Spoiler Shelf: The Chronicles of Prydain vs The Lord of the Rings

Last post, I discussed a novel series called The Chronicles of Prydain, and while I spoke of enjoying the stories, I mentioned there to be two major issues I encountered.  The first involved the generic nature of the fantasy world.  The second I shall unpack in this post.

Before I go on, I wish to give fair warning.  As the post title says, from here on out there will be spoilers.  If you intend to read either Prydain or The Lord of the Rings, I suggest you skip this post until you finish them.  Finished reading or simply don’t care about spoilers?  Okay.  Then let’s move on.

In case you somehow did not gather this from the previous post, I like The Chronicles of Prydain.  I love the characters, the connected themes gave me an increased appreciation for theme as a whole, and the varied plot lines kept me interested in the events.  I think they are excellent children’s literature.  However, there is one part, a vital part, of the series I thought poorly done: the conclusion.  More accurately, I do not think the ending is necessarily bad but rather badly executed.

Looking back up to the blog title, you might have figured out the nature of the ending.  This story, just like The Lord of the Rings, ends with characters, including main characters, leaving Prydain for another land where there is no pain, suffering, or death.  To be more specific, any evidence of magic, including people who can use magic, and the descendants of Prydain’s version of the Dúnedain, must leave Prydain after the Death-Lord, Arawn, is destroyed.  Like the elves leaving Middle Earth, it is time for the rule of men and for magic to leave for the “Undying Lands,” with the main character offered a place on the ship for the service he has done in the war.¹ The major difference between the two endings, though, is that while Frodo left Middle Earth after his duty was fulfilled, Taran remains in Prydain, feeling he has duties he must not abandon.

Right off the bat, you might understand some of my frustration.  Already the land of Prydain has a sense of a generic, fantasy world.  Now, at the end, there’s a near copy of Tolkien’s ending.  However, while this does bother me, I can forgive Alexander due to just how different the stories themselves are.  The Chronicles of Prydain is far from a Lord of the Rings knockoff, even with some strong similarities.

No, my issue is not that Alexander wrote the ending like Tolkien’s trilogy’s but that he executed it poorly.  The ending comes out of nowhere!  Not once in the whole story has there been even the hint that, with the Arawn killed, magic and those who use it must leave Prydain, and because it was so sudden, the ending left me totally unsatisfied, which is perhaps the worst feeling upon which a story can end.

Contrast that with The Lord of the Rings.  From part one, we know the elves are leaving Middle Earth.  Frodo and Sam encounter and befriend a troop of elves who speak of soon going to Grey Havens to sail to the West.² Then, after the ring is destroyed and Aragorn (now King Elessar) marries the elf Arwen, Arwen tells Frodo he is welcome to take her place on the ship, should he choose it.  After this, the hobbits end up accompanying the elves Galadriel and her husband as they head in the direction of the Harbor.  All this keeps telling us that the elves are leaving.  Magic is departing from Middle Earth.  The Third age is ending, and it is time for the Age of Men.  Frodo’s fate has been foreshadowed.

Then, after reclaiming the Shire from Saruman’s scouring and during the description of the next few years, we realize not all is well.  Over time, Frodo has become increasingly sick.  The wound he received from the Nazgul on Weathertop in The Fellowship causes him pain and illness, even with the ring destroyed.  He has suffered so much, all for the sake of going back to his simple, peaceful life, and yet he can never return.  He can never go back.

Therefore, when he tells Sam he shall accompany Bilbo to the Undying Lands, our hearts are broken with Sam’s because we don’t want Mister Frodo to leave, but we know he must.  If ever he is to find healing, he must go.  And so we let him.  With shattered hearts and tears soaking our cheeks, we watch him sail away.  Then, when Tolkien writes “Frodo… heard the sound of singing that came over the water.  And it seemed to him… the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise,” we cry tears of joy, for we know.³ We know Frodo can finally rest.

