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starladyLewis, C.S. Prince Caspian: The Return to Narnia. New York: Harper Collins, 1994. [1951]
Though my copy of this book is also well-read, I recall clearly not liking it very much until eighth grade, when my second grade reading partner insisted we read it because it was her favorite, and I came to see its good points--namely, Pevensies in Narnia! But despite some things about it that I like very much, I have real problems with it on multiple levels.
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swan_tower mentioned that the book has serious structural problems, and it's true; to wit, way too much of the action is told in reported discourse, it takes the Pevensies too long to join up with Caspian (though the delay, I suppose, lends a degree of inevitability to their triumph), and most importantly of all, wandering around in the woods is bloody boring. I can think of multiple fantasy epics that suffer from this truth--Harry Potter, The Sword of Shannara (oh jebus I wanted to gouge my eyes out in that section); heck, even The Hobbit, the Mirkwood sections are rather long and depressing--and really, I think it's probably just better, if you're ever tempted to have your characters wander around pointlessly in the woods, to just say no. Though Lewis obviously didn't think it was pointless, and this is one of the places where his didactic goals interfere with his storytelling.
To continue the discussion of Susan, though, reading this book I realized that it wasn't just Susan (though she doesn't come off at all well here; Lewis does not like Susan) but adulthood in general that bothers him--at the end, when the older two Pevensies are told that they'll never go back to Narnia, it's summarily because they're getting too old. Now, being me, and reading this as I am in the throes of fannish obsession, I incline to a Watsonian explanation for this that does not reflect well on Aslan, but on the Doylist level, Jack Lewis clearly is deeply suspicious of adults and adulthood in general and adult women in particular. He likes children best, even if he isn't so suspicious of adults as to believe in the automatic moral purity of all children (viz. Edmund). I tend to find this a deeply mistaken and false dichotomy, but I find myself wanting to write a series of children's fantasy books arguing with Lewis, too.
Speaking of arguing with Lewis, rereading these books, it's rather shocking just how much of the architectonics of His Dark Materials that Philip Pullman lifted out of Narnia and transformed for his own purposes, starting with the multiverse theory--Diggory comes out in favor of it in LWW, since of course in TMN he experiences it for himself, and of course he's right. I also feel like Lyra, in a lot of ways, is a conglomeration of traits that in the Pevensies, especially Edmund, are downplayed or denied, starting with the fact that she's a liar and that she betrays her best friend. Edmund comes off fairly well in PC, which I like (EDMUND I <3 YOU), but one feels that's almost because Lewis wants to weight the scales against the older Pevensies. And given the climax of this book, it's clearly not a coincidence that Lucy and Susan were kept out of the battle in LWW, too. For that matter, Mrs. Coulter is clearly an argument with Jadis and the Witch, too.
I was talking with my roommate, who made the invaluable observation that for Lewis, for the Pevensies, Narnia is like a really awesome video game--no matter how enthralled you are playing it, eventually there comes a time when you shut the system off and go back to the rest of your life. Maybe like me you cried at the end of FFX and you've had some emotional catharsis or learned a few things about determination and ethics or what have you (more on that anon), but it's still fundamentally a game, a secondary or dependent reality. And I think that it's pretty obvious, both here and at the end of LWW, that that's the assumption that Lewis is working off of, and thus for him there's no cruelty in either ending, and the Pevensies would have no problem with being called back and forth, because they always know which world is more real. I can't really accept that on an emotional level anymore, but I don't think it ever gave Lewis any trouble. For me, I tend to think that people sort of just become more and more who they actually are over time, so that personal development looks sort of like a spiral, and the idea of becoming who you were as an adult and then being summarily transformed back into a child is just fundamentally, well, destabilizing and awful, and I don't think there's any way that having been an adult wouldn't show in your behaviour even after you became a child again. Lewis disagrees with me here, obviously.
But you know what? REEPICHEEP, that's what. And also, what is up with Bacchus and the Maenads?
