The Creation Stories of Narnia and Middle Earth

   It probably won't come as a surprise to you that Tolkien's creation story for Middle Earth, "Ainulindale," and C.S. Lewis' novel about the beginning of Narnia, The Magician's Nephew closely resemble each other. Like many creation myths, both Narnia and Middle-earth start out in a sort of 'nothingness' and both tales explain how the material and spiritual world come into being. 

Pauline Baynes

But both Tolkien and Lewis are particularly interested in the presence of evil during creation and especially the presence of music during creation. For both Narnia and Middle earth are sung into creation and music and harmony play an essential role in their worlds. 
   There are, however, important differences in each creation story. As the narrator in The Magician's Nephew is quick to point out, “For what you see and hear depends a good deal on where your standing” (125). Although there are clear similarities in the way each author describes his world's creation, there is an important and fundamental difference in “where one is standing” in each text. Tolkien's “Ainulindale” places the reader among Illuvatar and the Ainur, and internal growth within the world's creators plays a significant role. In Lewis' The Magician's Nephew however, the reader is placed alongside Digory and Polly who visit Narnia as outsides and are thus external to its creation.  

breathing2004

From the start of Tolkien's “Ainulindale” we are invited to learn more about Middle Earth's creators than Middle Earth itself.  The Ainur's music is ultimately revealed to be the world “foreshadowed and foresung”(20), but “Ainulindale” is largely about the Ainur's experience of creating the music. Unlike The Magician's Nephew, which describes the harmonious singing and Narnia's creation as “two wonders happen[ing] at the same moment” (99), Middle Earth (both the vision and the tangible world) is not revealed to the Ainur until they have a deeper understanding of themselves and of Illuvatar. It is clear that they must first grow together through music and learn more than “that part of the mind of Illuvatar from which he came” (15). As they do so, they are described as coming “to a deeper understanding, and increas[ing] in unison and harmony” (15). This harmonizing is integral to the creation of the world, for it is only after this initial music that Illuvatar begins to “declare to them a mighty theme, unfolding to them things greater and more wonderful than he had yet revealed” (15). Middle Earth's creation is thus founded in a growing knowledge of Illuvatar. 
Narnia, however, is fundamentally different than Middle Earth in that it is but one world among many. As such, Digory and Polly themselves are external to it. Unlike the Ainur who come to know much of illuvatar and are told much of “what is, what was, and is to come” (18) in the world, the children and their party enter Narnia quite literally in the dark. They do not take an active part in creating Narnia, but rather hear a voice singing that “seemed to come from all directions at once” (98) and watch as “a thousand, thousand points of light leaped out” (99). Illuvatar may have direct contact with the Ainur before Middle Earth is created, but Aslan lets the children witness Narnia's creation from the outside, revealing himself only after the world of Narnia takes shape. This has two effects that are very different from what we see in “Ainulindale:"The first is that unlike the Ainur, the children can see that Narnia is being brought to life with music. For, just as the singing voice creates “the mightiest and most glorious sound it had yet produced, the sun arose” (101).  

dreamsofalostspirit

The second effect is the feeling evoked when the children first see Aslan. The narrator describes, “The earth was of many colours: they were fresh, hot, vivid. They made you feel excited; until you saw the Singer himself, and then you forgot everything else” (101). We are not asked to come to know Aslan first and feel closer to him because of his creation (as the Ainur feel closer to the mind of Illuvatar after seeing the vision for his Children). But instead to see Narnia first in order to more easily recognize Aslan's magnificence and power.


  Digory and Polly not only learn of Aslan and Narnia differently than the Ainur learn of Illuvatar and Middle Earth, but they have an equally different experience with the creation of evil. The children expose Narnia to evil by bringing in Jadis. But in “Ainulindale” the evil of Melkor is weaved within the creation of the world itself. As the music progresses, Melkor seeks “to increase the power and glory of the part assigned to himself” (16), creating immediate discord among the Ainur. Illuvatar allows for within its very conception. 

dreamsofalostspirit

Melkor to sing and does not directly stop the discord from “spread[ing] ever wider” (16). Jadis embodies a similar evil from the outset of the novel, but once she enters Narnia, it is clear Aslan feels that he must protect Narnia from her, and that it is “Adam's race that has done the harm”(137), suggesting that Jadis does not belong in Narnia at all. Illuvatar, however, does not try to eliminate Melkor altogether. Rather he combats Melkor with his own second and third theme, knowing that in doing so he not only creates a music that “ gathered power and had new beauty” (16), but actively blends evil into the creation of the world. The two musics of the third theme is illustrative of this: as the loud, vain, and unharmonious music gains volume against the beautifully somber one, its “most triumphant notes were taken by the other and woven into its own solemn pattern” (17). Evil is thus not brought into Middle Earth as Jadis is brought to Narnia, but is brewed within its very conception.

