Alan Jacobs is great blogger. He may not want to embrace that label but his Tumblr blog is full of interesting links, thought-provoking analysis and great quotes.  A great example is his post in response to Adam Gopnik’s New Yorker piece on high fantasy for young adults.

What really struck me was his conclusion on Tolkien and modern liberalism:

Modern liberalism likes to think that all our problems are epistemological: we are afflicted by never knowing with sufficient clarity what we ought to do. Our fictions tend to reflect that assumption. Tolkien, not being a modern liberal, thought it more interesting to explore situations when people know what they need to know but may lack the strength of will to act on that knowledge. He might say, and with some justification, that contemporary literary fiction is not simplistic in regard to such problems but oblivious to them.

What say you? True? Fair?

Related articles

• Does Mr. Gopnik Really Not Recognize What That Loss Is?: (brothersjuddblog.com)
• Adam Gopnik: “The Lord of the Rings,” “Twilight,” and young-adult fantasy books. (newyorker.com)

I wouldn’t say I am quite as taken with him as some (there is an almost cultish aspect to many of his fans within evangelicalism) but I am a big fan of the Narnia series.

So when I heard about Planet Narnia by Michael Ward I was intrigued. Was there really a hidden code behind this famous series?  But the book was academic in nature not to mention long and expensive – so I never got around to reading it.

But the folks at Tyndale publishers had the bright idea to bring out a sort of slimed down introductory version called The Narnia Code: C. S. Lewis and the Secret of the Seven Heavens.  I figured this was my chance to see what all the fuss was about.

Here are the basics:

Millions of readers have been captivated by C. S. Lewis’s famed Chronicles of Narnia, but why? What is it about these seven books that makes them so appealing? For more than half a century, scholars have attempted to find the organizing key—the “secret code”—to the beloved series, but it has remained a mystery. Until now.

In The Narnia Code, Michael Ward takes the reader through each of the seven Narnia books and reveals how each story embodies and expresses the characteristics of one of the seven planets of medieval cosmology—Jupiter, Mars, Sol, Luna, Mercury, Venus and Saturn—planets which Lewis described as “spiritual symbols of permanent value.”

How does medieval cosmology relate to the Christian underpinnings of the series? How did it impact Lewis’s depiction of Aslan, the Christlike character at the heart of the books? And why did Lewis keep this planetary inspiration a secret? Originally a ground-breaking scholarly work called Planet Narnia, this more accessible adaptation will answer all the questions.

Seems outrageous and interesting, right? Well, it is sort of both. I found the book interesting in concept but less successful in practice.

More thoughts below.

I have struggled with writing this review for weeks. I will fully admit that it could be that when I was reading The Narnia Code I was distracted or rushing to finish the book. But for whatever reason, it just didn’t grab me.

Ward sets up his thesis by describing how parts of the Narnia series just don’t seem to make sense. Why is Santa Claus in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for example? Why is Bacchus even a character? If Aslan is a Jesus figure why is Alsan absent from many of the books for long stretches (and sometimes altogether)?  Is this really just a hodge-podge collection of whatever struck Lewis’s fancy as some would contend?

Ward says no. Just because Narnia lacks the intricate world building of Middle Earth and Tolkien doesn’t mean there is not underlying structure or unifying themes. Using Lewis’s academic writing, and his poetry, Ward reveals what he thinks is the structure that holds it altogether: the pre-Copernican system of planets “The Seven Heavens”.

Here is the list with the corresponding Narnia book:

1. Moon –> The Silver Chair
2. Mercury –> The Horse and His Boy
3. Venus –> The Magicians Nephew
4. Sun –> The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
5. Mars –> Prince Caspian
6. Jupiter –> The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
7. Saturn –> The Last Battle

Once Ward outlines his thesis he then lays out chapter by chapter how each book connects with and corresponds to a planet in that medieval system.

So, do I buy it? I am not sure. Ward does an excellent job of explain how much Lewis loved this medieval system and how the symbolism was a way of seeing the world that Lewis valued a great deal.  And ward certainly relates a number of links between the books and the planets in language, symbols, emotions, etc.

Cover via Amazon

But for some reason the whole was less than the parts for me. Maybe the “Planet Narnia for Idiots” style and length undermined the case (and Ward seems pedantic at times). Or again, maybe I was in too much of a hurry. But for whatever reason, while I enjoyed the background that led up to the chapters on each book I don’t feel like I have any deeper insight into the Narnia series as a result of Ward’s theory.

There was never an “Aha!” moment or a particular insight that stuck with me. Instead, I was left with the lingering sense of “Yeah, I suppose that could be true.” The sections discussing the impact of the planetary world view and our language and culture was fascinating however.

In the end, I think The Narnia Code is a well intentioned attempt to take a detailed academic literary thesis and bring it down to a popular level. For a variety of reasons I am not sure I am best able to judge its success.

But it is an interesting subject and will be of great interest to Lewis and Narnia fans.

Tyndale House Publishers provided me with a complimentary copy of this book.

