Rereading this book, I was struck for the first time by how short it is. Maybe that's a side effect of having it in a single large volume with all the others and expecting it to go longer, or of being able to read more quickly than I could as a youngster, but I got through it in a very short time. It is a mark of how tight Lewis' prose is that so much depth of feeling and imagery can be expressed in such a short space of words.
Here is the blog post to which this one will be responding, and I invite you to read it before you go on to the rest of mine. I'll be commenting on her comments in order.
Yes, Narnia is small. This will come up again in later books, especially in relation to Calormen. Narnia and Archenland are seen as "small, free" countries on the skirts of a huge empire. Narnia's influence expands under Caspian to include the tributary giants in the North and several islands in the Eastern Sea, but the land itself is indeed tiny. This may be another medieval callback, to the times when little kingdoms had not yet made large alliances or been conquered and forcefully unified into countries. And yes, the Pevensies' "complete amnesia" about the lamp-post is confusing, especially since we see in Prince Caspian that Lantern Waste has become a sacred site, famous in legend as the place the four appeared and vanished, so obviously someone remembered. (Tumnus?) However, this along with other inconsistencies can perhaps be explained in terms of the planetary theme of the book: Jove or Jupiter. This might be a good time to get into it.
The Jupiter chapter of Michael Ward's book Planet Narnia delves much more deeply into LWW than I have time or space to do. (Space. Get it? Ha ha.) But simply put, the entire theme of the book is kingship or royalty. Jupiter was the king of the gods in ancient mythology, and in medieval astrology, he (or the planet) made people "jovial", that is, magnanimous and merry. Lewis uses the entire atmosphere of LWW to demonstrate how royalty should and shouldn't be. Thus, we have Aslan as the King of the Wood, the King of Beasts, the true King, as opposed to the Witch who self-styles herself the Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, etc.
Kings, on Lewis' view, are given authority; they don't take it. In Aslan's case, his authority comes from his father, the Emperor-over-the-sea (apparently Narnia's name for God). He later bestows it on Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. The Witch, by contrast, is a usurper, refusing to keep her rightful role as "the Emperor's hangman" (as Mr. Beaver calls her) and keeping all Narnia "under her thumb" (as Tumnus says). The Witch also offers Edmund a share in her counterfeit royalty, on the condition that he betray his family. More on that later. Kings also sacrifice for their subjects, as seen in Aslan's self-giving for Edmund. In other books, Lewis expands on this concept with kings being "first in every desperate charge and last in every desperate retreat" (King Lune, HHB), as seen here in Peter's attack of the Wolf to rescue Susan. Edmund later demonstrates this self-sacrificial courage in the battle, fighting his way to the Witch and destroying her wand, becoming "terribly wounded" but giving his army "some chance" to defeat her.
Under the reign of a good king and/or queen, a country can have peace, prosperity, and freedom. This is another aspect of Jupiter's influence, where royal authority is not an end in itself, but a means to give joy to the people ruled. Before the Witch took over, there was "jollification" in Narnia, as Tumnus describes to Lucy; and when her magic begins to weaken, the first signs are joyful celebrations of Christmas. Of which, again, more later. The Witch condemns the parties as "gluttony", "waste", and "self-indulgence", but under the thin veneer of moral outrage lies terror. Merry-making is one thing she can't control, being incapable of joy herself.
And now, to respond to the problems brought up: As Ward points out, the children gradually become more royal as they rule Narnia. Their behaviors and dress, even their patterns of speech, change into what we would expect of kings and queens. This is probably (thematically) why they forget about their previous lives in our world, where kings are figureheads and Prime Ministers wage war.
The next objection is simple enough to answer. The witch knew nothing about the wardrobe before Edmund told her, but after talking with him for a while, she might have been able to deduce its general direction from his ramblings. Or perhaps she had some magical scrying power that allowed her to find the door once she knew there was one.
Mr. Beaver does say there had never been any humans in Narnia before, but we know from The Magician's Nephew that Narnia began with a human king, and there seem to be several human countries around Narnia, including Archenland, Telmar, Calormen, and the Lone Islands. How to reconcile this? I take Mr. Beaver's statement as hyperbole. One can easily see how the Witch's reign would make Narnia an unpopular place for the neighboring humans to visit, and she would tightly control the spread of information. Narnia under the Witch would be isolated from its neighbors, and the line of King Frank and Queen Helen had apparently died out, so there would have been no humans in Narnia for the duration of her hundred-year reign; long enough for people like Tumnus to have no idea what humans were like. Note that Mr. Beaver also states that the Witch would like her subjects to think she herself is human, because on that rests her claim to royalty. As Trufflehunter points out in Prince Caspian, Narnia is "not Man's country...but it's a country for a man to be King of." ("Man," of course, being used in the generic sense of "human.") This ties in with Lewis' view (and the medieval view) that humanity is the highest order of being in the natural world, with authority over the rest; royalty, if you will.
