This is perhaps my second favorite Narnia book, a close second to The Horse and His Boy, which I will be reviewing later. No surprise there; like Olaf, I've always loved summer, and the sun, and warmth. Going on a voyage to the sun here in the middle of winter was like a soothing vacation for the soul.
Here, again, is the blog post on tor.com to which I will be responding. First, allow me to compliment the author on her choice of title. "Into Light" is a deeply apt description of VDT, and I will explain why in the comments below. Again, I recommend you read her post first or along with mine, as I will be responding to it without repeating it.
First, let's get our bearings by getting to know the presiding planetary "spirit" of the book: Sol, Apollo, or the Sun. (Remember, in the medieval cosmology, the sun went around the earth; and it appears to be the case in Narnia, which we learn is a flat world.) This is certainly the most obvious planetary influence out of the seven, as the literal rising sun is the goal of the journey, even giving the ship and the book their names. What might not be so obvious is the way the Solar spirit inhabits other aspects of the story, such as the several island visits and what the characters do there. There are two main ideas related to the sun which Lewis explores through the story: gold and light.
In the medieval mindset, each planet was responsible for creating a certain metal in the earth. Jupiter produced tin, valued for its shining quality; Mars produced iron, the strongest natural metal. The sun produced gold, that coveted metal that was alchemy's goal. Gold is prominently featured in VDT, with the ship's gilded sides, golden images of Aslan, the dragon's hoard of gold coins, and the alchemical pool on Deathwater Island. People can have two different attitudes toward gold: hoarding it or giving it away. It is the second impulse that Sol generates in responsive pupils, and we see generosity praised and greed condemned in many an episode. Greed is symbolized, often, by a dragon. It's common knowledge that dragons are hoarders of gold, and Eustace's greed turning him into a dragon is only the most obvious example. Notably, this is the only Chronicle in which dragons appear (the strange beasts of SC and LB are more like dinosaurs, in my opinion). Ominously, the ship herself is shaped like a dragon, which portends that her king is more susceptible to greed than he thinks. But more about that in a bit. (For a much more extensive treatment of Solar gold, see Planet Narnia, the chapter about VDT.)
Light pervades the story, made more striking by contrast with episodes of darkness such as the Dark Island. As a concept, light is rife with meaning, and Ward touches on some of those meanings in Planet Narnia, but one that I don't think he deals with sufficiently is that light reveals truth. The whole voyage is not a "cruise", as Ms. Ness calls it, but a quest of discovery, boldly going where no man (besides the seven lords) has gone before, shedding light on uncharted seas and lands and the fate of the missing Telmarines. As a result, the travelers also discover much about themselves. Seeking knowledge, finding out the truth, revealing hidden things; all of these are operations of the Sun. With all of this in mind, let us proceed to the response.
C. S. Lewis did certainly disapprove of Eustace's "modern" parents and the mindset that they represent. But it's not just their tastes in underwear or drinks that he disapproves of. By describing them as "very up-to-date and advanced people" and then listing all the fads they're following, he implies that they are just that; fads. Harold and Alberta Scrubb aren't doing all of these things for reasons of conviction, or even of preference, or so it seems to me. The stress on being "up-to-date" seems to indicate that all these things they do are simply for the sake of being "up-to-date". This is the same mind we later encounter in Governor Gumpas, who views the growth of the slave trade in the Lone Islands as "Progress" and "Development" ("We call it 'Going Bad' in Narnia," says Caspian), "Necessary" and "Unavoidable". This is progress for the sake of progress, not caring where one is going as long as one is going forward. But Lewis points out in several of his writings that this is a bad idea, likely to lead astray. If you're going the wrong direction, moving forward will only get you further lost. Sometimes the best way to get where you want to be is to turn around, as the crew does literally at the Dark Island. And one of the functions of light is to show you where you've gone wrong and guide you back to the right path.
I commend Ms. Ness on seeing the theme of "temptation and self knowledge" so clearly. I would put it differently, though. Almost every island is a test, but each test reveals something about the one taking it. For instance, Eustace's transformation brings what was inside him to the outside, causing him to finally see clearly who he and the others really are. And Lucy's temptation of beauty reveals to her just how jealous of Susan she really was, and how much she craved recognition. Moving on to the second, failed test, the temptation of eavesdropping, I have a few replies to what the blog says: First, it was Lucy, not Aslan, who suggested that she and her friend would have remained good friends all their lives if only she hadn't heard what she said. Aslan gently reminds her that "no one is ever told what would have happened." He said this before in Prince Caspian, but it gains new significance under the revelatory nature of Sol. Some things are not meant to be revealed, at least not to our finite understanding. And some revelations, like the conversation overheard, need further light (Aslan's words) to interpret them correctly. So the lesson for Lucy from that temptation might be put thus: Beware of being deceived by partial revelation, and be aware of the limits of your own knowledge. Some things should not be known. (And if you object to my use of the word "should" as a moral aspect of knowledge, I refer you to the movie Jurassic Park and Ian Malcolm's brilliant indictment of the dinosaur-cloning scientists.)
