C.S. Lewis describes Voldemort’s hell, Caspian movie problem and why Rowling spoils it for everyone.

N.T. Wright makes a similar argument in Surprised By Hope. I’m surprised he didn’t include this Lewis quote! This concept, or Wright’s version of it, informs much of my discussion on evil in Chapter 4 of the book.

Let’s see now.

JKR uses witches and wizards (and associated paraphenalia: broomsticks, cauldrons, potions, wands, spells, charms, curses); school for wizards, parallel magical world, magic cloaks, animal familiars, dementors, elves, giants, goblins, centaurs, unicorns, thestrals, dragons, vela (sirens?), shape-shifters, werewolves, magic mirrors, time-travel, teleportation (floo powder, apparating, magic cabinets, port keys), memory devices (rememberall, pensieve), flying cars, intelligent clocks, moving pictures, ghosts, cursed objects, horcruxes, philosopher’s stone, Patronuses, to name the ones that first come to mind.

Some of these seem entirely original (thestrals, pensieve, Dementors, Patronuses, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans ) while most have been used by others before.

I would agree that she has assembled a mighty collection of magical spells and devices. And I think that anyone trying to write of traditional witches and wizards henceforth will find they’re in well-explored territory. But I think that there are many ways of writing of magic (e.g. Patricia McKillip) and magical powers (e.g. Avatar the Last Air Bender) and dragons (e.g. Anne McCaffrey) and time travel (e.g. The Time Traveller’s Wife), and soul-sucking monsters (e.g. Stephen King), and teleportation (e.g. Star Trek!), and elves (e.g. Tolkien; Elf Quest). And that’s just a small sample what’s out there, because I am by no means an authority on fantasy literature and films.

And when you go beyond the magical spells and devices to the stories and themes, it might be difficult to find something entirely new to write about, but that was true way before JKR came on the scene. Her central theme – the victory of love over fear of death – is a powerful but not unfamiliar one, as are her associated themes: the struggle of good and evil, self-sacrifice, redemption, friendship and so on.

Bottom line: everyone would be well advised to stay clear of writing about wands and spells and potions and magical devices in general for a while, but the rest of the fantasy field is wide open. I think that the real challenge is to build an entire fantasy universe which is specified in as much compelling – and attractive – detail as Potterverse.

I’ve wondered for quite a while just how much C.S. Lewis Rowling has read. While I was reading The Problem of Pain and a few others, I was struck by the similar themes that Rowling was using with her characters. She probably won’t ever tell us that, and perhaps she read the same passage that Matthew quoted and it turned into a description of Voldemort without her realizing it.

The one thing I have always liked about HP, from the very first time I read Philospher’s Stone, is that almost every magical thing was familiar or at least something I’d heard in some other story. It made the fantasy less of a stretch for my imagination because my imagination had already gone there.

So I don’t think it’s impossible for someone to use many of the same elements again–though they should stay away from the ones that Rowling used in a unique way or created, as far as we know. But I agree, it’ll be better received if they wait a while. And as readers, it gives all of us a chance to read other things. Too much of just one genre doesn’t allow for much literary growth.

Pat

Ah, which one of your first two thoughts to address first? Prince Caspian perhaps. Well, I haven’t seen the movie, but most people seem to indicate that Aslan shows up very late & is pretty lame.

Yes, Matthew, I think this would subconsciously fit into most peoples’ perceptions of Christ & Christianity. Although I might discount the person who wrote the review you linked to; they seem unwilling to take anything seriously & to place things in their proper context. I doubt the person would know good literature of any stripe if it jumped up & bit them in the…

Anyway, most people see Jesus as a wimp, who wanted everyone to be nice to each other & got killed for it. They see it as stupid that Jesus would die for anyone’s sins, since they don’t believe anybody really sins or has to be accountable for them. So, Jesus comes off as wimpy man who either doesn’t want to or can’t really help anybody out when it matters, rather than a man who leaps in front of a bullet or jumps on a grenade to save his comrades from their sure & certain death.