Also, for what it's worth and for your information, the semi-official Narnia chronology.
Okay, actually, I have more to say about Reepicheep, because I've already mentioned Tolkien and Pullman and Croggon in these posts andepershand brought up Oz in the comments to the last one and really, at this point I'm actively looking for ways to connect the canon of children's fantasy with itself--for instance, I'm developing the conviction that J.K. Rowling is having an argument with Tolkien, though not as pointedly as Pullman is with Lewis. But on the specific topic of Reepicheep, and the importance of food in these books and particularly here and in LWW, which I wouldn't have twigged to if not for jennifer_gale's comment--these books are clearly the locus classicus not only for Watership Down but for Brian Jacques' Redwall books, which pretty much are all about mice (and the occasional squirrel) with swords. A Sword in particular, actually. And let me just say, if you haven't read the Redwall books, and you enjoyed the high adventure of HHB, you really should read the first seven of the Redwall books (going by publication order). They're fun, and ethical[*ETA see below], and have lots of food and song and swashbuckling, and are better on gender issues than Lewis. I ♥ Mariel.
Also, if you haven't seen the two Narnia festivids, Never the Same and The Greatest Day, you should, because they're both pretty damn awesome.
Though my copy of this book is also well-read, I recall clearly not liking it very much until eighth grade, when my second grade reading partner insisted we read it because it was her favorite, and I came to see its good points--namely, Pevensies in Narnia! But despite some things about it that I like very much, I have real problems with it on multiple levels.
swan_tower mentioned that the book has serious structural problems, and it's true; to wit, way too much of the action is told in reported discourse, it takes the Pevensies too long to join up with Caspian (though the delay, I suppose, lends a degree of inevitability to their triumph), and most importantly of all, wandering around in the woods is bloody boring. I can think of multiple fantasy epics that suffer from this truth--Harry Potter, The Sword of Shannara (oh jebus I wanted to gouge my eyes out in that section); heck, even The Hobbit, the Mirkwood sections are rather long and depressing--and really, I think it's probably just better, if you're ever tempted to have your characters wander around pointlessly in the woods, to just say no. Though Lewis obviously didn't think it was pointless, and this is one of the places where his didactic goals interfere with his storytelling. To continue the discussion of Susan, though, reading this book I realized that it wasn't just Susan (though she doesn't come off at all well here; Lewis does not like Susan) but adulthood in general that bothers him--at the end, when the older two Pevensies are told that they'll never go back to Narnia, it's summarily because they're getting too old. Now, being me, and reading this as I am in the throes of fannish obsession, I incline to a Watsonian explanation for this that does not reflect well on Aslan, but on the Doylist level, Jack Lewis clearly is deeply suspicious of adults and adulthood in general and adult women in particular. He likes children best, even if he isn't so suspicious of adults as to believe in the automatic moral purity of all children (viz. Edmund). I tend to find this a deeply mistaken and false dichotomy, but I find myself wanting to write a series of children's fantasy books arguing with Lewis, too.
Speaking of arguing with Lewis, rereading these books, it's rather shocking just how much of the architectonics of His Dark Materials that Philip Pullman lifted out of Narnia and transformed for his own purposes, starting with the multiverse theory--Diggory comes out in favor of it in LWW, since of course in TMN he experiences it for himself, and of course he's right. I also feel like Lyra, in a lot of ways, is a conglomeration of traits that in the Pevensies, especially Edmund, are downplayed or denied, starting with the fact that she's a liar and that she betrays her best friend. Edmund comes off fairly well in PC, which I like (EDMUND I <3 YOU), but one feels that's almost because Lewis wants to weight the scales against the older Pevensies. And given the climax of this book, it's clearly not a coincidence that Lucy and Susan were kept out of the battle in LWW, too. For that matter, Mrs. Coulter is clearly an argument with Jadis and the Witch, too.