In that moment, we know the story has earned this ending.  In Prydain, there is no such sense.  Because there was practically no build up into this ending, I felt cheated.  What is this other land?  Why do they have to leave?  There had been no sign that such a thing was or had to happen.  It didn’t make sense.  The only consolation I could find upon later consideration is that the ending fit the tone of the final volume.  The last volume of The Chronicles of Prydain is a story about loss, sacrifice, and knowing you must still live.  Even with a broken and heavy heart, there are things that must be done, promises that must be kept, and so we must live on.  However, even without the out of the blue ending, I think that message had been transmitted.  We didn’t need a sudden twist ending without foreshadow.  We didn’t need an ending that had not been earned.

Satisfaction in stories comes in receiving what was deserved, and as much as I love The Chronciles of Prydain, I do not think the story, or we readers, deserved that ending.

¹Alexander, Lloyd.  The High King.  New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1968.  Print.

²Tolkien, J. R. R.  The Fellowship of the Ring.  New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1987.  Print.

³Tolkien, J. R. R.  The Return of the King.  New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1987.  Print.

Reviews & Recommendations: The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander

“Is It Good Enough for Children?”

For those who don’t know, is the title of a short article by children’s author Madeleine L’Engle, most famous for her novel A Wrinkle in Time.  As you might expect, the article addresses the topic of children’s stories, concluding that (spoilers) “if a children’s book is not good enough for all of us, it is not good enough for children.” ¹ Of the articles I’ve read so far on children’s literature, this one and C. S. Lewis’s “On Three Ways of Writing for Children” are my favorites to the point that I consider them “must reads” for any writer and “should reads” for any reader.

Both articles confront the idea of what I call “childish literature,” stories (often for children) where nothing really happens.  There is no danger, no tension, and everything is safe and quiet.  You know what stories I mean.  In contrast, there’s what I call “children’s literature,” stories that are “good enough for all of us” and don’t lose their power as we mature, but rather increase in power and meaning.  Included in these ranks are such titles as The Chronicles of Narnia, The Wizard of Oz, and the subject of this week’s post: The Chronicles of Prydain by Llyod Alexander.

To paraphrase an “About the Author” section in one book, Alexander was an American author from Philadelphia with a deep passion for reading and writing.  Among his favorite narratives were classic mythology and folklore of knights and bravery, like King Arthur.  After training for World War II in Wales, he fell in love with the land and its language, a love he transferred and transformed into his own world, Prydain.²

The Prydain Chronicles are a series of five books following the adventures of Taran, assistant pig keeper and wannabe hero.  After an attack on his home by an evil sorcerer and the escape of the pig he keeps, Henwen, Taran chases after Henwen to try and retrieve her.  However, he receives more than he bargained for as he stumbles upon an adventure that changes his life forever.

I really wish I could say more, but further description would give way to spoilers, and we don’t want that, now do we?  In this review, I will address the story as a series rather than individual books because I don’t think I could properly describe my experience unless I discuss the Chronicles as a whole.  Yes, the stories are stand alone, in a way similar to the Harry Potter series, with each novel containing a complete story.  However, the real impact the series has on me involves the narrative as a whole.  You shall see why later.  (Though if I had to pick a favorite, it’d be the second book, The Black Cauldron.)

There really is so much to love in Prydain.  I love all the recurring characters, even those that start out annoying.  They all have such different personalities, and while they aren’t as fleshed out as, say, Potter and his friends, the characters don’t feel like cardboard.  Each character has a different manner of speech and interaction, so that I never confuse one character for the next.

The plots for each volume are different, as well.  There may be some repetition here and there, but each trip to and through the world of Prydain is distinct.  Again, I really wish I could say more, but you should just read them for yourself to see what I mean.

I do have some issues, though, first of which being that the land of Prydain is a very generic “fantasy world” setting.  I wish Alexander had fleshed out his world more.  The other issue, and really my biggest one with the whole series, I will not say here, as it is a major spoiler.  However, even with these two issues, I enjoyed the stories and how distinct each one was from the others.

