Messages in Fantasy – Part 4

 

In my past three posts about Messages in Fantasy (Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3), I discussed the works of three specific modern authors still living today. Now I feel it’s very relevant to mention the work of an author whose work is more classic. C.S. Lewis has made a profound impact in children’s fiction as well as the fantasy genre. Just like The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia is a work of fantasy fiction that delighted many of today’s fantasy readers in their younger years.

 

Those who know C.S. Lewis’s background as a Christian apologist should not be surprised to hear of or notice the Christian theme throughout The Chronicles of Narnia series. Many children who read the books would probably not notice any Christian themes; and probably some adults as well, as, though there are very clear comparisons to the character of Aslan and Christ, the message is subtle in many ways—but may be noticeable to a Christian or someone with a knowledge of Christianity. Lewis does not plant any kind of evangelizing message in his series (at least nothing obvious), but he builds each book around a story which will include a hint of Christian elements. However, books like The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and The Last Battle have the most apparent Christian message; with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe presenting the symbolism of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection, and The Last Battle showing an idea of the Judgment Day and heaven.

 

The essence of the entire series is Aslan the lion. Aslan is the messianic deity throughout The Chronicles of Narnia; who is the son of the Emperor-Over-the-Sea and creator of Narnia. In the Bible, Christ is referred to as “the Lion of the tribe of Judah” (Revelations 5:5), which is one of the reasons why Lewis used the lion, Aslan (which means “lion” in Turkish), in his stories. The Bible also calls Christ the Lamb of God (John 1:29, Revelation chapters 5 & 6), and toward the conclusion of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Aslan briefly appears in the form of a lamb.

 

The most obvious parallel between Aslan and Christ is in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe when Aslan surrenders his life to the White Witch in place of Edmund (due to the boy’s treachery)—this is symbolic of Christ laying down his life for the sins of mankind. Then the scene (known as the Stone Table scene or Stone Table sacrifice) occurs, which is depicted similarly to the scripture of Isaiah 53:7,8 which reads:

 

⁷ He was oppressed and afflicted,
    yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
    and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
    so he did not open his mouth.
⁸ By oppression and judgment he was taken away.
    Yet who of his generation protested?
For he was cut off from the land of the living;
    for the transgression of my people he was punished.

In chapter 14 of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe the scene of Aslan’s “crucifixion” is written with the lion being scoffed at, bound and sheared, and placed onto the Stone Table to be killed; and while all that happened he did not open his mouth or speak a word.

At the end of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Aslan tells Edmund and Lucy that they will not return to Narnia, because they are too old, and they should come close to their own world. Lucy responds with: "It isn't Narnia, you know. It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?" 

Aslan replies with: “But you shall meet me, dear one.”

Edmund asks: “Are — are you there too, Sir?”

And Aslan answers: “I am. But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there."

By the time the reader comes to the scene mentioned above (considering that they’re reading the series in order) they can conclude that Aslan is known as Jesus Christ in Edmund and Lucy’s world (which is our world).

In chapter 14 of The Last Battle (the final book in the series), the story reads much like parts of the book of Revelation in the Bible. There’s a scene where Aslan silently “judges” a great multitude of beings, very similar to Matthew 25:32 and Revelation 20:11-13. There is a new Narnia created, almost like what you would find in Revelation chapter 21 (the new Heaven and the new Earth). As you read the last two chapters of the book, there’s an evident depiction of heaven, where characters in the series who were long dead reappear, and other characters enter the new Narnia after being made worthy by Aslan. Now, even though there are similarities to the Bible, it all works within the story that C.S. Lewis is telling, and not at all preachy.

There are many subtle scenes throughout the series where Aslan has that Christ-like influence and relationship with the characters. He is loving and kind, yet also instructive and powerful; and it works within the nature of the character.

Lewis has clearly dismissed any responses suggesting that The Chronicles of Narnia are works of allegory. In a letter that he wrote in 1958 to a Mrs. Hook at Magdalen College in Oxford, discussing allegory in his writing, he said:

“By an allegory I mean a composition (whether pictorial or literary) in which immaterial realities are represented by feigned physical objects e.g. a pictured Cupid allegorically represents erotic love (which in reality is an experience, not an object occupying a given area of space) or, in Bunyan, a giant represents Despair.