Thus, Christians either come off as wimpy too, who might be nice folks who want people to be nice to each other but can’t deal with reality or else they come off as followers of the creed “God helps those who help themselves, because obviously God isn’t going to help anybody so why do we need Him?”

I’m guessing, of course, since I haven’t seen the movie, that the Pevensies & Caspian & the Old Narnians come off as the second type. Sure, Aslan helps out a bit & eventually shows up but the Pevensies & Narnians end up doing most of the work & getting the results & God only shows up to take credit at the end.

So, if anyone can tell me if this is the general theme of the movie, I’ll comment on how it is totally not like what Lewis wrote. Thanks.

In response to the Prince Caspian comment, I know I could get flogged for saying this but I’ve always thought that Aslan in the book was a bit too cuddly. Yes, they say “he’s not a tame lion,” but the only point where he seemed truly wild to me was when he attacked Aravis on her horse, and even then it was just a scratch. Most of his un-tameness just comes from the fact that he is a LION. All that is to say that I think movie-Aslan is just fine: he is stern with Lucy, he has a killer roar, he even takes out a Telmarine soldier in a way which makes him far more wild than the version of Aslan I saw in the book. Yes, he isn’t emphesized as much as he is in the book, but in terms of tameness (or lack thereof) I am perfectly happy.

I think if people see Alsan as a perfect representation of Jesus, then, yes, we have a problem, but that is a problem in the books as well. Aslan is one particular view of Jesus, but not the only one, and certainly not a flawless one.

Go ahead, throw the tomatoes.

No need to throw tomatoes, Ned. For one, Lewis himself said that Aslan wasn’t to be taken as a one for one equivalent for Christ. He’s a Christ figure, an attempt to imagine what would happen if Jesus came to another world like Narnia. How would He interact with His creation?

The problem with depicting Christ, in either print or film, is that, contrary to popular opinion, He is not constantly running around terrorizing His people or hiding behind bushes & waiting for them to screw up so He can leap out & say, “Aha!” Nor is He constantly smiting His enemies.

Instead, He’s showing mercy & being providential & giving of Himself to serve others. Pretty boring & not too impressive in the eyes of the world. So, no wonder Aslan is kind of boring, too.

I think you’ve hit on an important point, reyhan. Essentially the wizarding world is the muggle world but just with magic. But all the basic problems & struggles of life are the same. Magic can’t fix those things per se, at least not by a simple wave of the wand. Fudge’s answer to the Muggle Prime Minister is great, “But don’t you see, the other side can do magic, too.” Magic on its own isn’t the solver of problems.

But in putting her story in the wizarding world, Rowling slips us past those dragons that would take a very mundane, ordinary story & toss it aside & draws us into a world where we can grapple with these problems & struggles of life. We’re fooled, at least in the beginning, into thinking we’re reading a story about a boy wizard who has all sorts of adventures & can do wonderful things in this wonderful world but really we’re being schooled in the deeper things of life. Kind of neat!

I wasn’t really thinking that the deeper issues which JKR writes about were mundane or same old, same old. They are old, it’s true, but not old as in stale but old as in eternal. It doesn’t matter if a million people have dealt with those issues – and written about them.They are of vital importance to all of us – whether we like to read and think about them or not. What is the purpose of my life? What is the right thing? How will I know what is the right thing to do? Do I have the courage and strength to do the right thing? How will I survive if those I love die? How will I face my own death?

Nothing mundane about all that.

I think that most enduring books deal with at least one of these underlying issues, a concept which is obviously more thoroughly explained via the device of Great Ideas and Great Books. But even little books -detective stories, adventure stories, sci-fi stories and fantasy stories – connect with these universal ideas.

The main purpose of these little books is to entertain. To get the reader to keep turning the pages, and at the end ask: what happened after that? But they get their emotional power from connecting with the bigger issues and questions.

