It's been a while, both since I posted my response about The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and since I reread Prince Caspian in preparation for this one. Blame the holidays and a bout of stomach flu that hit our house. Anyway, here we are now, ready to return to Narnia after a year/about a thousand years/whatever.
Here is the blog post on tor.com to which I will be responding, and again, you might want to read her comments before reading mine, since I'll be answering them without repeating them.
For this book, it would perhaps make more sense to describe the planetary character before we get into things. As LWW was a Jovial book, full of the character of the astrological Jupiter, Prince Caspian is a Martial book, built around the theme of Mars; or I should say, the themes of Mars, since there are two. Mars began as a god of vegetation, of growing things, especially trees. This is why the month of March was named after him, the only month to be named after a planet. It was only later that he became a god of war. Lewis considers him under both of these characters.
This tension between life and death, growing and destroying, may be one of the reasons the book is (as Lewis admitted) the weakest of the seven Chronicles. It was also probably difficult for him to portray the theme of war in a way that children could understand and even enjoy; a tall order for a sophomore effort. And any writer of a sequel, a series, or a television show faces the challenge of making a story connected to the established story but not the same. Lewis gets better at this as he goes along, but this story is his first attempt, and rather fails. "Things never happen the same way twice," Aslan tells Lucy; and yet, a lot of the same things happen in PC as in LWW. The Pevensies are all pulled into Narnia, which is under the reign of a tyrannical usurper. Lucy sees something that none of the others do, and is disbelieved until proven right. Everyone winds up at the Hill of the Stone Table. The boys and girls are split up, the girls staying with Aslan while the boys fight an important battle against the tyrant. Aslan and the girls bring in surprise reinforcements that turn the tide of the battle into a Narnian victory. A new ruler is crowned. The four Pevensies return to England, having left something of our world back in Narnia. The way all these things happen is different, of course, but the similar story structure can make those differences rather jarring.
Most differences have to do with the difference between Jupiter and Mars, that is, the difference between kingship and knighthood. For of course, Lewis the medieval man filtered war through the lens of knighthood, with all the chivalry and courtesy that came with it. Unfortunately, there are many, many similarities between a good king and a good knight. Peter demonstrates this at the single combat when he spares Miraz' life, and Edmund grumbles, "Comes of being a knight and a High King." Both aspects would motivate him to mercy.
So what is a good knight, according to Prince Caspian and the character of Mars? One major aspect is orderly obedience. Everyone has his place in the ranks and defends it to the best of his ability. The subordinates don't seek to subvert their leaders, and the leaders don't seek to abandon their responsibilities. Trumpkin is a prime example, as even when he disagrees with his superior officer, he'll still follow and obey him. Another important aspect is courage, which is defined not only as facing one's fears, but as doing what is right even when it's very hard. We see this in countless ways, portrayed by Caspian, the Pevensies, Trumpkin, Doctor Cornelius--pretty much all the good characters, Susan being the least receptive to the Martial spirit but catching on eventually. ("You have listened to fears, child....Are you braver now?" "A little, Aslan.") And just as the White Witch was the antithesis to Jovial joy, with her stoic and deadening winter, here the Telmarines are the antithesis to Martiality (if that's a word). Instead of faithfully keeping their places in the ranks, Glozelle and Sopespian scheme against Miraz, convincing him to join single combat through fear of being thought a coward, and eventually murdering him. Miraz himself is a usurper, coming to the throne through treachery and murder. He rules in a large part through fear, as Cornelius explains to Caspian about the Black Woods: The Telmarine kings fear the sea because Aslan comes over it, so they let the trees grow up to cut off the coast. "But because they have quarrelled with the trees, they are afraid of the woods" and imagine them full of ghosts, encouraging their people to believe the same, because they're also afraid of what might happen if the people started making friends with the trees, the sea, and all that they represent.
Now to the response. First of all, yes, the Telmarines don't like Miraz either, but again, their culture is full of treachery and fear. Caspian didn't just want to take his rightful place as king; he wanted to take it in the right way, turning his back on all that the Telmarine kings have done for many generations. That would indeed be considerably harder.
"[H]is route to the throne is not at all clear": this might be another instance of Lewis working in the aspects of Mars. In war, things are often unclear, and the only thing the soldier or the knight can do is make the best decision possible with the situation presented to him. Also, Caspian is still a very young prince, forced into this situation by necessity (another word that Lewis associated with Mars; see Planet Narnia, chapter four). He's not a very good commander yet, which is why he needs the aid of the more experienced kings Peter and Edmund, and of his great Commander-in-Chief, Aslan.
Bacchus, the Maenads, and Silenus. Those were always a weird part of the story to me, too. Michael Ward makes a brief connection in Planet Narnia with the month of March, during which, in ancient Rome, the Bacchanalia occurred after a festival in honor of Mars. This is a loose connection at best, and perhaps another weakness in the Chronicle, but the revelers are more sturdily rooted in the story (lol) by their association with plant life. They are quintessentially wild, like the untamed forest, and their function in the story is mainly to remove all the unnecessary/unwanted restrictions that the Telmarines have put in place: Beruna's Bridge (which the river-god calls "my chains"), a school where falsehood is taught, a man beating a boy, etc. They serve as a reminder that, although the Martial spirit is one of orderly obedience and hard necessity, those things are means rather than ends; means to abundant life, peace, friendship, and joy. (P.s.: Glozelle and Sopespian, as I said above, are not just there to help out the plot, or to save the children from being murderers, but to portray the general character of the bad guys as anti-Martial.)