The celebration of Christmas is "decidedly odd" if you take Narnia at face value. Are they celebrating the birth of Aslan as a lion cub? If so, why wouldn't they call it "Aslan-mas"? And they still have the human(-ish) character of Father Christmas, in his fur-trimmed red robe, handing out presents; a very European and Christian tradition. This is where we look back at the bigger picture. Those born under Jupiter were apt to be red of face, loud of voice, and cheerful, like Father Christmas. Also, Christmas is the very expression of what is happening in Narnia: a coming savior, hope renewed, joy and triumph. And this is very much part of the Jovial aesthetic as well. Lewis was fed up with his generation's "Saturnocentric" view of the universe, that to be serious or realistic, one had to be depressed, ascetic, and pessimistic. He believed that the true theme of creation was joy, triumph, "festal pomp", trumpets and banners and gold and wine and all the accompaniments of celebration. But when you're young, you don't really get those things except at Christmastime. So Father Christmas, and the gifts and feasts he brings, represent all of that in a way easy for children to understand.
"How do you handle returning to childhood after years as an adult?" That is a very good question, and one that Lewis does not address in the books. But stepping back, I might have the beginnings of an answer. For starters, haven't many of us adults wished for a chance to go back and experience the wonder and irresponsibility of childhood again? I wonder if the Pevensies, instead of mourning for their lost adulthood, welcomed their return to youth as an adding of years onto their lives and a chance to do life over again, only with more experience. The other issue that Ms. Ness brings up, that of submission to adult authority by those who had been adults, is mitigated when we remember that even in Cair Paravel, the Kings and Queens' authority was derivative. They were subject to Aslan, the Great King, and to the Emperor-beyond-the-sea. Trading that for the authority of parents, teachers, and British law might have required significant adjustment, but authority in general wouldn't have been too much of a problem. And the Professor (remember, this is Digory Kirke, who had been in Narnia before) might have advised them much further on post-Narnia life than he is shown doing in the book. We know from The Last Battle that the "Friends of Narnia" all knew each other and got together often.
The punishment demanded for Edmund, and taken by Aslan, seems "overkill" to Ms. Ness. Edmund's actions might not seem so bad to us, who see him as just a bratty kid; and, as she rightly points out, the Witch had him under her spell. But consider his behavior through the lens of kingship. Kings are loyal to their subjects, and lower kings to their sovereign kings (derivative authority again). Instead, Edmund chafes at Peter's authority (which Peter admits he used with too much anger), betrays Lucy's trust, and determines in his plans for kingship to make laws against beavers and dams (after all the Beavers did was take him in out of the cold and give him supper!). Even before meeting the Witch, Edmund is seen as being at odds with the rest of his family. He's grouchy, tells off Susan for telling him to go to bed, and treats Lucy just plain mean. Then comes the enchanted Turkish Delight.
It's hard to tell exactly how much the enchantment impairs Edmund's decision-making faculties. At first, of course, it makes him forget how much he was scared of the Witch and that he really shouldn't be talking so freely to a stranger. But at the end of the conversation, the Witch seemingly knows enough about him to play on his desire to show up his siblings by offering him the chance to be her Prince, and later, the King of Narnia. Imagine a discontented prince, unhappy with the way his older brother (the king) runs things, meeting a stranger at a bar who gets him drunk and loosens his tongue. Or, to make the analogy even closer, the prince meets a stranger who gets him hooked on drugs and listens sympathetically to his family grievances. Even when the prince later finds out that this stranger was his nation's archenemy who would stop at nothing to depose or even destroy his family, he still goes back to them, hoping for more drugs and for status in the new regime. Addiction or not, that's still treason and would be punished accordingly.
