Gwendolen's Encounter with Aslan

Back in the day when the Internet was still rather young and I occasionally found myself in need of an alias (say, perhaps, when posting my reviews of the film adaptations at Narniaweb), I would use the name Gwendolen. Being that this was the height of my Narnia enthusiasm, I took the name from a random side character in Prince Caspian. That is, Gwendolen is even less than a side character. She is hardly even enough of a character to warrant being named: she only takes up about a page of text, depending on what format you're reading. 

I just chose her name for the random and obscure Narnia connection. Looking back at the Gwendolen passage, though, I find that I do identify with her story and the deeper thematic elements at play.

I was still just young enough back then that I imagined being cast in the role in the movie and delivering Gwendolen's two lines. Towards the end of the book, when Aslan is traveling with Bacchus and the Pevensie sisters and freeing Narnia from the Telmarines, he encounters Gwendolen at a school. She isn't paying attention to the teacher because she sees a lion outside. After transforming the school into a mass of ivy, Aslan invites Gwendolen to join them; he calls her sweetheart. "'Oh, may I?'" is her response. 

Gwendolen is overjoyed at being allowed into and invited into this company. Aslan speaks to her personally and singles her out with affection. If Aslan is the Jesus figure of Narnia, then this is Jesus in his earthly ministry, walking among the people and talking to them and freeing them. They are invited into the wild joy that only communion with him can bring. In particular, Gwendolen reminds me of the girl he saves from death in Mark 5 (likewise, the teacher in the next passage reminds me of the woman with the issue of blood in Mark, but that's another story). He says that the girl is sleeping and awakens her by saying, ""Little girl, I say to you, arise.'" (Mark 5: 41 NKJV). The use of "little girl" and "sweetheart" are similar in their affection. Gwendolen is told to come, and the girl is told to rise and eat. Again, very similar. 

Jesus comes breaking chains, giving new life, and inviting us in to a new company--his company. Our, "May I come in?" is met with a bold and yet also joyous, "Come." We are invited right into the middle of his plans and right into the center of his heart. Personally and affectionately. The question as we enter this new year 2022 is whether or not I still believe I am invited in. I've grown rather used to existing on the fringes, on the outside--when I was Gwendolen accepting the invitation to run with the company I think I just took the most invisible space possible hoping not to be a bother. But that isn't entirely consistent with the personal and affectionate invitation to come, is it? I guess I tend to forget my own story, don't I?

Aslan Revisited

I've been mentioning that I'm trying to work through more of the books that I own but have not yet read. First I brought it down to under a hundred; now I'm trying for under ninety. It's hard because I don't want to completely stop buying new books, either. I just can't let them build up so much anymore, so now I have to prioritize new books (and not buy anymore new books if I haven't finished the ones I've just bought) and yet also make my way through the old ones. 

Sometimes that means I look for the quick reads. I thought that Thomas Williams's The Heart of the Chronicles of Narnia: Knowing God Here by Finding Him There would be quick. When I picked it up, though, I was a little embarrassed to see that it was published in 2005 and I probably bought it in 2005 (or maybe 2006) as well. So that means I've had this book for over 15 years without reading it. Oops. 

When I was fourteen, I loved the symbolism or "applicability" of Narnia. But reading a non-fiction book like this may have seemed more intimidating than reading articles online or even reading all the entries in Paul F. Ford's Companion to Narnia. Maybe that's why I didn't read it at the time? And then later, it seemed like I already new all the symbolism. Aslan is a Christ type, Eustace has his baptism scene, The Last Battle mirrors the book of Revelation, etc. I knew background on C.S. Lewis, as well. So what was the point in a book that so clearly was designed by publishers to capitalize on the monetary opportunities brought up by Disney and Walden Media's 2005 Narnia movie? 

The thing is, though, Thomas Williams did a great job with this book. If you haven't thought about all the applicability in Narnia, then this is a quick and easy way to revisit the stories with that perspective. But even if you have, the revisiting is still worth it. Maybe you get a reminder of a certain scene you hadn't considered--or you even take things to a deeper level. Because the symbolism, if that's what we agree to call it, can be pretty easy. Obviously Aslan is like Jesus. The Magician's Nephew obviously describes creation and the fall. Obviously Turkish delight is sin and temptation. But there is more to it. 

There is also the exploration of the spiritual journey. Narnia contains examples of morality: sin but also redemption, failure but also repentance, faith in action, and consequences for our failure. This book delves into all of this and provides that direct application to our own lives. That is, we'll hear about the example in Narnia, the equivalent in the Bible, and what that means toward us today. You could really easily make a Bible study out of this book. It's about Narnia but it's also about growing our own Christian walk.

Thomas Williams takes not just Narnia but also other writings of Lewis. He references his other fiction and non-fiction. I've read most of that, which is helpful. But you don't have to have read any of it. Each idea that he references he also explains. So this book is also a nice overview of C.S. Lewis's ideas in general. Again, it may not necessarily have completely new ideas--but it doesn't need to have them. Just as Lewis is known for presenting deep concepts in simple form, Thomas Williams takes the whole of what C.S. Lewis aimed to do with his writing and interprets it with simplicity. 