Oh, yes. The next paragraph is one that I can hardly disagree with. The flashback method is confusing and makes it harder to totally immerse in the story. This may be one of the reasons for the book's poorer quality, and is probably connected with Lewis' desire to change things up a bit for the sequel.
No moral depth? On the contrary. Courage (as a few people have said) is not just one of the virtues, but is what is needed for any of the virtues to become strong. It's easy to have love, or gratitude, or self-control, or faith, when everything is going well for us. It's when things get hard, when the going gets tough, that we see how strong those virtues really are in us. The whole journey for Caspian and the other children (and Trumpkin, to some extent) is a lesson in courage, in doing the hard, necessary, right thing. Indeed, faith and disbelief may be studied almost the hardest here. The Last Battle is definitely the most in-depth journey of faith without sight, but Lucy's trial with her unseeing siblings is a great example to the Christian of the duty of witnessing even to the stubborn unbeliever, trusting that God will work through our obedience even if we don't see results right away. It takes courage for Lucy to "stick to her guns", and at first, she doesn't. It's something she has to learn. And the others change, too; the boys harden into warriors after the hard journey to Aslan's How, and Susan eventually admits how wrong she was and submits to Aslan's influence.
The worst consequence of disbelief is not just "a day's delay and exile to a tropical island". Those were the consequences meant to teach Aslan's children and to reward those who trusted his promises, respectively. How about the man who turned into a tree? The class full of boys who apparently turned into pigs? (Interestingly, it was apparently their fear that accomplished the latter transformation.) And think about the other two kinds of Telmarines who stayed in Narnia. Some were like Caspian and were glad that the Old Days had come again. They were on Aslan's side and probably became well-loved citizens of Narnia. But those who didn't like the new order of things, nor trust Aslan to give them a new country, must have been miserable the rest of their lives. Imagine a Nazi, or a member of the KKK, being forced to live in Africa. Caspian wouldn't have put up with them trying to assert their "rights" over his other subjects for a minute. Most of these probably ended up in prison or banished, or leaving the country voluntarily, as Pittencream does later in VDT.
On the subject of humans ruling the animals, see the previous post in this series, on kingship and the order of creation as Lewis saw it. Also, consider this: all or most of the animals we see have their own particular prejudices. The Bulgy Bears want to have dinner first and council afterwards; the squirrels want everyone to eat and talk at the same time; the mice want to storm Miraz' castle right away; the moles want to dig trenches all over the place; the fauns and satyrs want to start with a dance; later, in SC, the owls have all their meetings at night; etc. A Centaur might be a good choice for a ruler to tie all these disparate races together, but Narnian Centaurs have their own job of stargazing and prophecy. (Dwarfs tend to be racial supremacists, as in the case of Nikabrik and the Dwarfs of The Last Battle.) A human king, ruling under the guidance of the animal-yet-divine Aslan, can know what's best for all.
Trumpkin's doubt of the Pevensies' abilities is another way Lewis shows that he (Trumpkin, that is) is not quite in tune with Aslan's Martial influence. A soldier obeys his commanding officer, even if he doesn't think much of him. Trumpkin realizes this under Caspian, but has trouble accepting the authority of the four Kings and Queens from England. In part, this is because their authority comes from Aslan, in whom Trumpkin also disbelieves until proven wrong. His skepticism is another way the issue of faith is explored, and reminds me of the character of MacPhee in That Hideous Strength, whom the leader of the faithful company describes affectionately as "our skeptic" and the best man you could have on your side in a losing battle. His loyalty and faith are not easy to win, but nearly impossible to lose once gained. And when Trumpkin does believe in who the Pevensies are, he steps in and reminds them whenever they start to forget who they are in Narnia; their place in the ranks. Peter would rather not have to make a decision; "You are the High King," Trumpkin points out. If anyone has to make tough choices, it's the leader. Susan obstreperously declines to follow Aslan in the middle of the night, even when everyone else is doing so; "Obey the High King, your Majesty," says Trumpkin, "and let's be off." Trumpkin doesn't believe it, either, but he knows the difference between giving advice and taking orders, which shows how he's somewhat receptive to Aslan even before coming to faith.
Susan, as I have said, is the least receptive to the Martial influence in this book. Because of the theme of facing hardship hardily, the result is that Susan is quite the "wet-blanket", complaining more than anyone else and refusing to obey her older brother/High King or Lucy's vision of Aslan. She's not completely useless, as she takes the initiative to rescue Trumpkin at the beginning of the story and uses her shooting skills to prove her identity as Queen. We're told that archery and swimming are the things she's good at. But talent alone is not enough. Being on Aslan's side is about commitment and loyalty, even when things don't go smoothly, and Susan apparently can't handle that. Is this one reason she turns her back on Narnia in LB? Maybe.
Nobody seems to learn anything in this book? Really? See the above paragraph on "moral depth". I would say all four Pevensies learn a great deal about holding onto faith and making the right choice when it's hardest. Maybe it's not as clear as it should be (another result of the confusing story structure?), but studying Prince Caspian under the character of Mars made it very clear to me. (No comment on the shortness of the trip, except to note that when peace has come, the knights can return home, unlike kings whose jobs are never over.)
