Reviews and Recommendations: The Rithmatist by Brandon Sanderson

I hate it when I envy current writers’ ability to spin a tale.  Yes, I admire and even envy writers of past ages, too, but they are dead.  The become not so much rivals as masters, aspirations. However, with a current writer, or one just recently passed on, their presence is still too much felt, a rival against whom you continue to confront.  And yet, I still love their books, for I love good stories too much to discard such great material out of envy.  Brandon Sanderson’s novel, The Rithmatist, is one such story that produces such amazement, envy, and affection.

The Rithmatist occurs in an alternate 20th century America where certain people, called “rithmatists”, who, by making the right lines, can bring chalk drawings to life and even battle with them.  Within this world is a young man, Joel, a genius at math and a natural at rithmatic lines; but he is not a rithmatist.  No matter how near-perfect his circles, he cannot make them come to life.  He is just a boy with a dream that can never be fulfilled.  Then, one day, rithmatist students begin mysteriously disappearing, and Joel, along with a demoted professor and a remedial rithmatist student, joins the efforts to find the perpetrator and hopefully recover the students before it is too late.

So right off the bat I want to say that I love the main trio of this story.  I love nerd heroes.  I hate math, but I love when the hero loves math, and Joel loves math.  He’s a genius and prone to pride due to his intelligence, but not so much pride that he becomes irritating.  Also, he usually recognizes when he’s crossed the line, and when he doesn’t, he’s told by others.  Furthermore, his enthusiasm towards rithmatism is so endearing, and yet almost heartbreaking because he cannot use it.  As a foil, you have Melody, a girl who can use rithmastism but is a flunky.  She’s creative and artistic but cannot do the most basic lines, and she’s frustrated that no matter how hard she works she cannot seem to keep up.  Watching to two of them interact, the places where they are opposites and the places where their personalities meet, how they contrast and compliment each other, and how their friendship grows throughout the story, is enjoyable.  The third member is Professor Fitch, a kind-heart but nervous man, highly intelligent and cares about the students, but not very strong in personality and atmosphere.  His investment in his two teen charges is tangible, as is his desire to help the good headmaster and police locate the missing students.  Again, I loved reading his interactions with Joel and Melody.  The threesome are so enjoyable and lovable, even with their respective faults.

Of course these great characters wouldn’t go anywhere without a plot, and boy was I engaged.  Even with certain predictable points, especially concerning character development, the plot kept me hooked the entire way through.  I didn’t even stop long enough to figure out the mystery so that when mysteries where solved, I had only reached the vague guess stage rather than the “let’s see if I’m right” one. I just wanted to know what happened next.

Part of this was due to the amazing world-building.  I wish I could live in this place.  A steam/spring-punk world where chalk drawings come to life?  I would retake geometry for that!  And I hated geometry.  I can’t draw a circle with a compass, but I want to be able to do rithmatism.  Rithmatism itself is fascinating.  Circles.  Lines of forbiddance.  Chalklings.  Just the fact that the pictures remain 2-dimensional makes me love the idea more even if I don’t know why.  Why do the best concepts and arts have to be fake?   I do wish, though, that more of the world could have been experienced.  In particular, I wish we could have seen some of Nebrask, where rithmatists battle wild chalklings, and that we could know more about the origin of rithmatism and how rithmatists are made.  Of course when part of the plot to concealing rithmatism’s origins, not many questions are going to be answered.  I do have some suspicions, though, which I hope will be answered in the next book.

Yes, there’s another book, or at least this volume ended with the setup for a potential sequel.  Actually, usually this kind of ending annoys me (I can think of one example right now), but not this time.  In part, this is due to how, even with the sequel baiting, most of the ending surrounds a very satisfying and invigorating series of events (which I won’t reveal because spoilers!) that just carried me along and brought my love and investment in the characters to an even higher place, even if I had predicted the ending.  And yet, at the same time, the sequel baiting is one of the most irritating parts of the book because the sequel isn’t written yet!  ARGH!!!!!  I want more!  I want to read more!

I guess I’ll just have to sample of some Sanderson’s other works in the meantime.  Well.  Time to feed my envy.

Wow.  This is my most "bloggy" post yet!  I'll have to change that later when I'm not rushing to post on time because I took too long to decide on my post and so ended up just putting up my rough draft... I hate procrastination.

Sanderson, Brandon.  The Rithmatist.  New York: Tom Doherty Associates.  2013.  Print.

Personal Musings: Fairytale Females and Formulas

Disney got it wrong.

I wish I could just stop there, but I suppose I’ll need to explain and support my assertion, won’t I?

First, we need some clarification.  What do I mean by “Disney got it wrong”?  This question is best answered by another question: what is the stereotypical “fairytale princess” (from now on FP)?  Some of the most common descriptions I hear go along the lines of “waiting for prince charming”, “helpless”, “an accessory or prize”, “love at first sight”, “true love’s kiss”, “flawless”, and the list goes on.  A good summary of the stereotypical FP is Disney’s song from Cinderella, “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes”:  “No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing/  The dream that you wish will come true.” ¹ In other words, just believe and it will all work out.  This is the idea splashed upon every fairytale female (FF), whether she’s actually a princess or not.  They are then stuck into a formula of “FP is in trouble but does nothing, Prince Charming comes to the rescue, they live happily ever after despite the FP having done nothing to earn her own ending”.  Simple, right?

As I’m sure you know, starting most notably with the Disney Renaissance (though really present earlier), and continuing on till today in such films as Shrek and Frozen and so many books and games I could never count them all, the FP and this “fairytale formula” has been “subverted” and replaced by more complex stories and characters, to the praise of the people at the toppling of weak angels who need men to solve all their problems because they can’t do anything… which would be fine except for one little detail.

