent figures, the importance of some passages for effective storytelling.
We presented this tale app, which is still available on the App Store, in Bologna, at The Children Book Fair (2013), where we got an amazing response from the public, which gave us an idea of what we could create. Then we embarked on the realization of two more tale apps: Puss in Boots and The Frog Prince. But they were never published on the app store, and instead became part of Fabulando. Since that developer friend of ours gave us new technical parameters, we experimented with a different formula. We chose the picture drawn by another great artist, Walter Crane, to create a silent movie with rhymed captions and an original soundtrack. We created also an e-kamishibai, changing the traditional Japanese paper theatre into a digital theatre, an e-book with a new and old version of the tale and its story. These different kinds of storytelling, each equipped with its own peculiarities, led us to explore these fairy tales from different perspectives. Making the e-book we rediscovered a taste for traditional storytelling; making the movie, and even more making the kamishibai, we went to the core of the tale, emphasizing recurrences and highlights for their transformative meaning, so that we could tell these stories while upholding as much as possible their coherence and sense. Writing the History of the Tale, we tried a new kind of narrative, to tell how a fairy tale is part of storytelling as a whole, and how it is shaped by culture.
We were very fond of these new works as well, but we still focused on single fairy tales, while we went on making our braids.
Then something happened on a hot afternoon in early September 2014.
We had come to a moot point. We had made things that we previously could not even have imagined, but they were still shut in our PCs, because we are neither IT programmers nor developers. When that developer friend of ours told us that his hard work and the last Apple update did not allow him to engage with us any longer, we met another programmer who kindly offered to create an app connected to a website, where we could directly upload our files. Nevertheless, our pace has always been relentless, while his was a slow pace, because of his own commitments and his inevitably different passion for our project.
We became disheartened. With our computers on standby, we were sitting at the large kitchen table where we had been working together for five and a half years, and we began to tell each other what we would have liked to do with fairy tales, regardless of what stood in our way.
«Let’s imagine this: by a touch on an app icon, you get a page allowing you to surf fairy tales as if with… as if with a map. »
«A map that would identify feminine and masculine fairy tales, for example…»
«Yes, a map showing which stories belong to the same type...»
«Something allowing you to switch between them...»
I was smiling, feeling again that well-known light in my eyes.
«Could we not make it?» The tone of Adalinda’s voice was the same as that of my smile.
Once we had decided to follow this new track, which came from the same desire that had sustained us from the start, we faced many questions, first the technical problem; we understood that we should be quite independent on the technical side as well, in order to do a job that would satisfy us even while we were doing it. Then I remebered that we already had a web space, the website of our ONLUS (OPO) association, Fairitaly, and then I thought that we could get free or very low cost tools to upload our work and to create a simple app. Well, it turned out to be true. We downloaded the programs that we needed and we learned to use them. Some were easier, while others... well, there are many difficulties for those who are not programmers, but the net is also a place where you can find useful information and generous interlocutors. Once we understood that we could find and use the right programs, we still had to clarify many other issues.
The first and the most important was: what actually was this map that would allow anyone to surf any fairy tales, and find their bearings amidst them? As soon as we started to think in terms of bearings, we imagined a real map of the kind that seafarers use, until Adalinda mentioned the Carte du sense by the mathematician René Thom and the 16th century Carte de tendre. We studied them and we asked ourselves which kind of landscape we would represent.
In a way, this matter rallied all of our braids, all of our thoughts and all of the classifications we had been trying to work on together for five and a half years. In fairy tales, something magic comes to help the actants just when they are in the greatest need, and just as we were feeling deeply discouraged, our research finally paid off. We have seen how the first crossing in a fairy-tale braid is always between a parental actant and the main actant, and different kinds of stories followed different initial crossings (archè). We went on thinking over this point, identifying the start crossing in fairy tales, both Italian dialectal and literary ones, and those tales that are more famous in Europe. Then we replaced the word archè with injunction, because it names more than the beginning of the tale, since it means a compelling order, which the main actants must face. The fairy tale tells of the various tasks that the protagonists must accomplish, of the countless creatures that they may meet, of the paths that they may follow to face that injunction; meanwhile, walking and walking, everyone can find a way to grow.
