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starladyLewis, C.S. The Silver Chair. New York: Harper Collins, 1994. [1953]
This travel poster is pretty awesome. Also, TSC is not the next Narnia movie; that honor goes to TMN! Color me surprised, though I still think TMN is one of my favorite books, so yay. But onward, to the book itself.
While in the bowels of the main stacks at my university library retrieving The Magician's Book recently I saw an academic book that claimed that Lewis's two main influences were Paradise Lost and The Faerie Queene. Thanks to my conversations withepershand the first didn't surprise me, and yeah, I haven't even read The Faerie Queene, and I can see it all over TSC. I can also see, as Sarah Monette noted, that this is some kind of complex riff on the Arthurian romances, and specifically possibly Sir Gawain and the Green Knight? In any case the takeaway is green ≠ good--and the collision of the high rhetoric of the romances with people being accused of being blabs and tale-bearers is jarring, as Monette also notes.
I was also struck (and it's readingbedlamsbard's fic that has sensitized me to this) by the passage of time in Narnia. In TSC it feels old in a way it didn't quite under the Pevensies, possibly because it's so much more human and medieval than it was in the Golden Age. In any case, the Narnians have forgotten (much of) their own history:
I'm struck again by the way Lewis has kept Eustace in particular, and Jill too, out of Narnia proper: they each have a night in Cair Paravel (rebuilt, obviously?) before they're packed off to the northern border, and that's it; Eustace on his voyage with Caspian never actually saw Narnia. And neither did Edmund and Lucy, again.
On the other hand, Eustace and Jill are packed off to Puddleglum:
Puddleglum, I love you. Also, Reepicheep would kill you, IJS. The hilarious voice of reason and practicality has appeared after six/four books, and he gives this one a very different tone. And to boot, all the other Marsh-wiggles think Puddleglum is a total Pollyanna! Cultural differences, I tell you, cultural differences!
To return to the green thing briefly, however, there obviously is a Gawain and the Green Knight thing going on--green is simultaneously the color of sexuality (the Lady) and of simpering, foolish femininity (the Giant Queen's gown, the dress Jill receives from the Giants)--actually I wonder whether Lewis differentiates either of those at all. Well, obviously he does, because in Harfang Jill puts on an act of femininity that everyone is very clear is an (embarrassing) act, but of course green is also the color of the serpent that the Lady becomes, the serpent that killed Rillian's mother. And at the same time Jill is unequivoically the viewpoint character for TSC (I suppose this is to facilitate (re)discovering Narnia; someone always does, in each book).
So, I do sort of wish I'd read the books in publication order this time around, but at the same time I'm reminded again of all the little things that give the series coherency when read in internal chronology order, such as this brilliant, disquieting little moment Underland:
And then on the next page they see Father Time asleep, who will awake at the end of the world--and does. (I can't escape the feeling that Underland enchanted is some sort of anti-riff on communism, actually.)
Here's the thing too: for lunch in Harfang Jill, Puddleglum, and Eustace eat of the flesh of a Talking Stag, and Puddleglum (who's not often wrong) immediately says that they are under a curse and if it were allowed they would do best to kill themselves right there to expiate it. Nowhere in the book, moreover, do we ever get the sense that the curse has been expiated; Aslan is notably absent here, particularly after his omnipresence in TVDT. What does it mean, that Prince Rilian's rescuers and Narnia's saviors are under that curse? Is this why Rilian's line endures so shortly, why Caspian's line holds the throne when Narnia is murdered? I could easily buy this as a textual explanation for the end of the world.
And here's the other thing about Caspian and Rilian: for them, Narnia is a duty and a burden, that keeps them from following their heart's desires--to see Aslan's country in Caspian's case, to see Bism in Rilian's (though he disowns his own temptation, from which only Puddleglum saved him, Eustace having invoked Reppicheep, without need of Aslan yelling at him offstage). Whereas for the Pevensies, Narnia is a gift and a joy and home in a way that Narnia isn't fully for Caspian and Rilian; for them Narnia is like England is to the Pevensies. I exaggerate, but it's a palpable difference nonetheless. To me, in all honesty, Caspian and Rilian seem rather spoiled.
