Irene, Lucy, and an Homage

C. S. Lewis did not hide that he drew inspiration from George MacDonald. I'm a huge Narnia fan, so as I was reading The Princess and the Goblin, it didn't surprise me much when reading about Irene that I was made to think of Lucy and Narnia. I always find it interesting how well done homages are not mere formulaic copies--they can be expansions and can even reverse details or outcomes--but have a unity between the source and homage. In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, two of my favorite scenes pay homage to a fleeting scene in The Princess and the Goblin. Have a look! 

From Chapter 22 of The Princess and the Goblin by MacDonald:

And from somewhere came the voice of the lady, singing a strange sweet song, of which she could distinguish every word; but of the sense she had only a feeling--no understanding. Nor could she remember a single line after it was gone. It vanished, like the poetry in a dream, as fast as it came. In after years, however, she would sometimes fancy that snatches of melody suddenly rising in her brain must be little phrases and fragments of the air of that song; and the very fancy would make her happier, and abler to do her duty.

 From Chapter 10 of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by Lewis:

On the next page she came to a spell "for the refreshment of the spirit." The pictures were fewer here but very beautiful. And what Lucy found herself reading was more like a story than a spell. It went on for three pages and before she had read to the bottom of the page she had forgotten that she was reading at all. She was living in the story as if it were real, and all the pictures were real too. When she had got to the third page and come to the end, she said, "That is the loveliest story I've ever read or ever shall read in my whole life. Oh, I wish I could have gone on reading it for ten years. At least I'll read it over again."

But here part of the magic of the Book came into play. You couldn't turn back. The right-hand pages, the ones ahead, could be turned; the left-hand pages could not.

"Oh, what a shame!" said Lucy. "I did so want to read it again. Well, at least I must remember it. Let's see . . . it was about . . . about . . . oh dear, it's all fading away again. And even this last page is going blank. This is a very queer book. How can I have forgotten? It was about a cup and a sword and a tree and a green hill, I know that much. But I can't remember and what shall I do?"

And she never could remember; and ever since that day what Lucy means by a good story is a story which reminds her of the forgotten story in the Magician's Book.

And from Chapter 16 of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by Lewis:

And suddenly there came a breeze from the east, tossing the top of the wave into foamy shapes and ruffling the smooth water all round them. It lasted only a second or so but what it brought them in that second none of those three children will ever forget. It brought both a smell and a sound, a musical sound. Edmund and Eustace would never talk about it afterward. Lucy would only say, "It would break your heart." "Why," said I, "was it so sad?" "Sad!! No," said Lucy.

I may not have noticed the connection between these passages if the above Narnia quotes weren't some of my favorite passages in the series. In all three instances, there is a message or moment that is valued but not quite comprehended. It has come and gone, yet, while remembered however vaguely, is a formative moment. Irene's moment is ever valued as encouragement, and when Lewis pays homage the appreciation has deepened to a longing. Longing for those fleeting moments of eternity in the now. Longing for peace, calm, wholeness, completeness. Longing for heaven. In MacDonald, the rest of heaven encourages and enables completion of labor required on earth. In Lewis, the weariness of earth creates a longing for the rest of heaven. Lewis understood this moment of not-quite-comprehended eternity in MacDonald, and the echoes are heard in Narnia.

If Lucy and Irene were to meet, they would surely be friends and would understand each other, even when what is understood is, paradoxically, inexpressible and beyond comprehension.

Princesses in Pretty Pink Books

I finally got around to reading  The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald. The edition I read, Looking Glass Library, has a beautiful pink cover. It's pretty obvious whose eye they are trying to attract with the cover design. I'm such a rebel, I not only read the book, but read it openly in public! Maybe people stared, but I was too busy reading to notice. This will most likely be the first of multiple posts prompted by the story, but I'm going to start with a discussion of princesses. (Sorry, goblins).

Every time a new princess movie comes out, the internet is inundated with more discussion about how the stereotypical princess is ruining girls' self-reliance and view of the world, and either blasts or praises the movie for reinforcing or shattering the princess mold. Sometimes I wonder how this "stereotypical princess" mold even came about based on a number of stories I've read, but I'll give my thoughts on this later. Now, let's look at how The Princess and the Goblin deals with what princesses should be like as a specific case study.