So, characters and plots, I love them both.  However, as much as I enjoy them, these two aspects are not my favorite part of the stories, which brings me to a third element: themes.  With Alexander’s handling of themes, he wrote stories that became, for me, more than just children’s stories, but the kind of children’s stories that made me wish there was more children’s literature!  What impressed me most is that there are really only two themes in the whole series: identity and what it means to be a hero.  There’re sub-themes that pop up at times about loss and the importance of sacrifice, but it’s really these two themes of identity and heroism that shape the stories.  It is with these two themes that we see and experience Taran’s transformation.

At the story’s beginning, Taran is a teenager desiring to be a hero.  He wants honor and prestige.  He wants to be somebody, somebody great.  Over the course of five books, however, Taran’s understanding of heroism and identity change, as does ours.  Although the question remain the same (What is a hero?  What is honor?  Who am I?), Taran’s answers do not. Each sequential book takes these two themes and unpacks them, adding more layers and maturity with each volume, so that the character of Taran in book one is a different person from Taran of book five.   With The Chronicles of Prydain, Lloyd Alexander taught me not just about heroes and identity, but also about the power of recurring, maturing themes.  Just for that, I cannot recommend this series enough.  

Combining likable characters, varied plots, and a common thread of themes, The Chronicles of Prydain has earned itself a place among my most recommended children’s stories because, if you ask me, this story is definitely good enough for children.



¹L'Engle, Madeleine.  "Is it Good Enough for Children?"  The Christian Imagination.  Leland Ryken.  Colorado Springs: Waterbrook Press, 2002.  427-431.  Print.

²Alexander, Lloyd.  The Foundling and Other Tales of Prydain.  New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1999.  Print.


The Chronicles of Prydain (c) Lloyd Alexander

Personal Musings: Magic in Stories II

In my previous post, here, I mentioned the idea that while Scripture instructs us not to use magic, It says nothing about reading or writings stories with magic.  I wish to unpack that idea.

At first glance, this statement appears to be mere word play, and I agree.  Without examination and expansion, it's like calling something a half-truth instead of a lie.  However, I do think there is a difference between humans in real life trying to perform magic and allowing our fictional characters to do so.

The foundation for my position comes from one question: why is real sorcery evil?  Or another way to say it is why does Scripture condemn sorcery, sorcerers, and witches?  To answer, I will use a phrase my sister used, which is that, in performing magic, humans are attempting to "cross domains."  They are trying to obtain power not naturally bestowed upon them by God.  It's a mirror of the original sin.  God made humans finite yet mentally and physically capable of incredible things, like converting sand into the computer chips in my computer and yours, but Eve allowed herself to be deceived into thinking she could become even greater than the amazing creation God made.  She wanted to be like God, His equal, and then Adam, for whatever reason, followed after her into a fallen state.  The original sin involves humans trying to cross into God's domain.  Real life magic, I think, attempts the same.

What's more, in order to obtain supernatural powers, such as seeing the future or summoning dead spirits, there are only two sources humans can turn to: God or demons.  Magic/sorcery in the real world is supernatural power fueled by demonic forces.  In attempting to be all-powerful like God, we turn to evil spirits rather than humbly admitting our finite nature and letting God work His power through us.  Prideful listening to/seeking the aid of evil while rejecting God, now what does that sound like?

To reiterate, I think the reason performing magic in real life is evil has to do with how it's a repetition of the original sin: rebelling against God and seeking demonic aid in order to become more god-like.  So why isn't magic a problem in stories?

Well, could God have made humans with the ability to use magic?  He didn't, but, yes, I think He could have.  I think God could have given humans abilities that we title "magic" without undermining His character and position as God.  Actually, I don't think doing so would have even influenced Adam and Eve's fall.  Finite humans will always be inferior to an infinite God, after all, making them susceptible to the temptation of becoming more "like God."  Point is, I do think He could have given humans magic, and it is that possibility that convinces me of magic's permissibility in story.