“We” have had some good times; we've had happy weddings and amazing meetings. “We”, plural and polymorphic identities, have also had many bad moments. “I”, imaginary compact identity, keep losing myself in the woods, again and again, a child afraid of the night, who has never neither been happy nor good. Nevertheless, in a clearing I keep a desk, a sofa and an armchair. There I sit to listen to a woman or a man telling me of their dreams and nightmares, trying to find their own way. We never sit at a bar where the lights never go out and the music always plays, so as not to make us feel our common dismay, so as not to see the tragedy that is being set up outside on the road.
“I” emerge, vague and unfettered, since my first memory: I was two years old and my mother was tenderly fingering me, whispering “Che belle ciccine, che belle ciccine..." (ciccine is an Italian word used to affectionately compliment a baby's soft body). Then I said, “I am not of ciccia (flesh)”. My mum laughed, “And what are made you of then?” “Paper”.
“I” existed, compact and imaginary, in the arms of my father, who showed me with his voice and his finger the Pole Star. I looked up at the starry sky but I could not make it out. Then patiently he showed me the Great Bear, “The Ursa Major, look, and the Ursa Minor, there, you can see them, and the brightest star is the Pole Star”, I remember that at a certain point I lied, I said yes, yes, now I see it. I might have been afraid that he would lose his patience and stop speaking to me in his voice like the sound of a flute. I might be have been afraid that he would get annoyed with me instead of loving me that way.
Hadn't I lied he might not have given me his treasures, the stories about classical Greece, showing me the philosophers who spoke as serenely as the Olympian Zeus among white musical columns, walking and walking along a Roman paved road like those we still see, as if we were still in Periclean Athens.
He went on to tell me about these worlds until I began to find some path to enter without him. After that, he stopped taking me there, and even though I invited him, he never came to see one of my paths.
When I told him about psychoanalysis - something regarding the polymorphous perverse child - he said, “Everyone knew these things, but it would have been better if Freud had never said them”. Nevertheless, he gave me enough of his money for me to begin my psychoanalytic training.
I never discovered a path just by myself, I followed signs given by an Author, falling in love with him, and I received the love he spread around his words, whether ancient or modern.
Author and authority come from the Latin auctor (verb augeo) that means to increase: the author increases the reader (Latin lector, verb lego, to collect; collector from cum-legere, to receive, to gather signs, words). Nevertheless Dante wrote that this is the etymology of authority, but author would come from a rare Latin verb, auieo (avieo), made by just vowels, all vowels,
...For it is made up only of the ties of words, that is, of the five vowels alone, which are the soul and tie of every word, and is composed of them in a different order, so as to portray the image of a link. […] Insofar as “author” is derived and comes from this verb, it is used only to refer to poets who have tied their words together with the art of poetry. (Convivio, IV-vi 3-4).
Authors make the children grow, Authorities control their growth. Could they be the same? Could they be separated? Parents make their children grow and control them. Children receive their imprint from their parents and at the same time they abandon them to look for their own path, because life’s desire resembles the parent’s desire, but is also unique, neither copyable from another nor repeatable for another, because it is the red thread of any subject.
I have always looked for companions to travel with through the world that my father showed me, and I often thought I found them, but then I found myself alone and disappointed, again getting lost in life and then finding myself again, in theories and in myths.
One time, when I was left alone, still hoping to find companions, I thought I saw a star which then became my direction of research: the clear and indefinable narrative structure of fairy tales. As visible as the moon, it is reflected in many wells and puddles, and would not disdain even our bucket, where we could look at it. Whether I have seen it coming out of the lamp of Alaaddin in the blink of an eye, or whether I found it hidden in the ashes of Cinderella, I have written about it, so as to get the pleasure of sharing in its grace.