On the subject of Peter and Susan leaving Narnia, it's impossible to say much from this book because it doesn't say much about it (another case of obeying orders even when they're difficult to understand). We get much better closure in VDT when Aslan speaks to Edmund and Lucy about not coming back. There, Aslan explains that as they get older, they "must begin to come close to [their] own world" and that the reason they were brought to Narnia was to know him better here. I'll talk more about this in the next post, of course, dealing with the book it appears in; but for now, let me just note that Aslan/Christ is the creator of both of these worlds, and He would have put the Pevensies in this world for a purpose, just as He had a purpose in sending them to Narnia temporarily. We're not told much about what Peter and Susan (nor Edmund and Lucy) began to do in our world once their adventures in Narnia ended, but if they began to follow Jesus with the same commitment they had to Aslan, one can see how that would have been life-changing. Unfortunately, it seems Susan didn't, as far as we know. But anything might have happened after the events of LB, which I will address in their proper place. They will have a lot to do with this "too old for fairy tales" concept that keeps coming up.
And now to get specifically Christian. What is Christian about war? you may ask. Much, the Bible answers. Its pages are full of physical and spiritual battles, in which many a true believer must take part as his (or her) duty. Several of these battles, like that of Prince Caspian, are wars of deliverance against wicked tyrants. In no place is this truer than in the Christian's spiritual warfare against the forces of darkness. Satan has taken over this world, and our job is to "resist him, steadfast in the faith", as Caspian and his ragtag band continue to resist Miraz even in the worst of circumstances. However, in the current stage of our warfare, our struggle is not with flesh and blood (as, for example, the Israelites against the Philistines) but against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, the weapons of our warfare are not physical, but spiritual, and are listed famously in Ephesians 6. And one of the main ways we defeat our spiritual enemy is simply by being faithful through hard times, like the persecuted saints in Revelation who overcame "by the blood of the Lamb, by the word of their testimony, and because they did not love their lives to the death." This is what we call martyrdom, and it doesn't always have to involve literal physical death. A martyr is literally a witness, and witnesses to the truth no matter how others respond. Dante, in the Paradiso, puts martyrs in the sphere of Mars, possibly for other reasons, but it might be that he understood witness as warfare. And Lewis in many places expressed strongly his views on the uneven dualism of the universe. He believed no one could remain neutral; all of life is choosing between one side and the other, and then fighting for that side, whether you know it or not.
Where does Aslan, or Christ, fit into all of this? Not only is He the Commander-in-Chief of our forces, but He is also the brave knight who has already won the decisive victory and directs all things to His ultimate conquest, which will bring peace throughout the world. We fight because we have assurance in Him that the war will someday be over, and He and His will be victorious. Our circumstances, however difficult, cannot change that. Let the enemy trick us, hurt us, torture us, and even kill us; if we are on the Winner's side, we have already won. We are "more than conquerors" through Him. Not only does His victory motivate us, but it enables us to do our part and fight our personal battles faithfully. That armor listed in Ephesians 6? It's the armor of God. He's the source of our strength and courage. He is also our example of fighting technique, and the Old and New Testaments are full of exhortations to be like the God who has rescued us from the enemy and made us His people. It's a tall order, but He is always with us to help us, even when it may not seem like it.
There is so much in these books, especially when you start delving into the planetary themes and Christian meanings. It is very impressive, at least to me, that Lewis was able to communicate so much in such simple language, that a child can understand it, but an adult will understand it much more. That's why these posts are going to be very long. That, and I'm just a long-winded person. :)
Whew! See you next time, on a voyage to the sun!
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Planet Narnia, A Responsive Reread: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
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!
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!
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Planet Narnia, A Responsive Reread: Introduction
As most of you who read this blog probably know, I am not only a Gondorian, but a Narnian. How Narnian? I named my firstborn son Corin after the fighting prince of Archenland. And further than that, I am a fan of all of C.S. Lewis' other work, so much so that on my bookshelf is a large collection of Lewis quotes (a three-inch-wide book with decorative cover). So when, on a large science fiction and fantasy website (Tor.com), I found this series of commentary on the Narnia books, I was excited, though wary. Most of the site's bloggers are thoroughly naturalistic atheists, and as such, have little in common with Lewis' view at the time he wrote The Chronicles of Narnia. My concern was justified, as the author and several of the commenters judged the books through modern, atheistic, naturalistic lenses. This was deeply troubling to me, not only as a fan, but as a Christian.
Planet Narnia and Medieval Imagery
A few years ago, I was given a book that purported to explain the "hidden scheme" behind The Chronicles of Narnia. This was Planet Narnia, by Michael Ward. It's very technical and reference-based, so one might prefer the laymen's version, The Narnia Code. Ward's basic premise is that C.S. Lewis, a scholar of medieval literature, is using the seven planets of medieval lore (including the sun and the moon), to say important things about Jesus and about the world. Lewis subtly scores each book with the theme of each planet, like a masterful musician weaving a leitmotif through a movie or opera score. This idea opened up a whole new understanding of Narnia for me, even though I had been a lifelong fan and read the books several times.