“If Aslan represented the immaterial Deity in the same way on which Giant Despair represents Despair, he would be an allegorical figure. In reality however he is an invention giving an imaginary answer to the question, ‘What might Christ become like if there really were a world like Narnia and He chose to be incarnate and die and rise again in that world as He actually has done in ours?' This is not allegory at all.”

In Of Other Worlds: Essays and Stories, Lewis writes:

“Some people seem to think that I began by asking myself how I could say something about Christianity to children; then fixed on the fairy tale as an instrument; then collected information about child-psychology, and decided what age group I’d write for; then drew up a list of basic Christian truths and hammered out ‘allegories’ to embody them.  This is all pure moonshine.  I couldn’t write that way at all.  Everything began with images; a faun carrying an umbrella, a queen on a sledge, a magnificent lion.  At first there wasn’t even anything Christian about them; that element pushed itself in of its own accord…

“The Lion began with a picture of a Faun carrying an umbrella and parcels in a snowy wood.  This picture had been in my mind since I was about sixteen.  Then one day, when I was about forty, I said to myself: ‘Let’s try to make a story about it.’  At first I had very little idea how the story would go.  But then suddenly Aslan came bounding into it.  I think I had been having a good many dreams of lions about that time.  Apart from that, I don’t know where the Lion came from or why He came.  But once He was there He pulled the whole story together, and soon He pulled the six other Narnian stories in after Him.”

Even though C.S. Lewis resisted any inclination that the Narnia stories were works of allegory, or that he made an effort to write a Christian story, he does not deny the Christian meanings therein. He felt that the books were more of an analogy than an allegory. Whether analogy or allegory, Lewis’s friend, J.R.R. Tolkien, thought that the Christian meanings in the Narnia books were too obvious (which was only one of Tolkien’s dislikes about the Narnia books).

In a letter that Lewis wrote to a ten-year-old girl in 1961 (read about it here and here), he summed up the meaning of his series saying:

“The whole Narnian story is about Christ. That is to say, I asked myself ‘Supposing that there really was a world like Narnia and supposing it had (like our world) gone wrong and supposing Christ wanted to go into that world and save it (as He did ours), what might have happened?’ The stories are my answers. Since Narnia is a world of Talking Beasts, I thought He would become a Talking Beast there, as He became a man here. I pictured Him becoming a lion there because (a) the lion is supposed to be the king of beasts; (b) Christ is called ‘The Lion of Judah’ in the Bible; (c) I’d been having strange dreams about lions when I began writing the work. The whole series works out like this.

The Magician’s Nephew  ---  tells the Creation and how evil entered Narnia.
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe  ---  the Crucifixion and Resurrection.
Prince Caspian  ---  restoration of the true religion after corruption.
The Horse and His Boy  ---  the calling and conversion of a heathen.
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader  --- the spiritual life (especially in Reepicheep).
The Silver Chair   ---  the continuing war with the powers of darkness.
The Last Battle  ---  the coming of the Antichrist (the Ape), the end of the world and the Last Judgment.”

 

Again, one would have to either be a Christian or someone who has knowledge of Christianity to catch most of the meanings described above. The Narnia books do not preach, but tell delightful children’s stories for all to enjoy—as what has been proven through the decades.

In conclusion of this 4-part series on Messages in Fantasy, it is certain that books with a message can be good, but when the message is louder than the story it can ruin a work of art. The origin of fiction started with the means to convey a message and to entertain. Today, the means to entertain now overshadows the focus to teach or uplift the reader. There has to be a perfect balance between message and entertainment. A story filled with too much entertainment (action, violence, sex, twists) is like eating junk food—it eventually makes you sick. A story filled with too much message (philosophy, religion, politics) is like eating too much health food—you eventually get sick of it. The best books (in my opinion) are the ones where you can read and get your dose of entertainment with a seasoning of messaging—much like sitting and eating a balanced meal.

