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This section presents an overview of fairy-tale scholarship in which narrative space constitutes the primary research focus, rather than a background for explorations of other topics. This direct research on fairy-tale space can be divided into two groups: 1) research on individual fairy-tale locations, such as the well (Heindrichs 1984), the

inn (Grzywka 2018; Kawan 2012), the castle (Messerli 2019; Wienker-Piepho 2001, 2019), or – most extensively – the forest (Baumgart 1936; Gehrts 1984; Harrison 1992; Maitland 2012; Meder 1988; Ono 2007);34 _{and 2) research on narrative aspects}

of space and spatial transference. Encompassing several articles and one monograph (Leeuwen 2007), the latter category directly informs the present research and will therefore be examined in more detail.

Dmitry Sergeyevich Likhachevʼs (2014[1967]) study of the poetics of early Russian literature encompasses, among other genres, the fairy tale, which is discussed in terms of its artistic time and artistic space. For Likhachev, the key feature of fairy-tale space is its “superconductivity”, or minimum resistance the material environment presents for the protagonists (2014[1967]: 328). In other words, the space itself never provides obstacles for the protagonists (unless it is manipulated by antagonists), allowing them to move through the fairy-tale world quickly and effortlessly, and cover large distances. The superconductivity of fairy- tale space also accounts for its other traits, especially its “extreme expansion” (ibid.: 329) and “boundless, endless” nature (ibid.: 330). Intertwined with time, fairy-tale space is also dynamic: it not only “creates an environment for movement” but is itself constantly moving and changing (ibid.: 327). This is why, according to Likhachev, the (traditional) fairy tale does not contain static descriptions; rather, it provides spatial information relevant to the story while developing the action (ibid.: 223). Like the formalists, the author also highlights the role of space in the structural organisation of the fairy tale, as each new episode takes place in a different location. However, Likhachev does not recognise space as an independent narrative element, claiming that its significance and function are inextricably linked to the action. Thus, the significance of the aforementioned superconductivity primarily lies in the fact that it – together with the genreʼs “quick” time – provides “exceptionally favorable conditions in the fairy tale for the development of action”, which unfolds “more easily […] than in any other genre in folklore” (ibid.: 330). For Likhachev, “this lack of resistance and ease with which everything happens” (ibid.: 331) is crucial for the genre and even precedes magic in terms of significance. While many other scholars list it among the genreʼs key traits, Likhachev finds magic to be a secondary feature of the fairy tale, a later addition to the narratives introduced in order to justify the ease with which the plot develops. While it might initially seem that the superconductive space presents the genreʼs key distinguishing feature, its

34 _{This group also includes entries on individual spaces and types of spatial transference}

featured in the Enzyklopädie des Märchens (Ranke 1977–2015). Significantly, other reference works, such as The Greenwood Encyclopedia of Folktales and Fairy Tales (Haase 2008b) or The Oxford Companion to Fairy Tales (Zipes 2002[2000]b) do not contain entries on individual spaces or fairy-tale space in general.

significance is somewhat diminished by the fact that, as the author claims, there is little diversity among the forms of artistic space in the different genres of early Russian literature, and even other artistic forms such as painting or architecture (ibid.: 332). Like Lüthi, Likhachev offers somewhat contradictory observations on space, which is (sometimes implicitly, sometimes explicitly) identified as both dynamic and active, a key ingredient in generating the genreʼs recognisable features, and a secondary, dependent element which exists only in service to the action and bears (too) much similarity to space in other genres.

Although primarily interested in time in folk narratives, Wilhelm Nicolaisen was among the first to systematically argue for the study of space. However, his contribution to research on spatial issues is by no means limited to the simple acknowledgement of its importance: in his two most important papers on the topic (Nicolaisen 1980, 1988), the author also challenges existing views on the nature of fairy-tale space and its interpretations. Based on his analysis of the first ten stories in Stith Thompsonʼs One Hundred Favorite Folktales, Nicolaisen (1980) highlights the importance of both horizontal (inside/outside) and vertical (up/down) spatial relations, leading him to reject Lüthiʼs claims about the depthlessness of the fairy tale (as it pertains to three-dimensional environments) and the lack of an external environment as a key component of isolating the protagonist. Of particular importance for the present research is his observation on the limitations of existing strands of scholarships (he specifically mentions Bettelheim) which view space only in symbolic terms. While acknowledging the existence and importance of the symbolic function of fairy-tale spaces, Nicolaisen points out that this is by no means their only function, calling instead for a reading of fairy tales on the “surface level in which forests are forests, gardens are gardens, rooms are rooms, keys are keys, and closed doors hide real secrets” (1980: 16). However, he ultimately gives precedence to time over space, claiming that, since humans are more fascinated by time and its passage, the temporal aspects of the fairy tale inevitably exceed spatial ones in both quantity and “quality of insight” (ibid.: 14; see also Nicolaisen 1988).