Emma Guild

   

C.S. Lewis Read Along: Edmund and Narnia's Transition From Winter into Spring

 Book review blog, Pages Unbound is hosting a month long C.S. Lewis Read Along!  I am somewhat new to their blog, but everything I've read so far has been insightful, thoughtful, and engaging and I recommend you check them out and participate in their read-along. To kick things off, I'd like to look at The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, particularly (and since some of us are in the middle of this anyway) Narnia's transformation from winter into spring:

Artist SnowWhite3684

Our first introduction to Narnia's winter is wondrous, soft, and delicate. You'll remember Lucy does not just open the wardrobe door in one world and immediately enter another. She walks slowly through the wardrobe, going "further up and further in," if you will, and gradually enters Narnia. Throughout that time the winter of Narnia- the cold air, the bare trees, the powdery snow- are a quiet indicator of magic and otherworldliness. Once Lucy arrives in Narnia we're told "something cold and soft was falling on her. A moment later she found that she as standing in the middle of a wood at night time with snow under her feet and snowflakes falling through the air" (6-7). Rather than walk into an alarmingly and bitterly cold scene, Lucy enters a beautiful one. Winter, when it naturally occurs, can be delightful, elegant and purifying. And, though Lucy's journey through the wardrobe and Narnia itself is supernatural, the reader and Lucy alike assume the Winter is natural to the land. Thus Lucy walks into Narnia, "a little frightened but...inquisitive and excited as well" (7).
     Our second impression of Narnia is through Edmund, whose experience with winter is more harsh right from the start. Even inside the wardrobe, Edmund's journey to Narnia is stressful and claustrophobic where Lucy's was enchanting and curious:

"He began feeling about for Lucy in the dark. He expected to find her in a few seconds and was very surprised when he did not. He decided to open the door again and let in some light. But he could not find the door either. He didn't like this at all and began groping wildly in the dark..." (25).

David Shaw

Soon enough, he finds himself in the middle of Narnia's wood. Here, Lewis does something very interesting. As we move out from Edmund and into the wider world of Narnia, the sky and trees become beautiful and serene:

"There was crisp, dry snow under his feet and more snow lying on the branches of the trees. Overhead there was a pale blue sky, the sort of sky one sees on a fine winter day in the morning. Straight ahead of him he saw between the tree trunks, the sun just rising, very red and clear. Everything was perfectly still." 

 We glimpse the parts of Narnia that the winter cannot touch- the light of the sun, a beautiful morning. This is a moment even more beautiful than the one Lucy first encounters. But notice the sudden turn as we narrow back on Edmund:

"Everything was perfectly still, as if he were the only living creature in that country. There was not even a robin or a squirrel among the trees, and the wood stretched as far as he could see in every direction. He shivered." (26). 

 The stillness of winter is no longer serene, but eerie and uncanny. Even the bright, red sunrise cannot keep Edmund from shivering. Narnia is "a strange, cold, quiet place"(26) for him, and rightly so. As Mr. Tumnus tells us, the White Witch keeps it "always winter and never Christmas" (16). Keep in mind, however, that the 'never Christmas' remark means much more than merely not receiving presents. In a relevant post on The Hog's Head John Patrick Pazdziora says, "The White Witch keeps Narnia forever in the darkest night of all the year. It is a time of hardship and peril... but without the consolation and grace of the solstice and Christmas." Christmas and Father Christmas have a presence in Narnia that is much more real and natural than we would expect (when we meet Father Christmas, for instance he is described as being the real Father Christmas, of which our own world can only emulate). The stillness and strangeness that Edmund feels in Narnia is the effect of an unnatural winter. Narnia is both literally and figuratively frozen and Edmund, who is certainly the 'coldest' Pevensie, is both less able to notice Narnia's goodness and more sharply aware of its evil.

Artist Unknown

When Aslan returns to Narnia the Witch's magic begins to weaken. Winter in Narnia slowly comes to an end. But the wonderful thing about the transformation from winter into spring in Narnia is that it happens simultaneously with Edmund's own transformation from a selfish and proud person into a humble one. As Edmund travels with the Witch the snow becomes unbearable, "oh how miserable he was!" (110). Even when it eventually stops falling the snow underneath the sled is "everlasting" and doesn't let up until Edmund witnesses the Witch's evil firsthand:

"She had waved her wand and where the merry party had been there were only statues of creatures (one with its stone fork fixed forever half way to its stone mouth) seated round a stone table on which there were stone plates and a stone plum pudding...And Edmund for the first time in this story felt sorry for someone besides himself" (113). 

and then, immediately, the snow lets up, Narnia warms, and life returns:

"And soon Edmund noticed that the snow which splashed against them as they rushed through it was much wetter than it had been all last night. At the same time he noticed that he was feeling much less cold...A strange, sweet, rustling, chattering noise-and yet not strange, for he knew he'd heard it before...it was the noise of running water...chattering, murmuring, bubbling, splashing..." (114)

Edmund warms up from the inside out. Once he feels empathy for others, he is no longer alone. And the land that had seemed so endless and eerie to him before is now beautiful and in harmony with the natural forest:

"Soon wherever you look you saw dark green of firs or black prickly branches of bare oaks and beeches and elms. Then the mist turned from white to gold...Shafts of delicious sunlight struck down onto the forest floor and overhead you could see a blue sky between the tree-tops. Soon there were more wonderful things happening..." (116). 