The stereotypes are WRONG!

Helpless?  In “Rumpelstiltskin”, the girl makes a deal with the devil to get out of a life-threatening situation forced upon her by her stupid father and a not-so-charming prince and then does all she can to fight the devil himself.  And that’s only a negative example of an FF taking action.

True love’s kiss?  Almost non-existent (fyi, there isn’t a kiss in “Snow White”)

Prince Charming to the rescue?  Puh-lease!  In the few stories which actually contain him, the prince is almost always a tool.  Not to mention the numerous times it’s the girl who saves the day (“Handsel and Gretel”, “Beauty and the Beast”, “The Wild Swans”, “Rapunzel”, “The Snow Queen”, need I say more?).

Flawless?  Read “The Virgin Mary’s Child”.

Happily ever after?  “The Little Mermaid”.

I could go on, but I think it’s time to go a little deeper.  How about one of the stories Disney got mostly right and which I mentioned earlier, “Cinderella”.*

“Cinderella” has become a poster child of sorts for the anti-FP stance.  Typically, I’ve heard her described as a girl who doesn’t anything to help herself, just waiting for her fairy godmother and the prince to rescue her, and if you’ve only see Disney’s movie, with Cinderella staring at the castle, singing her “just believe” song, I can understand.  I won’t even argue against Cinderella being basically flawless and only getting out of her situation because someone else rescues her.  However, these “flaws” are either non-existent or actually positives, not problems.  What do I mean?

Let’s begin with Cinderella herself.  In the story, she is not waiting for anyone to save her.  There’s none of this “oh, just wish and believe” or “if only Prince Charming would come save me”.  No.  Cindy isn’t waiting to be rescued; it doesn’t even occur to her.  “But,” you might ask, “doesn’t this mean she’s just passively accepting her fate and not doing anything to change her situation?”  Well, yes and no.  Yes, Cinderella isn’t really doing anything to change her situation, at least not outwardly, but that doesn’t mean she’s passively resigning herself to whatever comes her way.

This brings me back to Cinderella as “flawless”.  In the story, Cinderella is a virtuous person.  Cinderella's father has died.  Her stepmother holds rightful authority but then abuses her power and treats her stepdaughter as a servant while allowing her own daughters to behave cruelly against Cinderella.  Cinderella, in contrast to our heavily individualistic, rights-driven culture, obeys her mother.  Yes, her mother is treating her horribly, though not nearly so bad as her step siblings do, but they are not threatening her life, only insulting her.  In submitting to proper authority and not repaying insult with injury, Cinderella does the right thing.

I’m sure many of you have had a bad boss.  He (or she, see stepmother above) might treat you like trash, call you names, infringe upon your “rights”, but so long as he doesn’t (a) illegitimately endanger life (which includes sexual and physical harassment) or (b) demand violation of the Moral Law, Christ made the proper response clear: “Give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s” (NIV Mark 12: 17) and “If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn the other also.  If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt” (Luke 6: 29).  Paul then expands on these responses in his letter to the Romans, saying, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.  Do not take revenge… for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord.” (Romans 12: 18-19) and “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established…. Give to everyone what you owe: If you owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor” (Romans 13: 1, 7).  Christianity demands proper submission to authority and overcoming “evil with good” (Romans 12: 21).²

Now, clarification time for myself.  I’m not a pacifist, nor do I support letting government run rampant and destroy society.  If you are being sexually or physically harassed or threatened, defend yourself.  Paul fled from those who wished to kill him (Acts 9: 23-25), and Christ Himself used violence in response to the mistreatment of God's house (John 2:13-16).²  However, I am against rebellion or fighting unless  in extreme cases like self-defense and when other avenues have been exhausted.  Fight abuse of power, but do so through lawful means and persuasion, through virtue.  Rebellion and violence are last resorts.

Cinderella provides an example.  Her case isn’t so extreme she must fight.  Yes, she’s being mistreated and humiliated, but rather than repay evil for evil, Cindy does something unexpected and instead endures everything with grace, showing herself superior in virtue.  In other words, Cinderella symbolizes fortitude, a kind of courage that involves patient endurance.  It’s a quiet, subtle way of fighting.  Another way of putting it is Cinderella is the Martin Luther King Junior of fairytales, and we would never call him “helpless” or “lacking initiative”.

For anyone still doubting this characterization of Cinderella, consider this.  Although Cinderella allows herself to be mistreated, she never lets this treatment impact her dignity.  When the invitation comes to attend the ball, she asserts her position as a member of the family, showing she still views herself not as a servant, but as a proper member of the household.  Then, it is only when her step sisters try to strip her of her identity and dignity does the fairy godmother arrive.

Okay, let’s recap.  Cinderella as a character is not a passive do-nothing waiting for someone to come save her.  She isn’t expecting to be saved.  Instead, she exhibits fortitude, patient endurance, by properly submitting to authority and refusing to avenge herself without letting herself be degraded as a person.  Now, after her stepfamily attacks even that, a miracle happens.  Her fairy godmother arrives and offers Cinderella the chance to go to the ball (and notice, our “passive princess” doesn’t sit in her tower waiting for her prince but takes the chance when given), Cindy meets the prince, loses her slipper, is locked away when her stepmother realizes it was Cinderella at the ball, Cindy breaks out (again, active resistance when the line is crossed), the shoe fits, and that’s the end.  Right?