In another place, Lewis exhorted his readers not to try and cram people and ideas of long ago into modern categories and attitudes. Yes, it may be true that under their armor, or gentlemanly lace ruffs, men (and women) are generally the same. But it's also true that every time period has its own clarity of vision, as well as blind spots. But instead of trying to strip the knight of his armor, Lewis recommended trying to put yourself inside it*; understanding the world through medieval eyes and gaining a fresh perspective. In one of his larger works, The Discarded Vision, Lewis describes, explains, celebrates, and mourns the medieval vision of the cosmos ("the heavens") as a great dance, full of order and meaning, as opposed to our modern vision of "space" as a mostly empty, random place, material and cold. Not that he still thought the earth was stationary and all the planets revolved around it; but as he said in an introduction to a poem, "the characters of the planets, as conceived by medieval astrology, seem to me to have a permanent value as spiritual symbols...which [are] specially worth while in our own generation."**
This is why I believe it is especially inappropriate to judge The Chronicles of Narnia based on modern, even "progressive" categories. C. S. Lewis was not, as some have maintained, a man of his time. He was, in many respects, a man of olden times, of medieval times. And the whole point of the Narniad (as Ward calls it) is to help us as readers to experience something of those times, but something that speaks to all ages.
Defense and Correction
The language of images is easily misunderstood, and the imagery of the planets has long passed out of the culture of the West, so it's no surprise that Ms. Ness interprets Lewis' work in ways he never intended. For instance, as is popular, she objects to the "damning" of Susan in The Last Battle because she "decided to embrace her femininity". Ms. Ness, and many others who have made this claim, I believe are missing the point. I'll cover that particular problem in depth when I go through The Last Battle, but for now, let me just suggest that Polly's more mature comment on Susan's state is more relevant than Jill's remark about "lipsticks and nylons". (Correction: on revisiting Ms. Ness's post, I see that she does in fact go deeper into Susan's condition and Lewis' commentary than I had thought, and her points about love of fantasy and "geekdom" are good ones. Still, there is much more to say, especially in regard to how other critics such as Philip Pullman have seen Susan's fate.)
Lewis has been accused of misogyny, Islamophobia, cruelty, and many other things. In this series, I will be defending him against these charges as they occur in the Tor.com series, as I believe that many of them can be answered by appealing to the medieval and planetary context for reinterpretation of the Narnia text.
Also, many critics, including Ms. Ness, have had problems with the writing style of the Narniad: the change in style from book to book, the details that don't seem to belong (Father Christmas, anyone?), and certain inconsistencies. Certainly no book or series is perfectly written, and I hope I'm not such a crazy fangirl as to suggest that Narnia has no problems. But the unifying theme of the planets, as argued in Planet Narnia, makes much of the nonsense into deeper sense.
The Music of the Spheres
In this reread, I'll be reading each of the Narnia books with an ear tuned to its theme, noting the myriad ways Lewis expresses the planetary concept through details, events, and ways of saying things. This will be the fun part. :) Michael Ward describes many of these in Planet Narnia, but it's more exciting to find them for oneself. So I encourage you to read the books along with me, searching for those themes and commenting with what you found, if you wish. There's plenty to find.
Of course, Lewis' Christianity is a major factor (if not the major factor) informing his work. Ward brings that out in Planet Narnia, noting that the character of Aslan in every book reveals something about Christ while being the personification of the planetary "spirit" pervading the book. In every post, then, I'll have a consideration of Aslan as Christ, expressing His character through the seven planets.
Since Planet Narnia and the Tor.com series take the books in the order published, I'll do the same thing. For reference, here's a quick list of the books, which planet goes with which book, and some of the main themes that each planet covers:
Planet Narnia and Medieval Imagery
A few years ago, I was given a book that purported to explain the "hidden scheme" behind The Chronicles of Narnia. This was Planet Narnia, by Michael Ward. It's very technical and reference-based, so one might prefer the laymen's version, The Narnia Code. Ward's basic premise is that C.S. Lewis, a scholar of medieval literature, is using the seven planets of medieval lore (including the sun and the moon), to say important things about Jesus and about the world. Lewis subtly scores each book with the theme of each planet, like a masterful musician weaving a leitmotif through a movie or opera score. This idea opened up a whole new understanding of Narnia for me, even though I had been a lifelong fan and read the books several times.
In another place, Lewis exhorted his readers not to try and cram people and ideas of long ago into modern categories and attitudes. Yes, it may be true that under their armor, or gentlemanly lace ruffs, men (and women) are generally the same. But it's also true that every time period has its own clarity of vision, as well as blind spots. But instead of trying to strip the knight of his armor, Lewis recommended trying to put yourself inside it*; understanding the world through medieval eyes and gaining a fresh perspective. In one of his larger works, The Discarded Vision, Lewis describes, explains, celebrates, and mourns the medieval vision of the cosmos ("the heavens") as a great dance, full of order and meaning, as opposed to our modern vision of "space" as a mostly empty, random place, material and cold. Not that he still thought the earth was stationary and all the planets revolved around it; but as he said in an introduction to a poem, "the characters of the planets, as conceived by medieval astrology, seem to me to have a permanent value as spiritual symbols...which [are] specially worth while in our own generation."**
This is why I believe it is especially inappropriate to judge The Chronicles of Narnia based on modern, even "progressive" categories. C. S. Lewis was not, as some have maintained, a man of his time. He was, in many respects, a man of olden times, of medieval times. And the whole point of the Narniad (as Ward calls it) is to help us as readers to experience something of those times, but something that speaks to all ages.
