The Magician's Nephew, Chapter 10: C.S. Lewis is a Jerk

There was a sequence in this chapter that rather confused me as a kid: the first joke.

I like that Aslan included jokes and laughter in Narnia right away. Laughter is important. I know a lot of people will say that they'd like to die in their sleep; if I had a choice, I'd like to die laughing. Besides, I think most of us would agree that God has a sense of humor, and so it's only fitting that Lion Jesus would, too.

As the Talking Animals pledge to Aslan that they will remain Talking Animals and not revert back to their mute counterparts, a jackdaw embarrasses himself, and everyone laughs.

"'Laugh and fear not, creatures. Now that you are no longer dumb and witless, you need not always be grave. For jokes as well as justice come in with speech.' [. . .]

'Aslan! Aslan! Have I made the first joke? Will everybody always be told how I made the first joke?'

'No, little friend,' said the Lion. 'You have not made the first joke; you have only been the first joke.'"

 As a kid, I didn't understand how the jackdaw was the first joke, and I re-read the passage several times before I figured it out. Now I think it's just kind of mean. God is personally making fun of you. Of course, probably a lot of people feel like that...

Aslan selects his council of animals, saying they have much to discuss, because evil has already entered the new world. It makes me kind of sad that Narnia has always known evil, even though it was literally formed seconds ago. It was never a pure, incorruptible place, and never will be.

The other thing that caught my attention in this chapter was when Aslan called the animals for his council, he chooses "the chief Dwarf, and you the River-god, and you Oak and He-Owl, and both the ravens and the Bull-Elephant."

There was something that bothered me about this when I was a kid, and there's something that still bugs me about it now. Can you spot it?

The characters called into Aslan's council are almost all male. The one exception is that Aslan called both talking ravens - a male and female - and we can probably make the assumption that a tree is genderless. The Narnia series - and C.S. Lewis - have both been called sexist. And...it's not an unreasonable thing to say. For example, in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, when Santa gives Susan her bow and arrows, he says that he hopes she never has to use it, because "battles are ugly when women fight." I still remember that line perfectly, because it enraged me so much, and was so happy that it was removed from the Disney adaptation. Susan's treatment in The Last Battle is also questionable, as she gets booted from Narnia for...growing up? Becoming interested in nylons and lipstick? Susan's fate isn't exactly clear, and neither are the reasons why she was no longer allowed back in Narnia. This might be a comment on growing up, but the eldest Pevensie child is allowed back in Narnia. This can be interpreted in a couple different ways, one of which is that she's kicked out for discovering sex, or for being and adult woman.
 
Discussing just The Magician's Nephew and no other books in the series, there are still some big problems. Reading the book as an allegory for the story of Adam and Eve, Jadis (who would become Lewis's most iconic villain, the White Witch) represents both original sin, and the serpent. Her holy counterpart is represented by a male. Even without reading deeper into the text, the adult woman is still the antagonist. Upon returning from Charn, Polly is quickly shoved to the back, out of the action as well. The Cabby's wife, Helen, also makes an appearance, and becomes the first Queen of Narnia, but she has a decidedly bit part in the story, to the point where I didn't even remember she was in it.

On the other hand, Jadis is the most powerful character for a good portion of the book, and a true magician, unlike pathetic Uncle Andrew. Polly also seems to be a bit brighter than Digory, and they wouldn't have woken up Jadis at all if he'd listened to her. Throughout the series, there are a number of female characters presented in a positive light--Lucy most notably comes to mind. It's also worth noting that these books were all published in the 1950s, a time when women were supposed to get married, have kids, stay home and cook the roast. It may be that these books are just a product of their time. However, it's disheartening to think that even in a fantasy world, personally built by God, women are not equal to men.

Thanks, C.S. Lewis.

Jerk.

The Magician's Nephew, Chapter 7: Drawbacks of Childhood

In the first chapter of The Magician's Nephew, C.S. Lewis captures the magic and wonder of childhood. In the seventh chapter, it's all about the helplessness.

Digory and Polly go on the adventure of their lives, but it involves a lot of waiting around. Polly had to go home, and her parents punished her for getting her shoes and stockings wet under circumstances she can't quite explain, and is out of the picture for most of this chapter. Jadis ends up getting a horse-drawn cab and is taking a romp around the city with Uncle Andrew. Knowing how dangerous Jadis is, Digory contemplates going after them. However, he's faced with several limitations. He doesn't know where they are, and his Aunt Letty would never let him leave the house if he couldn't tell her where he was going. Besides that, he doesn't have any money to pay for trams to take him around the city.

When you're a kid, it seems like everything you do is on someone else's schedule. You have to depend on adults for just about everything. They're supposed to provide for you and protect you. Even as we get older and more independent, we still rely on our parents, and (in theory) live by their rules. Driving home the point is Polly, punished and unable to help. It's a little frustrating that Digory can't go after Uncle Andrew and Jadis, even though he knows that's what he should do. Watching Digory sit and wait for them to come back may not be the most exciting thing to read, but it is realistic.

Along with that, there's another part of this chapter that gave me chills, when Aunt Letty briefly discusses Digory's mother and her failing health.

"'What lovely grapes!' came Aunt Letty's voice. 'I'm sure if anything could do her good these would. But poor, dear little Mabel! I'm afraid it would need to be fruit from the land of youth to help her now. Nothing in this would will do much.' Then they both lowered their voices and said a lot more that [Digory] could not hear."

It wasn't the talking about the obvious foreshadowing about fruit from the land of youth, but the part where the adults lower their voices so Digory can't hear. I can tell you from experience that when you have a chronically sick relative, conversations like that are a big part of your life. My sister and I would overhear things that we weren't supposed to, almost always worrying news. We almost never heard the end of those conversations. Either it would get quiet, or I'd become so uncomfortable that I'd somehow make my presence known. Hopefully in such a way that the adults wouldn't realize I'd been listening in, though I might never know for sure. It turns out they're a lot more perceptive than I thought. Of course, I used to sneak out of my bed and think that throwing a blanket over my head would prevent my parents from spotting me and sending me back upstairs.

Childhood logic.

 I don't know how other kids in similar situations handled things like this, but I was too anxious to ask my parents questions about what was going on. The information I got about my aunt was either from what they told me directly, and what was overheard. It's funny, the things grown-ups will say when they think you're not paying attention. And for something this big, I always paid attention.

Let's not delve into childhood fear and sadness for a moment, though, and appreciate a very minor, nameless character: the maid. She has no idea what's going on, and it's something of a running gag in this chapter.

"While Aunt Letty was hurtling through the air, the housemaid (who was having a beautifully exciting morning) put her head in at the door..."

"'Oh, Master Digory,' said the housemaid (who was really having a wonderful day)..."

"'Sarah,' she said to the housemaid (who had never had such a day before)..."

I don't know why I like this so much. It just makes me smile.