Finally, Puddleglum in his speech to the Witch offers what seems to me a beautiful apology for fantasy:
Yeah, what he said, particularly about Aslan. What this meant for Lewis himself, I'm not sure I'm qualified to say--well, obviously, this is his argument for the value of Christianity even in the absence of God (though obviously Aslan does exist, and for Lewis God does too).
Latter days; the Lady explicitly asks Jill at one point whether she's a Queen of Narnia, which Jill denies, and Eustace for all his blood-tie to the Pevensies is given no particular honor in Narnia, which has its own line of kings who sit on the High King Peter's throne. Once again, Jill and Eustace have a night and a morning in the realm they've given so much to save before they're whisked back to Experiment House, and it feels unfair. The Pevensies had years and years.
Of course, I also find it a little strange how easily Caspian, resurrected in Aslan, sets aside his old life, and how quickly Eustace and Jill profess to want to stay on Aslan's Mountain. I'm missing the point, I know, but the point doesn't speak to me, and that's why I love Puddleglum's speech as a metaphor for fantasy but not as a metaphor where Underland = the real world and Narnia = Heaven/the afterlife. I refuse to believe that all this is as awful and meaningless as Lewis seems to think; it's here that we make our own meaning, here that we write the Narnia books and here that we read them and fall in love with them and are inspired by them--here, and nowhere else.
Unhappy postscript: Perry Moore, who wrote the book Hero and who secured the rights to the Narnia movies before working as an executive producer on them, died recently at the age of 39.
This travel poster is pretty awesome. Also, TSC is not the next Narnia movie; that honor goes to TMN! Color me surprised, though I still think TMN is one of my favorite books, so yay. But onward, to the book itself.
While in the bowels of the main stacks at my university library retrieving The Magician's Book recently I saw an academic book that claimed that Lewis's two main influences were Paradise Lost and The Faerie Queene. Thanks to my conversations with
epershand the first didn't surprise me, and yeah, I haven't even read The Faerie Queene, and I can see it all over TSC. I can also see, as Sarah Monette noted, that this is some kind of complex riff on the Arthurian romances, and specifically possibly Sir Gawain and the Green Knight? In any case the takeaway is green ≠ good--and the collision of the high rhetoric of the romances with people being accused of being blabs and tale-bearers is jarring, as Monette also notes. I was also struck (and it's reading
bedlamsbard's fic that has sensitized me to this) by the passage of time in Narnia. In TSC it feels old in a way it didn't quite under the Pevensies, possibly because it's so much more human and medieval than it was in the Golden Age. In any case, the Narnians have forgotten (much of) their own history: "That almost makes it worse," said the oldest owl. "It means she has some use for him, and some deep scheme against Narnia. Long, long ago, at the very beginning, a White Witch came out of the North and bound our land in snow and ice for a hundred years. And we think this may be some of the same crew." (61)
I'm struck again by the way Lewis has kept Eustace in particular, and Jill too, out of Narnia proper: they each have a night in Cair Paravel (rebuilt, obviously?) before they're packed off to the northern border, and that's it; Eustace on his voyage with Caspian never actually saw Narnia. And neither did Edmund and Lucy, again.
On the other hand, Eustace and Jill are packed off to Puddleglum:
It stands to reason that we're not likely to get very far on a journey to the North, not at this time of the year, with the winter coming on soon and all. And an early winter too, by the look of things. But you mustn't let that get you down-hearted. Very likely, what with enemies, and mountains, and rivers to cross, and losing our way, and next to nothing to eat, and sore feet, we'll hardly notice the weather. (72)
Puddleglum, I love you. Also, Reepicheep would kill you, IJS. The hilarious voice of reason and practicality has appeared after six/four books, and he gives this one a very different tone. And to boot, all the other Marsh-wiggles think Puddleglum is a total Pollyanna! Cultural differences, I tell you, cultural differences!
To return to the green thing briefly, however, there obviously is a Gawain and the Green Knight thing going on--green is simultaneously the color of sexuality (the Lady) and of simpering, foolish femininity (the Giant Queen's gown, the dress Jill receives from the Giants)--actually I wonder whether Lewis differentiates either of those at all. Well, obviously he does, because in Harfang Jill puts on an act of femininity that everyone is very clear is an (embarrassing) act, but of course green is also the color of the serpent that the Lady becomes, the serpent that killed Rillian's mother. And at the same time Jill is unequivoically the viewpoint character for TSC (I suppose this is to facilitate (re)discovering Narnia; someone always does, in each book).
