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trinsyI have begun rereading the Chronicles of Narnia, and it is thoroughly depressing. Not because they are not as good as I remember them, but because they are so much better. And so it reminds me of when my mom first read them to me, and how much I wanted to be Lucy and go to Narnia.
Lucy was the first fictional person I ever wanted to be, and I wanted to be her very badly. I never wanted to be Jill, because Jill’s best adventure was not half so nice as Lucy’s worst one (though I do think it would be horrible to go through all the bother of growing up, only to have to come back and do it all over again), and for all that Jill only got to be a Lady but Lucy got to be a Queen, which I think, for Jill, pretty much sucks. I did, however, also want to be Aravis, partly because she was one of the main characters in my favorite chronicle (The Horse and His Boy) and partly because she had a sword. But I wanted to be Lucy most of all, because she always had the nicest time in Narnia out of anyone, and of course because she was the youngest and so am I.
I say Lucy was the first fictional person I ever wanted to be, and I’m almost sure she was, though I could be wrong, for I’ve wanted to be - and indeed, still want to be - many people. In fact, now that I think of it, I may have wanted to be Nala in Lion King before I wanted to be Lucy. I also wanted to be Wendy in Peter Pan, and Dorothy in Oz (except, of course, with a different name). When I first started to read Harry Potter I wanted to be Hermione, though now I think this was because I had a crush on Ron (and I still have quite a soft spot for him), because I certainly don’t want to be Hermione now. (The only reason I ever wanted to be Becky in Tom Sawyer was because she gets to kiss Tom.) It kind of goes without saying that I wanted to Leia in Star Wars (Hello, she got kiss freakin’ Harrison Ford! Who wouldn’t want to be her?). I don’t think I wanted to be anyone from Lord of the Rings until I saw the movies, and then I wanted to be Éowyn, mostly because she actually fights in battles, and partly because she has lovely outfits and marries Faramir (and also, she doesn’t look like Liv Tyler). In mythology I wanted to be Athena the goddess of war (this from the girl who was forced to give up fencing because she felt too bad about poking people with her sword). I also have this vague idea that when I was first learning mythology I wanted to be Helen of Troy, but I have no idea why I would have, so I may be making that up. I am fairly certain, however, that I wanted to be Odysseus. It is true that he is male and I am not, but there are no females in his story, and I often wished as a child that I was a boy (and now thank my lucky stars every day that I’m not). In fact, I could list many men I wanted to be as a child if I thought you were at all interested, but I’m sure you’re not.
This is the harsh reality of fantasy to those with active imaginations. The characters are always astonishingly ordinary, but in the story they have adventures that are dreadfully exciting, and they themselves are terribly important. And it always reminds you how fantastically dull your life is, and how horribly unimportant you are in it. And if these adventures happen only to extremely ordinary people then you know that you qualify more than a hundred times over and yet they do not happen to you. And it is extremely maddening, because you can imagine it so perfectly, and it’s almost as if it were real and you were there, except you are not there and it is never quite real enough. And it is all very frustrating.
This is what makes fantasy so beautiful and terrible and, above all, dangerous. I have often said that you have to wonder about someone like Tolkien, who spent his whole life making up histories and languages and art and literature and people and adventures for a world that did not exist except in his own head. Now, however, I’m beginning to understand it. Tolkien must have had a fantastically dull life to turn to his escapism so completely. Or perhaps it wasn’t really as dull as all that, but it was dull to him because he was a genius (and on this fact there can be no doubt). At any rate, it was escapism, and, in my opinion, escapism in its truest form. There is nothing quite so easy as escaping into your own mind, and nothing quite so difficult as coming out again. And the deeper you go the easier it is to continue on, and the harder it is to come out again. Because outside your head, in reality, you will never have to fight for your life or anyone else’s, and no one will have to fight for yours, and so you will never have any use for archery, nor will you ever see anyone engage in hand-to-hand combat, and certainly no one will make you a queen, or even treat you anywhere near the way any of the heroines in stories are treated. But in your head all this can and does happen, and more besides. And really, which would you prefer? So I understand where Tolkien is coming from.
And this is really the worst of it, because it is very difficult for me not to escape completely and instead have to face reality, particularly when I know there is no chance of fantasy becoming a reality for me. It’s easier to face reality if I’ve been “off” fantasy for a good bit. I haven’t seen LotR or Pirates or any of the other movies that usually trigger the escapism urge and fantasy desire in a long while, nor, until Saturday, had I read any of those books. But the moment I began reading again the desire returned with a vengeance. And it is a desire I know will never be fulfilled. And that is why rereading these books is so completely and thoroughly depressing.