So I ended up enjoying this book so much more than I'd been expecting. I certainly wasn't expecting that I'd feel like blogging about it. But it reawakened my interest in Narnia. I remembered not just why I loved those stories, but also what I respond to and what excites me. I like pondering visuals and concepts both that remind me of God's presence, his existence, his creation. Narnia reminds us that we're all searching and grasping and constantly getting reminded of something that we can't quite explain--and that's us seeking God because as his creation we crave him more than anything else and nothing else will satisfy. So even though this book is no longer new, I would still highly recommend if you have a strong or even just a mild interest in Narnia. 

Wanting to Be Superhuman

Why do people often complain about fictional characters? They say they're whiny or complain too much or don't handle things well. Bella from Twilight and Kylo Ren from Star Wars come to mind as two big such characters. But when people complain about characters' reactions, do they think about how they themselves would react to the same circumstances that these fictional character go through?

Take Kylo. He didn't find out until he was in his twenties that Darth Vader was his grandfather--and he didn't even find out because his family told him. He found out because the secret went public. So he found that out and he was having some struggles with staying on the right path and then he had that encounter with Luke---so of course all that would mess someone up. Does that mean he isn't responsible for his actions? No, of course not. I'm just saying that the right choice isn't always easy or even clear when you're in the middle of it all. It's easy to blame fictional characters for things that we might fail at ourselves.

I've talked at some point about how The Silver Chair is one of the least favorite books out of The Chronicles of Narnia. And it also happens to be the book in which all of the characters keep failing. They have clear tasks and yet they just keep botching it all up (though Aslan is there to help them through it all, anyway, and they do succeed in the end). So it's hard to dwell in that story because it reminds us of our own shortcomings.

That's why we often prefer our fictional characters to act in superhuman ways: we want to believe that we can, too. Sure, characters that are relatable are great, but we'd rather relate to their positive traits or even simply their struggles than their failures. We want to believe that we're tempted to be bystanders like Han Solo but we come through in the end, or that we're shaken by some sort of awful realization like Luke was but that we use that knowledge for good. But we don't want to know that we're falling apart like Kylo. We don't want to know that we're botching everything up like Jill and Eustace and Puddleglum did in The Silver Chair.

That's why we criticize fictional characters. Failure hurts but victory gives us hope. We can learn from the failure, but sometimes we just like fiction to feel good.

The Hundred Acre Wood Becomes Narnia

The idea of Christopher Robin sounded much like Hook, right? The adult has outgrown the fantasy of childhood and has to relearn it all in order to reconnect with his children. But if Hook was something that adults in particular could relate to, Christopher Robin is even more so. 

The beginning scenes make for a touching short film in and of themselves. The boy who knows that he's growing up and will soon have other things to replace his childhood play. The boy who becomes the child in grief, the young man who has to handle "so much more than he should." The person who has to go to war and face all of the horrors therein. The man who has to return from the war and approach the new battlefield of the work force to provide for his family. The person who is so tired out from all of this that he can't even take a free moment to remember what joy and happiness are; he's just so busy trying to handle responsibility. 

What makes all of this so touching is that step by step montage. With something like Hook, you have the parent who values their career as if it matters more than their family. You see it often in film (Jungle 2 Jungle is coming to mind, too, for some reason--ah, 90's films). Then they get the reminder that they need to remember that it's their family that should come first. But with Christopher Robin, you know that this character does love and care for his family--it's that love and care that let him come back half sane from the blackness of war and that drives him to spend so much time on work so that he can make things better for his wife and daughter. It's so touching because we've all seen it in real life. People who work full time don't have much time to spend at home--and yet you have to work full time or even overtime to provide for a family. So the film isn't saying that Christopher was in the wrong and needed to learn a lesson; it's saying that life is hard. 

As far as the fantasy world goes, basically this film made the Hundred Acre Wood into Narnia. It's a little different from what you get when you are simply looking at stories of Christopher as a boy. There, this fantasy place is his created world, in a way his practice place for the real world; it is inevitably, by its very nature, the place of childhood that he will leave when he reaches adulthood. Narnia, on the other hand, is the place that you continue to believe in even when you grow up, even if you no longer visit it as an adult. Narnia fans will remember that Peter, Edmund, and Lucy would get together with Professor Kirke, Polly, Eustace, and Jill to talk about Narnia--but Susan, once she grew up, no longer believed in Narnia and considered it simply an old childhood game, nothing of importance. So that's kind of the same thing that this film did with Christopher Robin's Hundred Acre Wood. 

This wood became a place that it was important to still remember and stay in touch with. Robin doesn't just stop visiting Pooh and Piglet and the rest; he also puts away his drawings of them and discourages his daughter from looking at the pictures, instead of telling her about the fun games he used to play as a boy and letting the games live on with her. Because life took away his spark of fun, he isn't feeding that spark to his daughter. 