Eustace's transformation and un-transformation is indeed one of the best subplots in the book, and Ms. Ness is perceptive to note the baptismal nature of the "undragoning" process. I would disagree with her assessment of the characters as "bland", even Caspian. He's more of a man and less of a boy than we saw in the previous book, but still young enough to be a lot like Edmund, Lucy, and the reading child. His great temptation is to greed, as seen on Deathwater and in his near abdication in the Last Sea. In the latter, we are told that for one moment he looked a great deal like his uncle Miraz. By seeking the World's End despite his duties as king, Caspian is revealing a selfish, tyrannical, dragonish attitude (foreshadowed by the shape of his ship); he wants what he wants when he wants it and doesn't care about anything else. Aslan, in the form of the golden lion's head on the wall, strikes him like the noonday sun on unshaded eyes, leaving him shaken.
And it is Aslan that will be the focus now, as Ms. Ness' blog post spends a lot of time on his last words to Edmund and Lucy (in this book; he talks to them in LB before leaving off His lion form). I'll spend a good deal of time on it, too, combining it with the Christian focus that is usually my last section.
Ms. Ness makes several errors here, mostly to do with her understanding of Christianity. She interprets Aslan's words as making Narnia "a spiritual testing ground", pits this reason against the reason of saving Narnia, and seems to think the main purpose of "becom[ing] evangelicals" is to convert others. But that is to miss the whole point. The point is the self-revelation of the Light of the world. Aslan's purpose is that the children may know him, both in Narnia and in our world. This is not merely a knowledge about him, but a relational intimacy, a friendship. Whoever you are reading this, you obviously know a few things about me, but unless I've met you in person, you don't really know me. And it is the second kind of knowledge that Aslan wants for the Pevensies, Eustace, and indeed all the Narnians.
This makes sense out of every objection. Was there an easier way for them to know Jesus in our world? Maybe, but would it have had the richness and depth that it had in Narnia? Probably not. And that was why they would have shared it with the narrator, so others could enter into that deeper understanding. Yes, the children were brought in to save Narnia, and so to reveal Aslan's character to them and to the rest of Narnia as the one who saves, who rules, who fights, who illumines, etc. Aslan's purposes are much larger than the children, but they are not at odds with his individual plans for them. All tie together under the auspices of his creatures knowing him. It's not "a spiritual testing ground", but a place of spiritual revelation. Why these children? Because he loved them and wanted them as his friends. Becoming "evangelicals" or Christians is not just about converting others, though that's a part of it. It's about knowing the one in whom we believe and revealing him to the world. Letting Eustace come back makes sense, because Aslan has yet more ways to reveal himself to him, whereas it seems Edmund and Lucy are ready to go back to their own world with what they have learned in Narnia. They're too old in terms of experience, not in terms of age. And yes, I know Peter and Susan had less experience than they did, but presumably it was enough (though maybe not for Susan, but that's another topic).
But why is knowing Aslan such a big deal? I'm glad you asked. Seriously, this is one of the most important questions one can ask. Hopefully I can make the answer clear.
Consider: If Aslan is indeed Christ under another name, taking the Narnia stories as true, then He is the being who created the universe--all the universes, if there are more than one. He had nothing to work with besides himself, so everything that exists in every universe is a reflection of his character in some way. In this fallen world, it is twisted and marred by evil, but the image is still there, "clearly seen", in the words of Romans chapter one. This is what theologians call "general revelation". But we don't see. We are like the Dufflepuds, refusing point-blank to see what's obvious and right in front of us. Imagine poor Coriakin, a star who once performed in a cosmic dance, saw everything that happened in his world, and predicted the future, set to govern such stubbornly stupid idiots! It certainly was more of a punishment than a retirement. Now think of the gap that must exist between our minds and that of the Creator. We invented the light bulb; He invented Light itself. He made human beings with all their capability for reason and understanding, solely so that we could know Him. And imagine what it would be to know this person, this Creator! To be the intimate friend of the eternal being at the back of all the stories, the ultimate cause of all life, the true Light that gives light to everyone in the world! It is the greatest honor anyone could have! And it is our true purpose, the reason we were created in the first place. There is nothing more important, no activity more worthwhile, than knowing Him.
Like the sun, though, He is too glorious to be looked upon without harming us. If you've seen Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, you have some idea of what I'm talking about [SPOILER ALERT]. When Cate Blanchett's character wishes to know everything, it's too much for her. She experiences intense pain and then explodes. Something like that would happen to us if we met God unmediated. So He reveals Himself to us gradually, gently, almost like a parent using baby talk, guiding us to know, love, and trust Him; which is our purpose in life. That's what we'll be doing for eternity, we Christians. Heaven is misconstrued so often as a boring place. One wonders what anyone could do forever. The answer is simple: get to know the infinite Creator.
Whew. Fangirl moment over. For now. :)
This next post is where things get a little odd to me. Ms. Ness goes on to The Silver Chair from here, as does Planet Narnia, which is strange because The Horse and His Boy was evidently published before it (SC, 1981; HHB, 1980). It's even obvious from reading the books themselves, for in The Silver Chair, Jill and Eustace hear a Narnian bard tell the story of The Horse and His Boy. So it would make much more sense (in my mind) to go on to HHB from here and leave the two Jill-Eustace adventures to flow together. Oh, well. Since this is a response, I suppose I'll go from the sun to the moon instead of Mercury. Until then, I leave you with a question for your consideration: Which side of the moon is really the dark side?
Happy landings!
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