Not exactly.  You see, Disney can get a little… squeamish at times and reject aspects of the fairytale that might seem “too dark”, which, unfortunately, can distort the theme of the story.  This is where Disney really got “Cinderella” wrong.  See, “Cinderella” is not a story of “believe and it will all work out”.  It’s a story about perfect justice: everyone gets what they deserve.  In Cinderella’s case, she has repaid humiliation and mistreatment with virtue and is rewarded (note: the prince is a reward, not a rescuer) with stability and honor for the rest of her life.  What about her stepsisters?  Well in the original fairytale, the stepsisters are convinced by their mother to cut off parts of their feet to fit the slipper and/or get their eyes gorged out by birds…. Yeah.  In the end, everyone gets what they deserve.

Unfortunately, “Cinderella” is not the only fairytale with a weakened protagonist and/or themes.  “The Little Mermaid” is actually a cautionary tale about a foolish girl who desires a human prince so much she resorts to witchcraft.  When things don’t turn out how she wants though, she wants to return to the sea, but to do so, she must kill the prince.  Instead of murder someone to reclaim her own happiness, the little mermaid throws herself into the sea and dies.  In “Snow White”, the titular character is an innocent 6-year-old who is loved for her beauty, kindness, and innocence, the same strengths that end in her nearly being killed three times by her wicked stepmother; the story is a tale of true beauty vs. false beauty and, again, justice (the wicked stepmother is executed at the end).  “The Princess and the Frog” is a story about honesty and keeping promises, not winning a prince through a lucky draw or how what you need most is a significant other (apparently Tiana doesn't love her mom and friend?).  And I could just go on and on about fairytales that don’t really fit the “fairytale formula” in terms of message, plot execution, characters, etc.  It’s not hard at all.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I love Disney movies, and I'm not at all against adaptations or retellings.  Involving different interpretations of the characters or incorporating different themes can be fine, too.  However, when the theme is significantly weakener, or even false, because the changes made, I think we might want to take a step back and examine things a bit more.

In conclusion, the original subverters of the “fairytale formula” and the “fairytale princess” are, actually, the fairytales themselves.  Fairytales are far from the formula often attributed to them, as are their famous “princesses”.  I only wish I could cover more details on the complexity of these “simple children’s stories”: the building of plots, the happy ending, more on family dynamics and symbolism, fairytales with male leads, dangers, morals, the subtle hints at strengths and flaws of characters, and so much more.  But that’d need a book, or at least a 70-page essay; fairytales are a bit too diverse and complicated to contain within a single blog post.

For more on fairytales, I highly suggest reading J. R. R. Tolkien’s fabulous essay “On Fairy Stories”.

For an expansion of proper submission to authority and responses to ills done to us, I suggest this radio recording by Dr. Robert B. Sloan: https://hbu.edu/About-HBU/General-Information/University-Leadership/Presidents-of-HBU/Dr-Robert-B-Sloan-Jr/Sloan-Radio/A-Higher-Education-radio/March-2015/Obligations-of-Patriotism-pt-1.aspx

*Note: In this post, I describe only a common version of the tale of "Cinderella". There are variations of this story, such as Cinderella’s father not dying, the ball lasting three nights instead of one, and Cinderella getting her clothes and slipper from birds rather than a fairy, but none of these differences impact the theme “Cinderella” or her character.  I have found the same applies to most, if not all, variations on fairytales.

¹Woods, Ilene.  "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes" by Al Hoffman, Jerry Livingston, Mack David. Cinderella.  Walt Disney Records: Burbank,  2012.  CD.


²The Holy Bible, Today's New International Version TNIV.  Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2005.  Print.

Reviews and Recommendations: Entwined by Heather Dixon

Once upon a time.  These are magical words that whisk us away to the land of fairytale.  For centuries, fairytales have enchanted the minds of children and adults, which perhaps helps to explain not only their endurance but also the prevalence of retelling these classic stories in longer and/or more modern settings.  Some, such as Disney’s movie empire, have been embraced, others fade into obscurity.  Most probably deserve such treatment, but some of these lesser knowns deserve to be recognized far more than they are.  Heather Dixon’s novel, Entwined, is one such as these.

Entwined retells the fairytale of “The Twelve Dancing Princesses”.  For details on the fairytale, I suggest reading it yourself.  It’s short, magical, and should be easy to find.  As for Dixon’s novel, here’s the description from the back of the book

 Just when Azalea should feel that everything is before her--beautiful gowns, dashing suitors, balls filled with dancing--it’s taken away.  All of it.  And Azalea is trapped.  The Keeper understands.  He’s trapped, too, held for centuries within the walls of the palace.  So he extends an invitation.

Every night, Azalea and her eleven sisters may step through the enchanted passage in their room to dance in his silver forest, but there is a cost.  The Keeper likes to keep things.  Azalea may not realize how tanged she is in his web until it is too late.

The first point which I should probably address is this story as an adaptation.  Personally, I think Dixon did a great job.  While this is a story about the twelve dancing princesses, it’s not a mere copy due to Dixon’s skillful expansions.  She expanded on many points and changed or added motivations, but all the key points of the fairytale remained.  She did not drop any necessary element or try to force anything in.  Furthermore, the methods with which she incorporated the important elements were very well thought out and executed.

Another positive element of the story is Dixon’s writing.  Throughout the story, her story feels like a dance.  It is fluid and I could almost feel a twist, a step, or a swing in the writing. With almost every paragraph, Dixon’s love of dancing shines through, which not only makes the descriptions of dances engaging even for a two-left-feet person like myself but also carries the reader along through this magical story.  The magic she weaves into the tale is also nearly as enchanting as the original fairytales.  The reason I say “nearly” is due to some less skillful execution near the end.  I won’t give details, for fear of spoilers, and I won’t say the concepts were bad, just not done as well, which made those points some of the few parts of the story that felt like a stumble in an otherwise beautiful dance.

