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.  

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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).  

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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. 

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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

   

A Very Potter Post: The Limited Imaginations of Uncle Vernon and Uncle Andrew

Jay Parker

My head is wrapped up in Harry Potter these days and for good reason. A couple of weeks ago it was Mother's day and my family watched the first four movies (my wonderful mom actually said, "Harry Potter. Pizza. Cookies. Beer. Yay!"). If that wasn't enough to put me in the mood, I also started re-reading the books in preparation for two things:

Firstly, I'm re-reading the series is because I'll not only be attending this year's Leakycon in Portland, but actually presenting a paper about the Hogwarts ghosts while I'm there! I'm really not the best public speaker, but last year I presented a paper for the first time at Mythcon in Berkeley and managed to be fine. I hope things run at least as smoothly for Leakycon at the end of June. Wish me luck!!


The second reason I started re-reading the series is because of the Harry Potter Book Club that is being run by a few of my favorite bloggers. Jenna St. Hilaire from A Light Inside, Christie from Spinning Straw Into Gold, and Masha from Cyganeria are all reading and discussing the series from the very beginning and invite anyone and everyone to join in. I've been enjoying their posts and would like to encourage anyone who is interested to head on over to any one of those blogs. This re-reading is a bit different than you might expect- as Jenna says in her introductory post:

 This is not just any thoughtful, playful, highly interactive read-through, either. It's an extensive conversation between three disparately-experienced readers: one longtime Potter fan, one longtime not-a-Potter-fan, and one new reader of the stories. Ideally, it will be intense—and magical—and legendary—and fun. 

Start the book club by going here and reading the full introductory post!

Here are some of my own thoughts from reading the first few chapters this time around:
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone famously opens up with everything the series is not. That is, with the absurdly close minded, boring, just plain awful Dursleys. There is nothing this book series is less about than a boring "firm called Grunnings"(1) or the mindless gossip Petunia overhears by "craning [her neck] over garden fences"(1). The wonderful first sentence, "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much"(1) allows children to immediately pick up on the irony of Privet Drive and must instantaneously beg a response something along the lines of my usual one: 'humph! Are they now?'

Daaakota

I love that throughout this first chapter there is a constant disconnect between what the reader sees and how the Dursleys act. For instance, we're told that Petunia gushes over the fact that Dudley learned a new word, but the narrator humorously tells us in parentheses that that word is "won't!"(6)- explanation point included. The Dursley's are just so blatantly proud that they are never mixed up with anything unusual that they're not just boring people, they are downright smug about being boring: Even as Mr. Dursley gets ready to leave for the morning, we're told, "Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work"(2).
Everything is set up in these first few pages so that, as readers, we are immediately in on the joke. The narrator pokes so much fun at the Dursley's that before we even meet Harry, before we even know how truly awful the Dursley's are, there's no denying it: we're on Harry's side.

These first few pages are also the only time we really get into Mr. Dursley's head. Jenna states that Mr. Dursley is "so completely wrapped up in this superficial life, so shielded from imagination, that despite all the cloaks and owls and shooting stars and cats, neither Halloween nor saints ever seem to come to his mind. It's just another day to the Dursleys." Mr. Dursley does not just ignore his own imagination, he actively shuts it out. He puts up his own shield. When he first notices strange things happening around Privet Drive all his first instincts (to think a cat is reading a map, to think that there are a group of strange people out, and to think that it all has something to do with Harry) are actually all spot on. But Mr. Dursley simply talks himself out of believing what he's seeing. He's a veritable Uncle Andrew. If you've read C.S. Lewis' The Magician's Nephew, you'll remember that Uncle Andrew, along with Polly, Diggory, Frank the cabby (and his wife), and Jadis, is present at the moment of Narnia's creation. While the others are able to hear beautiful music and understand the language of animals, He and Jadis (the White Witch of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe) cannot and will not understand. The narrator states, "For what you see and hear depends a good deal where you're standing: it also depends on what sort of person you are" (125). Like Mr. Dursley, Uncle Andrew talks himself out believing what he is seeing and hearing:

When the lion had first begun singing...he had realized that the noise was a song. And he disliked the song very much. It made him think and feel things he did not want to think and feel. Then, when the sun rose and he saw that the singer was a lion ("only a lion," as he said to himself) he tried his hardest to make himself believe that it wasn't singing and never had been singing...he thought, "I must have imagined it. I'm letting my nerves get out of order. Who ever heard of a lion singing?" (126).

Mr. Dursley's first encounter with something magical works in much the same way:

Deeterhi

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar--a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen-- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was the tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he be thinking of? It must have been the trick of the light...he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive--, no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs (2-3).

Both uncles work hard to disprove or rationalize their way out of believing in something extraordinary, even when they witness it first hand. This moment with Mr. Dursley and the cat (McGonagall) is wonderfully paralleled just a few pages later, when Harry likewise comes face to face with an animal. Unlike his uncle, Harry does not hesitate a moment to believe in what he sees. The snake in the zoo winks and Harry, recognizing the snake's ability to communicate and understand, immediately responds with a wink of his own.

I just don't think I can put it better than the narrator of The Magician's Nephew, who states, "Now the trouble about trying to make yourself stupider than you really are is that you very often succeed. Uncle Andrew did. He soon did hear nothing but roaring in the Aslan's song. Soon he couldn't have heard anything else even if he had wanted to" (126).
That's precisely what Mr. Dursley is in danger of doing and is what drives not only this first chapter, but the rest of the series. The Harry Potter series deals so much with faith (both in and out of a religious sense) because everything about magic asks you to trust in a force you cannot see. Mr. Dursley, who doesn't trust the magical world he actually sees, is the epitome of what happens to someone as 'successful' as Uncle Andrew. Imagination is human nature; if we actively push it aside we become more than boring, we become people who delight in the ordinary, we become just so squeamishly Dursley-ish. And if there's one thing this chapter does, it makes sure we don't want to have anything to do with being "perfectly normal." If this is a book about expecting the extraordinary, bring it on-- we're darn sure ready to believe.

ShadowAsh82

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