October 16th. Today marks the 75th anniversary of the publication of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe the first book C.S. Lewis published in The Chronicles of Narnia.
It is somewhat hard to wrap my mind around, although Narnia has been with me my whole life. My parents hung this map of Narnia in my nursery, and it now hangs outside my office door. Some of my fondest memories are of my dad reading the books aloud to me. Those books were my introduction to fantasy, and for most of my childhood the only speculative fiction I was allowed to read. I know many people who shun the Narnia books these days because of their Christian allegory, understandably wanting nothing to do with a group that has hurt and oppressed so many people.
But I can’t let go of them, they are too rooted in what shaped me as a person. And in all honesty a good part of what radicalized me.
Some fifteen years ago, I wrote this in a post on this blog –
So many of the movies and books targeted to children are about boys and their adventures (with the occasional girl sidekick). If there is a widely popular story of a girl going on an adventure it almost always takes place in a fantasy world. Lucy steps through the wardrobe into Narnia, Alice falls down the rabbit-hole into Wonderland, Dorothy is whisked away in a twister to Oz, Meg travels along the tesseract. Apparently little girls doing strong things like adventures can’t happen in real life, so they must be told in the realm of fantasy. (all those character’s mental stability is questioned when they return to the real world as well). Women having a voice and strength and power is a safe topic if it is contained by fantasy.
At the time I was writing about accepting the voices of the other, but what struck me when I reread that recently was that each of those stories I mentioned of girls going on adventures in fantasy realms involved that girl standing up to an authoritarian tyrant. Lucy fights the White Witch and ends the endless winter, Alice uses wit and reason to defeat the rage and fury of the Queen of Hearts, Dorothy reveals the Wizard to be a fraud, and Meg rescues her brother and father from It and the encroaching darkness. None of them saw themselves as warriors and they all were frightened in the moment, but it was only because of the unlikeliest of heroes standing against cruelty and oppression that good was able to win in the end.
Those were the tales that shaped my childhood. That showed that even when it seems like one is up against impossible odds and that evil and tyranny will win, even a frightened little girl who happened to stumble into the middle of the fight has the ability return good to the world. If that doesn’t radicalize someone, I don’t know what can.
In the dedication to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe Lewis wrote to his goddaughter Lucy that by the time the book was published she might be past the age of enjoying children’s books, but that “some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” In this age of encroaching tyranny and authoritarianism, I think we could all heed that reminder. These stories of unlikely heroes can give us hope, but they can also remind us that bullies, dictators, and oppressors are to be stood up to. The role of the hero is not to join the side of evil no matter how much Turkish Delight is promised; the role of the hero is to stand of the side of love and compassion and ensure that such goodness is preserved in the world. We need to read these fantasy and fairy tale stories because all too often in the real world those that stand against tyranny are dismissed as crazy like Lucy, Alice, Dorothy, and Meg were. It is often only in fantasy realms that the stories of good prevailing against evil are allowed to be told. They may be told as fantasy, but they are still truth. For as Chesterton wrote(ish) – “Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.”
I am forever grateful to C.S. Lewis and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe for shaping me with this core belief as a child – radicalizing me for the side of good. Reflecting of the book on this 75th anniversary is helping me to remember that dragons can be beaten, Aslan is on the move, and winter’s reign can end.
A reflection for
When the Persians allowed them to return to Jerusalem some 70 years later, they had forgotten their faith, and it was only after discovering an old scroll of the Torah in the Temple and tracking down the elderly prophetess Huldah that they were able to returned to their faith (2 Chronicles 34).
And so, one of the very first things authoritarians do is try to control the narrative. Despite them out of one side of their mouth claiming that banning guns won’t stop children dying because banning things never works, they jump headfirst into banning books and knowledge. They change how history gets told – making it illegal to teach about slavery, or internment camps, or the mere accomplishments of women or people of color. They instruct their monuments to take down mentions of Trans people so that story doesn’t get told. They tell their military to remove stories and pictures of women and people of color from their social media. They
Censorship is terrifying because it works. Stories teach us empathy towards others. Knowing a person’s story, a people’s history, helps us see them as human – people to be loved and accepted. Seeing disabled people or people of color, or LGBT people represented in books and media, existing in public without fear, and being able to be fully ourselves normalizes our very existence and leads to greater acceptance. Those that want to harm and oppress us can’t allow that to happen. When people know we exist, know our stories, they come to accept us – people (usually) only fear and hate that which is outside of their experience. So, the authoritarian powers that be seek to ban us – they ban our stories, they ban our presence, they ban any reminders of us. We become erased so that they can more easily oppress us and spin the narrative they desire.
I don’t regret that, but it struck me that I rarely give to simply give. I pack bags of food with my kids and we distribute them to the homeless, in part so my kids can learn about those in need. I give money to those at the intersections whose signs I find interesting (like the guy yesterday). “Family abducted by aliens. Need ransom money.” “You might live in a $200,000 house, but I live under a $2million bridge.” I was momentarily entertained by their signs, so I rewarded them. Similarily the guys that stand at the intersection juggling or who offer to wash windshields seem to get more responses. They did something for us, so therefore they deserve our charity.
In the Series 1 episode “The Doctor Dances,” the Doctor and his companions Rose Tyler and the newly joined Captain Jack Harkness find themselves cornered by hospital patients infected with alien technology. Captain Jack brags about his sonic blaster and asks what sort of weapon the Doctor is carrying. Jack is incredulous that the Doctor merely has a sonic screwdriver, quipping “Who looks at a screwdriver and thinks, ‘Ooh, this could be a little more sonic?” Although said in a moment of humor, the answer is, of course, the Doctor. Instead of carrying a weapon that can threaten and destroy, he brandishes an implement of repair as his go-to device. As one who seeks to heal the wounds of the universe, he has no need of a blaster that could be used to coerce or manipulate others into doing his will. Instead he uses the sonic screwdriver as he works alongside others in order to heal what is broken.
While I find the argument regarding whether or not children should play violent games to be fascinating, what intrigues me the most is the idea that it is in fantasy that we learn how to kill our monsters. This is an argument that I often make when I am talking to groups about The Hunger Games and some parent inevitably complains that the books are far too violent for them to allow their teen to read. I reply that these are books about the futility of violence which show the painful and devastating realities that violence, even justified violence, wreaks upon the world. If youth only hear that they must avoid stories that tell the truth about violence while at the same time hear that “justified” violence requires their unquestioning support, then they will never learn how to cope with the very real effects of actual violence. Sometimes children need to be reassured that dragons can be slayed, but they also need to learn that dragons are complex and can sometimes take years to oust from their lair.