Defense and Correction
The language of images is easily misunderstood, and the imagery of the planets has long passed out of the culture of the West, so it's no surprise that Ms. Ness interprets Lewis' work in ways he never intended. For instance, as is popular, she objects to the "damning" of Susan in The Last Battle because she "decided to embrace her femininity". Ms. Ness, and many others who have made this claim, I believe are missing the point. I'll cover that particular problem in depth when I go through The Last Battle, but for now, let me just suggest that Polly's more mature comment on Susan's state is more relevant than Jill's remark about "lipsticks and nylons". (Correction: on revisiting Ms. Ness's post, I see that she does in fact go deeper into Susan's condition and Lewis' commentary than I had thought, and her points about love of fantasy and "geekdom" are good ones. Still, there is much more to say, especially in regard to how other critics such as Philip Pullman have seen Susan's fate.)
Lewis has been accused of misogyny, Islamophobia, cruelty, and many other things. In this series, I will be defending him against these charges as they occur in the Tor.com series, as I believe that many of them can be answered by appealing to the medieval and planetary context for reinterpretation of the Narnia text.
Also, many critics, including Ms. Ness, have had problems with the writing style of the Narniad: the change in style from book to book, the details that don't seem to belong (Father Christmas, anyone?), and certain inconsistencies. Certainly no book or series is perfectly written, and I hope I'm not such a crazy fangirl as to suggest that Narnia has no problems. But the unifying theme of the planets, as argued in Planet Narnia, makes much of the nonsense into deeper sense.
The Music of the Spheres
In this reread, I'll be reading each of the Narnia books with an ear tuned to its theme, noting the myriad ways Lewis expresses the planetary concept through details, events, and ways of saying things. This will be the fun part. :) Michael Ward describes many of these in Planet Narnia, but it's more exciting to find them for oneself. So I encourage you to read the books along with me, searching for those themes and commenting with what you found, if you wish. There's plenty to find.
Of course, Lewis' Christianity is a major factor (if not the major factor) informing his work. Ward brings that out in Planet Narnia, noting that the character of Aslan in every book reveals something about Christ while being the personification of the planetary "spirit" pervading the book. In every post, then, I'll have a consideration of Aslan as Christ, expressing His character through the seven planets.
Since Planet Narnia and the Tor.com series take the books in the order published, I'll do the same thing. For reference, here's a quick list of the books, which planet goes with which book, and some of the main themes that each planet covers:
- The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe: Jupiter/Jove (Kingship; authority, joy, prosperity, sacrifice)
- Prince Caspian: Mars (Knighthood/Vegetation; courage, duty, discipline, martyrdom)
- The Voyage of the Dawn Treader: Sol/Sun (Light; gold, learning, generosity, clarity)
- The Silver Chair: Luna/Moon (Humility; confusion, wandering, faithfulness, obedience)
- The Horse and His Boy: Mercury (Words/Language; multiplicity, speed, meaning)
- The Magician's Nephew: Venus (Creation; motherhood, [subtle] sexuality, youth, joy)
- The Last Battle: Saturn (Age/Maturity; death, wisdom, discernment, trust)
Of course, each theme will be explored in depth later.
See you next time, when Jupiter comes in like a Lion!
* C. S. Lewis, A Preface to "Paradise Lost", p. 64. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984.
** C. S. Lewis, "The Alliterative Metre," Selected Literary Essays, ed. Walter Hooper, pp. 23f. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980.
* C. S. Lewis, A Preface to "Paradise Lost", p. 64. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984.
** C. S. Lewis, "The Alliterative Metre," Selected Literary Essays, ed. Walter Hooper, pp. 23f. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
On "Christmas" Music
As Ogden Nash once said while complaining about the state of Christmas:
I guess I am just an old fogey.
I guess I am ready for the last roundup, so come along little dogey.
You may think this an odd quote for someone under 25, but I'm about to sound very curmudgeonly about certain so-called "Christmas" songs.
There is a radio station in my hometown that prides itself on playing nonstop Christmas music from the middle of November until the end of December. I listened to it on my way home today and heard not one song that even mentioned Christmas. I heard "Let It Snow" twice. I heard "Walking in a Winter Wonderland", "Frosty the Snowman", and (surprisingly) "My Favorite Things". As each song came on, I thought to myself, This is not a Christmas song. This is a winter song. "My Favorite Things" is barely even a winter song, in so far as a few of the things mentioned (warm woolen mittens, sleigh bells, snowflakes, and "silver-white winters that melt into springs") have to do with winter. Now, it's not that I don't like these songs. They're fun to sing, especially when one needs some comfort in a Minnesota blizzard. But they have nothing to do with Christmas except that Christmas takes place in winter. In places where winter is not cold and snowy, such as Arizona, Central Africa, or, hm, maybe Bethlehem, where the first Christmas took place, these songs have no meaning at all. Granted, this is Minnesota, and these songs may get us in a festive mood, so they can be appropriate. But when these songs are all you hear, you are not hearing Christmas music.