I can't help but wonder how the situation would have been different had Peter or Susan come through and met the Witch. Would the Witch have had to play on different motivations? Perhaps she would have cemented more firmly in their minds that Lucy was insane and needed help. But they would have been motivated by care for their family, not hatred for them. And afterwards, when Lucy revealed that the woman with the sleigh was actually the villain of the piece, would they have held back, as Edmund did, for fear of being found out? His internal reasoning reveals that "he felt sure the others would all be on the side of the Fauns and the animals; but he was already more than half on the side of the Witch." That's really what the whole deal is: which side people take. In many places, Lewis talks about his belief that the world is not just one cosmic whole, but a cosmic duel, sharply divided between the forces of good and evil. Good is stronger, in his view, but evil is very much present, and no one can remain neutral. Under the Deep Magic of Narnia, those who show themselves enemies of Good are turned over to Evil in the form of the Witch. And we see how the Witch treats her friends: after Edmund has done the best he could for her, she snaps at him, gives him dry bread and water, forces him to march through the melting snow, and tries to kill him. Truly, the "fortunate favorite of the Queen" is "not so fortunate." And so, just as Jesus did, Aslan sacrifices himself so that his enemies can be freed from the power of evil and join his side.
On the "Problem of Susan" that is brought up here, I won't say much (as Ms. Ness doesn't, either), except to note that in each book in which she appears, Susan is usually portrayed as not being receptive to the planetary influence of that story. Here, she is the least willing to do the royal thing and take risks, as seen, for example, in her reluctant consent to helping Tumnus ("I've a horrid feeling that Lu is right") and her desire to turn around at the lamp-post in the end. In regard to loyalty, of course, she's true to her siblings and to Aslan; but tellingly, she is the one to suggest that Aslan work against the Emperor's Deep Magic, which would be treason against his own greater authority. Susan is most concerned about what's "safe" and is often paralyzed with fear; not the best qualities for a queen to have. And this anti-Narnian tendency will only grow in later books until it culminates in her leaving Narnia behind completely.
"Other quibbles": can you imagine trying to write, in a children's fantasy novel, a conversation between the Christ-figure and a repentant Judas-figure? Ufda. Heavy stuff, and it probably would have bogged down the story, which is more concerned with royalty's actions than their words. When Aslan speaks with Lucy, he's a general issuing marching orders under Mars; with Shasta, the whole story is about language under Mercury, so it is very appropriate that we witness the whole speech. On animals waiting for humans to rescue them, see above about humans on the throne; also, it wasn't just the humans they were waiting for, but Aslan, the King of Beasts. "Battles are ugly when women fight"; this is a tough one for me, too, especially since in HHB Lucy is shown as regularly riding into battle, and in LB Jill is one of Tirian's best troops. This may be evidence of a change of mind on Lewis' part, but I don't know for certain what he meant by it in the first place.
On being "too old" for fairy tales and eventually old enough to read them again: this is a theme in some of Lewis' other work, particularly certain essays on literature. There is a time during which the growing adolescent spurns all children's tastes, including works of "children's literature", in order to act and seem more grown-up. But the adult, secure in adulthood, can go back and read those "children's books" without shame and find great enjoyment, sometimes greater than they had as children because their understanding has grown. This was Lewis' experience, as well as one of his characters in That Hideous Strength, Mark Studdock. The Lucy in question was probably entering adolescence, unlikely to be seen reading a fairy tale. One hopes that she put aside her qualms and read her godfather's book anyway, because it speaks to people of any age.
This is where we diverge. As a Christian, I can hardly help discussing the Christian qualities of the book. Some have been mentioned above, but I will now briefly explore how Aslan, and Christ, are kingly.
Of course, the most obvious similarity is the sacrifice. But here, many of us probably feel uncomfortable. We know Jesus died for us; but in the story, Aslan died only for Edmund. (Or so it seems.) If Aslan is the Jesus figure, then who are we in Narnia? We're Edmund. Apart from Christ, every one of us is Edmund, a selfish, treacherous, spiteful person under the enchantment of evil and choosing to go deeper into it every day. Every one of us deserves death. And He took it in our place. Sit back and think about that for a moment. Every time you were mean or cruel, every time you lied or let someone down, every time you furthered your own advancement at someone else's expense--if you are in Christ, each of those actions was laid on Him at the cross. This is the magnanimous mercy of our great King.
And then He rose again, and the New Testament exclaims that the old Law, the one we could never keep, was put to death with Him. The Stone Table cracked and Death itself started working backwards. Started, not finished; for Christ is the firstborn from among the dead, the firstfruits of the harvest that will come. When He returns, the dead in Christ shall rise first, and we shall all be changed. The last enemy that will be destroyed is Death. But I'm getting ahead of myself. We have six more books to go before that happens. For now, we are ruling and reigning with Christ in the heavenly realm, as the four Pevensies rule under Aslan. He brings joy, peace, and spiritual prosperity to His subjects, even in the here and now as we wait for the eternal peace of the new earth. Therefore we celebrate.
So, until next time, Merry Christmas, and Long live the true King!
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