Basic plot:

It is 1940, and American Tom McCord, a 23-year-old aspiring doctoral candidate, is in England researching the historical evidence for the legendary King Arthur. There he meets perky and intuitive Laura Hartman, a fellow American staying with her aunt in Oxford, and the two of them team up for an even more ambitious and dangerous quest.

Aided by the Inklings-that illustrious circle of scholars and writers made famous by its two most prolific members, C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien-Tom and Laura begin to suspect that the fabled Spear of Destiny, the lance that pierced the side of Christ on the cross, is hidden somewhere in England.

There are basically three threads: the relationship of the two main characters Tom and Laura; the mystery surrounding Laura’s dreams and the Spear of Destiny; and the intellectual/spiritual conversations with the Inklings and its impact on Tom’s worldview.

While the unique structure, and the underlying mystery, had the potential for an entertaining story I found the combination fell flat. There was no sense of danger, no suspense or surprises, just conversation and a plodding plot. Those with a strong interest in Lewis, Tolkien or the Inklings might enjoy the book just for those aspects but it wasn’t enough for me.

More below.

The story starts out with an encounter meant to introduce both the sense of mystery and the tension but the tension is of a rather mild form and the mystery plays out far too easily. Instead what you really have is a conversational novel where the characters conversations tell the story rather than the action (for the most part). As you might imagine this takes a great deal of skill to pull off and Downing doesn’t quite make it work.

Image via Wikipedia

While underlying mystery of the Spear of Destiny is potentially a great hook, the romance is far too obvious and the story is just too thin. Those interested in the Inklings (and sympathetic to their philosophical perspective) might find the conversations interesting but there is little else to make this story standout.

Laura’s dreams, for example, contain no real suspense as they just keep stumbling on the exact places – no wrong turns and no real sense that anything of importance will happen should they make a wrong choice. In fact there is no real action until the very end of the book – and even then it is wrapped up neatly.

And the relationship between Laura and Tom is cookie cutter. Two young people overcome their different backgrounds and personalities to find a budding romance. And again, Downing doesn’t make the threat of them not getting along risk anything real. It is just a minor hurdle that inevitably will be overcome.

And Tom magically moves from being uninterested in spiritual things to a growing interest and faith after nothing more than a few conversations and a session of thinking alone by the river. No risk, no real struggle for the reader to feel.

In the end, this felt like a book built out of conversations and places that the author enjoyed and found fascinating but not put together in a way to grab the readers attention and hold it.

If you share the author’s perspective – which I do for the most part – it is a quick and easy read.  But I felt like Downing just tried too hard to make a novel out of scattered conversations and a thin (but admittedly clever) plot device.

I have explored myths in non-fiction and fiction and have dipped into some young adult versions as well.  When I was looking into Odd and the Frost Giants I stumbled upon The Children of Odin by Padraic Colum.  There was a practically free Kindle edition so I quickly added it to the collection (you can read it for free online).

Here is the publishers description of a recent version (the original was published in 1920:

Before time as we know it began, gods and goddesses lived in the city of Asgard. Odin All Father crossed the Rainbow Bridge to walk among men in Midgard. Thor defended Asgard with his mighty hammer. Mischievous Loki was constantly getting into trouble with the other gods, and dragons and giants walked free. This collection of Norse sagas retold by author Padraic Colum gives us a sense of that magical time when the world was filled with powers and wonders we can hardly imagine.

Unknown to me until I found this book, the author Padraic Colum (1881-1972) was a poet, a playwright, and a leader of the Irish Renaissance, but he is best known for his works for children, including The Children of Odin and The Golden Fleece (a newbery honor book).

Image via Wikipedia

As noted, the work is Colum’s retelling of the Eddas and the Volsung Saga for young adults but I would hesitate to label this a book for “children.” Yes, there is a simplicity and straightforwardness to the stories in Colum’s telling. But that only heightens, for me at least, their mythical quality.

Instead, this struck me as the perfect introductory text for Norse and Teutonic mythology. You get introduced to the characters, personalities, places, and historic events that make up these famous myths. Odin the All Father, Loki the trickster, Thor with his hammer, Asgard, the Great Wall, the Rainbow Bridge, etc.

The book is broken up into four sections:

• The Dwellers in Asgard
• Odin the Wanderer
• The Witch’s Heart
• The Sword of the Volsungs and the Twilight of the Gods

Each section then has seven to ten stories. The stories can be read as stand alone pieces of the mythology but the collection reads well together; like linked stories rather than a traditional novel. And they are filled with the ingredients of good stories.  There are interesting characters and interesting settings; powerful emotions and high stakes; action and intrigue; the birth of the world and its possible destruction.

These stories have lasted for centuries and have influenced untold authors and artists – from JRR Tolkien to Neil Gaiman – and their power to intrigue and entertain is retained even today. In many ways these stories are the building blocks of much of what makes up fantasy fiction and epic adventure. And if you enjoy those genres you will enjoy this book.