So, I do sort of wish I'd read the books in publication order this time around, but at the same time I'm reminded again of all the little things that give the series coherency when read in internal chronology order, such as this brilliant, disquieting little moment Underland:
Here they passed dozens of strange animals lying on the turf, either dead or asleep, Jill could not tell which. These were mostly of a dragonish or bat-like sort; Puddleglum did not know what any of them were.
"Do they grow here?" Scrubb asked the Warden. He seemed very surprised at being spoken to, but replied, "No. They are all beasts that have found their way down by chasms and caves, out of Overland into the Deep Realm. Many come down, and few return to the sunlit lands. It is said that they will all wake at the end of the world." (149-51)
And then on the next page they see Father Time asleep, who will awake at the end of the world--and does. (I can't escape the feeling that Underland enchanted is some sort of anti-riff on communism, actually.)
Here's the thing too: for lunch in Harfang Jill, Puddleglum, and Eustace eat of the flesh of a Talking Stag, and Puddleglum (who's not often wrong) immediately says that they are under a curse and if it were allowed they would do best to kill themselves right there to expiate it. Nowhere in the book, moreover, do we ever get the sense that the curse has been expiated; Aslan is notably absent here, particularly after his omnipresence in TVDT. What does it mean, that Prince Rilian's rescuers and Narnia's saviors are under that curse? Is this why Rilian's line endures so shortly, why Caspian's line holds the throne when Narnia is murdered? I could easily buy this as a textual explanation for the end of the world.
And here's the other thing about Caspian and Rilian: for them, Narnia is a duty and a burden, that keeps them from following their heart's desires--to see Aslan's country in Caspian's case, to see Bism in Rilian's (though he disowns his own temptation, from which only Puddleglum saved him, Eustace having invoked Reppicheep, without need of Aslan yelling at him offstage). Whereas for the Pevensies, Narnia is a gift and a joy and home in a way that Narnia isn't fully for Caspian and Rilian; for them Narnia is like England is to the Pevensies. I exaggerate, but it's a palpable difference nonetheless. To me, in all honesty, Caspian and Rilian seem rather spoiled.
Finally, Puddleglum in his speech to the Witch offers what seems to me a beautiful apology for fantasy:
But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things--trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. (190-91)
Yeah, what he said, particularly about Aslan. What this meant for Lewis himself, I'm not sure I'm qualified to say--well, obviously, this is his argument for the value of Christianity even in the absence of God (though obviously Aslan does exist, and for Lewis God does too).
But however sore and jolted the two humans were, they would now give anything to have that journey again: to see those glades and slopes sparkling with last night's snow, to be met by rabbits and squirrels and birds that wished you good morning, to breathe again the air of Narnia and hear the voices of Narnian trees. (247)
Latter days; the Lady explicitly asks Jill at one point whether she's a Queen of Narnia, which Jill denies, and Eustace for all his blood-tie to the Pevensies is given no particular honor in Narnia, which has its own line of kings who sit on the High King Peter's throne. Once again, Jill and Eustace have a night and a morning in the realm they've given so much to save before they're whisked back to Experiment House, and it feels unfair. The Pevensies had years and years.
Of course, I also find it a little strange how easily Caspian, resurrected in Aslan, sets aside his old life, and how quickly Eustace and Jill profess to want to stay on Aslan's Mountain. I'm missing the point, I know, but the point doesn't speak to me, and that's why I love Puddleglum's speech as a metaphor for fantasy but not as a metaphor where Underland = the real world and Narnia = Heaven/the afterlife. I refuse to believe that all this is as awful and meaningless as Lewis seems to think; it's here that we make our own meaning, here that we write the Narnia books and here that we read them and fall in love with them and are inspired by them--here, and nowhere else.
Unhappy postscript: Perry Moore, who wrote the book Hero and who secured the rights to the Narnia movies before working as an executive producer on them, died recently at the age of 39.