My elementary library had a collection of short story collections edited (well, probably not actually edited, but at least introduced and possibly selected) by Alfred Hitchcock; I was introduced to Daphne du Maurier's "The Birds," Robert Bloch's "Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper" and Richard Connell's "The Most Dangerous Game" in grade school via the Spellbinders in Suspense (I recently came across a collection associated with Hitchcock called Alfred Hitchcock Presents Stories They Wouldn't Let Me Do On TV, which is the best title ever). I respected the man's literary taste; he always seemed so smart in those "Three Investigators" books, after all.
This probably explains a lot about me.
One collection he did (Alfred Hitchcock Presents Something Something MONSTERS!, so it was my first pick, of course) featured a short story entitled "The King of the Cats" (I cannot remember the author's name) wherein the new King Tom is actually disguised as a human and totally macking on the narrator's would-be girlfriend; a friend who is into mythology and fairy tales advises him to tell the fairy tale of "The King of the Cats" around this strangely catty gentleman, and, well, I've already spoiled the ending, haven't I? It was my introduction to the fairy tale; whenever I read the old version, I feel like the story is only half right. No, dude, it wasn't the cat; it was this really cat-like dude who shouted, "Then I am the king of the cats!"
Because of the "you're telling it wrong" feeling, the story feels more like an urban legend than a fairy tale to me.
My elementary library had a collection of short story collections edited (well, probably not actually edited, but at least introduced and possibly selected) by Alfred Hitchcock; I was introduced to Daphne du Maurier's "The Birds," Robert Bloch's "Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper" and Richard Connell's "The Most Dangerous Game" in grade school via the Spellbinders in Suspense (I recently came across a collection associated with Hitchcock called Alfred Hitchcock Presents Stories They Wouldn't Let Me Do On TV, which is the best title ever). I respected the man's literary taste; he always seemed so smart in those "Three Investigators" books, after all.
This probably explains a lot about me.
One collection he did (Alfred Hitchcock Presents Something Something MONSTERS!, so it was my first pick, of course) featured a short story entitled "The King of the Cats" (I cannot remember the author's name) wherein the new King Tom is actually disguised as a human and totally macking on the narrator's would-be girlfriend; a friend who is into mythology and fairy tales advises him to tell the fairy tale of "The King of the Cats" around this strangely catty gentleman, and, well, I've already spoiled the ending, haven't I? It was my introduction to the fairy tale; whenever I read the old version, I feel like the story is only half right. No, dude, it wasn't the cat; it was this really cat-like dude who shouted, "Then I am the king of the cats!"
Because of the "you're telling it wrong" feeling, the story feels more like an urban legend than a fairy tale to me.