The research by Joyce Thomas (1986) lies at the intersection of the two research categories identified in the opening paragraph of this section (“Space in focus”), as it is concerned with both individual spaces and fairy-tale space in general. Like Nicolaisen (1988: 361), Thomas describes the narrative space of the fairy tale as unmappable, identifying the typical setting of the genre as a “timeless, spaceless, quasimythic sphere” (1986: 126). Despite its abstract quality, the author considers it to be an important element of the genre, which forms a physical framework in which the story unfolds, generates atmosphere, and provides “an external, tangible correspondence to things internal and intangible” (ibid.: 127). The latter function suggests that space plays an important role in what Lüthi describes as externalisation, i.e. the process wherein “[e]verything psychological is externalized onto the level of

actions or objects […] and is thus made distinctly and impressively manifest” (1986[1947]: 29). Thomas proceeds to analyse what she claims to be “the four most common settings in traditional fairy tales” – namely, “the woods, the castle, the tower, and the hut in the woods” (1986: 127). Relying on Gaston Bachelardʼs poetic reading of space, Thomas is concerned only with the symbolic properties of the four locations (e.g. the castle as a symbol of royalty and success; ibid.: 129).

Donald Haase discusses fairy-tale spaces in the context of adult memories of childhood war-time trauma, arguing that these recollections use “the imaginative space of the fairy tale” as “an interpretative device and psychological strategy” (2000: 366). Autobiographical accounts of childhood trauma which Haase analyses use fairy-tale landscapes to navigate and interpret their own emotional landscapes, and map their experience of violent physical displacement (ibid.: 364, 373). Even though the author is primarily interested in the symbolic potential of fairy-tale spaces, and their role in the process of creating memories and coping with trauma, rather than the fairy-tale narrative itself, he makes several important observations about the spatial aspects of the fairy tale. Specifically, he challenges traditional views of the genre by stating that the fairy tale is timeless not because of its presumed universality or abstract temporal setting, but because its plot “is not driven or defined by time or temporal considerations” (ibid.: 362). In fact, he claims, the fairy tale shows a distinct “structural disinterest in time” (ibid., original emphasis), a disinterest which does not extend to space. Rather, the fact that the protagonistʼs separation and isolation (as described by Lüthi) is spatially defined makes space the key driving force of the narrative. Haase also observes that individual fairy-tale spaces are essentially ambiguous, meaning they can take on different roles and attributes, depending on the concrete narrative (ibid.: 363–364).

Especially relevant for the present research is Alfred Messerliʼs (2005) paper on the key features of spatial representation in European popular fairy tales (collections published between the seventeenth and twentieth centuries, primarily works by Basile and the Grimms). Building on Lüthiʼs research, Messerli examines three aspects of spatial representation in the European fairy tale: narrative economy, discontinuity, and narrative perspective. The economy of spatial representation is manifested as the tendency of fairy-tale narratives to provide minimal information about space, often reduced to naming a single object or spatial element, and the frugal use of spatial indicators (Messerli 2005: 276). As his example of a scene from the Grimmsʼ “The Frog King” shows, the narrative uses different indirect means such as references to characters and their actions to establish the scope of the space of action (ibid.: 276–277). Spatial information is thus revealed gradually, with the dimensions of narrative space expanding as the story progresses. This expansion is often realised via the protagonistʼs journey, the portrayal of which also reveals fairy- tale space as essentially discontinuous, a space “of places and channels, not of space

itself” (ibid.: 281). Moreover, Messerli notes that fairy-tale space is “simultaneously contractive and expansive” (ibid.: 278), as dimensions of objects and spaces that contain them can magically increase or decrease. Spatial dimensions and especially distances may also be established through references to acoustic signals, light, time, or bodily endurance, or the use of specific linguistic strategies (e.g. iterative use of verbs). Finally, the author explains the importance of perspective for establishing space by comparing two versions of “The Wolf and the Seven Young Kids” (KHM 5, ATU 123): one which features figural narrative perspective and one which provides the perspective of the kids (ibid.: 280–281). The issue of perspective (or rather, focalisation) in fairy tales is given more attention in Messerliʼs entry on space in the Enzyklopädie des Märchens, which identifies it as zero (narratorial) or limited and subjective internal focalisation (2004: 360; see also Messerli 2019).

Finally, Richard van Leeuwenʼs monograph (2007) provides an analysis of the journey as a key narrative element in tales featured in The Thousand and One Nights. Leeuwen highlights the importance of boundaries for narrative organisation and the journey as a means of shaping spaces and boundaries, which exists only “through the dynamic process of movement” (2007: 141). The authorʼs most insightful observations concern the relationship between characters and their environment. Although he does not cite Lüthi, Leeuwen reaches a conclusion similar to that of the author of The European Folktale regarding the need to isolate the protagonists by detaching them from their environment. However, as Leeuwen points out, by setting off into the world the protagonist does more than just detach himself from his physical environment (ibid.: 15):

He leaves behind the identity belonging to his role in his society and can adopt various roles and identities in accordance with the spaces which he traverses. He becomes an “unknown” person, on which no specific identity is inscribed, except that of the traveller, the stranger and the “other”, a status with both positive and negative connotations.

The journey is therefore identified as a series of changing roles and identities, a process of individual transformation and development. However, Leeuwenʼs view is mostly character-centric, meaning that while space is recognised as an important plot element, its significance is derived from its role as a setting for and symbol of the charactersʼ development. Thus, spaces are not perceived as being “meaningful in themselves; their significance is determined by their function as the object of journeys, or their relation to the situation of the heroes” (ibid.: 23). In this view, space remains a static, passive background for the action which does not exist independently from the (mobile) characters.