At first glance, there might seem to be little that is queer about Charles Perrault's La Belle au bois dormant, or Sleeping Beauty. There is seemingly nothing in broadest arc of tale that deviates from norms of gender or sexuality: a story about a princess who falls prey to a fairy's spell and a charming prince who awakens her and overcomes adversity to ensure requisite happy ending (with two children in tow) has all makings of a classically normative heterosexual fairy-tale plot. This admittedly reductive summary, which corresponds to what many recognize as Sleeping Beauty tale (whether or not they attribute it to Perrault), gives nary a hint of even a more capacious understanding of queer, beyond domains of gender and sexuality. We might think, for instance, of definition proposed by Lee Edelman, for whom word queer denotes the excess of something always unassimilable that troubles relentlessly totalizing impulse informing normativity (Dinshaw et al. 189). Judging from hostile reception by many feminists, spectacle of a passive princess waiting to be awakened by her prince is all too normative.1And yet, if we take trouble to look at letter and detail of Perrault's text, something altogether different comes into view, and that something, I argue, is queer. Saying this, I do not contend that this version of Sleeping Beauty is unproblematically queer (if indeed anything ever could be); as we will see and as others have shown, there are moments of undeniable misogyny in this and many of Perrault's fairy tales, and these cannot be explained away.2 Yet alongside and in tension with these moments are deviant desires and disruptions to heterosexual marriage plot. What at first glance appears to be a tale about inevitable triumph of heterosexuality turns out to invite a far more skeptical if not perverse view of ostensible love plot. Ultimately, my reading invites us to take a fresh look at commonplace assertion that Perrault's fairy tales establish a normative patriarchal discourse for genre. What 1 want to propose through this reading of inaugural tale of his 1697 prose collection, Histoires ou contes du temps passe (Stories or Tales of Past Times), is that Sleeping Beauty encourages readers to imagine another tale, unlike one cited by narrative voice, that is replete with queer potential.1 argue that queer potential of Sleeping Beauty stems from temporality, by which I mean specifically narrative uses of to both construct and undermine normative social plots of sexuality and kinship. Like Kay Turner in her essay in this special issue, 1 am inspired by considerable body of queer theoretical work on cultural understandings of and how it shores up and undermines normative social structures, in process giving form to subjects, their consciousness, and affects.3 As Elizabeth Freeman has put it, ... is not only of essence, it actually produces 'essences' (Introduction 160). Time is used to transform unequal power relations into natural bodily rhythms and to control access to positions of mastery within cultures. In short, what is commonly understood as normal is inextricably- and almost imperceptibly-bound up with hegemonic social relations. Freeman coins term chrononormativity to describe the use of to organize individual human bodies toward maximum productivity. . . . People are bound to one another, engrouped, made to feel coherently collective through particular orchestrations of time (Time Binds 3). Linked with chrononormativity is a notion Freeman borrows from Dana Luciano (channeling Foucault), chronobiopolitics: 'the sexual arrangement of of life' of entire populations (3).These two notions foreground a logic by which unfolds naturally through a series of cause-and-effect sequences to produce particular forms of personhood with foreordained roles to play in larger sociopolitical order. …
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