The Hundred Acre Wood shifted from being a representation of childhood to being the element of play, the element of fun that needs to remain part of life even when you have to add necessary things like responsibility to it. 

Lucy & Susan with Aslan

In one of my college classes, we read a couple of The Chronicles of Narnia (LWW and LB, I believe), and at some point a conversation arose about C.S. Lewis's portrayal of female characters. There was some question of whether he portrayed femininity in a positive light; some people pointed out that the good characters are generally less feminine (Lucy, for instance, wields a bow and Aravis is rather what we once called a tomboy) and the weaker characters are more feminine (Susan gives up on Narnia in favor of "nylons and lipstick" and Lasaraleen loves clothing and shopping). Now, I think it's all a little more complicated than that. Being feminine, for one thing, isn't just about liking makeup and lipstick--Lucy is also feminine. And sometimes the disdain for makeup/clothing is meant more as disdain for materiality. Additionally, these are children's adventure stories, and often children aren't particularly feminine or masculine yet: they're just children. C.S. Lewis is actually fairly equal in his portray of children, if you think about it: LWW focuses on two girls and two boys, and MN, HHB, SC, and LB all focus on a girl and a boy. PC and VDT do have more boys than girls, but Caspian is such a great character that I don't really mind--and I never even thought about it before, anyway.

All of this was just leading in to a newer thought I was having. I was on the side to defend C.S. Lewis's portrayal of female characters (some people also pointed out that he himself simply didn't know very many women very closely; after all, he didn't marry Joy until fairly late in life), so I realized another way of looking at scenes. It's kind of like when people talk about women in the Bible, saying that there aren't very many or that they're in inferior place to men or whatever--when you actually look at individual women, there are some very important, positive things to notice about who they were, what they did, and how they were received. Same thing with Narnia.

There are several instances, from as small a thing as the arrival of the cabman's wife in MN to something bigger like Aslan's "choosing" of Lucy to receive his messages and help bring the others to Narnia (I'm thinking of scenes in both LWW and PC). In fact, Lucy is the most "chosen" character out of the whole series, followed perhaps by Caspian (though he is chosen simply to lead a country, while Lucy is chosen for almost more of a spiritual position). (Peter may be the High King and he does play that role well, but he never really feels as important as Lucy.) Aslan is constantly appearing to Lucy, often to Lucy alone. Yes, he appears to other characters, like that wonderful scene with Shasta in HHB (that scene is one of my favorites, where he's walking next to him), but those scenes are usually more on a persona, one-on-one basis. When Aslan appears to Lucy, he is asking her to tell others what he wants; he is trusting her with his messages and asking her to have faith for them all. That's a big deal.

So the main scene I've been thinking of is in LWW when Lucy and Susan walk with Aslan to the Stone Table. Just think about that scene. I remember watching it in the animated movie, and even when I was young, that scene just had such a resonance, such a weightiness, such a sense of significance. The fact that Aslan is allowing these two characters, these two girls, to walk with him on this night, to set hands in his mane, really says something about how they are viewed. They are special and important in order to be welcomed into this place. And they repay their favor by being with Aslan after the White Witch kills him, by trying to untie the ropes that bind him. In turn, they are rewarded by being the first to see him come to life again. And that, too, is big. Okay, you can say that C.S. Lewis wasn't giving any special place to women because he was only mimicking Biblical scenes, but wouldn't that make you pause, too? Because if this position is special for Lucy and Susan, then it really was for the women in the Bible. It's a special place, definitely a special place.

What a beautiful moment in fiction it is, too: Lucy and Susan, walking side by side with a great lion during the darkened night while he willingly walks to his death with only their company.

Food in Fiction

I love reading about food and looking at food, and I know I'm not alone. Eating can be nice but it can also be a chore (didn't I just finish washing the dishes and now I'm hungry again?), but thinking about  food is simply wonderful. And sometimes it's fiction that makes you think of or crave a certain kind of food. TV shows where the characters are always drinking orange juice or books with a killer description of pumpkin pie, for instance. Here are just a few examples.

1) I Dream of Jeannie: coffee, maybe with toast and (turkey) bacon - Seriously, they're always drinking coffee in this show, and even though an episode says that Major Nelson drinks his with "a little bit of sugar and a little bit of cream," all the coffee always looks black--which makes it look even more crave-able and coffee-like. It was this show that made me start drinking coffee to begin with and to this day I generally prefer it black (and weak . . . ). With the coffee is often toast, like in that delightful bit when Roger is on the phone in the morning while putting jelly on little triangles of toast--oh, that scene makes me want toast so bad that I often do cut toast into little triangles just to make it mimic this scene. They also tend to eat bacon with their coffee; my choice is turkey bacon, and pair it with toast triangles and black coffee and it's like I'm straight in the show.

