the company of wolves

the company of wolves

Task: Write a 4-6 page essay that explores how Angela Carter, in “The Company of Wolves,” updates
the conservative morals of the traditional Little Red Riding Hood story (using the versions by Perrault
and the Brothers Grimm).

Make sure that you include a specific and thorough discussion of how each story handles the following
elements of the story:
•The wolf.
•The grandmother
•Little Red Riding Hood
•The journey to grandma’s house and what happens to the grandmother
•Don’t forget the conversation between the wolf and the girl (in the woods)
•The conversation between the wolf and the girl at Grandma’s house.
•What happens to Little Red Riding Hood
•How the story ends
•How Carter’s story deals with the implied sexuality of the cautionary tale found in both
versions of Little Red Riding Hood.
•How Carter updates and utilizes the moral stance (s) found in both versions of Little Red
Riding Hood.
Make sure that you include the following (in this order):
1. Process Letter
(a) write about your difficulties, successes and concerns with writing the essay and
(b) assess your writing progress for the semester.
2. Final Draft of Your Essay
3. Works Cited Page
Use the following for works cited page (and page numbers from reader for your in text citations)
Perrault, Charles. “Little Red Riding Hood.” English 96 Course Reader: Fall 2014.
Novato, CA: Somewhere in Nathan’s Mind, INC., 2014. Print.
Grimm, Jacob & Wilhelm. “Little Red Cap.” English 96 Course Reader: Fall 2014.
Novato, CA: Somewhere in Nathan’s Mind, INC., 2014. Print.
Carter, Angela. “The Company of Wolves.” English 96 Course Reader: Fall 2014.
Novato, CA: Somewhere in Nathan’s Mind, INC., 2014. Print.
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Little Red Riding Hood by Charles Perrault (1697)
Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little country girl, the prettiest creature who
was ever seen. Her mother was excessively fond of her; and her grandmother doted on her still more.
This good woman had a little red riding hood made for her. It suited the girl so extremely well that
everybody called her Little Red Riding Hood.
One day her mother, having made some cakes, said to her, “Go, my dear, and see how your
grandmother is doing, for I hear she has been very ill. Take her a cake, and this little pot of butter.”
Little Red Riding Hood set out immediately to go to her grandmother, who lived in another
village.

As she was going through the wood, she met with a wolf, who had a very great mind to eat
her up, but he dared not, because of some woodcutters working nearby in the forest. He asked her
where she was going. The poor child, who did not know that it was dangerous to stay and talk to a
wolf, said to him, “I am going to see my grandmother and carry her a cake and a little pot of butter
from my mother.”
“Does she live far off?” said the wolf
“Oh I say,” answered Little Red Riding Hood; “it is beyond that mill you see there, at the first
house in the village.”
“Well,” said the wolf, “and I’ll go and see her too. I’ll go this way and go you that, and we
shall see who will be there first.”
The wolf ran as fast as he could, taking the shortest path, and the little girl took a roundabout
way, entertaining herself by gathering nuts, running after butterflies, and gathering bouquets of little
flowers. It was not long before the wolf arrived at the old woman’s house. He knocked at the door:
tap, tap.
“Who’s there?”
“Your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood,” replied the wolf, counterfeiting her voice; “who has
brought you a cake and a little pot of butter sent you by mother.”
The good grandmother, who was in bed, because she was somewhat ill, cried out, “Pull the
bobbin, and the latch will go up.”
The wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened, and then he immediately fell upon the good
woman and ate her up in a moment, for it been more than three days since he had eaten. He then
shut the door and got into the grandmother’s bed, expecting Little Red Riding Hood, who came some
time afterwards and knocked at the door: tap, tap.
“Who’s there?”
Little Red Riding Hood, hearing the big voice of the wolf, was at first afraid; but believing her
grandmother had a cold and was hoarse, answered, “It is your grandchild Little Red Riding Hood, who
has brought you a cake and a little pot of butter mother sends you.”
The wolf cried out to her, softening his voice as much as he could, “Pull the bobbin, and the
latch will go up.”
Little Red Riding Hood pulled the bobbin, and the door opened.
The wolf, seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the bedclothes, “Put the cake
and the little pot of butter upon the stool, and come get into bed with me.”
Little Red Riding Hood took off her clothes and got into bed. She was greatly amazed to see
how her grandmother looked in her nightclothes, and said to her, “Grandmother, what big arms you
have!”
“All the better to hug you with, my dear.”
“Grandmother, what big legs you have!”
“All the better to run with, my child.”
“Grandmother, what big ears you have!”
“All the better to hear with, my child.”
“Grandmother, what big eyes you have!”
“All the better to see with, my child.”
“Grandmother, what big teeth you have got!”
“All the better to eat you up with.”
And, saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon Little Red Riding Hood, and ate her all up.
Moral: Children, especially attractive, well-bred young ladies, should never talk to strangers, for if
they should do so, they may well provide dinner for a wolf. I say “wolf,” but there are various kinds of
wolves. There are also those who are charming, quiet, polite, unassuming, complacent, and sweet,
who pursue young women at home and in the streets. And unfortunately, it is these gentle wolves
who are the most dangerous ones of all.