Here are some quotes from the story on the topic of princess characteristics:

She did not cry long, however, for she was as brave as could be expected of a princess her age [8 years old]. After a good cry she got up and brushed the dust from her frock. Oh, what old dust it was! Then she wiped her eyes with her hands, for princesses don't always have their handkerchiefs in their pockets, any more than some other little girls I know of. Next, like a true princess, she resolved on going wisely to work to find her way back.

~~~~~~~

Not to be believed does not at all agree with princesses; for a real princess cannot tell a lie.

~~~~~~~

"Nurse, a princess must not break her word," said [princess] Irene.

~~~~~~~

She never forgot Curdie, but him she remembered for his own sake, and indeed would have remembered him if only because a princess never forgets her debts until they are paid.

~~~~~~~

Some little girls would have been afraid to find themselves thus alone in the middle of the night, but Irene was a princess.

~~~~~~~

Lootie had very foolish notions concerning the dignity of a princess, not understanding that the truest princess is just the one who loves all her brothers and sisters best, and who is most able to do them good by being humble toward them.

~~~~~~~

Here I should like to remark, for the sake of princes and princesses in general, that it is a low and contemptible thing to refuse to confess a fault, or even an error. If a true princess has done wrong she is always uneasy until she has had an opportunity of throwing the wrongness away from her by saying, "I did it, and I wish I had not; and I am sorry for having done it."

Let's summarize the character traits a true princess shows according to these quotes:

• Bravery
• Resolve
• Resourcefulness
• Honesty
• Trustworthiness
• Responsibility
• Morality
• Independence
• Selflessness
• Humilty
• Compassion
• Honor

Isn't that a horrifying list? We definitely can't have girls acting like princesses and showing those traits! If we look past the quotes about princesses at princess Irene's actions, including holding her resolve in the face of mockery and rescuing Curdie, the male hero in the story, we can also add these traits.

• Leadership
• Initiative
• Faith
• Confidence
• Lovingness
• Kindness

It just keeps getting worse doesn't it! She's out of control!

How can we go from heroic princesses to a stereotype of helpless, destructive princesses? I think the answer lies in the concept of duty. In The Princess and the Goblin, Irene understands that being royal comes with demands. This sense of duty instills deep senses of responsibility and morality, which require her to be able to act independently, resolutely, and strongly when doing good is the hard or unpopular choice. If we lose this sense of duty, this sense of responsibility, this sense of morality, we are left with superficiality. Princesses are left with nothing they are obligated to do, so society makes them pretty objects to envy and desire. And without duty, society has replaced selflessness and responsibility with selfishness and self-absorption. When the right to be a privileged princess is demanded while avoiding being demanded of, it's no wonder morality disappears along with duty.

I mentioned before that it is obvious the book cover designer was not trying to appeal to males in its design choice. I find this to be too bad. Sure the title has "the princess" in it, but what we have is a fairy tale with two heroes: the princess Irene, and the miner Curdie. There is absolutely no reason the heroism of both of these characters can't be appreciated by both boys and girls. But I'm a man who likes princess books, so what do I know?

Reading Again: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (Chapters 1-3), An ordinary Rabbit with an extraordinary waistcoat and watch.

[Alice] was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself "Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!" (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet [. . .]

Oh, Alice. Alice the naive and, at least so far, cat-obsessed. Alice the hesitant to exert the simple effort to pick flowers, but Alice the quick to chase after Rabbits at the simple look of a watch.

Right off, Alice forces one to confront the age old question: If a talking Rabbit with a waistcoat and pocket-watch ran by, how long would it take before I noticed something out of the ordinary was happening? Another way of asking this question might be the following: How perceptive am I?

Thinking about this question makes me confront how I often exert minimal effort in perceiving my environment. Often, I focus my perception only to what I consider useful at that given time and largely ignore everything else. I filter out background noise or I ignore details of buildings/signs with no direct bearing on my safe driving. I suppose this is a necessary and useful skill since I can only process so much stimuli at one time, but I sometimes wonder if it makes me miss out on Wonderland in the moment.

If I really payed attention, how many more wonder-filled moments would I find everyday? Responsibility and real life require me to filter, but Alice helps remind me to remember to perceive both the ordinary and the extraordinary. Sometimes, like Alice, it will take thinking back and reflection to fully grasp some of what happens, but my Adventures in Fort Waynederland are happening whether I perceive them or not. I should probably pay attention before it's "too late."