In that way, I suppose we could look at magic as the spoonful of sugar that makes the medicine go down. The big ideas are framed in the context of a war between the good magicians and bad magicians, with the point man being a young boy discovering his heritage and destiny.

But I think the truth is more complicated than that.

First, the popularity of the HP books is not due only to the use of magic. They are also very well written mystery/suspense/adventure stories. There is more than one spoonful of sugar going down here. And they are also well written social commentaries on slavery and emancipation, authority and free-will, and fear of what is different and embracing what is different. So there is more than one spoonful of medicine going down as well.

Second, magic has a complex role in the stories. It makes them fun to read, it’s true. But why is that? We’ve had discussions about the role of magic in the books before. We’ve concluded that magic is a transparent metaphor for power and empowerment. But the stories are not about how much fun it is to have power and all the wonderful things you can do with it, they’re about approaching power with respect and using it responsibly. Harry and co aren’t born knowing how to use magic – they spend seven years training and learning how to use it well. They even have exams. And power is not an end in itself. It’s a weapon in the eternal struggle between good and evil.

At this point I have to ask, what is medicine and what is sugar, here? I think that the two are inextricably twined, as they say. The responsible use of magic becomes a metaphor for the responsible use of power. There are two acts which define Harry: he puts away his wand before he walks out into the clearing where Voldemort is waiting to kill him, so he won’t be tempted to defend himself. And in the final confrontation, he uses Expelliarmus rather than Aveda Kedavra to defeat his enemy.

We’ve spent a lot of time analyzing the books on these posts. More than likely, we see a lot more in the books than the average reader, whatever that means. But I am fairly convinced that the strong attraction of the books for the average reader is due to the
culturally contextualized, richly detailed and morally
weighted depiction of magic.

Since we’ve been speaking of literary influences, The Classic Tales Podcast had an episode a few ones back of Edith Nesbit’s “Aunt & Amabel,” which apparently helped inspire C.S. Lewis with Amabel’s journey through a wardrobe.

I’ve just started listening to the episode today, so I’ve yet to see how it ends.

It’s funny. I keep making the same point over and over. But I think each time I’m approaching it from a different perspective.

At first, I was just responding to the emotional appeal of that final walk. And there is no criticism of Lewis: I found Aslan’s final walk and death incredibly moving too. It’s just that a boy of 17, full of fear and uncertainty, accompanied only by ghosts, seemed like a more poignant hero than the supreme ruler of Narnia accompanied by a couple of uninformed children.

More recently, I have commented that Aslan is less emotionally accessible because he is a lion. And with all of the associations with nobility and power and pride that go with that – associations which may have been stronger mid 20th century than early 21st – even with all those associations it is hard to relate to him as a person. I have said over and over that I am not religious. But even for a non-religious person, it is Jesus’ humanity that reaches out and compels my attention: the son of God who walks amongst men as a man. Bereft of that, Aslan feels distant. I just can’t get past the lion face.

Harry, on the other hand, is so human and so vulnerable – the “childish” question : “Does it hurt?” immediately touching our own mortal fears – that if we did not empathize with him fully before, we would do so completely in that one instant.

Returning to Matthew’s point, the depiction of Aslan – and thereby of Christianity – as defanged, lame and uninspiring: I blame not the movie makers but how Lewis positioned his Christ figure. Making him a lion reduces the possibility of being able to relate to him as a human. Making him a playful lion diminishes his ability to inspire awe and fear. Giving him so much air time makes him too familiar, further reducing the awe factor.

But I don’t really blame Lewis either. I think that the attempt to depict Christ is a very challenging one. To try a one-to-one depiction, i.e. an actor playing a man who is the historical Christ, is almost bound to fail. The same is true for close allegories, or even “supposals”. I think the attempt works better when a character has some of Christ’s attributes, or repeats some of his actions, but is a distinct person, not Christ himself.

And I think they did come to know Aslan by His other name, for in The Last Battle, Lucy says, “In our world too, a stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world.”