Another of these problems is also at the end, so again, I won’t detail it, but it’s an example of missed opportunity.  There was an excellent chance to do a powerful parallel which would have not only tied together some hanging plot threads (lesser ones, I’ll admit) and also tied together some of the themes.

The third major stumble I think was the middle of the story.  It should have been condensed, or maybe some of the lead up shortened.  My copy is almost 500 pages.  For most of the book, it didn’t feel that way.  In fact, I finished it in a day.  However, there were points in the middle where I felt the length of the book.  I’m not sure where or how it should have been edited (I’d have to read the story again with pencil in hand), but it would have benefited from some tightening.

Okay, let’s finish this review sandwich with two more positives.  One other thing I enjoyed in the story were the characters.  Each princess has a distinct personality, as do all the men.  They aren’t necessarily deep, and some of the princesses are definitely more fleshed out than others, but you can generally tell who is talking.  There are even a few surprises in there, which turn previously predictable characters into fun little subplots.

My final positive is really what I think to be the strongest element of Entwined: the themes.  Entwined is about love.  But not just romantic love.  In fact, romantic love is almost non-existent for large portions of the story.  Much more important are the familial love of the royal family and the friendships between the twelve daughters, and they are done so well!  Just a story focussing on those aspects alone, done as Dixon does, would have made a great story.  However, they are further enhanced by their place in the fairytale.  Another love that is touched upon at times is sacrificial love, and it does play a major, in rare, role in the story.  So, C. S. Lewis fans, for those of you looking for a good book containing The Four Loves, here’s one for you.

But positive love is not the only kind present.  As so many great fairytales do, Dixon’s novel incorporates touches of the cautionary tale, warning of attraction to that which is dangerous and of loving something or someone too much and hurting others for it.

One last theme I will mention is forgiveness.  Through her tale, Dixon highlights the dangers of pride founded on self-pity and bitterness and how healing is found in forgiveness.  It’s beautifully executed.  Again, just that theme in the way she wrote it would make a great story on its own, but within its casing of fairytale, Dixon brings it to life in ways only magic can do.

Entwined, Heather Dixon’s retelling of “The Twelve Dancing Princesses”, is a wonderful adaptation of the fairytale.  With fluid writing, fun characters, and fantastic themes, she pulls together a story that dances across the page, gently pulling the reader into the flow of the tale and, like its source material, enchants the reader.  With a book like that, I think we can say, “And they lived happily every after.”

Entwined.  Dixon, Heather.  New York: Greenwillow Books.  2011.  Print.

Personal Musings: Influential Quotes

With all the talk about story and it’s importance and power, I thought I’d give a few quotes from fiction that have influenced me, whether in my approach to literature, to life, or both.  Now just to be clear, I’m not ranking these; that’s not the point of this list, and I am only dealing with fiction because to include non-fiction would make the list way too long.  To be more specific, I’m only dealing with primarily printed fiction, so no movies (unless the quote in a movie is also in the book).  Finally, I will be confining one quote per author, again to keep this list a touch more concise.  So with those parameters, let’s get going.

(1)

The part of philanthropist is indeed a dangerous one; and the man who would do his neighbor good must first study how not to do him evil, and must begin by pulling the beam out of his own eye. 

-Lilith by George MacDonald (p. 67)

The influence of this quote is much more confined than the others as it was this quote that changed my mind and my reading of MacDonald.  Before, I’d read some of his work and found great teaching in his work, but the full force of his skill came in his seamless inclusion of Scripture in this quote above.  Never before had I found such a well-done insert, one so smooth, and it made me reconsider my opinions of George MacDonald and begin a more ernest investigation into MacDonald.  Since reading this quote, he has since increasingly earned my admiration.

(2)

Abbot Bernard folded his paws deep into the wide sleeves of his garb.

From a viewpoint on the threshold of Redwall Abbey’s west ramparts he watched the hot midsummer day drawing to a glorious close.

-Mariel of Redwall by Brian Jacques (p.3)

The influence of this quote is not so much in the quote itself as that it is the first lines of the first Redwall book I ever read.  Yes, I had watched the tv show before and got into the series through the show, but in reading Jacques writing in Mariel and then Martin the Warrior, I entered the world of 300+ page books.  From then on, I gobbled up every Brian Jacques book I could find, which impacted my writing style and raised the bar of what my 9-year-old self sought in her reading.  The full list of impacts Jacques books made on me I don’t even know, but whatever they are, they began with these two sentences.

(3)

Mine had been a life of shame.

I’m like the one black sheep born into a pure white flock.  Unable to enjoy the things my peers enjoyed, unable to grieve the things they grieved, unable to eat the things they ate-- being born an ignoble black sheep, I didn’t understand the things my friends found pleasent, such as love, kindness, and sympathy.  I simply dusted my dark wool in white powder and pretended I was a white sheep, too.

I’m still wearing my mask, still acting in this farce.