In the middle of all the wintry festivities, Whitney Houston sang "Do You Hear What I Hear?" This song comes closer to being a real Christmas song. It's not about snow or sleigh bells, but about things and people that were actually present when Christmas began. Or so it seems. But take another look (or listen). In the first place, Ms. Houston left out the first verse. A lot of artists do that. They skip right to the verse that has the title in it, leaving out the night wind asking the little lamb, "Do you see what I see?" and pointing out the star. But the star is the only thing in the song that points to Bethlehem, to Jesus. Otherwise, the child could be any child, the song any song, the king any king at any time. Even an atheist could appropriate the song and say, "Yes, children are a source of goodness and light in this world, and if they're suffering, we should give them money" and leave it at that. And even if you leave the first verse in, there are other problems in trying to link this song with the first Christmas. Leaving out the poetic license that "wind and sheep don't talk", there are a few major problems with the mighty king. For one thing, the only "mighty king" we hear about in the story didn't bring Christ silver and gold or think He had come to bring goodness and light. He certainly didn't proclaim Him to people everywhere. He was Herod, who tried to kill Him. If you want to apply it to the wise men, you're forgetting that they were magi, astrologers, like the wise men of the book of Daniel, not mighty kings. For another thing, the mighty king's announcement undercuts a major feature of the story: Jesus didn't come with a worldwide announcement from a mighty king. He didn't blow trumpets or advertise, or throw Himself off the pinnacle of the temple. He came humbly, revealing Himself to shepherds and fishermen and tax collectors, and yes, powerful people who were humble enough to receive Him as their Lord. If you miss that point, you miss a lot of the grace and power of the central event of Christmas: the Incarnation.
As I pulled into the garage, the station finally began to play the intro to "Joy to the World". I sighed with relief...and then gritted my teeth again as I realized it was instrumental. No one was singing. There were no words expressing the triumph of God's kingdom. Maybe that's too much to ask from a secular radio station that doesn't want to offend anyone. And "Joy to the World" would certainly offend any rebel sinner who really thinks about the words. The Lord is come; let earth receive her King. The Savior reigns. He rules the world with truth and grace, and makes the nations prove the glories of His righteousness. This is a real Christmas song that was, ironically, not written for Christmas. It expresses the hope of the eschaton, the end of all things consummated in Christ. He will indeed rule all things. On that day, heaven and nature will sing. Fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains will repeat the sounding joy. His blessings will flow far as the curse is found. But even now, He has begun the work of subduing all His enemies and bringing the kingdom of heaven. A lot of people don't want to hear that; but I do. I want to be reminded of the midnight clear when the angels bending near the earth declared that peace on earth and goodwill to men had begun. I want to see how still lies the little town of Bethlehem as in her dark streets shineth the everlasting light. I want to ask again what Child this is whom shepherds guard and angels sing; to haste, haste to bring Him laud. God invaded this crooked world, becoming a helpless infant away in a manger, to save us all from Satan's power when we were gone astray. These are tidings of comfort and joy, not the sentimental longing for a "White Christmas" or a "Winter Wonderland".
Again, such songs, or songs about Santa Claus bringing gifts, are not bad in and of themselves. They're fun, like a snowball fight or a grab-bag party. They're just not the most important or even the most satisfying thing. I am reminded of C. S. Lewis' insistence on putting first things first and second things second. He pointed out (rightly, in my opinion) that if you put second things first, you not only lose the first things, but you lose the second things, too. If all you're dreaming of is a white Christmas, or little tin horns and little toy drums, not only do you miss out on the Incarnation, but those holiday trappings lose what meaning they had. Who hasn't felt the pressure to create the perfect Christmas experience, only to face an emptiness that can't be hidden by tinsel and holly? But when the joy of God's radical grace, His love that humbled Him to the manger of Bethlehem, takes center stage, then all the rest falls into place. We give because He gave. Our hearts are warmed by the light of His love; let it snow! Our Lord was a child and gives us childlike faith; the kids in girl-and-boy land will have a jubilee. Our King is making this world His own and will come again; it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Let's add those fun songs and festive decorations to our Advent celebration, like sprinkles and frosting on Christmas cookies; but let's make sure the cookies are there first. Sprinkles and frosting are pointless without them.
I guess I am just an old fogey.
I guess I am ready for the last roundup, so come along little dogey.
You may think this an odd quote for someone under 25, but I'm about to sound very curmudgeonly about certain so-called "Christmas" songs.
There is a radio station in my hometown that prides itself on playing nonstop Christmas music from the middle of November until the end of December. I listened to it on my way home today and heard not one song that even mentioned Christmas. I heard "Let It Snow" twice. I heard "Walking in a Winter Wonderland", "Frosty the Snowman", and (surprisingly) "My Favorite Things". As each song came on, I thought to myself, This is not a Christmas song. This is a winter song. "My Favorite Things" is barely even a winter song, in so far as a few of the things mentioned (warm woolen mittens, sleigh bells, snowflakes, and "silver-white winters that melt into springs") have to do with winter. Now, it's not that I don't like these songs. They're fun to sing, especially when one needs some comfort in a Minnesota blizzard. But they have nothing to do with Christmas except that Christmas takes place in winter. In places where winter is not cold and snowy, such as Arizona, Central Africa, or, hm, maybe Bethlehem, where the first Christmas took place, these songs have no meaning at all. Granted, this is Minnesota, and these songs may get us in a festive mood, so they can be appropriate. But when these songs are all you hear, you are not hearing Christmas music.