2) Becoming Earnest: cucumber sandwiches - I don't know where I first heard about cucumber sandwiches, but I was always enchanted by the idea (people don't really eat cucumber sandwiches here and now) and tried to see how thin I could slice cucumbers to make some. So, naturally, all the mentions of cucumber sandwiches and how so and so loves them so much that they must have some for so and so's visit except that what's-his-name eats all of them before she can arrive just made me want go back to my old craving. Care to join me in a tea shop for some lovely little sandwiches with cucumber slices inside?

3) The Chronicles of Narnia: pretty much everything - C.S. Lewis explained that he liked reading about food and therefore knew that children would, as well, so he fills this series with descriptions of food. They're always eating--even the descriptions of the dirt the trees eat at the end of Prince Caspian are tempting. In particular, though, I'd say these books make me crave scrambled eggs--or "buttered eggs," as they're described at one point, making the younger me wonder at what point the butter was added to the eggs. Then there's the infamous fresh fish with the marmalade roll for dessert that the Pevensies have with the Beavers in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; that food is almost heavenly. A lot of fruits in there, too, like the apples in Prince Caspian and a great variety in The Horse and his Boy. And let's not forget the Turkish delight, which I tried specifically because it was in Narnia (Americans don't eat Turkish delight and when they rarely might come across it, most of them think it is very weird, which is of course completely irrational). In fact, I picked up some very nice Turkish delight at Ross earlier this year (later I found a different kind there that was okay but nowhere near as good as the first).

4) The Lord of the Rings: bread and meat - Tolkien describes plenty of food, but I think his descriptions of landscape are generally richer than his descriptions of food, due not in small part to the fact that his characters are off on journeys where they really can't get their hands on much good food. Where he is most vivid, though, is in describing not food exactly but the craving of food--namely, plain bread and meat, which Frodo and Sam crave on their journey to Mount Doom when they have run out of everything except for the lembas bread. It makes you really appreciate a good loaf with a nice crust from your local bakery (if you have a good local bakery, please support it: good bread is one of the wonders of life), and good meat without too much done to it that's just cooked well.

5) Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory: candy and chocolate and soda and anything sweet - Okay, let's just go for it. I haven't really read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and I'm not fond of the Johnny Depp version, but that original movie is just full of the sweetness. The way that a single chocolate candy bar is so special to Charlie makes you think of how much you enjoyed candy as a child, and the factory makes me think of how much I still love candy stores. I once watched this movie while eating a melted 100 gram bar of chocolate out of a mug with a spoon. Now I just want someone to bring me a bucket full of Smarties--and maybe a few lollipops, too.

The Meaning of Entertainment in Narnia

I've had this thought going through my head. I was thinking back to The Chronicles of Narnia, thinking about how The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is the most recognized of the series and how The Voyage of the Dawn Treader was my favorite at one point and The Horse and his Boy at another. And how nobody seems to name The Magician's Nephew or The Silver Chair as their favorite (well, not many people name The Horse and his Boy, either, but I think that's because it's the only of the seven books to not take place at all in Narnia and so it's in less familiar territory to readers).

(From henceforth I will use the abbreviations for the titles: The Magician's Nephew is MN, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is LWW, The Horse and his Boy is HHB, Prince Caspian is PC, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is VDT, The Silver Chair is SC, and The Last Battle is LB.)

Thinking of the atmosphere of the stories, it's as if MN and SC take place in a more mythical, thematic, and moral ground from the other stories. HHB has some of the deepest spiritual moments, too, but they're brief and the rest of its form is just an adventure story with lots of walking through the desert. Yes, LWW and LB (along with MN) contain the most recognizable hmm, analogies or re-imaginings, if you will, of Biblical stories, but LWW and LB are at the same time just fun fantasy stories. There are themes and imagery in there, but there are also sword fights and battles and fantastical creatures and talking animals and all that. MN and SC are more stark.

MN takes place largely in our world, which may also be one of the reasons it is less liked. And SC is, well, kind of depressing. It's all about characters failing to do what they're supposed to do and what they know that they need to do. They make it though in the end, but not without consequences. And seeing their failure I think reminds us of our own failures. Which kind of brings us back to MN, which is the telling of how evil entered the world of Narnia, as it did in our world. So in thinking of these things, I wondered if it is selfish to dislike MN and SC.

Do you see what I mean? LWW tells (among other things) the story of how Edmund followed the White Witch and then was saved by Aslan; that's a story of redemption, and forgiveness is nice to hear about. But MN and SC have characters who are good and who mean well but who still fail--and that's hard to read about because we know that we, too, fail. Yet shouldn't we be glad to read stories like this, reminders of how easy it is to fall back so that we can perhaps do so a little less often? Shouldn't we like MN and SC for what they teach us?