So whether you are looking for an accessible introduction to these myths, something interesting for the younger readers you know or if, like me, you just like exploring myths and ancient stories check out the Children of Odin.

So when The Magicians by Lev Grossman was released it seemed a must read.  Here is the publishers blurb:

Quentin Coldwater is brilliant but miserable. A senior in high school, he’s still secretly preoccupied with a series of fantasy novels he read as a child, set in a magical land called Fillory. Imagine his surprise when he finds himself unexpectedly admitted to a very secret, very exclusive college of magic in upstate New York, where he receives a thorough and rigorous education in the craft of modern sorcery.

He also discovers all the other things people learn in college: friendship, love, sex, booze, and boredom. Something is missing, though. Magic doesn’t bring Quentin the happiness and adventure he dreamed it would. After graduation he and his friends make a stunning discovery: Fillory is real. But the land of Quentin’s fantasies turns out to be much darker and more dangerous than he could have imagined. His childhood dream becomes a nightmare with a shocking truth at its heart.

I read the book in August but haven’t had a chance to put my thoughts down.  What follows is an attempt to rectify that.

What Lev Grossman attempts to do in The Magicians is both bring this shared love of childhood fantasy adventures into a more adult-like world but also ask the question: “What if something like Narnia really existed?”  These two concepts make up the bulk of the book but they do not always work together.

The first section is – as many critics have noted – basically Harry Potter goes to college.  But despite its derivative nature – or perhaps because Grossman embraces it – this storyline is imaginative and entertaining for the most part.  This is where the basic hook works.  It is interesting to see a “magic is real” type storyline in a different setting and with a different tone and style.

And when things begin to slow down Grossman introduces a creative and well done challenge; a sort of senior project for magicians that involves a trip to the South Pole as geese and using magic to return home.  I also like the meeting in the cellar where each graduate was given a sort of built in emergency defense system as matriculation gift

This first part, however, really does feel like just an introduction.  It very much has the feel of the first book in a series.  Characters are introduced and the settings explored but a lot seems left to discover in further adventures.

The second half of the book is more involved but I am not sure it quite comes together either.  Quentin and his fellow magical graduates come to find out that Filory – the magical world explored in a popular series  from their childhood called Fillory and Further – is not a fictional world but a real place.  And as it turns out, a very dangerous place.

The group faces the challenge together and the result is mostly tragic.  There follows two interludes of sorts.  One where Quentin recovers injuries sustained in the events in Fillory and then his attempt to put his magical life behind him.

All these different pieces and parts – some interesting and entertaining others less so – give the book a sort of stop-start feeling.  It takes a while to get going; gains speed; rushes to a conclusion and then sort of peters out.

As this rundown has probably made clear, I have mixed feelings about The Magicians.  I enjoyed reading it.  It is a creative take, and interesting twist, on a popular genre and, IMO, an aspect of how so many come to be voracious readers as young people through adulthood.

But on the other hand, there is a sense that an opportunity was missed; that possibilities were left on the table; an experiment that didn’t quite work.  In his review in the NYT, Michael Agger notes that maybe this is the nature of the beast:

The Narnia books and the Harry Potter series captivate the young by putting young people in a world where adults are a distant, unsteady presence. “The Magicians” is a jarring attempt to go where those novels do not: into drugs, disappointment, anomie, the place and time when magic leaks out of your life. Perhaps a fantasy novel meant for adults can’t help being a strange mess of effects. It’s similar to inviting everyone to a rave for your 40th-birthday party. Sounds like fun, but aren’t we a little old for this?

There is some merit to this I think.  Perhaps the result is interesting and entertaining but doesn’t quite come together in a neat package like we want it to.

The Complete Review, however, made a different argument which I found compelling.  The book should have been more definitively the start of a multi-book series:

The fact that The Magicians fits so openly in this line of fantasy tales turns out to be one of its more appealing elements. Grossman acknowledges his debts openly, and has some fun with them, and so that works out quite well. What works less well are his other ambitions: surprisingly, he doesn’t take a page from Rowling and Lewis and opt for the multi-volume epic (though a sequel is apparently in the works …), and instead stuffs all his material into far too little space. The resulting odd pacing, and the consequences of it, undermine the whole terribly: spread patiently over four or five volumes, this could have been a lot of fun. Crammed into one — think all of Harry Potter and Narnia packed together into four hundred pages — it has its moments but adds up to a surprisingly thin tale.

The more I thought about this the more I came to be persuaded.  The introduction and the hook of the story really are the strongest part.  Building on this to create a better paced, more coherent, first book in a series would have made for a stronger work.  There was even a natural cliffhanger with Quentin’s convalescence and meeting Jane Chatwin.  That was the perfect spot for a “To be continued …”

But alas, it was not to be.  It will be interesting, however, to see how the Grossman takes the story forward in the sequel.

Criticisms aside, I would think anyone who read fantasy when they were younger – or who reads it today – would get a kick of out The Magicians.  Even if it is in some ways a failed experiment it is still an interesting one.