Thirty-five years passed since I saw that star, and a few years ago, I started working with Claudia Chellini to describe an algebraic, topological, baroque, essential, ancient and new sparkling of that same star. This structure showed itself in the bucket of our research, enlightening us for a moment and then leaving us only its reflection on our fingers and our noses. We have been working on Fabulando for one year. It is now a digital labyrinth, a kaleidoscope of fairy tales and of speeches about fairy tales, a virtual place that everyone can visit. I dared to translate it into English, despite my modest knowledge of this language, because our desire to share Fabulando with many people goes beyond the boundaries of the Italian language.
We love our language, the beautiful and rich Italian, nourished by its boundless heritage of stories, which is important like our canvas and marble inheritance. Thinking of fairy tales, this heritage goes from the mythic fabella of Amor and Psyche, written by the African Latin magician Apuleius; to the Neapolitan baroque fairy tales retold by Matteo Garrone in his film Tales of Tales. We contemplate and study this immense theory of stories, impossible to be told, nevertheless published and now widely available on line. These are our stories, which formed and transformed themselves from the classic narrative heritage, both Greek and Roman. As well as being Roman, Italy was also Greek, in fact it was Magna Grecia, Great Greece. Our stories continued to flourish with the sun on the rhythm of Byzantine, Persian, Arabic, French and Spanish seasons; then they were influenced by other European versions, which retold so many Italian stories; and then by Americans, who took their fairy tales from Europe – see Disney from Perrault and Grimm. It is a game of reversible exchanges, constant and always new.
The extraordinary Italian cultural heritage depends on its long history. Other countries have an even more ancient history, but only Italy experienced without breaks periods during which it influenced other cultures and periods in which it was influenced by other ones. Italy was and is in turn settler and settled, and its strength as well as its weakness depends on this anarchic and varied heritage, which nobody could master. Italian heritage is unable to translate itself into the technical language of neo-capitalism, but its tales fit a global world, now as always. Our tales play with our desire and tell its possible paths, while our most dominant consumerist myth misleads it.
Fabulando is an invitation to travel and at the same time it is a travel story in the Land of Fairy Tales, which begins with the Fairy Map of Succession. Traveling is beautiful if we are in good company and if we can tell our journey.
Our journey feeds on the pleasure of research as well as on the pain I experience through my psychoanalytic work, a pain that partakes of the odd unheimliche grace of madness, which is a distorting mirror that people usually hide, because it shows very human and disturbing features of our identity. It is a formidable magic mirror, which mocks the vanity of those who say “I” and thus misknow that they are formulating an enigma.
Fabulando may be useful, but it was not made to be used. Fabulando may be beautiful, we took care of it, picture after picture, e-book after e-book, translation after translation, but beauty is not its purpose. Fabulando may be rich, nevertheless it is very close to poverty. Fabulando is the partial goal of an impossible commitment that we faced, which we tell about because we could not feel ourselves alone and lost in the night. We made it up because at the same time we see and do not see the Pole Star, and the moon, whilst it is in our bucket, is also too far. We made it up for our needs and desires, so that you, following your own needs and desires, could play with Fabulando, as you like.
|You happen to enter in Fabulando and
say wow! At the beginning you navigate at random, you
click on the icon of a story and wow! A network of tales
opens up, in addition to the chosen fairy tale, which you
can magically read like a digital book - the pages are
leafed through making noise! -, you are offered a plenty
of keys that open a universe of references; if you try the
Fairinfo for example you can taste some weaving of
thought of the authors on the story; if you try the Quadrants
or the Injunctions you will discover all the fairy
tales that have similar Injunctions or Quadrants,
but if you have doubts about what Quadrants or Injunctions
are, you will not struggle to find explanations, if you
want to try the e-kamishibai you will re-tell the whole
story only through images, not least the possibility of
finding in each ebook the parallel text in the original
language or dialect.
As you go into it and return to it, Fabulando surprises you for the richness of cultural offer that the authors have put in common heritage. In fact, it is not at all obvious to find a bibliographic list that not only proves to be very accurate and well-stocked with hints, authors, texts, but that refers directly to the original sources, making accessible entire collections of fairy tales with the ease of a click. Fabulando is a site that restores the democracy of the fairy tale allowing anyone to find something that engages and interests him, from the child, to the educator, to the academic, each going as far as he wants.