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Introduction
Tricksters have always intrigued me. I enjoy the capacity for Tricksters to conquer opposition by their wits. Whether it's the dramatic action of the wily Odysseus lying about his name, escaping beneath a sheep, and blinding the Cyclops, or the myth of Hermes, where the young god deceives Apollo, the god of rationality, by stealing his cattle via reversing expectations of hoof and footprints, or the folktale of the ornery and duplicitous blacksmith who cozens both the Devil and God. Tricksters defy earthly and divine authorities. They occupy transgressive spaces in which their taboo-breaking tactics defy the status-quo and celebrate human ingenuity's potential to transcend rigid ethics and political power.
The ways that tricksters sometimes exploit others with impunity-and little conscience-evokes some disconcertion along with comedy This strategic amorality is part of what I wanted to explore with "Grandfather Rat." Also, as a child back in the late 1970s, I listened to a phonograph record of various folk tales around the world, and one of them involved a girl trapped in the lair of a water rat, so the deviousness of a rat with chthonic associations probably influenced my story The roguish Gravedigger's Son, the calculating Undertaker's Daughter, and the undaunted midwife are not mere dupes for the Mayor and Grandfather Rat, but resilient agents who protect their own interests and will stop at nothing to achieve their desires. I've aimed to set up a constellation of characters who occupy marginal spaces yet utilize cleverness, disguise, and taboo-breaking while subverting moral and authoritarian hierarchies in the context of a morbid and comedic narrative.
Grandfather Rat
When the Gravedigger's Son stole rings from the dead hands of the rich one time too many, he was caught and dragged to the town square in front of the Mayor.
"You must serve Grandfather Rat," the Mayor said.
The Gravedigger's Son didn't look at the Mayor but turned his red handkerchief-covered head, searching the crowd for the Undertaker's Daughter.
"Do you hear me, you scurrilous lad?" the Mayor gestured to one of his bodyguards who cuffed the face of the Gravedigger's Son, long brown hair splaying into the air beneath his red handkerchief, blood trickling from his lips.
"I hear you," the Gravedigger's Son said softly, his face...