-Book Girl and the Suicidal Mime by Mizuki Nomura (p. 1)

Wow.  Yeah.  Sorry for the long quote, but I really needed to include it all.  This quote, first read when I was 14 and two years into a deep depression, complete with daily thoughts of suicide, stands as the first time I truly felt a book speak to me.  I had never felt so connected to words on a page as when I read those.  Not exactly a healthy first connection, but, ironically, it helped me.  It put to words something I felt but could not express.  I know that everyone says “I’m different; you just don’t understand” and all that, but no one truly does understand the feelings and impressions of someone encaged by depression.  Added onto that this quote still is a bit accurate of a description of me.  I am totally different from all my siblings: the straight-man born into a family of comedians, the first black sheep (rebellious) child, someone who literally couldn’t understand why my siblings would laugh or cry at certain things.  I have/had difficulty sympathizing with others, and was not very kind (I’m much better now).  Even with my friends, by middle school all my male friends had moved away and I hated, to a stubborn degree, discussing fashion and boys and those girly small-talk topics that always seemed to pop up among my female compadres.  In the end, I became an outsider.  For two years (14 in my family), I had lived in a state of disconnect, and finally I found a connection, something to which I could relate.  It was something I needed so desperately, and here it was in this book.  From this quote onward, I began to connect more with literature, learned better how to immerse myself into the story, to relate with the characters.  This quote, though depressing, I think helped open my door to sympathy.  And, yes, I’ve since grown beyond the quote, but it’s impact I cannot deny.

(4)

There is no such thing as coincidence in this world; there is only hitsuzen.

-Tsubasa Resevoir Chronicles/xxxHolic by CLAMP (p. 104[TSR]/19[Holic])

Okay, so this if from manga (Japanese comics).  I never said I was limiting myself to prose, only to print.  Oh man has this quote stuck with me.  With this quote, my entire though process on fate, destiny, determinism, coincidence, etc. shifted, which of course impacts how you view the rest of the world.  Till reading this quote, I hadn’t thought much about fate, but now I had to.  My philosophically-oriented mind demanded it!  I’m no sure I entirely agree with it, but it still gets me thinking even to this day.  By the way, if you don’t know what hitsuzen is, here’s a link that gives a good explanation.  Definitely worth checking out.

(5)

In other words, the basics of alchemy is the "equivalent exchange"!  That means that to obtain something, something of equal value much be lost.

-Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa (p. 26)

Again, another manga.  FMA.  Man.  You have done so many numbers on me!  I shouldn’t have read you so early into my manga journey.  You set the bar too high.  Anyway, this is another quote that really got me thinking about my view of the world.  It made me consider the concept quoted above (equivalent exchange) into life to test it.  Again, I don’t entirely agree with it, but it really got me thinking about how the world works and my own place in everything, and encouraging thought, self-examination, and investigation into the foundations of how the world operates is more than many stories could ever claim.

(6)

“So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide.  All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

-The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien (p. 82)

Yeah, you probably knew this would be here.  But it truly is one of the most powerful truths ever stated.  I first encountered this quote (or rather its slight variation) in the Peter Jackson movie; unfortunately, my young mind missed it in the excitement of my first exposure to Middle Earth.  It was only when my church’s pastor used the quote in one of his sermons that I really heard it, and it blew my mind.  The simple truth of it, the obvious yet moving reality, indeed the freedom in living with this as your mindset, I can’t properly describe it.  I can’t tell you how much I love this quote and how much it’s already influenced my thoughts and the encouragement it gives me in my daily life.  And it’s only one of Tolkien’s amazing truths.  I just wish I had the space to list them all.

(7)

All of Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis

Okay.  I’m kind of cheating, but really I don’t know of any specific quote to summarize my experience.  The truth of the matter is the whole book changed my life, specifically how I relate to others.  To give details would require a post all its own, and I’m sure no one cares about that story.  Seriously, though, I just can’t say enough about this wonderful novel.

So there are a few quotes that have influenced me through my life.  Hope it’s been fun, and see you next week for another review.


Edit: Added a link I'd forgot to put in.  Oops.

All works mentioned here belong to their respective owners.

Reviews and Recommendations: Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis

This is my favorite book.  Till We Have Faces is the final fiction work of world-famous Christian thinker C. S. Lewis, my favorite novel not just of his but of all literature I have read, and yet most to whom I have mentioned the name have never heard it.  How can this be?  How can something so wonderful a story so skillfully written be so shockingly overlooked?  Truth be told, I never knew of Till We Have Faces until a few years ago, when I read it for a college literature class.  

Actually, I’m one of those people who never even knew Lewis wrote more than the Chronicles of Narnia until college, let alone read much of it!  Of his Chronicles, I remember readingThe Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and The Horse and His Boy, watching the BBC videos (on vhs) from Lion through The Silver Chair, and listening to my dad read The Magician’s Nephew.  Beyond that, I knew nothing of Lewis’s bibliography, not until college where I read first Learning in Wartime, learned of his theological works, and grew to appreciate Lewis as an author through The Problem of Pain.  I now own an anthology of Lewis’s major theological works, an anthology of the Chronicles (from which I read my missing Narnia experience, The Last Battle), an anthology containing most of Lewis’s short writings (almost 900 pages worth), the second volume of his space trilogy (my mom has the first and third), and, of course, my favorite book and Lewis’s final story, Till We Have Faces.

So, going back to Till We Have Faces, why do I love it?  I will not be covering the personal side of things in this post, as that would be a whole post unto itself, but rather some of more the technical aspects of the story that make it excellent.  But first, a plot description:

Till We Have Faces retells the tale of Psyche and Cupid, or Eros, but rather than follow Psyche, the narrator is Psyche’s ugly oldest sister, Orual.  The sisters live in the fictional, pre-Christian country of Glome, where Orual raises Psyche after the girl’s mother dies in childbirth.  Orual, rejected by nearly everyone for her ugliness, loves Psyche, and Psyche Orual.  When tragedy strikes Glome, Psyche is offered to Cupid, God of the Mountain, as a sacrifice.  In despair, Orual travels to the mountain, hoping to give Psyche a proper burial only the find her sister alive and well.  However, what should have become a joyful reunion instead begins Orual’s distortion and destruction of her most precious relationships.