Ah, but there is the thing: we don't want fiction to teach us. We want fiction to entertain us. So that made me think of the meaning and rights of entertainment. For instance, I tend to say that I like movies for entertainment when I'm trying to avoid watching what I know will be a sad movie--something about war, perhaps. And yet I like movies like Amazing Grace (which is the story of how William Wilberforce fought to end Britain's slave trade--it has both sad moments and a message about fighting for what is right even when it is not popular to do so). So is it true that I don't want to learn anything from fiction? Not really. At the same time, I don't want fiction to be trying to teach me and yet I do want to be able to learn from it. Strange, yet I think that's how most people feel, if they think about it.

But I also wonder what is our right, as the reader or as the watcher, to demand from entertainment. Entertainment, by its very nature, is designed for relaxing. So it is our right to demand fiction that demands nothing of us but our time: fiction we can go to simply to enjoy imagining another place, another time, or another set of (fictional) people. That's okay. It's okay because there is also plenty of fiction out there to teach us things: we don't need it all to teach us. So if MN and SC are less popular because they're less fun to read, well, I guess that's okay.

The Coming of the Rains

The rains have come. We call it monsoon season. It means that even if there are hours in a day with broad sunlight, there are also hours with clouds upon clouds. And in the afternoon or evening, there is rain. Sometimes there is a patch of sky with the brightest summer sunlight, and deep dark clouds right beside it. Sometimes it's sunny while it's raining. Sometimes the sky pours out like an overturned bucket, so hard, so briefly, and then the sun comes back out and pretends like nothing happened.

It's raining now. The morning was half cloudy, around a hundred degrees, kinda nice out. At lunch, I saw the clouds gathering more solidly on the horizon. Now they are covering the sky in white-grey, the thunder is pounding, the trees are swaying in the wind, and the rain is falling at a thick and steady pace. I'm hoping the power doesn't go out. The power tends to go out almost daily during monsoon season. It's just a question of when and for how long.

I'm thinking of rain in fiction. In the badly animated version of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe that I grew up with, it's raining when the Pevensies are at the professor's house (well, it is in the book, too, but it's more visual in the movie). Rain there represents boredom--but also what drives them to try something new: playing indoors is what drives them all to the wardrobe and to Narnia.

In The Lion King, rain is the soothing cleansing that ushers in healing and a new day. Rain washes away the hurts of Scar's reign and feeds the plants so that everything can grow and blossom again. Because of rain, the land can turn lush once more and its people (or animals, as the case may be) can feel alive again.

But what if we combined both of these examples? Let's go to The Fellowship of the Ring. It is raining while the hobbits are staying at Tom Bombadil's house, and I think that rain always helped to enhance the dreamlike state of their time there. It's like the rain creates its own world that it encloses you into. (Goodness. There was just a very loud crack of thunder and this lightning is flashing like the lights at a pop rock concert. And that bolt looked like it was just a small walk from my window. It probably was.) The hobbits do find healing from this rain: it represents a period of rest from their journey. But it also has a quietness, like in the Narnia example--and it is also a kind of gateway. After passing Tom Bombadil's house, they reach Bree and the lands outside of the Shire, which might as well be a different world to them.

Maybe rain represents passage into somewhere new because rain itself is a traveler. It travels from the sky, down through the air, to the earth. From there it rises up again, lingers in the clouds, and comes back down. It's always on the move, always going to a new place, always seeing something new.

Pauline Baynes & Tolkien

Most people recognize Pauline Baynes for illustrating The Chronicles of Narnia, but what less people know is that she also illustrated for Tolkien. In fact, I've also heard that she was his preferred illustrator. So while the little hardcover copy of Bilbo's Last Song is a slim volume, it is worth having just because it includes Pauline Baynes illustrations. Alan Lee and Ted Nasmith have done great work for Tolkien's writings, too, but there's something delightful about Pauline Baynes's style--probably not least of which is the similarity to her Narnia work.

At $12 for a poem you can read in the blink of an eye, this is probably a volume most people will pass over. But I happily got it as a sort of gift. The text is, of course, Bilbo reminiscing as he departs at the Grey Havens. So the illustrations portray both his departure and flashbacks to his time during The Hobbit. My favorites include: the trees that surround the text, the clothing the elves wear as they ride to the Havens, frog-like Gollum sitting in his boat, and the Lonely Mountain. It's a delightful collection.

I'm loving how many more books like these are in stores lately because of the movies coming back. 

The Silver Chair & The Holy Grail

To read Part 1 of this little comparison, click here. 

Now that I have compared Caspian to King Arthur, let's move on to the events that take place after the two are established as rulers. Arthur has his knights set out on a quest for the Holy Grail that takes many years and involves many shortcomings from said knights. Caspian's people have been searching for Prince Rilian, who was stolen by the Lady of the Green Kirtle as a child. This search, too, takes many years.

It is only someone pure who is able to take the Grail--and isn't it similar with who is able to find Rilian, as well? Jill and Eustace are, at least, both children. Questers for the Grail also see visions, which they must interpret. Jill and Eustace are constantly having dreams or other messages from Aslan--which they usually misinterpret or forget or otherwise mess up. They have a very Grail-Quest-like guide, too, in Puddleglum.

