Mother Goose and Uncle Charles Perrault

Writer’s Note: Charles Perrault’s stories contain mature themes, specifically: violence against women and girls, sexual violence, xenophobia, cannibalism, and negative depictions of poverty. 

If you wish to read his fables, discretion is advised. Many of the themes were glorified during Perrault’s lifetime, but are outdated now and are controversial in a modern context.
I do not take inspiration from these controversial themes.

Hud and Grampy

From the time that I learned how to read, I gravitated towards literature and the arts. At first, it was pictures and touch-and-feel books. Later, I read chapters and The Rainbow Magic series. Post Transitional-1st when my fine motor skills began to improve, forming letters and writing sentences became easier. After school, my maternal grandparents’ house was the place where my creativity truly shined. I spent several hours there every afternoon during the week when my parents were working. Stacks of computer paper, pencils, and a stapler were tools that I regularly used. Before I learned the basics of navigating a computer, I assembled my short stories by hand.

My creative process started with the details, building the story arc without even realizing it. Next, I added the visual elements, imagery that featured characters from my own imagination. Not only did I recognize that language was important, but I knew that readability was fundamental. One side of my story was in English, and the other was in Spanish that I inaccurately gleaned from Google Translate. My grandparents fostered my interests, allowing me to have mock-storytime sessions in their living room. It didn’t matter how much it made sense, it only mattered that I tried. They resisted providing negative feedback, only giving me constructive criticism when necessary. Once I learned how to draft the pages on a computer, my grandfather simply reminded me to not use too much computer paper and printer ink — with my literary collection. 

Grandmother Hud loved to read, and I enjoyed asking her questions about the dusty books on the bookshelf (including outdated encyclopedias.)  I loved our frequent trips to the library during the summer when I had more time with my grandparents. My favorite genre to check out was fiction, especially the American Girls collection series by Valerie Tripp & Connie Rose Porter. 

Outside of the library, my grandparents’ shelf mesmerized me with all of the colors, artwork, genres, and variety of authors. However, some items on the shelves were untouchable, fragile; very personal to my grandfather. Sometimes, I tried to quickly glance at a blue book with a yellow typeface: Perrault’s Fairy Tales, with thirty-four full-page illustrations by Gustave Doré. 

For the longest period of my life, I believed that my storytelling came from my grandfather, Grampy. He was a storyteller in his own right, usually repeating tales that he had picked up during his lifetime. He adored sharing how people in the past used to tell tales by word-of-mouth before it was typical to write stories down. His words enticed me, and he knew exactly how to draw readers in.

I was a naturally curious child who wondered about our family history, about the origin of things. Where did the name Perrault come from? Who was the first person to have the namesake? Soon, this would be revealed to me. 

When I was seven or eight, Grampy noticed how I attempted to flip through his prized possession when I thought he wasn’t looking. He grabbed it off of the shelf, while telling me the significance of it. Grampy described as if it was a trivia show,  “See this book? Did you know that you’re related to Charles Perrault, the author of this? My dad was a Perrault.” I stared at him with amazement, thinking of how lucky I was to be related to someone like that.  

He continued, “This book has been passed down in our family for generations. It was given to me when I was your age, and it’s my turn to pass it down to you.” It felt like a magical fairytale, unfathomable to my undeveloped mind. Grampy embellished some of it and fabricated the history of the supposed family heirloom, which in reality was published in 1969. I think he wanted me to have an even greater purpose for writing, because he believed in me when I often stood out to others.

After this a-ha moment, I reflected on what it meant for my future. In my early childhood, I constantly switched my potential career goals, going from a veterinarian, a pop star, a ballerina, a nail technician, and an author. I believe that the creative industry is the best field, based on my skills, interests, and literal heritage. 

Charles Perrault was a well-known author who began his career (as an advisor and architect) through serving on the Acadèmie Française, and later, helping Louis XIV design part of the Palace of Versailles.  In the 1690s, he continued writing, and released his book, “Tales and Stories of the Past With Morals.” 

A version of Charles Perrault’s fairytales:

Transcription of “Hush-a-by baby”

Hush-a-by baby On the tree top,
When the wind blows  the cradle will rock;
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,
Down tumbles baby, Cradle and all.

This may serve as a warning to the proud and ambitious, who climb so high that they generally fall at last. 

He is best known for: “The Tales of Mother Goose,” the modern version of “Cinderella,” “Sleeping Beauty,” “Puss in Boots,” “Little Red Riding Hood,” “Bluebeard,” “Little Tom Thumb.” 

A version of Charles Perrault’s fairytales

How could I be related to Charles and not find out until now? I pondered on all of life’s possibilities. Everything suddenly made sense: how my brain was wired, how language, reading, and writing came easy to me; why I felt a deep desire to create literature. Writing is in my blood. In my veins, it’s in my DNA. My creativity originates from a man I never met. We are generations apart, yet we share the same passion and admiration.

I told myself that day that when I grew up, I wanted to become an author like Charles Perrault. I would work towards becoming famous, a household name. Whenever I feel like my chance of getting into the industry is dwindling away, I remind myself of what keeps me going. What makes me believe in myself. That answer is always the revelation that I had on what began as an ordinary afternoon. 

My life changed that day, and it was all I could think about for the rest of the week. Last year in 2025, I started the painstaking genealogical process of figuring out exactly how we are related. Charles is my tenth great-granduncle. Not only do I trace my love for writing back to him, but the commonalities and family history are connected through physical traits, such as how Grampy strongly resembled Charles Perrault.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t notice any major similarities between Charles, and Grampy,  and me. The only physical trait that we share is that one side of my nose appears higher and slightly elongated from the right side profile, possibly resembling his nasal bridge. 

Genetics can be tricky, especially when my maternal and paternal genetics frequently clash. I do not resemble Charles, but we are relatives. 

Even though I was a child when I had my first eureka moment, it sits with me, and courses through my body. Time has passed and Hud and Grampy are no longer living, but we will always be intertwined. I will permanently be related to Charles Perrault and my grandparents, no matter what. It’s a constant bond that will never fade away.