In my discussion of this story, I wish to begin with characters.  To speak on every character would take too much time, so I will only focus on the main characters, Orual and Psyche.  For everyone else, I will just quickly mention that, while not detailed, each character is different and has specific influence on the plot and Orual’s character.  They are all important, and even their words and actions have consequences.  

Now, on Orual, while I do not hold that one needs amazing, realistic characters to have an amazing story (I’ll talk about that some other time), Orual really is incredible.  In writing Orual, Lewis did not write a character; he wrote a person.  Every time I reread Faces, I encounter a smart, rational, but sensitive girl, driven to cling to any love or acceptance she finds.  Due to being ugly in place where beauty and sex are the only worth of a woman, she is rejected by everyone, made to feel inferior and worthless.  Furthermore, she has always felt pushed aside by her younger, more attractive sister, Redival.  Orual is hurt and craves love, and when she finally receives some, first from her mentor and then from Psyche, she latches on, gripping to those pieces of joy and acceptance.  However, because of her fear and insecurity, she hangs on too tight, becoming jealous and obsessive.  She is a character with real emotions and pain that lead to tragic decisions with horrible consequences.  Orual’s thoughts and actions are influenced by those around her, forming conflict as she tries to understand different thoughts and struggles to think logically.  I found myself understanding Orual’s thought process and how she came to her conclusions, even when I knew her to be wrong.  Orual is real to me.

In contrast, there is Psyche.  Psyche is what most people would label a “Mary Sue.”  She is kind, beautiful, gracious, perfect really, the only type of person worthy to be the bride of a god.  Now, setting aside any arguments on if “Mary Sue” labeling is legitimate, Lewis’s decision on Psyche’s character is exactly how it should be.  Think about it.  Our narrator is Orual, someone who loves Psyche to the point of obsession.  Psyche is everything that Orual wishes she could be: beautiful, loving, and a person almost everyone adores on sight.  Of course Orual would present Psyche as perfect.  Maybe Psyche did have flaws, but we can’t know, nor does it matter.  It matters not how Psyche really is, only how Orual sees Psyche.  Allow me to refer to my own life.  I have a younger sister who is talented at art, funny, kind, patient, quietly charismatic, never gets in trouble, pretty much the perfect person… or at least, that’s how my sinful nature painted her, overlooking any flaws and only seeing her as everything I, a competitive, argumentative unfunny, uncharismatic (to name a few issues) person, lacked.  Years and many conversations later, I can now see her more objectively.  However, when you’re beaten down by rejection and your own flaws and hang around someone who is, in many ways, your opposite, objectivity jumps out the window.  Whatever Psyche’s real person, what matters is Orual’s perception of her: a goddess in both beauty and character within mortal flesh.

So we have Orual, ugly and rejected, and Psyche, perfect and embraced.  Their story, a powerful tale of twists and emotions and sorrow and love, I will not describe here.  I gave a story blurb earlier, and I do not wish to give away any more plot-wise.  Just know that Lewis proves himself an amazing storyteller.  He manages to retell the myth, even turning Orual into a sympathetic villain, without falling into many pitfalls of retelling stories from the point of view of the villain.  Often the villain becomes simply “misunderstood,” and “heroes” become the villains, as with Grendel in one film adaptation of Beowolf, Elphaba in Wicked, and Maleficent in the recent Disney retelling of Sleeping Beauty named after the “Mistress of all Evil.”  Lewis skillfully avoids this trap, making Orual “misunderstood” but still wrong, which results in the beautifully woven tragedy that is Till We Have Faces.

Aiding the storytelling and the reality of Orual as a character is Lewis’s writing style.  His style sounds natural, as though Orual were a real person writing a personal record.  What’s more, Lewis breaks the “rule” of cutting out unnecessary details by adding superfluous tidbits about Glome, as if it were a real place.  As much as this might bother the more indoctrinated modern reader/writer to the “rules of good writing,” these details actually give the story more of a realistic feeling, for, although it does not matter story-wise how far the Shennit river might be to the palace and city, it matters to Orual.  The inclusion of the geographic and cultural factoids make the story feel much more like the records of a real person than a deliberately crafted fiction.  I really cannot praise the writing style enough.  Additionally, it’s beautifully written, with masterful use of language, which alone is reason to read the novel.

Finally, I wish to say that the teachings of Till We Have Faces possess power and, in some places, beauty.  Like with the plot, I do no wish to spoil too much here  However, I will be taking two of these messages, as they are connected, and expounding upon them in a few weeks, messages that also just so happen to be connected to my personal reasons for loving this story.  So if you’re curious about some of the messages in this story, just be patient a little longer.

Till We Have Faces is my favorite book.  I also hold it to be Lewis’s most skillful pieces of fiction.  The characters are amazing, the plot interesting and emotionally impacting, the writing style engaging, and the lessons I have learned from it (and I’m sure there are at least some I still have not understood) continue to impact me and draw me back to the story.  Teach and entertain, thereby prompting rereading, and doing all with excellence, now that’s good Christian literature.

Lewis, C. S.  Till We Have Faces.  New York: Houghton Harcourt Publishing Company.  1984.  Print.

All properties mentioned in this post (c) their respective owners.

Personal Musings: Returning to Middle Earth

A couple months back, I was browsing through my twitter feed when a retweet for someone’s blog post arrested my interest, one written by a Miz Sarah Harian and titled “Moral Ambiguity in New Adult: We’re Not in Middle Earth Anymore.”  I assume that, just based on that title, you might have pieced together the topic of this post: morality in fiction.