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Little Red Cap by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (1812)
Once upon a time there was a sweet little girl. Everyone who saw her liked her, but most of all
her grandmother, who did not know what to give the child next. Once she gave her a little cap made
of red velvet. Because it suited her so well, and she wanted to wear it all the time, she came to be
known as Little Red Cap.
One day her mother said to her, “Come Little Red Cap. Here is a piece of cake and a bottle of
wine. Take them to your grandmother. She is sick and weak, and they will do her well. Mind your
manners and give her my greetings. Behave yourself on the way, and do not leave the path, or you
might fall down and break the glass, and then there will be nothing for your sick grandmother.”
Little Red Cap promised to obey her mother. The grandmother lived out in the woods, a half
hour from the village. When Little Red Cap entered the woods a wolf came up to her. She did not
know what a wicked animal he was, and was not afraid of him.
“Good day to you, Little Red Cap.”
“Thank you, wolf.”
“Where are you going so early, Little Red Cap?”
“To grandmother’s.”
“And what are you carrying under your apron?”
“Grandmother is sick and weak, and I am taking her some cake and wine. We baked
yesterday, and they should give her strength.”
“Little Red Cap, just where does your grandmother live?”
“Her house is a good quarter hour from here in the woods, under the three large oak trees.
There’s a hedge of hazel bushes there. You must know the place,” said Little Red Cap.
The wolf thought to himself, “Now there is a tasty bite for me. Just how are you going to catch
her?” Then he said, “Listen, Little Red Cap, haven’t you seen the beautiful flowers that are blossoming
in the woods? Why don’t you go and take a look? And I don’t believe you can hear how beautifully the
birds are singing. You are walking along as though you were on your way to school in the village. It is
very beautiful in the woods.”
Little Red Cap opened her eyes and saw the sunlight breaking through the trees and how the
ground was covered with beautiful flowers. She thought, “If a take a bouquet to grandmother, she will
be very pleased. Anyway, it is still early, and I’ll be home on time.” And she ran off into the woods
looking for flowers. Each time she picked one she thought that she could see an even more beautiful
one a little way off, and she ran after it, going further and further into the woods. But the wolf ran
straight to the grandmother’s house and knocked on the door.
“Who’s there?”
“Little Red Cap. I’m bringing you some cake and wine. Open the door for me.”
“Just press the latch,” called out the grandmother. “I’m too weak to get up.”
The wolf pressed the latch, and the door opened. He stepped inside, went straight to the
grandmother’s bed, and ate her up. Then he took her clothes, put them on, and put her cap on his
head. He got into her bed and pulled the curtains shut.
Little Red Cap had run after flowers, and did not continue on her way to grandmother’s until
she had gathered all that she could carry. When she arrived, she found, to her surprise, that the door
was open. She walked into the parlor, and everything looked so strange that she thought, “Oh, my
God, why am I so afraid? I usually like it at grandmother’s.” Then she went to the bed and pulled back
the curtains. Grandmother was lying there with her cap pulled down over her face and looking very
strange.

“Oh, grandmother, what big ears you have!”
“All the better to hear you with.”
“Oh, grandmother, what big eyes you have!”
“All the better to see you with.”
“Oh, grandmother, what big hands you have!”
“All the better to grab you with!”
“Oh, grandmother, what a horribly big mouth you have!”
“All the better to eat you with!” And with that he jumped out of bed, jumped on top of poor
Little Red Cap, and ate her up. As soon as the wolf had finished this tasty bite, he climbed back into
bed, fell asleep, and began to snore very loudly.
A huntsman was just passing by. He thought it strange that the old woman was snoring so
loudly, so he decided to take a look. He stepped inside, and in the bed there lay the wolf that he had
been hunting for such a long time. “He has eaten the grandmother, but perhaps she still can be saved.
I won’t shoot him,” thought the huntsman. So he took a pair of scissors and cut open his belly.
38 | P a g e
He had cut only a few strokes when he saw the red cap shining through. He cut a little more,
and the girl jumped out and cried, “Oh, I was so frightened! It was so dark inside the wolf’s body!”
And then the grandmother came out alive as well. Then Little Red Cap fetched some large
heavy stones. They filled the wolf’s body with them, and when he woke up and tried to run away, the
stones were so heavy that he fell down dead.
The three of them were happy. The huntsman took the wolf’s pelt. The grandmother ate the
cake and drank the wine that Little Red Cap had brought. And Little Red Cap thought to herself, “As
long as I live, I will never leave the path and run off into the woods by myself if mother tells me not
to.”
Homework for the two versions of Little Red Riding Hood
Read both versions of Little Red Riding Hood and then answer the following questions. Upload your
responses to Insight and then bring a copy of your answers to class for a class discussion.
(1) What is the moral of Perrault’s version of Little Red Riding Hood?
Note: at the time this version was published (1697), the color red was associated with sin, sensuality
and the devil.
(2) What is the moral of the Grimm Brother’s version (Little Red Cap)? How is it different than the
Perrault version?
(3) Find, list and explain at least five important similarities between the two versions of the fairy tale.
Explain why you think they are important.
(4) Find, list and explain at least three important differences between the two versions of the fairy
tale. Explain why you think they are important.
39 | P a g e
The Company of Wolves by Angela Carter
Originally Published in The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories (1979).