In our universe, titled Reality, one of the "rules," so to speak, is that humans don't have the natural ability to fly, breath fire, see the future, etc., so humans using magic "breaks the rules."  Imagine the chaos and outrage of a football game if a player kept "scoring" by running outside the boundary lines down to the end zone.  No fair referee, or reasonable viewer, would let that slide.  It breaks the rules of the universe called Football Games, just as magic is trying to play out of bounds in Reality.

But in the multiverse of Fiction, the human imagination can construct a universe where the "rules" say humans are capable of using magic, often with some other rules limiting that magic, and I don't think such worlds necessarily conflict with God's nature.  Do some?  Of course some do, but why should I condemn the whole genre of magical fantasy because of such stories?  I would much rather discard a story because it is unedifying than because it exists in a universe that is not my own.



For more on the importance of fantasy/magic stories, I suggest reading J. R. R. Tolkien's "On Fairy Stories", C. S. Lewis's "Three Ways on Writing for Children" and Holly Ordway's works, which can be found on her blog Hieropraxis and in her book Not God's Type

Personal Musings: Magic in Stories

This week's post shall begin with a statement that would probably make some dearly respected college professors of mine rather disappointed in me: I love magic in my stories, always have.  In fact, if your story has magic, like a mage/wizard, I'm at least twice as likely to check it out.

While this may appear a pointless topic, what with the whole Harry Potter craze that made magic and wizards perhaps more popular than ever (even among Christians), I have still met Christians who protest the inclusion of magic into stories, as alluded to by my statement about my professors.  It is frustrating to say, but my attraction to magic is largely emotional, so I'm not sure I can give a completely rational defense for magic.  I apologize ahead of time should that be the case.  I do hope, though, that you might see the stance of magic in story not without logic.

To address this issue, first we must ask, "What is the purpose of story?"  In my last post, I presented my answer; that is, to entertain and to teach.  I do not think anyone would object to the first purpose, but there are, I'm sure, many who would reject the second.  The topic of story as teacher is a subject for another post, but for now I will just say that any story, no matter what it is, there is a lesson being told.

Now that we have our initial assumption of story as entertainer and teacher, the next question is this: can these purposes be best met with good stories or bad?  I'm not speaking here of moral good and bad, but rather quality.  I think most people would agree with me that we don't want to just settle for anything but desire excellent stories and that it is good stories that are the better teachers and entertainers, so why are there people so quick to condemn a story, no matter how well-written or how positive the message, simply because of magic?

Let's look at this in another way.  I'm not a big fan of the superhero genre.  It's just not my thing, but I know people who love superhero stories, people who will watch every comic book superhero movie and who love reading the comics and encyclopedias about the characters.  These people I speak of are Christians, but why does not one speak out against superheroes like they do magic?

Examining the two genre, superhero vs. magic fantasy, they aren't very different on the surface.  Take two well known series, Harry Potter and X-Men.  Both have similar powers, such as flight, control of the elements, transformation, healing, etc.  Also, both Harry's powers and any of the X-Men's powers come from genetics (who's to say wizards aren't just mutants that have passed on their genes for generations?).  Really, the only difference at first glance is just the title "superpower" vs. "magic."  However, you don't see parents trying to ban X-Men comics from schools.

The purpose of this comparison is not to put down superhero stories or to make them appear synonymous to magical fantasy.  I know there are differences beneath this surface examination.  Rather, I merely wished to show the inconsistency in the reactions to genre.  Why do some people reject a story containing magic while accepting stories about superheroes when the most basic premise, humans with supernatural abilities, is the same?  The only answer I seem to hear is that the Bible says magic is evil.  However, I wish to point out that Scripture only says performing sorcery is a sin.  It does not speak on reading or writing about it, more on that in next week's post.