Okay, time for a disclaimer.  This is not a response post.  Truth be told, this essay arose merely by reading the title of the afore mentioned blog post.  By the time I actually read said post, I had already formulated what I wished to say here, and, in acknowledgement to the retweet that sparked it, I referenced it in the title.  That is the only intentional connection.  If you wish to know more about the post, I linked to it through its title for you.  Go read it.  While I definitely don’t agree with everything Miz Harian says in her post, I do think there’s some good material to chew on in there.  That said, please do not take my post as confronting Miz Harian’s post.  That is not my purpose, nor will I do a very good job.  Now, back to the regularly scheduled blog post.

Morality in fiction is… complicated, especially for the Judeo-Christian, who recognizes the existence of objective moral truth.  Such an understanding of morality in the morally relativistic world of today is often labeled as old, flat, less interesting, too easy, etc.  I have read such views many times.  In today’s books, the audience appears to desire “gray morals,” with the lines of morality, especially in “adult” fiction, blurred, sometimes even beyond recognition and remembrance, and/or villains are sympathetic, sometimes even more so than the heroes.  Attempts to make villains truly evil, like J. R. R. Tolkien’s Sauron or C. S. Lewis’s White Witch, rather than just mistaken or unfortunate can get written off as constructing a “mustache-twirling, cape-wearing, ‘muhahahah’ villain who’s only goal is to rule the world because EVIL!”  Nope!  Villains must be fully fleshed out characters, too, with hidden motivations and/or tragic pasts or else they are joke.

Or are they?

If this “old school” portrayal of morals, without much moral ambiguity (if any), is so inferior, why do people still gravitate to them?  Why do people still read, year after year, Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, traveling to Middle Earth, where there are clear goods and evils?  Why do people still write such stories?  Why does this perception of morality thrive?

For the Judeo-Christian worldview, the answer is simple.  People invest in stories portraying objective moral rights and wrongs because there are objective moral rights and wrongs.  The reason humans dive into stories where pure good battles, and eventually defeats, pure evil is because, every day, every minute, every second, every moment God (pure good), in the most awesome, most truly epic or all stories, battles, and defeats, Satan (pure evil).  That reality validates the traditional relationship of heroes and villains.  Now, these “binary” stories still need to be well written, and I think a lack of skill probably contributed to the rejection of the “pure evil villain” archetype.  However, such is required of the “complex villain.”  both simple villains and complex villains, both clear morals lines and “gray” morality, can tell excellent stories, and I think we need both types.

Sometimes it truly is not clear what is the correct moral choice.  Is killing ever permissible?  Is stealing ever right?  Is revenge just?  What is justice?  When given the choice between saving your friend and saving a stranger from death, what is the right thing to do?  These are all hard questions that involve at least a closer look at the lines of morality.  However, “hard” does not mean “disproving.”  Man is fallen, as is his reason and ability to discern right from wrong, but that does not change their existence.  Even “gray,” “sympathetic” villains can be shown to be objectively wrong.

Returning to Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, C. S. Lewis, in his review of the story, had this to say:

Motives, even in the right side, are mixed.  Those who are now traitors usually began with comparatively innocent intentions.  Heroic Rohan and imperial Gondor are partly diseased.  Even the wretched Smeagol, till quite late in the story, has good impulses; and... what finally pushes him over the brink is an unpremeditated speech by the most selfless character of all.¹ 

We, as the audience, can see that a character is acting in an objectively immoral way.  Morality is clear.  Good and evil are not mixed; it is true, though, that once good people and nations are “diseased” and fell into evil.  On the other hand, Tolkien also does not deny that evil might begin with mistaken intentions or thoughtless words.  Even “binary” can be complex (just as a computer programer).  However, even with this complexity, Tolkien does not succumb to the idea that all villains and their cohorts must be “gray” or sympathetic to be good villains; within his story are clearly evil characters rejecting every miligram of our sympathy.

In conclusion, despite the cry for “more complex villains,” I think we still need stories of objectively evil villains and objectively good heroes.  We need reminders that there is true evil, and there is true good.   We still need Sauron, an embodiment of evil that wishes for the destruction and enslavement of all that is good, in battle with Aragorn, Gandalf, Frodo, Sam, and their friends, beacons of goodness and hope in the midsts of darkness.  At the same time, we need Smeagol, the wicked but pitiable, the one who gave into temptation and so destroyed himself.  We need Victor Hugo’s Javert, driven by justice and a desire to do what is right but mistaken in his zeal for justice, reminding us of the complexity and motivations of human beings.  Meanwhile, we need C. S. Lewis’s witch, Jadis, beautiful but cold and proud, a wicked woman who freezes all that is jovial and good in her yearning for power and control, to show us the destructive nature of sin.  We need Darth Vader, a young man deceived into villainy, and Emperor Palpatine, the deceiver.  We need the Joker, pure chaos and anarchy, and we need Mr. Freeze, driven by a desire to save his beloved wife.

Whatever villain, whatever story, we write, though, we must never give up on morality.  As Aragorn says to Éomer, even facing such times and events as theirs, one must judge what to do “As he has ever judged… Good and ill have not changed.”²  We have been on vacation from that truth long enough.  It’s about time we return home to Middle Earth.

¹ Lewis, C. S.  "Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings."  C. S. Lewis: Essay Collection & Other 
       Short Pieces.  Ed. Lesley Walmsley.  London: Harper Collins Publishers, 2000.  519-525.  Print.

² Tolkien, J. R. R.  The Two Towers.  New York: Ballantine Books, 1978.  Print.