One beast and only one howls in the woods by night.
The wolf is carnivore incarnate and he’s as cunning as he is ferocious; once he’s had a taste of
flesh then nothing else will do.
At night, the eyes of wolves shine like candle flames, yellowish, reddish, but that is because
the pupils of their eyes fatten on darkness and catch the light from your lantern to flash it back to you
– red for danger; if a wolf’s eyes reflect only moonlight, then they gleam a cold and unnatural green,
a mineral, a piercing colour. If the benighted traveller spies those luminous, terrible sequins stitched
suddenly on the black thickets, then he knows he must run, if fear has not struck him stock-still.
But those eyes are all you will be able to glimpse of the forest assassins as they cluster
invisibly round your smell of meat as you go through the wood unwisely late. They will be like
shadows, they will be like wraiths, grey members of a congregation of nightmare; hark! his long,
wavering howl . . . an aria of fear made audible.
The wolfsong is the sound of the rending you will suffer, in itself a murdering.
It is winter and cold weather. In this region of mountain and forest, there is now nothing for
the wolves to eat. Goats and sheep are locked up in the byre,1 the deer departed for the remaining
pasturage on the southern slopes – wolves grow lean and famished. There is so little flesh on them
that you could count the starveling ribs through their pelts, if they gave you time before they
pounced. Those slavering jaws; the lolling tongue; the rime of saliva on the grizzled chops – of all the
teeming perils of the night and the forest, ghosts, hobgoblins, ogres that grill babies upon gridirons,
witches that fatten their captives in cages for cannibal tables, the wolf is worst for he cannot listen to
reason.
You are always in danger in the forest, where no people are. Step between the portals of the
great pines where the shaggy branches tangle about you, trapping the unwary traveller in nets as if
the vegetation itself were in a plot with the wolves who live there, as though the wicked trees go
fishing on behalf of their friends – step between the gateposts of the forest with the greatest
trepidation and infinite precautions, for if you stray from the path for one instant, the wolves will eat
you. They are grey as famine, they are as unkind as plague. .
The grave-eyed children of the sparse villages always carry knives with them when they go
out to tend the little flocks of goats that provide the homesteads with acrid milk and rank, maggoty
cheeses. Their knives are half as big as they are, the blades are sharpened daily.
But the wolves have ways of arriving at your own hearthside. We try and try but sometimes
we cannot keep them out. There is no winter’s night the cottager does not fear to see a lean, grey,
famished snout questing under the door, and there was a woman once bitten in her own kitchen as
she was straining the macaroni.
Fear and flee the wolf; for, worst of all, the wolf may be more than he seems.
There was a hunter once, near here, that trapped a wolf in a pit. This wolf had massacred the
sheep and goats; eaten up a mad old man who used to live by himself in a hut halfway up the
mountain and sing to Jesus all day; pounced on a girl looking after the sheep, but she made such a
commotion that men came with rifles and scared him away and tried to track him into the forest but
he was cunning and easily gave them the slip. So this hunter dug a pit and put a duck in it, for bait,
all alive-oh; and he covered the pit with straw smeared with wolf dung. Quack, quack! went the duck
and a wolf came slinking out of the forest, a big one, a heavy one, he weighed as much as a grown
man and the straw gave way beneath him – into the pit he tumbled. The hunter jumped down after
him, slit his throat, cut off all his paws for a trophy.
And then no wolf at all lay in front of the hunter but the bloody trunk of a man, headless,
footless, dying, dead.
A witch from up the valley once turned an entire wedding party into wolves because the
groom had settled on another girl. She used to order them to visit her, at night, from spite, and they
would sit and howl around her cottage for her, serenading her with their misery.
Not so very long ago, a young woman in our village married a man who vanished clean away
on her wedding night. The bed was made with new sheets and the bride lay down in it; the groom
said, he was going out to relieve himself, insisted on it, for the sake of decency, and she drew the
coverlet up to her chin and she lay there. And she waited and she waited and then she waited again –
surely he’s been gone a long time? Until she jumps up in bed and shrieks to hear a howling, coming
on the wind from the forest.
1 byre: a small building for livestock

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