I think also there is similarity in the tone. The Silver Chair has never been my favorite Narnia book, but I may find it the most relatable. The characters just never seem to do things right. But there is also a peculiar tone to this book that is simultaneously disconcerting and compelling. It is enhanced by both many harsh weather scenes and much magic--both the evil magic of the Lady of the Green Kirtle and the good magic of Aslan. These are "extraordinary events" that constantly come into the King Arthur legends, as well. The Lady of the Green Kirtle is not so different from Morgan le Fey, Arthur's half-sister and mother of Mordred (who gives Arthur his deadly wound). Both are women gone wrong whose enchantments must be overcome.

Once both quests are played out, the kingdom is brought to a better place--at at least out of the slump it was in before.

King Caspian = King Arthur?

On further thought, I have decided to divide out my (in truth, brief) comparison of Narnia and Arthuriana. This first section will focus on Caspian and his relation to Arthur; the second will be more about the "after events" of the searches for Rilian and the Holy Grail. I know I spoke very briefly on this subject three or four years ago, but I won't be concerned about repeating myself. If I do, I think it will be very little (since it was so briefly that I talked about it before), and I trust that most of my readers now weren't here quite so long ago.

We all know the story of King Arthur pulling the sword from the stone and thereby showing himself rightful heir to the throne. Caspian may not have quite a grand moment like this, but aren't the basics the same? He, too, was not raised by his parents, and he, too, became the young king endowed by fate and divinity into this position. Like Arthur, he became a Narnian legend--Caspian the Seafarer. Instead of his Knights of the Round Table, he has those who accompanied him on the voyage into the East.

And like Arthur, his death is complicated. Arthur receives his deadly wound from Mordred and is carried off to Avalon--leaving us with a more symbolic than practical hope that he will recover and return. Caspian, in his old age, sails off once more; when he dies, Eustace and Jill see him once more in Aslan's Country. After Aslan has restored him to youth, he even accompanies the two back to England briefly before going back with Aslan. So while Caspian definitely died and never came back to that Narnia again, his death is connected to life and continuance in a way that is similar to Arthur's.

You see, I am in a class right now on Arthurian legends and their many re-imaginings. Reading this material has made me in greater and greater awe of The Chronicles of Narnia. Their brilliance is in their fantastic simplicity; yet they still reference and evoke so much. Back when I first compared Eustace's constant failures on his search for Rilian to Percival's shortcomings searching for the Holy Grail, I didn't realize how right on the mark my "random" comparison actually was. But that is the topic for next time.

To read Part 2, click here. 

Favorite Fictional Couples

My last post gave me the idea for this one. Fittingly, then, I will start with the couple I mentioned there; after that, there will be no particular order to the list. Also, these are mainly supposed to be instances where it is the pair I like, not just one individual.

1) Abby & Connor (TV: Primeval) - I probably talked enough about these two last time, so I'll just repeat that I love them together. They just make the world brighter and happier when they're together.

2) Jane & Rochester (Book: Jane Eyre) - This relationship has taken on such a symbolic meaning to me. The two can only properly come together once they have learned to be individuals. Yet they are drawn to each other because of their differing elements, the elements that complete each other.

3) Jeannie & Major Nelson (TV: I Dream of Jeannie) - Even when they're having their spats, these two still adore each other. Their love is like some spark of magic that refuses to go away.

4) Nat & Daisy (Book: Little Men & Jo's Boys) - I suppose I like this pairing mainly because of Nat. He comes from such a sad background, then he and Daisy meet and never look back. They're both very demure.

5) Eowyn & Faramir (Book: The Lord of the Rings) - There is a similar Jane/Rochester thing that happens here: the coming together of these two characters marks certain other changes in their lives. Eowyn in particular must learn something more about herself while she is in the Houses of Healing, where she meets Faramir.

6) Cathy & Heathcliff (Book: Wuthering Heights) - How could I do a list like this and not include these two? People who say that this book is just about hate and not love are simplifying it too much; there is a love story in it, and I think the love is probably just the easiest part of the novel to grasp onto. There's nothing so compelling as tragic love, eh?

7) Gatsby & Daisy (Book: The Great Gatsby) - Speaking of tragic love, I also felt compelled to include these two. It's true, I'm not so interested in Daisy as Gatsby, but his love for her is wonderful. The green light is wonderful. Their story is tragic, sweet, and simultaneously hopeless and hopeful.

8) John Keats & Fanny Brawne (Movie: Bright Star) - Watch this movie and you'll never read a John Keats poem the same. More tragic love here, though much sweeter. There are similarities to Nat/Daisy, just with poetry and death added in--a couple little differences . . .

9) Caspian & Ramandu's Daughter (Book: The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader & The Silver Chair) - I love this pairing because, being part of a children's story, it's so subtle. No superfluous romance or flirting, just two characters who fall in love--it's fairy tale-like.

