Out of Egypt:

my education is now complete

So which was it: The Lady or the Tiger?

I think that I would have done the lady, but I think the princess should do the tiger.

Posted by: Chantel at February 11, 2007 9:57 PM

So basically you're saying you're more forgiving and a better person than the princess. :)

I'll give my answer later.

Posted by: Evan Donovan at February 11, 2007 10:33 PM

Okay, here is what really happened, based on several different genres of romance.

Here's opera: she waves her hand to the right, indicating the door the young man must choose. He opens. A fierce snarl echoes throughout the arena. Horrified, his eyes dart to the princess, his mouth uttering infathomable pleas. The tiger crouches. The princess starts. Justice will be achieved. But her heart bleeds. Her mind snaps. Shrieks burst from her lips. She tears herself from her privileged seat and leaps from the parapet. The tiger springs. The prince disappears beneath a frenzy of blood and fur splattered. The heap of princess-that-was stirs. It crawls, agonizingly slow, towards the carnage in front of the right door. The tiger looks up, blood dripping from its jowls. The pile-of-princess stares the tiger in the eye. "You think you have owned him," she hisses. "But no one takes him from me." And gathering the last remains of her lover in her arms, she kisses him, desperately, the breath leaving their bodies as they enter the great beyond in passionate embrace.

Here's Gothic romance novel: the princess waves her hand to the right. The young man steps forward and opens the door. Jubilant music bursts forth as the enchanting lady steps from behind the door. The young man looks up at the princess, seated in the arena. Her eyes, streaming the misery of her choice, stare resolutely away. But no matter. His hand reaches beneath his tunic and draws forth a dagger. He plunges it into his chest and sinks to the ground: he would have chosen the tiger. The crowd gasps, arresting the princess' attention. Mortified, the princess

Here's Hollywood: The princess waves to the right hand door and nods to her handmaiden who is positioned strategically near the parapet. A fierce snarl echoes throughout the arena. "Father! You just don't understand!" she whines to the king as she leaps to the top of the parapet. A gasp ripples through the crowd. The handmaiden hands the princess a rope and dagger and the princess balays down the wall into the arena. She tosses the dagger to her lover who turns just in time to plunge it into the heart of the springing beast. "Darling!" he cries. "You didn't think..." the princess asks anxiously. "Never!" and he shuts her up with a passionate embrace. "We defy the world!" the two shout at the consternated arena. The two run through the now empty door and escape through the castle air ducts. They lived happily ever after in a rose-covered cottage on the edge of a village with very nice schools. Their eldest son went to Harvard.

Posted by: funke at February 12, 2007 11:32 AM

Oh, I didn't finish the Gothic Romance novel one!

Here it is:

Here's Gothic romance novel: the princess waves her hand to the right. The young man steps forward and opens the door. Jubilant music bursts forth as the enchanting lady steps from behind the door. The young man looks up at the princess, seated in the arena. Her eyes, streaming the misery of her choice, stare resolutely away. But no matter. His hand reaches beneath his tunic and draws forth a dagger. He plunges it into his chest and sinks to the ground: he would have chosen the tiger. The crowd gasps, arresting the princess' attention. Mortified, the princess throws herself over the parapet and lands beside her dying lover. "No, no, no," she moans. "How could I live with another woman?" her lover gasps. His eyes close. He is gone. The tiger growls. The princess looks up. "Do your worst," she cries. "I am already dead!" The tiger springs. The princess is no more. The crowd hushes in awe. From thence forward, the arena was abandoned and public entertainment vanished from the land. A rose briar, watered by the blood of the lovers, grew over the spot where the two fell. The arena crumbled to dust, but the briar grew and grew. And they say that when the moon is full, you can still see the princess weeping over her loved one, just before the tiger springs.

Posted by: funke at February 12, 2007 11:39 AM

Oh crap. I messed the gothic romance one up again. just come read the edited and proofread version on my blog...

Posted by: funke at February 12, 2007 12:00 PM

Interesting lunch hour reading . . .
I am thinking that it was the tiger. No where does it give any huge indication she was selfless enough to allow another woman to marry her "true love".

Posted by: Carrie at February 12, 2007 12:39 PM

Brilliant, Sarah. I would've just said "tiger."

Posted by: Evan Donovan at February 12, 2007 7:41 PM

That Anne Lamott quote on your blog header comes to mind: "there is absolutely no inevitability as long as there is a willingness to contemplate what is happening."

I think that, whichever it was, the young man wasn't surprised. IF his soul was really so in tune with his lover's, he was probably aware of her decision.

What I'm curious about is (1) what would happen if he chose the marriage option and was thus proved innocent. Wouldn't that prove that the king's system was unjust? And (2) if the princess was so slick and influential, why couldn't she work it out for an imposter to sit beside her father and give the right answer while she waited behind one of the doors?

Of course, that gives rise to another operatic ending, a la sarah funke: princess dupes her father and puts similarly beautiful maiden in her clothing beside him on the dias. Waits in chamber on left. Similarly beautiful maiden proves herself duplicitous and indicates tiger door to young man. Young man then either (a) believes her and dies (tragedy) or (b) guesses her duplicity and marries the king's daughter (romance, comedy, or potentially also tragedy, depending on the semi-barbaric king's response).

Posted by: bob at February 13, 2007 5:21 AM

Hey, Bob. The first scenario (tragedy) could be a short story by Somerset Maugham, reeking of depressing ironic fate. The second scenario, if the punchline was saved up till the very end, could be the O. Henry version of dramatic irony.

I'd also like to see the Camus version: young man spends about 1500 words facing the inevitability of his death, and we get a detailed description of the splinters on the door and the smell of the dust in the arena.

Posted by: funke at February 13, 2007 10:38 AM

oooh... i like the camus spin. of course, you could start a whole 'nother take on the story by thinking about how it would look being told by different filmmakers (nod to the hollywood idea). i think hitchcock would love it.

Posted by: bob at February 13, 2007 2:55 PM