Reading Again: Watership Down (Chapters 31, 34-End); Stories, Historicity, and Generation Gaps

I'm cheating a bit since the main prompt for this was in a chapter I read yesterday, but it ties in with today's reading as well.

At the end of Chapter 31, "The Story of El-ahrairah and the Black Rabbit of Inlè", the young rabbits in El-ahrairah's warren saved from the siege did not appreciate their elders, or the effort they had exerted fighting for and achieving the safety they were living in. In fact, they despised their elders and their stories and said they had "nothing to do with us." El-ahrairah was grieved at this because he had suffered much to benefit the warren. He said this situation made him learn "that with creatures one loves, suffering is not the only thing for which one may pity them. A rabbit who does not know when a gift has made him safe is poorer than a slug, even though he may think otherwise himself."

The generation gap in El-ahrairah's warren was very stark. The younger generation was unwilling to learn from the older generations, and would have to learn the hard way that their positive self-perception would come crashing down when actually tried. It is easy to take credit for good things and peaceful times won through the work of others, it is much harder to acknowledge and take ownership of personal shortcomings. Better to learn to acknowledge and overcome one's shortcomings during the good times, leaning on the knowledge and experience of older generations, than ignore and deny the shortcomings until disaster proves them plainly.

The younger rabbits of the Watership warren are different in that they appreciated the tales of the older generations and were eager to hear them. But there is a danger here also. The history and lessons learned were preserved and mythologized, but this mythologization could allow younger generations to discount the myths as only stories with no real substance. Looking at religious history, one can see far too many examples of how quickly this can happen. Once historicity is thrown out the window, stories become whatever one wants and can be applied or ignored at will. We can see something like this within contemporary Christianity when the historicity of the Bible is questioned or outright denied. Once historicity goes, one loses truth and is left with a dissolving myth. Once historicity goes, lessons are lost and mistakes are repeated.

As a voracious reader, I think there is a reason why the best stories, while being unique and original, remind us of other stories. There is truth behind the best stories even if the details are fictional. Myth and fiction can be useful teaching tools in presenting themes as long as truth is held fast and not discarded with the fictions. It is a tragedy indeed when a generation, a society, a culture loses its ability to discern the difference between fiction and myth and the truths that lie behind them. Once that discernment is lost, there is only drowning in a sea of relativistic narrative that can be used or dispensed with as convenient. We'd be trapped in our own fictions unless the truth comes to save, and thankfully He does. Thankfully He does.

Reading Again: Watership Down (Chapters 12-33); Kehaar, "mudders", and elaborate plans.

In the the introduction to my edition of Watership Down (Prennial Classics, 2001), the author Richard Adams relates his difficulty getting the book published:

 I went from publisher to publisher and literary agent to agent. The book was rejected by four well-known publishers and by three literary agents. They all said, in effect, the same thing: "Older children wouldn't like it because it's about rabbits, which they consider babyish; and younger children wouldn't like it because it's written in an adult style, which they would find too difficult." I thought, "Who's talking about children? This book is for readers of all ages."

 Adams was right about the audience for the novel. I loved this book as a young reader, and I'm loving the book at least as much as an adult reader. However, I fear it might be even harder to find a publisher now than it was 40 years ago due to recent cultural developments. Maybe it isn't surprising that a book about rabbits would cause controversy, but let me elaborate.

Hazel recognizes a problem and has the brilliant idea of befriending other animals to help do reconnaissance, but leaves his plan hazy until Kehaar has been befriended. Kehaar the violent, Kehaar the brave, Kehaar the thick-accented, Kehaar the awesome. Hazel then gets right to the point and lays it out like this: "We're doing well here, [. . . but] unless we can find the answer, then this warren's as good as finished, in spite of all we've done. [. . .] We have no does--not one--and no does means no kittens and in a few years no warren." Leave it to rabbits to talk frankly about reproduction. And when Kehaar is informed of the problem, he sees the truth of the problem, understands completely and volunteers to help the rabbits find "mudders."

These characters are animals and are addressing the topic with no concept of romance or love, but they present a simple fact: there is male and female, and this distinction is not arbitrary and unimportant, but functional, vital, and complementary. In other places, the bucks discuss how the differences are not only sexual, but also in personality and skillsets. Bucks are not interchangeable with does. Even though they might be able to do the same tasks when necessary, they are still inherently different. Acknowledging this difference does not imply one is more valuable. Quite the opposite actually, the difference cements the value of each precisely because they are not interchangeable. In the book, does are worth risking everything in executing elaborate plans. Conversely, when everyone is interchangeable, it isn't that far a journey to everyone is dispensable. There isn't much empowerment or comfort in that.