10) Anakin & Padme (Movie: Star Wars) - I wasn't going to add these two in because of all the hate the prequel trilogy tends to get. But I have to admit that I like characters' stories in the entire six part arc. There is so much character conflict in this love story and so much fate and fear/hate challenging love that I do have to include it.


I'm sensing some patterns here. Four out of ten are tragic stories. I think you could easily say that three of the six leftover could have very nearly been tragic. Four out of ten couples either pick on each other or something similar. Six out of ten of the women step out in some particular way from the traditional women's side of things--some of them being (like Eowyn) a little more wild, I guess, than their counterparts (Faramir, though a soldier, has a very gentle nature that is contrary to Eowyn's).

Since all of these characteristics were still just percents out of a whole, I can't say how much they tell about my own tastes without comparing my list to ones made by other people. After all, though I know I tend to like the tragic loves, don't many of us? That's one reason why Titanic (which I actually don't like much) did so well in theatres and why Romeo and Juliet (which I don't really like, either--but I'm not a big fan of Shakespeare in general) is probably the first Shakespeare play children hear of.

Make Way for the Dawn Treader!

I don't believe I have said much about my opinions on the first two Disney/Walden Media Narnia films; let's just say that while they did some things well, others I was not so keen on. After Prince Caspian, I didn't even feel like getting too excited over The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. After all, it was a two and a half year wait, in any case. Once I learned that Michael Apted would be directing (whose work with Amazing Grace I loved) and that he would be bringing David Arnold in for the score (whom I also lauded for AG), I started to hope.

Suddenly, a week ago, the movie was here. I saw it the afternoon it came out (coincidentally, after an English Grammar study session), and I smiled through nearly the whole thing. The opening shot was whimsical, tricking you for a second that you are looking at Narnia when it is really London. Will Poulter embodied Eustace absolutely perfectly; he deserves some awards for his performance. Reepicheep was finally the Reepicheep I had read about. Ben Barnes was able to be Caspian to the full extent.

Scenery is gorgeous. The ship's look is just right, the cave where they put the deathwater pool looks amazing, and I must give the team extra credit for pulling off an attack by a sea serpent. The score was lovely in its simplicity: it wasn't begging you to think epically, letting itself instead work as the enhancer of the movie it ought to be.

Although I certainly have nit-picking, as well, this is all I will say. (If you want to read a bit more, here is my review on Narniaweb.) It was a well-made movie that I thoroughly enjoyed and greatly recommend.

Waiting . . .

It seems I always have a long list of things I'm waiting for. Then once the list starts shortening, new things go up on it. I've realized now that it will never end; I just have to figure out how to learn patience. Here's the list for today:

Books:

1. Here Burns My Candle by Liz Curtis Higgs. The release date for this one has been pushed back once or twice, but it's set to come out in the spring. Liz is one of the few modern writers that I really love; she can turn out such an emotionally dense story.

2. The Twilight Saga Official Guide by Stephenie Meyer. It was originally supposed to come out December 31st, 2008 . . . last I checked, Barnes & Noble was listing the same day in '10. We'll see it that's true.

3. The New Moon Official Illustrated Movie Companion. I've already pre-ordered it, but even though I'll get it in about two weeks, I'm waiting until I see the movie to open it. Insane, I know. But I have to stay away from spoilers and pre-ordering is just too tempting.

4. I think I can now add the next Bran Hambric book by Kaleb Nation. I don't think I'll be holding my breath too much for it, yet it'll be nice to have.

Movies:

1. You guessed it, New Moon. Sixty more days. I'm tempted to go to the midnight showing, but that probably won't be happening. I'll probably see it at a dull time around 2:30, giving me time to go to class, get lunch, and be at the theatre with ample time.

2. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The first two Narnia movies, well, they had their good and bad points. I still love Narnia itself enough that I'll continue watching, anyway. Plus, I think this next one is going to be different from the other two. I'm really starting to think having Michael Apted directing and David Arnold with the music, not to mention the two way-too-old oldest Pevensies mostly out of the picture, will make it better. 12/10/10.

Music:

1. Josh Groban is working on his next CD right now, which will probably come out in the spring. I'm really curious what tone he's going for. Three studio albums (minus the Christmas ones) are still beginnings. A fourth starts to show who you are as an artist overall.

2. Fireflight is also recording their next album. I've been really into them lately. They have great lyrics that make their approach to a loud, hard genre unique. No idea when the release is.

3. After years of just touring, Flyleaf is back. Even when I found them a year ago, their album was already old, so I'm really looking forward to hearing their next one. The single "Again" seems to set a good standard. October 27th.

4. It's just over a week now until the 29th, when Paramore's Brand New Eyes comes out. I wasn't overly impressed by "Ignorance" the first time I heard it, but it's grown on me. One week until I can hear the rest.

5. And let me just add in the rest of them. Hayley (Westenra), aren't you due for another album soon? Emma (Shapplin), will you ever get a third studio album? I would really like one. Oh, and Blondfire, didn't you say you wanted to release at least an EP this year? But I know it's hard for them since they're using their own label; Emma also had trouble with record companies.

