The Hero's Journey vs The Forest Story

The Fairy Tale Forest: Part Two

Sep 14, 2023

Part Five: The Ones We Meet in Darkness

When I first began bemoaning the lack of forest stories in popular culture, a friend brought up an important point: We do have the hero’s journey. Both forest stories and the hero’s journey involve the protagonist going on a perilous adventure, and both depict that adventure as valuable, so isn’t that the same message in the end?

It caught me off guard, but I was still certain the hero’s journey was a poor substitute for forest stories. This probably has something to do with the fact that I take a certain amount of umbrage with the Freudian self-certainty of Campbell’s monomyth. I dislike these sorts of theories, the ones which claim to have all the answers. They never do. This is not to say the hero’s journey has no use as a tool for writing and analysis, but I do think it is far from the literary holy grail Campbell seemed to think it.

The hero’s journey seems to me to swing wildly in nature and application from hilariously specific to hilariously nebulous. If you go by Campbell’s original seventeen steps, you would be hard pressed to make a significant list of stories which fall perfectly within its structure. Luckily, Campbell also had a far vaguer version of the monomyth: “…a separation from the world, a penetration to some source of power, and a life-enhancing return.” Now, that is a structure into which you can jam just about any story you like. It is also, as far as I’m concerned, practically useless in its vast generality.

The hero’s journey in the latter form is equivalent to descriptions of astrological signs (apologies to any astrologists reading this; I think I would probably be easier on astrology if it hadn’t called me a materialistic cow). You know the sort I mean, the ones that give a list of attributes which often contradict each other and are basically guaranteed to say something about how everybody has a unique personality within the bounds of their sign, the result being that everyone and their mother falls under the umbrella of Gemini.

I am sure Campbell would consider forest stories to be some kind of sub-category of the hero’s journey. I suppose they are, so long as the hero’s journey can be described as someone living an ordinary life undergoing a life-changing adventure with a happy ending. But forest stories have their own definition, which, best as I can manage, is something like this: A person who is in some sense an outcast goes into the wilderness of their own volition and embarks on a journey which leads them to become the best and fullest version of themself and to begin a new life.

“Forest stories” is a broad category, as evidenced by the fact that the definition I provided is probably vague enough for you to argue I’m a hypocrite for criticizing Campbell’s definition of the hero’s journey. There is no end to the fairy tales which fall within these parameters, and so I am trying to account for the various adventures to be had once the protagonist has left home and for differences between forest stories with male versus female protagonists. However, there are still key distinctions which separate the forest story from the hero’s journey.

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First of all, the protagonist must be an outcast. I will elaborate on this subject later on, but it’s important to note that Campbell’s hero falls under the broad category of “…a personage of exceptional gifts. Frequently he is honored by his society, frequently unrecognized or disdained.” The closest a forest hero gets to being honored is being babied, the youngest son forbidden from going with his brothers to find a wife. As for “exceptional gifts,” a significant number of forest heroes are simpletons. Fairy tale heroes, as a rule, are ordinary people of extraordinary virtue. Perhaps Campbell would call that an exceptional gift, but I think (at least when applied to real life) it is more choice than gift.

Second, the protagonist must leave of their own volition. The first two steps of the hero’s journey are the call to adventure and the refusal of the call. In the hero’s journey, the call to adventure usually involves the hero being made aware of an external problem which he is required to solve. Forest heroes, however, tend to set off on an adventure simply because they know they must. They are driven to seek their fortunes, despite the fact their loved ones often try to stop them.

To be fair, there are stories where forest hero is faced with an external problem. In the case of the youngest son kept at home, he finally convinces his father to let him leave so he can seek out his brothers once it is clear they are not coming back—and even then, it’s worth noting his original drive to leave was internal. Forest heroines are invariably faced with an external problem, an unwanted suitor or wicked stepmother, and choose to escape into the forest.

The refusal of the call has no place in a forest story. Heroes may be met with outward resistance, but it would never occur to them to refuse an adventure. Forest heroines may cleverly delay their escape or seek alternative solutions before they leave, but their tactical decisions, I think, are in a separate category from refusal.

The hero’s journey tends to be about rising to a challenge, the forest story about seeking one. Both have value, and neither is a valid replacement for the other. Although forest stories, at least for the most part, fall under the general umbrella of the hero’s journey, the hero’s journey is too broad and varied to serve as a satisfactory substitute.

We need the unique messages, images, and symbols of forest stories. We need stories which tell us something more than to take up responsibility and adventure when they are given. We can’t expect the trees to uproot themselves and come to us. We need stories which tell us to seek responsibility, to seek adventure, to seek the forest.

Wren Scarborough

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