Folklore in the Forest and the City
by Arwyn Clayton and Bernadette O’Hara
Edited by Naomi Adam
Ahead of the imminent release of The Letters Page Volume 5, members of the web and production teams are taking a closer look at some of the letters that made it to print. Their reflections offer a sneak preview of the pieces included in the new edition, and the wide-ranging themes they explore. This article was inspired by Ondřej Štindl’s letter from Prague, translated by Michael Baugh.
From architecture to atmosphere, the city of Prague embodies mythical literature. The streets are enchanting, an air of latent magic captivating all who walk through them. Štindl’s letter is saturated with images of architectural splendour from the disillusioned perspective of one grown too accustomed to such sights; one who has seen what lies beyond Prague’s spectacular facade. But, even so, when the city is quiet and empty, as Štindl recalls it being during the Coronavirus pandemic, re-emerges. He writes of
‘not having to think up mysteries and dig through layers of gaudy colours and lazily staged authenticity to find them. They would reveal themselves.’
One such mystical tale of the city is that of the Golem. The story goes that Rabbi Loew created Prague’s Golem out of clay in the late 16th century to protect the people of the Jewish quarter from antisemitic attacks. Every Friday, the Rabbi would remove the life-giving magic word known as the shem from the Golem’s mouth to deactivate him, allowing him to rest on the Sabbath. However, when Rabbi Loew forgot about the creature one Friday, it is said that the Golem became destructive. Rabbi Loew was forced to remove the shem from his mouth for good, returning his creation to a lifeless pile of clay. The legend suggests that the remnants of the Golem were placed in the attic of the Old-New Synagogue, access to which is unavailable for the general public to this day. The lasting impact of the legend of Golem can be seen in later works of literature written in Prague, such as those by Franz Kafka and Elie Wiesel, and later adaptations of the story from around the world.
This fascination with the mythical is a unifying factor in the development of the culture and literature of Prague and Nottingham (the home of The Letters Page and destination of Štindl’s letter) alike. Nottingham’s Sherwood Forest and the legend of Robin Hood are similarly significant as examples of the endurance and cultural significance of mythic literature.
A character of medieval myth and poetry, Robin Hood has long been considered a legendary hero for his reputation of stealing from the rich to benefit the poor. In the modern day, he has become an emblem of Nottinghamshire’s literary heritage, with homage paid by the logos or names of local businesses (such as the Robin Hood network travel cards), the central city roads named for characters related to Hood’s legend (consider, for instance, Maid Marian Way), and of course the iconic statue outside of Nottingham Castle.
Today, Robin Hood is generally considered a work of fiction, known more as a character of modern media than for his original reputation. Often his story is romanticised, given the moral mediation of a chivalrous tale of love and outlawry against an unjust system. Though more relevant than ever as a rallying cry for modern consumers to work towards this redistribution of wealth that he is so praised for, Robin Hood and Sherwood Forest have been reduced to an idyllic fairytale.
In modern iterations of the story, whether that be the 1973 Disney film adaptation or Sherwood Forest’s yearly Robin Hood Festival, the politics of oppression and poverty that provoked Hood’s rise to notoriety are conveniently diminished in mainstream adaptations. Ironically, his story is remoulded to fit a capitalist ideology that he sought to destroy at its very germination. As mythology adapts and is rewritten throughout time, it is interesting to see reflections of contemporary zeitgeists in what is prioritised in the literature of different eras.
Meanwhile, the myth of Robin Hood has travelled far beyond his own home forest. Outside Prague’s main train station lies Vrchlického Sady, known colloquially by locals as Sherwood. This urban park doesn’t hold the legendary history of heroism that permeates Nottingham’s popular forest, but is rather named for the extensive presence in the park of Prague’s homeless population. With its significant associations with crime and poverty, Sherwood Park shows that literature can be used to acknowledge even Prague’s darker aspects. As Ondřej Štindl notes in his letter, this use of story is a way of,
‘turning mundane inconveniences into mythical labours’
finding a folkloric basis through which to understand and criticise modern life.
The influential nature of stories on these cities is celebrated in their status as UNESCO Cities of Literature. Along with nine others contributions from Cities of Literature around the world, Ondřej Štindl’s letter can be read in the upcoming fifth print volume of The Letters Page, available for purchase here.
Do you have your own tale to tell? The Letters Page team are back in the office, and ready to read your real letters again. We publish stories, essays, poems, memoir, reportage, criticism, recipes, travelogues, and any hybrid forms, so long as they come to us in the form of a letter. We are looking for writers of all nationalities and ages, both established and emerging.
Your letter must be sent in the post, to:
The Letters Page, School of English, University of Nottingham, NG7 2RD, UK
See our submissions page for more information.
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