 Again the book is dealing with animals, so many relationship dynamics are flattened, simplified, or reduced to blunt points like reproduction and breeding stock. Still, I worry that a book like this might be avoided by publishers today because, it seems, the fact of truly distinct but complementary sexes and gender roles has become culturally controversial. Defending the truth of male and female is outright mocked in what seem to be ever expanding circles. One could write this aspect of the book off as an outdated anthropomorphism, or animal behavior that has nothing in common with today's enlightened understanding of human society, love, sexuality, gender roles, etc.. However, I see nothing helpful in doing so. That seems to be like the rabbits in Strawberry's old warren ignoring the snares in exchange for having their challenges artificially disappear. They get what they thought they wanted to find it ultimately weakens them and starves the richness of their existence.

Our society and culture moves and morphs so quickly, so we do need discussion on these topics. But if the discussion starts downplaying or ignoring the fact of male and female, we shouldn't be surprised if we end up with "no warren" by ending up with amorphous, relativistic category definitions resulting in generic, dispensable individuals. Instead, why don't we look at the diversity of complementary design that is male and female, value the differences of their inherent design and resulting unique functions, and start the discussion from there?

Reading Again: Watership Down, Chapters 1-11--Leaders and Bigwigs

What do you get when you cross grand epic with rabbits? Why, Watership Down, of course! It's been altogether too long since I've revisited this book, and the writing has drawn me in all over again.

In the beginning of the book, there is a nice potential tension set up between Hazel and Bigwig. Hazel is obviously the center of the narrative, but Bigwig is a more obvious Chief Rabbit because he is stronger and more imposing. What I'm finding especially interesting about this dynamic this read-through is how Hazel misjudges Bigwig.

We meet Bigwig when Hazel and Fiver go to see The Threarah. Bigwig is on sentry duty, and he could have turned them away. However, Bigwig thinks Hazel a "sensible fellow" and obviously respects him. In spite of this, Hazel still has internal reservations about Bigwig leaving the warren with them, thinking the following: "[. . .] although Bigwig would certainly be a useful rabbit in a tight corner, he would also be a difficult one to get on with. He certainly would not want to do what he was told--or even asked--by an outskirter."

These thoughts are shown false almost immediately as the group is leaving. Bigwig starts to give his advice, but is shot down by Hazel before he presents his thought. Hazel leads the group to leave, and that is that. Bigwig lets Hazel take the lead, and off they go.

When Bigwig talks to Hazel next, it is out of concern for the weaker members of the group that he informs Hazel they need to stop and rest. The fact Bigwig talks to Hazel rather than address the group directly already shows Bigwig acknowledges Hazel's leadership. Hazel gets to declare the decision to rest. When Blackberry asks Bigwig to swim the river and investigate, he does what he is asked because he sees the sense in it. When Pipkin and Fiver are floating in the river because they were too weak to swim, Bigwig pushes them across. When Pipkin is attacked by a crow, Bigwig comes to his rescue and shows concern. When the other rabbits start to turn on Hazel and question his leadership, Bigwig does go too far, but uses the influence he knows he has to show he doesn't approve of the grumblings against Hazel.

The key moments that officially establish Hazel as Chief Rabbit are still to come, but all of the signs are already there that Bigwig will be a loyal follower who can yield authority, and can use his strength and loyalty to unite the group under the best leader for the group. Bigwig ultimately shows his leadership in following. In yielding, he is strong. Bigwig resists the seduction of power and developing a big head, and shows his resolve in the process.

When Bigwig had voiced his surprise that Fiver didn't convice The Threarah that the whole warren should have left, Hazel criticized The Threarah saying it was because he "doesn't like anything he hasn't thought of for himself." This statement is an antithesis of the leadership displayed by Hazel, and, at times, Bigwig.

Some might argue that Bigwig should be the leader. He could take control by force if he wanted too. He must be weak since he is a follower who yields the authority that should be his. This is a horrible confusion of power and forcefulness with leadership and character. If you want your leaders to be tyrants, then fine. But I'll take anyday the weakness of leadership that is content to follow when beneficial, values what others contribute, and uses strength to serve others. I'll be weak like Bigwig.