on what follows the wardrobe
I've seen Prince Caspian twice now, and I very much enjoyed it both times. Go see it--it's a well-made movie, and the liberties taken with the storyline actually improve the plot, for the most part, which is a rare case in book adaptations.
Some of these adaptations, in fact, I have been thinking about a lot.
I have read these books so many times that I cannot even begin to guess at a count. Narnia is a standard by which I judge imaginary worlds, and a jumping-off point for stories of my own in many cases. For as long as I can remember I have wished for my own chance at such an adventure. I wanted to find one of those openings between worlds and step through.
But never once did it occur to me to think about what would happen AFTER the adventure was over.
Before the Pevensies go back to Narnia, when they are waiting in the train station, there are little hints about what they are feeling after being away from Narnia for a year. C.S. Lewis does not address this in the books. You do not see the children feeling out of sorts after being grown-up and then becoming kids again. You don't think about Peter getting in fights or Susan not wanting to talk to people. You don't think about how hard it must have been to go back to an old life left behind decades ago, in a world of which one is no longer a part.
I always read these books with a certain sense of jealousy. I never thought about the cost that there must have been. It always seemed remarkably cruel to me that Aslan says that Peter and Susan can never come back, but now it makes a kind of sense. At least there is finality. This time they have the chance to say goodbye (which is another thing--coming back a thousand years later to find everyone you knew has died, how sad! I never thought of that either) and this time, they know for sure that it is the last time. I imagine this would make it somewhat easier to put aside the longing to be in that other world if you know you can't go back.
Such a thought brings a new dimension to other stories I've read--what is the cost of the adventure? One thinks only of having it, but not what comes after. In the Dark is Rising, the human heroes forget the battle and the adventure of it all at the end, and I thought that was horrible until now--but what would their lives have been like if they had remembered? Perhaps it's easier that way. Maybe not better, but easier.
Like Aslan says, every year Lucy grows older he grows bigger as well. These books are like that. The stories are simple, but as you learn more and know more and think more, they become more as well--more complicated, and most of all, sadder. But it's all a happy ending, right? I used to think so, but maybe it's not as happy as it seems. In The Last Battle they all die to get to the happy ending. As a kid, you are only jealous that they get to be in Narnia forever. It's not until you are older that you think about all the people they leave behind, or the life they didn't get to have in our world.
Aslan even says they must learn to know him in their own world. They must have their own life there. That's why they can't come back. But then, why take away that life? Why have them all die in a train accident so they can be in Narnia? Why not let them LIVE their own lives?
This is an argument I never understand: people say that God loves someone so much that he must take him or her away. Perhaps it makes them feel better about death to think that. I feel that it's an awful cheat if that's the case. Call it heresy or cowardice or what you will, but I would prefer to believe death is the result of chaos or entropy or something else, NOT God.
My aunt used that argument once after she miscarried. I will NEVER believe that baby had to die because God wanted it with him. Or anyone else I know who has passed away.
Yet I always read the story as Aslan causing the accident to have the Friends of Narnia there at the end. Before this I never connected the two ideas. But now I hope that it is simply chance--some coincidence happened to cause that accident, and Aslan was simply there to welcome them home.
I don't know, though, and I am really not sure. I don't know if I'll ever be sure. See what I mean about being sadder?
Despite all this, I would step through the wardrobe in a heartbeat, if ever I found the right one. I still think it would be worth it. And no matter how old I get, or cynical, or whatever, I don't think I will ever stop looking for my own adventure. Someday, I hope I'll find it.
Some of these adaptations, in fact, I have been thinking about a lot.
I have read these books so many times that I cannot even begin to guess at a count. Narnia is a standard by which I judge imaginary worlds, and a jumping-off point for stories of my own in many cases. For as long as I can remember I have wished for my own chance at such an adventure. I wanted to find one of those openings between worlds and step through.
But never once did it occur to me to think about what would happen AFTER the adventure was over.
Before the Pevensies go back to Narnia, when they are waiting in the train station, there are little hints about what they are feeling after being away from Narnia for a year. C.S. Lewis does not address this in the books. You do not see the children feeling out of sorts after being grown-up and then becoming kids again. You don't think about Peter getting in fights or Susan not wanting to talk to people. You don't think about how hard it must have been to go back to an old life left behind decades ago, in a world of which one is no longer a part.
I always read these books with a certain sense of jealousy. I never thought about the cost that there must have been. It always seemed remarkably cruel to me that Aslan says that Peter and Susan can never come back, but now it makes a kind of sense. At least there is finality. This time they have the chance to say goodbye (which is another thing--coming back a thousand years later to find everyone you knew has died, how sad! I never thought of that either) and this time, they know for sure that it is the last time. I imagine this would make it somewhat easier to put aside the longing to be in that other world if you know you can't go back.
Such a thought brings a new dimension to other stories I've read--what is the cost of the adventure? One thinks only of having it, but not what comes after. In the Dark is Rising, the human heroes forget the battle and the adventure of it all at the end, and I thought that was horrible until now--but what would their lives have been like if they had remembered? Perhaps it's easier that way. Maybe not better, but easier.
Like Aslan says, every year Lucy grows older he grows bigger as well. These books are like that. The stories are simple, but as you learn more and know more and think more, they become more as well--more complicated, and most of all, sadder. But it's all a happy ending, right? I used to think so, but maybe it's not as happy as it seems. In The Last Battle they all die to get to the happy ending. As a kid, you are only jealous that they get to be in Narnia forever. It's not until you are older that you think about all the people they leave behind, or the life they didn't get to have in our world.
Aslan even says they must learn to know him in their own world. They must have their own life there. That's why they can't come back. But then, why take away that life? Why have them all die in a train accident so they can be in Narnia? Why not let them LIVE their own lives?
This is an argument I never understand: people say that God loves someone so much that he must take him or her away. Perhaps it makes them feel better about death to think that. I feel that it's an awful cheat if that's the case. Call it heresy or cowardice or what you will, but I would prefer to believe death is the result of chaos or entropy or something else, NOT God.
My aunt used that argument once after she miscarried. I will NEVER believe that baby had to die because God wanted it with him. Or anyone else I know who has passed away.
Yet I always read the story as Aslan causing the accident to have the Friends of Narnia there at the end. Before this I never connected the two ideas. But now I hope that it is simply chance--some coincidence happened to cause that accident, and Aslan was simply there to welcome them home.
I don't know, though, and I am really not sure. I don't know if I'll ever be sure. See what I mean about being sadder?
Despite all this, I would step through the wardrobe in a heartbeat, if ever I found the right one. I still think it would be worth it. And no matter how old I get, or cynical, or whatever, I don't think I will ever stop looking for my own adventure. Someday, I hope I'll find it.