They did not live happily ever after. Researchers from the University of Twente, the Netherlands, have put a damper on the magical world of fairy tales with their study that highlights the health hazards that could have afflicted Disney princesses. They have found, for instance, that had Aurora from Sleeping Beauty really slept for 100 years, she would have faced the risk of obesity, bed sores, muscle atrophy and cardiovascular diseases, among other health challenges. How, then, would the prince have reacted to an obese, weak-hearted princess? Would he have woken her up with the kiss of true love or just found himself another partner? Cinderella, to cite another example, may have had chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder from sweeping the dusty scullery and chimney. Worse, her fairy godmother sprinkling glitter — it is made of microplastics — on her would have aggravated her COPD. No amount of Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo would have fixed that; she would have eventually needed a lung transplant. There is more. Belle from Beauty and the Beast could have contracted zoonotic diseases from the Beast and set off another pandemic, not to mention her sufferings from post-traumatic stress disorder after being abducted and held captive while Snow White and Jasmine would have been crippled by social anxiety and depression on account of their isolation from society.

By framing fairy tale characters through the lens of health concerns, the research, rigorous but light-hearted, adds layers of depth to their experiences, making them more complex and emotionally resonant, prompting a deeper connection between the readers and these protagonists. While the latter’s problems may seem relatable and may even serve to humanise these fictive beings, once the blot of reality touches the magically perfect world of fiction, other skeletons are bound to tumble out of the cupboard. There is, for instance, the question of consent. Both Aurora and Snow White are kissed by strangers while they are either asleep or presumed dead and have no way of consenting to such an advance. In reality, Belle might have had a touch of Stockholm Syndrome given that she fell in love with her captor; Cinderella’s fear of independence — there was nothing stopping her from leaving her stepmother and stepsisters but she awaits the prince to come and rescue her and then becomes his dependent — might have been off-putting for a real world shorn of fairy godmothers.

There is an attendant question that must not go unaddressed. Does science undermine the wondrous that is integral to tall tales? When scientific analysis is applied to fictional characters and their fantastical worlds, it forces a practical lens, taking some of the sheen off stories that thrive on imagination and the suspension of reason. This also exposes the cold heart of rationality as opposed to literature’s warm embrace. After all, the fairy who had cast a spell on Aurora may have endowed her slumber with protective qualities that kept her body in an ideal state, free from the ravages of time and decay. In a world sans such fairy-tale fates, little wonder then that fairy tales have remained humanity’s reliable survival kit.