All mentioned titles (c) their respective owners

Reviews & Recommendations: The Redwall Series by Brian Jacques

My childhood from about 9-15 could be described with one name: Brian Jacques.  More specifically, I read and reread his Redwall series.  It was Brian Jacques and his abbey of Redwall that hooked me on reading, and it was his style that I first imitated when I developed an interest in writing.  Even today, when I pick up one book of this series, I end up in a tale of amusing characters, fun adventure, and mouthwatering food all wrapped up in nostalgia and skillful storytelling.  I love traveling to the western sea coast, to gaze upon the fire mountain of Salamandastron.  I love entering Redwall Abbey, to walk beneath the light streaming through stained glass windows as I cast my eyes upon the legendary tapestry.  I love exploring Mossflower Wood, seeing places that have changed from countless season prior, as well as the surprises hidden throughout.  I love journeying down the River Moss or the meadow streams in Gousim longboats, seeing the fish and dragonflies as paddlers belt out river songs.

But I’m probably getting ahead of myself.  First comes the mind behind the 25-volume Redwall series.

Brian Jacques was a British jack-of-all-trades and storyteller.  His author debut occurred after he wrote a book for a school for blind children.  The story found its way to the printing press, and then to the general public, beginning a long children’s series that would end up being named after this first book, Redwall.

So what is Redwall?  The Redwall Series unfolds in a fictional, medieval-style world occupied by anthropomorphic animals.  The protagonist of the first book is Matthias, a young mouse living in Redwall Abbey, who wants to be a warrior like his hero, Martin the Warrior.  When his home is attacked by the sea rat, Cluny the Scourge, Matthias sets out to find Martin’s legendary sword to combat Cluny’s horde and save his beloved home.

From that Abbey and its surrounding forest of Mossflower Wood, the world expanded.  Prequels were written, detailing the life of Martin, how he became a warrior and came to live in Redwall, and other characters influential in the formation of the world of Redwall.  In the tale of the founding of Redwall Abbey, we are introduced to the dormant volcano, Salamandastron, ancient fortress of the badger lords, fierce fighters and skilled weapon smiths, and their British Royal Air Force-inspired soldiers, the Long Patrol Hares.  Multiple times, characters travel across the sea, whether to distant lands or to escape from them.  From the North and the East come enemies and go heroes.  Slowly, over each volume, more of the world is formed, or what is known expands.

Of course as the heroes travel, whether to distant lands or just around their own homes, they encounter different creatures and what might be called cultures.  The sensible moles, whose earthy ways include lots of solid wisdom, the sailor otters, fun-loving in peace but fierce in war, the rambunctious hares, perilous on both the battle field and at the dinner table, the argumentative and short-tempered shrews, and many more, including the variations of each group depending on their location.  Sea otters and river otters aren’t quite the same, and never mistake a pygmy shrew for a Guosim shrew.

As you might have picked up from my descriptions so far, there are many ties throughout the stories, and not just geography or character type. In each story, there is always a riddle or puzzle to be solved, whether it be a map to the heroes’ goal or the location of a hidden item, for an example.  Understandably, some people might find some of the elements a bit too repetitive.  As might be expected of such a long series, sometimes these riddles overlap.  What’s more, at times plot elements get recycled, resulting in two books that, while definitely different, feel very similar to each other.  This could make the stories a bit tiresome to some readers.

Also, I will not claim that every volume is excellent.  Some stories, such as Taggerung and Rackety Tam, I liked more than others, like Pearls of Lutra.  Some I have only read once.  Some I’ve reread multiple times.  That’s just how series are.

In addition, as Brian Jacques initially wrote his stories for blind children, he uses a lot of descriptions, particularly for food, often toughing on taste, smell, and texture.  Some people might find this tiring.  I never did, nor do I now.  To me, the food is part of the culture of Redwall, a symbol of prosperity, friendship, peace and goodness; where good food is absent or wasted, so they are as well.  Still, if you hate descriptions of food that will make your mouth water, I’m sorry; Redwall is full of them.

One final issue some readers might have with the story is the binary nature of good and evil.  Creatures such as mice, squirrels, moles, badgers, and the like are 99% good.  In contrast, animals like rats, weasels, ferrets, and foxes make up the bulk of the villains.  Sometimes you might end up with a vole that’s lured into helping the villains for his own gain, but these are rare.  This does not mean good characters are without flaws or villains lack strengths, but the lines are clearly drawn  Like with the food descriptions, I’m not bothered by this.  I think having basic good-versus-evil stories are, in fact, healthy.  However, this post is long enough already, so I won’t go into it here.

A final point I wish to bring up about Redwall is how, for a children’s book, it brings up tough topics.  Sure, it’s not the deepest series, but it’s certainly not completely shallow.  For example, in every book characters die.  Good characters, even main characters, die.  Sometimes it’s from courageous sacrifice, sometimes they are a casualty of war, sometimes they are killed only because they, harmless and kind though they are, happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Characters die, and it hurts, and this exposure to death within literature opens the door to thought on the universal experience of mortality.  

Besides death, the Redwall series also covers topics such as revenge and killing, which can lead to important conversations.  Is revenge okay?  Should we ever seek revenge?   What about killing?  When, if ever, is it permissible?  Brian Jacques gives his own answers to these questions, and I think his answers need to be examined and contemplated.  Good, evil, death, revenge, killing, these are important topics and ones I wish more children’s stories today engaged.

To finish up, I love Redwall.  I love the characters, the world, the food, and the stories.  Any chance I get, I recommend this series because, Brian Jacques, you made my childhood, and you made it an adventure.

Redwall (c) Brian Jacques

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