Lucy was the first fictional person I ever wanted to be, and I wanted to be her very badly. I never wanted to be Jill, because Jill’s best adventure was not half so nice as Lucy’s worst one (though I do think it would be horrible to go through all the bother of growing up, only to have to come back and do it all over again), and for all that Jill only got to be a Lady but Lucy got to be a Queen, which I think, for Jill, pretty much sucks. I did, however, also want to be Aravis, partly because she was one of the main characters in my favorite chronicle (The Horse and His Boy) and partly because she had a sword. But I wanted to be Lucy most of all, because she always had the nicest time in Narnia out of anyone, and of course because she was the youngest and so am I.
I say Lucy was the first fictional person I ever wanted to be, and I’m almost sure she was, though I could be wrong, for I’ve wanted to be - and indeed, still want to be - many people. In fact, now that I think of it, I may have wanted to be Nala in Lion King before I wanted to be Lucy. I also wanted to be Wendy in Peter Pan, and Dorothy in Oz (except, of course, with a different name). When I first started to read Harry Potter I wanted to be Hermione, though now I think this was because I had a crush on Ron (and I still have quite a soft spot for him), because I certainly don’t want to be Hermione now. (The only reason I ever wanted to be Becky in Tom Sawyer was because she gets to kiss Tom.) It kind of goes without saying that I wanted to Leia in Star Wars (Hello, she got kiss freakin’ Harrison Ford! Who wouldn’t want to be her?). I don’t think I wanted to be anyone from Lord of the Rings until I saw the movies, and then I wanted to be Éowyn, mostly because she actually fights in battles, and partly because she has lovely outfits and marries Faramir (and also, she doesn’t look like Liv Tyler). In mythology I wanted to be Athena the goddess of war (this from the girl who was forced to give up fencing because she felt too bad about poking people with her sword). I also have this vague idea that when I was first learning mythology I wanted to be Helen of Troy, but I have no idea why I would have, so I may be making that up. I am fairly certain, however, that I wanted to be Odysseus. It is true that he is male and I am not, but there are no females in his story, and I often wished as a child that I was a boy (and now thank my lucky stars every day that I’m not). In fact, I could list many men I wanted to be as a child if I thought you were at all interested, but I’m sure you’re not.
This is the harsh reality of fantasy to those with active imaginations. The characters are always astonishingly ordinary, but in the story they have adventures that are dreadfully exciting, and they themselves are terribly important. And it always reminds you how fantastically dull your life is, and how horribly unimportant you are in it. And if these adventures happen only to extremely ordinary people then you know that you qualify more than a hundred times over and yet they do not happen to you. And it is extremely maddening, because you can imagine it so perfectly, and it’s almost as if it were real and you were there, except you are not there and it is never quite real enough. And it is all very frustrating.
This is what makes fantasy so beautiful and terrible and, above all, dangerous. I have often said that you have to wonder about someone like Tolkien, who spent his whole life making up histories and languages and art and literature and people and adventures for a world that did not exist except in his own head. Now, however, I’m beginning to understand it. Tolkien must have had a fantastically dull life to turn to his escapism so completely. Or perhaps it wasn’t really as dull as all that, but it was dull to him because he was a genius (and on this fact there can be no doubt). At any rate, it was escapism, and, in my opinion, escapism in its truest form. There is nothing quite so easy as escaping into your own mind, and nothing quite so difficult as coming out again. And the deeper you go the easier it is to continue on, and the harder it is to come out again. Because outside your head, in reality, you will never have to fight for your life or anyone else’s, and no one will have to fight for yours, and so you will never have any use for archery, nor will you ever see anyone engage in hand-to-hand combat, and certainly no one will make you a queen, or even treat you anywhere near the way any of the heroines in stories are treated. But in your head all this can and does happen, and more besides. And really, which would you prefer? So I understand where Tolkien is coming from.
And this is really the worst of it, because it is very difficult for me not to escape completely and instead have to face reality, particularly when I know there is no chance of fantasy becoming a reality for me. It’s easier to face reality if I’ve been “off” fantasy for a good bit. I haven’t seen LotR or Pirates or any of the other movies that usually trigger the escapism urge and fantasy desire in a long while, nor, until Saturday, had I read any of those books. But the moment I began reading again the desire returned with a vengeance. And it is a desire I know will never be fulfilled. And that is why rereading these books is so completely and thoroughly depressing.
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(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-03 01:21 am (UTC)I'm in the midst of reading the Inheritance series right now (I'm done with Eragon and Eldest, and the third isn't out yet), and I always want to blend the two worlds, mine and the fantasy world, together for my own little happy place. But I never can.
I want to be a Dragon Rider..
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-05 10:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-29 06:45 pm (UTC)