Edmund is not just witnessing the coming of spring, he is truly enjoying it. He, like Narnia itself becomes rejuvenated and enlightened.

Artist Voroindo

Lewis, C.S. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. New York: Macmillan Publishing Company. 1950. Print

Belief and Marvel in C.S. Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien Criticism

“It is at any rate essential to a genuine fairy story...that it should be presented as true”                 - J.R.R Tolkien, On Fairy Stories

 Largely an essay on the origin, qualifications, and readership of fairy stories, J.R.R. Tolkien's On Fairy Stories argues for the legitimacy of fairy stories being read and enjoyed by people of all ages. Yet understanding what Tolkien means by “true” in On Fairy Stories and how the element of truth ultimately makes for a good fairy story, is crucial. Not only is this a key issue in his own essay, but it connects with C.S. Lewis' argument in On Stories, an essay exploring the joy of reading a story. If, as Lewis states, “belief at best is irrelevant” (Lewis, 13), then in order to understand what makes a good and believable story, it is best to understand what similar distinctions are being made by each author between belief and truth.
     For both Lewis and Tolkien a story's truth does not depend on whether or not the events are credible, or as Tolkien states, if “a thing exists or can happen in the real (primary) world” (131). Such belief is unnecessary, not because marvelous or fantastic events should not be believed or are simply not plausible, but rather because a good story does not call for its readers to believe that its events can happen in what Tolkien calls our “primary” world. Mistaking this as the story's purpose can lead to a common misconception: that marvelous or fantastic stories are only enjoyed by children, because after all, it is children that believe that such things are possible. When Lewis frankly states, “Good stories often introduce the marvelous or supernatural, and nothing about Story has been so often misunderstood as this” (13) he refers to the mistake of thinking that it is children's inexperience or ignorance of our world that leads them to more easily believe, and thus enjoy the events of a fantastic story. Children are far from being the majority of those who like being told of impossible things or like reading of the magic of other-worlds. They are also, as Tolkien points out, not even the only type of person with the capability or desire believe in such things (132). For Tolkien and Lewis there is another, greater quality that a good fairy story demands if it is to be enjoyed: that of truth.
 

     It is belief of a marvelous, but true world that makes reading stories, especially one of fantasy or fairy enjoyable. In order to write a believable fantastical story, it must be drawn upon our own real world to produce the effect of plausibility. The creation of a “Secondary World” (132) as Tolkien calls it, is by its nature based upon the primary world, and can never be wholly distinct from it. But as a creation, a secondary world allows, if not invites, the extraordinary. In order to enjoy entering this new and marvelous world, the reader must be able to believe that it “accords with the laws of that world” (131). Thus it is not the childish belief in the the possibility of the secondary world that the reader takes joy in, but the plausibility that makes entering the story- and staying there- possible. A successfully “true” fairy story will make the act of belief effortless.     It is this effortless belief in a story that Lewis likewise attributes not to childish ignorance, but to the writer's craftsmanship and willingness to “draw from the only real 'other world' we know, that of the spirt” (12). Although more ambiguous than Tolkien's definition of the primary world as simply our real world, Lewis' 'other world' is not wholly distinct from Tolkien's primary world. It recalls the human spirit, certainty a very real sentiment and primary element from our own world that writers must draw upon in order to create “plausible and moving” (12) stories. It is in this spirit and vitality of humanity that writers both draw from and emulate, and in such spirit the reader in turn enjoys the story.

In looking at Lewis' and Tolkien's similar views on the believability of marvelous stories we come out with perhaps the most important and interesting understanding of why, after all, it is important for these secondary worlds to be read. Both Lewis and Tolkien believe strongly and vehemently in the transformative effect that stories have over readers. Most particularly the effect of taking from and placing in reality, the fantastical. For, in creating the most plausible and fantastic world, the writer has based it upon real world objects, events, and routines, but has placed these in a marvelous setting, what Tolkien describes as “simplicities [that] are made all the more luminous by their setting” (147). When the reader is truly immersed in such a world, he absorbs these simplicities in splendor, and thus once out of the world his opinion on ordinary events and objects transforms from the mundane into the marvelous, something Lewis describes as helping “strengthen our relish for life” (15). This is ultimately the imaginative and creative power of reading a story that is both marvelous and true. Through similar arguments Lewis and Tolkien not only to defend fairy stories, but legitimize fantasy stories as illuminating and imaginative fiction.