In the middle of all the wintry festivities, Whitney Houston sang "Do You Hear What I Hear?" This song comes closer to being a real Christmas song. It's not about snow or sleigh bells, but about things and people that were actually present when Christmas began. Or so it seems. But take another look (or listen). In the first place, Ms. Houston left out the first verse. A lot of artists do that. They skip right to the verse that has the title in it, leaving out the night wind asking the little lamb, "Do you see what I see?" and pointing out the star. But the star is the only thing in the song that points to Bethlehem, to Jesus. Otherwise, the child could be any child, the song any song, the king any king at any time. Even an atheist could appropriate the song and say, "Yes, children are a source of goodness and light in this world, and if they're suffering, we should give them money" and leave it at that. And even if you leave the first verse in, there are other problems in trying to link this song with the first Christmas. Leaving out the poetic license that "wind and sheep don't talk", there are a few major problems with the mighty king. For one thing, the only "mighty king" we hear about in the story didn't bring Christ silver and gold or think He had come to bring goodness and light. He certainly didn't proclaim Him to people everywhere. He was Herod, who tried to kill Him. If you want to apply it to the wise men, you're forgetting that they were magi, astrologers, like the wise men of the book of Daniel, not mighty kings. For another thing, the mighty king's announcement undercuts a major feature of the story: Jesus didn't come with a worldwide announcement from a mighty king. He didn't blow trumpets or advertise, or throw Himself off the pinnacle of the temple. He came humbly, revealing Himself to shepherds and fishermen and tax collectors, and yes, powerful people who were humble enough to receive Him as their Lord. If you miss that point, you miss a lot of the grace and power of the central event of Christmas: the Incarnation.
As I pulled into the garage, the station finally began to play the intro to "Joy to the World". I sighed with relief...and then gritted my teeth again as I realized it was instrumental. No one was singing. There were no words expressing the triumph of God's kingdom. Maybe that's too much to ask from a secular radio station that doesn't want to offend anyone. And "Joy to the World" would certainly offend any rebel sinner who really thinks about the words. The Lord is come; let earth receive her King. The Savior reigns. He rules the world with truth and grace, and makes the nations prove the glories of His righteousness. This is a real Christmas song that was, ironically, not written for Christmas. It expresses the hope of the eschaton, the end of all things consummated in Christ. He will indeed rule all things. On that day, heaven and nature will sing. Fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains will repeat the sounding joy. His blessings will flow far as the curse is found. But even now, He has begun the work of subduing all His enemies and bringing the kingdom of heaven. A lot of people don't want to hear that; but I do. I want to be reminded of the midnight clear when the angels bending near the earth declared that peace on earth and goodwill to men had begun. I want to see how still lies the little town of Bethlehem as in her dark streets shineth the everlasting light. I want to ask again what Child this is whom shepherds guard and angels sing; to haste, haste to bring Him laud. God invaded this crooked world, becoming a helpless infant away in a manger, to save us all from Satan's power when we were gone astray. These are tidings of comfort and joy, not the sentimental longing for a "White Christmas" or a "Winter Wonderland".
Again, such songs, or songs about Santa Claus bringing gifts, are not bad in and of themselves. They're fun, like a snowball fight or a grab-bag party. They're just not the most important or even the most satisfying thing. I am reminded of C. S. Lewis' insistence on putting first things first and second things second. He pointed out (rightly, in my opinion) that if you put second things first, you not only lose the first things, but you lose the second things, too. If all you're dreaming of is a white Christmas, or little tin horns and little toy drums, not only do you miss out on the Incarnation, but those holiday trappings lose what meaning they had. Who hasn't felt the pressure to create the perfect Christmas experience, only to face an emptiness that can't be hidden by tinsel and holly? But when the joy of God's radical grace, His love that humbled Him to the manger of Bethlehem, takes center stage, then all the rest falls into place. We give because He gave. Our hearts are warmed by the light of His love; let it snow! Our Lord was a child and gives us childlike faith; the kids in girl-and-boy land will have a jubilee. Our King is making this world His own and will come again; it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Let's add those fun songs and festive decorations to our Advent celebration, like sprinkles and frosting on Christmas cookies; but let's make sure the cookies are there first. Sprinkles and frosting are pointless without them.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Actually Finishing Something [in] July: Week Two
1) How time flies! Did you reach your weekly goal?
Well, I didn't exactly have a weekly goal, so no.
2) Is this challenge pushing and encouraging you to write more often?
That's a definitely.
3) Did you accomplish most of your writing in the morning, afternoon, evening, or at random intervals during your busy day (i.e. waiting for your neighbors to go inside so you can jump on the trampoline without disturbing them)?
At "random" intervals; that is, whenever Corin needed to eat. I would feed him with one hand and type letter by letter with the other.
4) Any particular musical tracks inspiring your prose?
No, but I did enjoy listening to The Piano Guys these past few times.
5) Share a snippet (or two) of your writing!
(Remember, this is in script form for some artist to turn into a graphic novel.)
Marcus: Horton, meet the Xavier.
Horton: The Xavier! It's an honor, sir, truly an honor. And may I say, I am impressed that one so young [sixteen] can be so brave and intelligent--
[Next panel] The other Bellhaven boys [Xavier's friends] look at each other quizzically.