Alright, I think I've hit most of them. I guess it isn't that long a list, if you really think about it.

A slight makeover for the page. I'm still not sure if I like the background. It might have too much going on, but I'm really not techie enough to design my own, so I'll try it out for a bit. And I think I may look mad in my profile picture . . .

Eustace and the Holy Grail

Two weeks into my time at ASU, I think I can safely spend a few minutes on a post without thinking I should be spending my precious leisure time more leisurely. So, we come once more to The Chronicles of Narnia. As I went through The Silver Chair, I started likening Eustace and Jill's search for Prince Rilian to Percival's search for the grail. True, there are a lot of stories about searches and I've only read a little bit of Percival's story, but there's a similarity in the tone as well as the content.

Percival and Jill/Eustace fail to see the obvious: Percival doesn't realize he's found the grail and the other two don't realize they've reached one of the signs (the "Under Me.") Their quests are also faith-based. This is obvious on Percival's part, but Jill and Eustace have to go off of a very small bit of info, then put their trust in Aslan to do the rest.

. . . and that's it. I picked up a couple of books from Barnes and Noble's "Discover Great New Authors" section. It's a great place to find uniqueness. I have another book to read first, but hopefully I'll be getting to the new ones soon (especially since one is about Charlotte Bronte . . . . )

Oliver Twist and Shasta

Comparing Oliver Twist to The Horse and His Boy may seem far-fetched, but the stories are more similar than you might think.

First we have Oliver and Shasta (unlike Aravis, I prefer to keep calling him this name instead of Cor.) They both have an innocent quality. Oliver's is more because he's a little younger and it's central to the story that he's the innocent victim. Shasta's is less because C.S. Lewis never leaves accountability out of his stories. For Shasta to be accountable for his actions, he can't be entirely innocent. In him, it's more just an air of innocence, coupled with a lot of ignorance. Oliver also has some ignorance, though, as he falls into his den of thieves, as compared with Shasta's Calormen. They're both on a quest to get away from this griminess to where they originated, with the London elite and with the Narnians.

Now on to Bree and . . . Mr. Jack Dawkins, the Artful Dodger. That's a funny image; I don't think either one would like it very much. The reason for both statements? They both have such an ego. They both think so much of themselves. Of course, in Bree's case, his ego handicaps him, while the Artful nearly always keeps his head because of his confidence. Their relationship to Oliver/Shasta is similar, as well. The Dodger teaches Oliver to pick pockets and Bree teaches Shasta to "raid" the Calormenes during their journey. Sure, it seems like Bree is justified in this (what else could they do?), but then we come back to accountability. They were stealing, justified or no.

The female characters are a little harder. I've settled on Nancy and Aravis, and Rose Maylie and Hwin. The first two have spirit and manage to see right and wrong even in difficult situations. Rose and Hwin are both sweet, gentle, and kind.

And there it is. I could try to go on by saying that Rabadash and Bill Sykes both were willing to kill and loved one of the female characters or that Arsheesh is greedy like Fagin, but I think my comparisons will start to run dry if I go so far.

Rereads

I felt like reading something simple right now, and as I don't seem to have much in that way that I haven't read yet, I opted for a quick reread of The Chronicles of Narnia. It's always nice to get all the things I've forgotten for another time while revisiting favorites. With Narnia, there's plenty that you might not notice until reading it a few times and other things that you never tire of reading. Simple, but still encouraging mind activity.

There are so many books I haven't read that I've been busy enough lately trying to get to them, but I do miss the days when I didn't feel like I wasn't making any progress by picking up an old favorite. I don't like forgetting things, books included. There's just never enough TIME.

Which is why I'm in a race to finish all seven Chronicles on Friday. That's one a day. I'm on The Horse and His Boy right now, going in chronological order. This time around, I'm finding Shasta very much an Oliver Twist character, with Arsheesh as Fagin and Bree could be . . . but that could be another whole post.

"Into the Sea"

Blondfire doesn't have a single song that I don't like and there are only a couple that I don't love. "Into the Sea" is one of my favorites of favorites because it reminds me of C.S. Lewis. Don't know what he'd think of that. . . oh, well, he can't worry about it now, anyway. This song has a nice smooth sound with lyrics that put you right in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. "All across this great divide, we'll make friends below the tide." Like Lucy when she's looking down into the water and sees the Sea Girl, instantly becoming friends with her.

"So come with me, into the sea. Walk with me and we'll be in a different world tonight. Walk with me and we'll be alright. Don't let go, the water's warm, we'll be safe below the storm." That's the really addicting chorus, which also sounds a little like his The Space Trilogy. The second book, Perelandra, to be specific. All the "warm water" and "different world" parts. If you wanted to get really creative, I guess you could also say that " 'casue our love is ocean wide" is like the King and Queen on Perelandra, but that's probably a little too much.

Well, you get the picture. It's a really cool song (by a really cool group), so I'm bound to compare it to some really cool characters/settings.