I’m less than a week away from officially launching book three of my Raven Son series, The Heart of the World. It’s a book that’s taken me a long time to write and has taken a lot out of me. There are some very dark turns in the plot, though there are hints that the joyous turn (what Tolkien called the “eucatastrophe”) is just around the corner.
One thing I’ve been thinking a lot about is how this particular story fits into a larger universe of stories, still unexplored by me. Those of you who are acquainted with Slavic mythology, for example, may be surprised that my main villain is the Raven (a relatively minor “bad guy” in Russian folk tales), not Koshchei, the Deathless One.
Well, I’ve just been saving him for a rainy day. The thing about Koshchei is that he is intimately connected with the old Slavic conception of the afterlife. And I haven’t yet touched the question of afterlife in my novels. But book 5 is at least partially set in the country of the dead. Will we see Koshchei make an appearance in book 5? Maybe…
I’ve already explored the figure of Koshchei in a previous post. What you may not know is that Koshchei, though the ultimate evil character, actually had a love interest in one cycle of stories. In the typically ambivalent way of Russian tales, it’s actually Prince Ivan that’s the bad guy in that story. Read on to find out about that tale and a few more interesting facts about the Deathless One…
The Secret of Koshchei’s Name
To this day, the exact origin of the name “Koshchei” is still unknown. The most widespread version is that the name “Koshchei” came from the Russian word for “bone” (кость), meaning “a gaunt person.” However, this version is not popular among contemporary linguists. Modern researchers of Russian folklore are more inclined to believe that the villain’s roots stem back to either the old Serbian word kotlar (caster of spells, spellbinder, sorcerer), or to the old Russian word kast’ (abomination, waste, rubbish, muck, etc.).
Who is He?
Academics have not reached a conclusive agreement on this question either. Some see in Koshchei a fairytale interpretation of Korochun, the Slavic god that represents death from cold. Others believe him to be the Russian version of the Germanic god Odin. Still others believe he may have been a historical figure embellished with great wizardly abilities.
In the stories, Koshchei is presented as an incredibly powerful magician. Furthermore, he uses his magical powers to perverse and sophisticated ends. Thus, in the fairytale “Elena the Beautiful,” he transforms Ivan Tsarevich into a nut. Or in “The Frog Princess” he “dresses” the princess into the skin of an amphibian. Even more impressively, in the tale “Ivan Sosnovich” he easily deals with an entire kingdom, turning it into stone.
In some stories, he is a changeling, preferring the shape of a raven.
The Doomed Ladies’ Man
As a rule, Koshchei’s devious plans are focused around young girls. In an attempt to win their love, Koshchei keeps reusing the same, always futile, strategies. First, he abducts the girl, amid flashy special effects, then unsuccessfully tries to achieve intimacy. Having failed at that, he inevitably turns the fairytale beauties into frogs or snakes.
This Soviet cartoon version of “The Frog Princess” illustrates his strategy beautifully in the first few minutes. It’s worth a look, though it’s only in Russian.
Koshchei the Gallant
True, there was a case when Koshchei’s love was requited. In the epic poem “About Ivan Godinovich,” the Deathless One appeared with an exotic patronymic, Tripetovich (a sign of importance never given him in other stories). Furthermore, he appears as a gallant, courteous knight who woos the princess of Chernigov, Marya Dmitrievichna. However, his rival, the treacherous Ivan Godinovich, kidnaps Koshchei’s bride and carries her away into an open field.
Having caught up with the kidnapper, Koshchei Tripetovich again asks the beautiful Marya to become his lawful wife. She agrees. The happy couple bind the treacherous Ivan to an oak tree, betaking themselves to the tent to indulge in loving pleasures.
Soon, however, a raven flies in and ominously croaks to the lovers that Marya Dmitrievna will never be Koshchei’s wife, but the wife of Ivan Godinovich. In a fit of righteous wrath, the Deathless One shoots the bird, but the arrow changes its path, killing Koshchei himself.
The heartbroken Marya the Beautiful decides to finish off Ivan, but he skillfully pulls out the saber from her hands and cuts the maiden into quarters. Thus tragically ends the only love story of Koshchei.
This version of the tale, perhaps one of the darkest of love stories, is possibly the inspiration for one of the more evocative modern fantasies of the last ten years, Catherynne Valente’s Deathless.
How to Kill the Deathless One
In one of the tales, Koshchei incautiously reveals:
My death is far off: on the ocean, on the sea, there is an island, on that island there is an oak, under that oak tree is buried a chest, in that chest is a hare, in that hare – a duck, in that duck – an egg. And in that egg is my death.”
Many academics understand this “nestling doll” structure to represent a vision of the universe. Thus, the seas and oceans represent water, the island is the land, the oak is the plants, the hare is the animals, the duck is the birds. The oak also represents the “tree of the world.”
In other words, the only way to kill Koshchei is to destroy the cosmos. This may be why he never really dies, but always comes back to haunt the heroes of the tales.
A Christian Interpretation of Koshchei
Though this is a bit of a stretch, some elders from Northern Russia have interpreted Koshchei to be the fallen Adam, the “old man” who must be put to death again and again. Ivan Tsarevich then is understood to be the “New Testament Man.” Clearly that’s problematic, because Ivan is mostly a helpless plaything of the fates, hardly a Christ-like figure.
In other interpretations of “folk orthodoxy,” Koshchei symbolizes the sinful body, while the kidnapped girl is the human soul, and Ivan Tsarevich is the spirit of man.
In this vision, the death of Koshchei is the constant process of purification of the soul from sins. In that sense, his frequent return from death is consistent with the idea that one has to constantly battle with one’s sinful proclivities.
Of course, these fairy tales ultimately defy allegory, because they are something else entirely: a fascinating glimpse into a people that were slowly coming out of paganism into a new religion that would eventually reframe and redefine every aspect of their culture and self-awareness.
I get a lot of ideas for my own writing from Russian fairy tales. Today, I have a special invitation for you — I want to offer you a free copy of my essay, “A Passport to Russian Fairy Land”!