In keeping with the topic of superhero stories, I wish to switched from the negative (why don't people reject them) to why do many people, even Christians, return again and again to superhero stories like X-Men?  Are they sighing in relief that Scripture has no ban on superpowers so they can feel safe and comfortable reading a genre that wasn't even invented until nearly 2000 years after the last book of the Bible was written?  I hope I'm not the only one who thinks that question is ridiculous.  No.  People read, reread, and return to the superhero genre because within it there are good stories!

I said it before; I'm not a superhero fan.  Even though there are similarities between magical fantasy and the superhero genre, I prefer magic. Despite this, I know from experience that there are excellent stories within the genre.  Stories of heroism, sacrifice, love, courage, overcoming evil and darkness, facing, and sometimes even losing to, evil, sorrow, and pain, and never losing hope.  Are there bad superhero stories?  Of course.  Humans are flawed; nothing we make can be perfect, but we do not abandon the genre just because of those bad stories.  What matters is that there are stories that are good and promote good.

A key element here is that magic and superpowers, in the realm of story, are tools.  Tools do not determine the quality or morality of the story.  Only their use can decide that.  That said, magic and superpowers are a special kind of storytelling tool.  They are tools that can impact the setting, character, theme, plot, everything really.  "Magic" and "superpowers" are elements of world building, the universe of the story, and transform everything by their presence.  They add an element of the supernatural that expands the realm of possibility, of the stories that can be told and the people that can be touched.

Whether the storytelling tool called "magic" is used for good or evil is a legitimate concern, though.  I have, indeed, put down books because the magic in them disturbed me, gave me unrest in my soul.  I wish I could give you a foolproof method or a list for recognizing these kinds of books, but I have none.  All I can advise is to pray about it and listen, and if you feel uncomfortable when reading it, maybe you shouldn't.  However, I would still urge you not to give up on magic; I know I could not.

Guess what?  90+% of my stories have magic.  Not kidding.  I almost can't write a story without magic, and when I've tried, I've yet to get very far.  Magic is the fuel for my creativity, my inspiration, my portal into the realm of story, the language in which my imagination speaks.  Without magic, it feels as if my creativity and imagination die.

A few years ago, I faced a crisis when one of my college professors gave a talk about magic and pretty much said magic is evil and needs to be avoided, even in stories.  I respect that professor, even today, so hearing that crushed me.  For weeks I felt heavy, shameful for crafting so many stories with magic.  I considered throwing them all away, but I couldn't.  When I couldn't discard them, I tried removing the magic aspect, but a whole different kind of "magic" vanished when I did.  These stories needed magic to make sense, to exist, to live, and I needed, still need, these stories.  Faced with this conflict that was leaving me in tears and breaking my creative spirit, I eventually realized something: my professor was wrong.

I am a firm believer that if a Christian is doing something wrong, the Holy Spirit will convict him or her.  I thought that was what I was experiencing, conviction for my wrong-doing and a need to transform myself, but it wasn't.  What I felt was fear that I would disappoint someone I looked up to and that I might be a 'bad' Christian because I love stories with magic.  It was fear and shame of other humans, not conviction from the Holy Spirit, and I refuse to surrender to that kind of fear of other humans, to let fear of people's opinions of me prevent me from writing (hopefully good) stories.  I agree with my professor that magic, sorcery, performed in real life is evil, as Scripture clearly tells us, but that doesn't mean that stories where people can do miraculous things are also evil.  I think Scripture tells us that pretty clearly, as well.

I love stories with magic; I always have, and I always will.




For more on the importance of fantasy/magic stories, I suggest reading J. R. R. Tolkien's "On Fairy Stories", C. S. Lewis's "Three Ways on Writing for Children" and Holly Ordway's works, which can be found on her blog Hieropraxis and in her book Not God's Type



Harry Potter (c) J. K. Rowling
X-Men franchise (c) Marvel Comics