If there’s one thing that would make monkeys better, it’s wings. They’ve got expressive faces; they’ve got opposable thumbs; they’ve even got most excellent tails. All they need to be the best ever animal is flying.
Of course L. Frank Baum realized this early on in his life.
One of my favorite parts of The Wizard of Oz is the flying monkeys. Quick recap, in case you’re one of the people who hasn’t re-read Baum in a while: Oz has a tribe of flying monkeys. They belong to the Wicked Witch of the West, because she has the Golden Cap that allows her to give them orders (because of complicated backstory involving former rulers of Oz and disputes about bathing). Eventually Glinda gets the cap, and good (read: altruistic) witch that she is, she gives it to the monkeys.
The monkeys don’t really appear again in The Land of Oz, and their eventual fate was never very clear. After generations of being at the beck and call of humans, living in castles and befriending people, would you want to go back to the forest? Sure, the simple life sounds great, but after a few months living in treehouses and having nothing to entertain you except food and possibly sex (Oz’s stance on its inhabitants being sexually active is, as ever, murky), wouldn’t you want something else to entertain you? Possibly a war, or even a good book?
Unfortunately, Oz doesn’t provide much for career advancement unless you’re a girl from Kansas and want to become a councilor to the princess. (Other non-Oz creatures are also supplied with this opportunity, but only if they are beings such as chickens, daughters of rainbows, or glass cats. Monkeys don’t rate such an august company.)
In Oz, you can be a farmer.
With the invention of the education pill (thanks, Professor Wogglebug), children bypass the whole learning process—apparently Baum wasn’t a fan of the schoolroom. So academia—and all other professions of the mind—are off-limits to the denizens of Oz; the bucolic happiness seems to preclude any need for mental exertion. Or trains.
Whither our flying monkeys, then? I feel that the life of the farmer is not for them.
Maybe they can become an aerial acrobatic troupe. Or alternatively, cartographers.
Gina Gagliano thought she read The Wizard of Oz as a child, but it turned out to be all a dream.
Mari Ness would know, or have an inkling of an idea for she has read all the OZ books from front to back and every chapter inbetween.
I personally think they became great sky pirates living in cloud castles and boarding the errant dirigible that lumbered into their skyway.
Having been under the thumb of the Witch of the West they would show some kindness to their prisoners since they would remember their own captivity.
After grabbing a few baubles and some food and they would wing away into the sky of to create another adventure for the thrill seeking people who pilot great air ships into the uncharted regions of the wide blue yonder of OZ.
I say this because OZ is a land where food and jewels seem to fall out of trees and are so plentiful that the loss of such can be remedied quickly. Adventure seems to be the true commodity of OZ. To find one, to share one, to create one for others. What better company of creatures to create the thrills of the unknown than flying monkeys?
It’s a good question, and one I have to admit I’ve never considered. They could have come in handy in several future adventures — I’m thinking particularly of Ozma and her retinue needing to get across the desert to Ev in the third book to rescue Dorothy.
At any rate, I do know they terrified my son when he was four years old. Just hearing about them, mind you; we didn’t show him the MGM movie for several years. Reading The Wonderful Wizard was a bonding ritual between us, and he called it his favorite story. But when the time came to take him to a children’s puppet theater production of the tale, he threw one of the worst tantrums of his life in the lobby because he was suddenly convinced the Winged Monkeys would scare him. (Turns out, they didn’t. But it sure looked like we were going to have to leave the theater there for a while!)
L. Frank Baum abandoned many parts of the Oz he created in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, including, alas, the Flying Monkeys. In his defense, I don’t think that anyone, before the 1939 film, thought that they would become popular or iconic, and this was hardly the only inconsistency or forgotten character in the Baum books.
The next Royal Historians of Oz followed his example, and left the Flying Monkeys alone, even Thompson, with her need to explain some of the more inexplicable parts of Oz history, and Jack Snow, with his need to offer a cameo appearance to virtually every Baum character, however minor. But not the Flying Monkeys.
But that does not mean that the Flying Monkeys have been completely forgotten about – they do make appearances in some of the many, many, many non canonical Oz books floating around, with at least one Oz writer writing a book about them (which I haven’t read). And I suspect they will be making a reappearance in the upcoming films based on Oz.
And I have a slightly different theory. So many of the strange and marvelous people encountered in Oz express the desire to be left alone to lead their own lives, thank you very much. Why wouldn’t the Flying Monkeys, after years of servitude to a Wicked Witch, feel the same way? Perhaps they have seized a small portion of the wild Gillikin Country, venturing out every once in awhile on their great wings to see what the rest of the country is like, before heading back to rest in their great trees and drink sweet Monkey Coladas and have occasional fights with talking bananas. It works for me.
Oo, Mari’s idea is sweet, but I am a huge fan of Longtimefan’s elaboration of the Oz economy and the place of flying monkeys therein.
@3 Maricats — Thanks for the info about the later Royal Historians. I have to confess, I’ve never felt compelled to read beyond Baum’s 14 (13-1/2?) titles. And, of course: expecting Baum’s Oz to meet modern standards of “canon” and “continuity” is a fruitless exercise. Or perhaps fruitful in other directions — I, for one, am excited about “Oz: The Great and Terrible” as an exploration of Oscar Diggs’ backstory. I have always been fascinated by the very dark backstory assigned to the Wizard in “Marvelous Land of Oz,” and wish it had not been forgotten completely when he returned in “Dorothy and the Wizard.” (Then again, that said, I think I’m one of the few folks on the planet who didn’t enjoy Maguire’s Wicked — haven’t seen the musical — so maybe it’s for the best!)
@MikePoteet – I chatted about both Maguire’s Wicked and the musical on this blog (you can click on the “oz” tag to see them if you wish), but to sum up, I admired but did not love the book, and had some very serious issues with the musical.
Baum could certainly have tried to make his Oz books consistent, but this clearly wasn’t of any importance to him, especially since most of the later books were written solely for cash and to satisfy reader demands for “more about Dorothy,” even as he wanted to focus on other, non-Oz books, and making films. When I was a kid, I just figured that inconsistencies happen in fairylands because, well, it’s a fairyland. It doesn’t have to make sense.
@MariCats — Maybe we need a “Crisis in Infinite Ozes” (“Ozzi”?) to clear everything up. :-)