I was talking with my roommate, who made the invaluable observation that for Lewis, for the Pevensies, Narnia is like a really awesome video game--no matter how enthralled you are playing it, eventually there comes a time when you shut the system off and go back to the rest of your life. Maybe like me you cried at the end of FFX and you've had some emotional catharsis or learned a few things about determination and ethics or what have you (more on that anon), but it's still fundamentally a game, a secondary or dependent reality. And I think that it's pretty obvious, both here and at the end of LWW, that that's the assumption that Lewis is working off of, and thus for him there's no cruelty in either ending, and the Pevensies would have no problem with being called back and forth, because they always know which world is more real. I can't really accept that on an emotional level anymore, but I don't think it ever gave Lewis any trouble. For me, I tend to think that people sort of just become more and more who they actually are over time, so that personal development looks sort of like a spiral, and the idea of becoming who you were as an adult and then being summarily transformed back into a child is just fundamentally, well, destabilizing and awful, and I don't think there's any way that having been an adult wouldn't show in your behaviour even after you became a child again. Lewis disagrees with me here, obviously.
But you know what? REEPICHEEP, that's what. And also, what is up with Bacchus and the Maenads?
Also, for what it's worth and for your information, the semi-official Narnia chronology.
Okay, actually, I have more to say about Reepicheep, because I've already mentioned Tolkien and Pullman and Croggon in these posts and
epershand brought up Oz in the comments to the last one and really, at this point I'm actively looking for ways to connect the canon of children's fantasy with itself--for instance, I'm developing the conviction that J.K. Rowling is having an argument with Tolkien, though not as pointedly as Pullman is with Lewis. But on the specific topic of Reepicheep, and the importance of food in these books and particularly here and in LWW, which I wouldn't have twigged to if not for jennifer_gale's comment--these books are clearly the locus classicus not only for Watership Down but for Brian Jacques' Redwall books, which pretty much are all about mice (and the occasional squirrel) with swords. A Sword in particular, actually. And let me just say, if you haven't read the Redwall books, and you enjoyed the high adventure of HHB, you really should read the first seven of the Redwall books (going by publication order). They're fun, and ethical[*ETA see below], and have lots of food and song and swashbuckling, and are better on gender issues than Lewis. I ♥ Mariel.Also, if you haven't seen the two Narnia festivids, Never the Same and The Greatest Day, you should, because they're both pretty damn awesome.
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(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-24 23:07 (UTC)What I think is interesting about HP in the context of the fantasy genre is the way it puts a Dark Lord in a more realistic political and social context. It isn't about some numinous figure sweeping down out of a foreign realm or other plane; he was a guy, who went evil, and almost took control. More Hitler than Sauron.
My thing with Tolkien is that, since I didn't imprint on and love the books -- I admire them intellectually, but don't read them for fun -- I have no problem with seeing any update to bring it more in line with current narrative conventions as an improvement. Tempting Faramir with the Ring? Giving Aragorn self-doubts? Tightening up the pacing in Fellowship? I'm on board for all of it. It makes the story more compelling to me, not less.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-24 23:32 (UTC)Ah, the Faramir thing, undoubtedly the most controversial change in all the movies. I don't have a problem with it, though I think Faramir could have been left unchanged if they hadn't given Aragorn self-doubts (though not, however, temptation by the Ring, which is what proves that he's got both the blood and the merit to be King), but I liked all of those changes in context--they do make for a more compelling story. Tolkien, especially at the beginning, is relating the basis for what becomes a legend by the end of the books.
I do very much like the way everything in HP goes by choice. Sometimes in a very horrible and deterministic way, but choices have consequences, and she's good at showing the long-term consequences of the choices the characters make. And yeah, totally Hitler, both Voldemort and Grindelwald.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-26 20:17 (UTC)(I do get what Tolkien was doing, stylistically; I've read a lot of the sagas that were his inspiration. But those stories don't wring my heart the way modern characterization can.)