6) Share your three favorite bits of dialogue.
Xavier, upon reading the prophecy about "the Xavier": Well. That's...strangely messianic.
Clement, guarding the door: Who goes there? [This is the first time we see him.]
Marcus, having just escaped from the bad guys: Clement, it's me.
Clement (eyes widen): Dad!!
[The boys are trapped in what looks like a prison cell. Xavier just explained that he can't program them out.]
Rick: So we're stuck here?
Xavier: Unless someone else comes up with a brilliant idea, 'cause I'm stumped.
Bardley: What about...if one of us turned invisible, and then packed the rest of us into barrels--
Xavier, Rick, and Finnegan: What?!
Bardley (defensive): What? I was just brainstorming! And it worked in The Hobbit!
7) How are you going to move forward in this challenge? Are you changing your word-count goal, or other such battle plans this week?
I'm going to use old-fashioned pen and paper this week. Maybe that'll help. There's something about the motion of ordinary writing that releases the creative juices.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Actually Finishing Something [in] July: Week One
Thank you, Whisperings of the Pen (and Faith Blum), not to mention Camp NaNoWriMo! July is going to be an awesome month. Not only am I traveling to Arizona for a friend's wedding, celebrating my first anniversary and my husband's and my birthdays, and taking care of the sweetest little two-month-old ever, but I have been inspired to work on my writing again. Thankfully, these writing goals are flexible, since July (as stated) is going to be crazily busy. Here's the list:
1) What is your writing goal?
To double the word count on Killer Kilobytes, my graphic novel in progress.
2) Give us a short synopsis of your project. What makes it unique?
Xavier Patrick, the resident computer geek of his small town, is sucked into his computer along with his three best friends. There he finds a vast conspiracy known only as "The System" and a mysterious prophecy of a hero that seems to be...him.
I think what makes this project unique is its focus on Christian themes, without being explicitly Christian. The concepts of losing your life to save it, being unique members of one body, and showing love through sacrifice are shown, not told. Almost every character is a reflection of something about Christ, even though they don't talk about Him all the time.
3) How long have you been working on this project?
For about three years.
4) How often do you intend to write in order to reach your goal by August 1st?
As often as I can, snatching moments between taking care of my baby and my house.
5) Introduce us to three of your favorite characters in this project.
Oddly enough, the main character (Xavier) isn't one of my favorites.
Yardley "Bardley" Brown, Xavier's best friend, is an avid reader who knows almost every line in every book he's ever read. He's crazy about Shakespeare (hence the nickname) and about Aurelia Vail, the girl he met in Xavier's computer, the daughter of the rebel leader. And when I say crazy, I mean crazy. He can get on one's nerves with his irrepressible optimism. He is the most outspoken and obvious Christian in the book.
Rick Allen, one of Xavier's other friends, is a musician and an excellent researcher. He tends to fade into the background, but when he speaks, he speaks with wisdom and wit. He provides much-needed stability to the group when things go terribly wrong.
TTYL8R is a bug. A computer bug. He is a glitch in the System, and as such, an ally of the rebels. He can pop any lock, open any safe, and bypass any firewall. Though useful, he's known to get snappish when taken for granted...or when you make fun of his serial number/name. The heroes call him L8R (Later).
6) Go to page 16 (or 6, 26, or 66!) of your writing project. Share your favorite line or snippet on the page.
4. Xavier looking up in surprise. A talk bubble, without a tail, is seen beside him. It’s outlined in “zappy” bright white-blue.
VOICE
Pssst.
5. Xavier turns his head to look for the Voice’s origin.
XAVIER
Who’s
there?
VOICE
Shhhh!
6. Xavier crawls toward the cell door and whispers.
XAVIER
Who’s
there?
VOICE
Not
over there, silly! I’m in your ear!
7) Tea or coffee?
Coffee. Though I haven't had any for a long time, what with being pregnant and then nursing.
We'll see what happens!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
My Precious Sister
TV shows and movies always show people who get into physical relationships before or outside marriage: affairs, living together with boyfriend/girlfriend, just spending the night together casually. Most of them seem to assume that this is normal, popular, and even the right thing to do. Some, though, also show the lasting pain that comes of such relationships without commitment. I realize that a lot of people do get into such situations, probably more than I could ever know. But if you are a girl or woman considering or already in such a relationship, I have something to say to you: Don't do it! If you're already doing it, stop! Here is my reason: If a man isn't willing to commit himself to you for life, then he doesn't deserve you. There's a reason people write beautiful songs and poetry about love. It's because God designed it as a beautiful and precious thing, to bless his people. The price he puts on it is lifelong commitment, because that is what love is worth. That's what you are worth, my sister-woman. If you give yourself to a man for any other price, then you cheapen yourself. To put it another way: There's a reason why engagement and wedding rings are made with precious stones and precious metals. You and your love are precious. You're like gold and diamonds. No one sells a diamond ring for a quarter, sister, or even for five bucks. True, gold and diamonds are often stolen. If your gifts and your virginity are stolen, that's rape, and that's not your fault. What I'm warning you against is letting someone buy you for less than you're worth. Don't sell a priceless jewel for a quarter. Don't let any jerk, or even a semi-nice guy, buy you cheap. You're worth a man's life. Just ask the Man who died for you.
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