Will You, Won't You
More than a simple re-writing of the Cinderella story, Ella Enchanted offers an object lesson in what it means to be truly obedient.
Review by Sara Holston
Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl whose mother died. With the love and support of her father, and the growth of their family upon his remarriage, it seemed she might still find happiness. But when her father, too, died not long after, her stepmother and stepsisters revealed themselves to be as ugly inside as out. They forced the girl to work as a servant in her home, toiling over the fire and sleeping in the cinders.
We all know what happens next. We know the whole story. But in her 1997 novel Ella Enchanted, Gail Carson Levine reimagines the classic tale with an unusual twist. This Ella doesn’t just get timely help from a fairy godmother—instead, her story begins with a fairy’s meddling. At Ella’s christening, the foolish Lucinda bestows a gift upon her: obedience. But as Ella grows up, this “blessing” quickly proves to be a curse. Any direct order from anyone, whether a simple “hey, look!” or a command to walk through fire, and Ella must comply. Resistance renders her nauseous and dizzy, until eventually she can’t stop herself from doing exactly as she’s told.
Levine quickly illustrates how disturbing this “gift” is, as Ella, our narrator, recounts her first memory of the curse. When Mandy, the cook and secretly Ella’s fairy godmother, bakes an enormous chocolate cake for Ella’s fifth birthday, she cuts Ella a slice and says, “Eat.” It doesn’t register for Mandy as a command. It probably wouldn’t for you or me, either. After all, Ella wants the chocolate cake, and anyone else could simply stop eating when that changed. But cursed as she is, Ella must keep eating even as she starts feeling sick, the cake turning to cement in her mouth. It isn’t until she starts crying that her mother (who survives just long enough, in this version, to help Ella learn to navigate life with this curse) realizes what’s going on and tells her to stop, so that Ella can give in to her own desires.
Even more chilling is the way the curse controls Ella’s very thoughts and feelings. Both Ella and the reader are first introduced to Ella’s future evil stepmother as Dame Olga. But when Olga marries Ella’s father, she attempts to ingratiate herself with the family by insisting Ella call her Mum Olga. For the remainder of the story, even the narration refers to her as such. After all, the book is written in Ella’s voice, and her thoughts are not truly her own. When Ella encounters Lucinda for the first time since the fairy bestowed her curse, she attempts to convince Lucinda to remove it. But the stubbornly dense fairy instead instructs Ella to find joy in her obedience. Ella barely registers her own horror at the order before it takes effect—and her feelings completely change. It takes Mandy telling Ella to feel however she wants about the curse for Ella to regain control of her own emotions.
Exercising our will means having the power to decide for ourselves what is most important and take steps to pursue it.
Understandably resentful of being ordered about, clever, sardonic Ella develops a game as she grows up—one of technical obedience. She’ll do exactly as ordered—but not in the way her commander intended. When Mandy tells Ella to hold the bowl for her while she stirs the batter, Ella does (of course), but she walks around the kitchen, so that Mandy must chase after her with the spoon. When Hattie, an evil stepsister, flaunts her control of Ella by telling her to pick up a stray dust-bunny, Ella does—and immediately grinds it into the other girl’s face. She masters the art of following the letter of the order, but not the spirit, throwing the difference between the two into stark contrast. Ella does as she’s told, but somehow still manages to be disobedient.
If we look closer, we see this throughout the book. Like any fairy tale setting, the kingdom where Ella and her family live is filled with fantastical things and non-human characters, from the tree-dwelling elves with whom her father trades to ogres who roam the wilderness seeking to capture and eat other creatures—humans included. The ogres can compel victims to lay down their arms and walk calmly into the ogres’ clutches by adopting a particular tone of voice that allows them to convince listeners of things blatantly untrue; like Ella, the listeners will bend to the ogres’ every whim, even though they know they shouldn’t. But this, too, is more a form of brainwashing or hypnosis than true obedience.
The differentiating factor is intent. Exercising our will means having the power to decide for ourselves what is most important and take steps to pursue it. True obedience isn’t simply compliance; it requires that we freely submit our will to that of another. We must decide that we agree with what someone proposes as the best course of action and choose to bring it about. In the Christian tradition, obedience is highly valued, but free will is paramount. God doesn’t force us to do what he knows is best. We have choices. Rather than mindlessly following rules, we strive to align our will and actions with God’s will for us and his creation. We aren’t just trying to do what He wants; we’re trying to want what He wants.
Significantly, what God wants is always for our good. In fact, the highest good we could achieve is the one he envisions for us. Intention matters both ways. If an order is given for a selfish or cruel purpose, it is not worthy of obedience. When Ella complies with the letter of a command to circumvent Hattie’s attempts to torment, humiliate, or take advantage of her, the disobedience is not a vice. Obedience is a Christian virtue because God’s vision for creation is to its ultimate good, and his commands are given out of love and for our flourishing. We do his will best when we love him in return and trust him enough to submit our will to his.
Ella’s first act of free will isn’t even subject to her own desire—it is a pure expression of what she deems the best course of action.
In the end, it is love that empowers Ella to break the curse. Throughout the story, she resists little commands, and fights to hold out against bigger—and sometimes terrible—orders. For instance, Ella tries to defy an order to end her friendship with another girl. But her grief and dread over hurting her friend and suffering the impending loss of the relationship are not enough to overcome the curse. At another point, Ella rescues a small gnome child from the clutches of an ogre. The ogre promptly commands Ella to bring the child to him—no special tone of voice required. Following this order means handing a child over to die. It still isn’t enough.
Levine could have had Ella finally succeed in breaking her curse by refusing to do the unthinkable: the worst order she’s ever been given—kill Mandy; betray her beloved. Instead, Levine presents a different dilemma. The final command comes from the man Ella loves, Prince Char: “Marry me.” Ella has lived with the curse too long not to understand the danger she would bring to Char and the kingdom by becoming his wife. She fears orders to assassinate him, to hand over secrets to an enemy, to be used by greedy nobles like her own stepfamily to their social and political advantage. As Char’s queen, Ella would be a powerful and helpless pawn in the hands of anyone paying enough attention to discover her enchanted obedience.
But despite her fears, Ella wants to marry Char—badly. She loves him. So, when Char orders her to marry him, not realizing he’s phrased it as a command, Ella goes to war with herself. “I had to obey—wanted to obey—hated to harm him—wanted to marry him… I began to rock in my chair. Forward the words were about to come. Back, I reeled them in. Faster and faster. The legs of the chair thudded on the tiles and pounded in my ears. Marry him. I won’t. Marry him. I won’t.”
When Ella breaks the curse by finally saying no, she isn’t refusing to do some terrible thing she doesn’t want to do. She’s refusing to do something she wants to do more than anything, because she’s decided something else is more important than her own happiness. Ella’s first act of free will isn’t even subject to her own desire—it is a pure expression of what she deems the best course of action. Char’s command is accidental, and when Ella first tries to resist, he immediately walks it back. But Ella’s stepfamily, knowing her secret, increase the pressure. Olga’s instruction to “marry him, Ella” is pure selfishness. It is an order not worthy of obedience, and out of love for Char, Ella finds the strength to break her curse. Any act of obedience in the future will now be true—because they will spring from Ella’s willing submission to someone whose aims she trusts.
Sara Holston works on an interactive story game in San Francisco, CA.
Ella Enchanted was first published by HarperTrophy in 1997. It has recently been re-released by HarperCollins in a 25th anniversary edition, which you can purchase from the publisher here.