RELATED POSTS: 
Messages in Fantasy – Part 1

Messages in Fantasy – Part 2 

Messages in Fantasy – Part 3 

Inspirations of Fantasy

Fantasy Authors Discuss the Genre & Writing - VIDEO

About a year ago or so, author Patrick Rothfuss used to host a monthly online video forum through Geek & Sundry called The Story Board. He and other authors would discuss different content in fantasy fiction. I used to watch these as Rothfuss announced their release each month, and I really enjoyed them. Unfortunately, it only lasted up to 8 episodes; but I suggest, when you have some time, watching all the episodes on YouTube (if you’ve never watched them before). It’s quite interesting seeing some of the big names in fantasy fiction discussing the genre in an open, candid conversation.

Below are two episodes that I really enjoyed—one is about Characters and the other is about Form & Function. Each episode is well over an hour long, so you’ll need to make time to watch them. If you haven’t seen them before—enjoy!

 

 

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Brandon Sanderson & Brian McClellan on Google+ Hangouts - VIDEO

Discussion Panel on Epic Fantasy - VIDEO
The Evolution of Modern Fantasy - VIDEO 

Messages in Fantasy – Part 3

In my last two posts, I talked about messages found in modern fantasy fiction (Part 1 | Part 2). It’s no surprise that, just like some mythology and fairy tales, writers use the fantasy genre to play with—or convey—morals, ideas, beliefs and objections that they hold.The next fantasy series that we're going to look at places a strong voice for this author's worldview.

Best selling author, Philip Pullman, best known for his fantasy trilogy, His Dark Materials, lays out a clear Atheist perspective in his books. The first book, Northern Lights (known as The Golden Compass in America) starts the trilogy off as a nicely paced, intriguing kind of “children’s fiction”—showing no clear Atheistic message. However, toward the end of the book, the reader begins to discover that “the Church” in the story is not a good institution. Also, when the character, Lord Asriel, discusses the story of Adam and Eve from the Bible with his daughter, Lyra, his reading of the 3^rd chapter of Genesis (with added terminology to the biblical verses that support the story that Pullman is writing) leads to dialog such as:

“But...” Lyra struggled to find the words she wanted: “but it en't true, is it? Not true like chemistry or engineering, not that kind of true? There wasn't really an Adam and Eve? The Cassington Scholar told me it was just a kind of fairy tale.”

Lord Asriel answers Lyra with:

“The Cassington Scholarship is traditionally given to a freethinker; it's his function to challenge the faith of the Scholars. Naturally he'd say that. But think of Adam and Eve like an imaginary number, like the square root of minus one: you can never see any concrete proof that it exists, but if you include it in your equations, you can calculate all manner of things that couldn't be imagined without it.”

Lord Asriel’s analogy using the square root of minus one is what Philip Pullman stated in an interview in regards to his use of angels, ghosts and daemons in his trilogy:

“I was asked at one point, why do I, as a rationalist—a person who believes in reason, and all those things—why do I write about things like ghosts and daemons…

“One way of explaining that, seems to me, to compare it to what mathematicians do with entities that can’t exist; like the square root of minus one. Now, there’s no such thing as the square root of minus one; it doesn’t make any sense—there can’t possibly be such a thing. And, yet, if you include it in your calculations, you can come across all sorts of extraordinary things; like the Mandelbrot Set—extraordinary…infinitely deep and beautiful picture of wondrous complexity, that was there lurking in the darkness before we came across it. And we didn’t come across it, until we included the square root of minus one in our calculations…     

“What I do when I’m talking about ghosts and angels and daemons, and that sort of thing, is much the same sort of thing. I don’t believe in them. No. Of course not. They can’t exist. And yet, when I put them in my stories I can do things with them.” 

By book two of the trilogy, The Subtle Knife, the reader discovers that there is a revolt against the “Authority” (God), much like what John Milton writes in his epic poem, Paradise Lost. Actually, one could say that Pullman is kind of rewriting Paradise Lost, showing fallen angels and those that follow in the uprising against the Authority as the good guys. The Church is seen as an institution of the Authority that suppresses free thought and pushes propaganda to keep the Authority in control. In the words of one brief character in The Subtle Knife: “There is a war coming, boy. The greatest war there ever was. Something like it happened before, and this time the right side must win. We've had nothing but lies and propaganda and cruelty and deceit for all the thousands of years of human history. It's time we started again, but properly this time...”

In The Amber Spyglass, the final book in the series, the reader finds more of a slower paced and longer book than the first two, and the Atheist view is much more prevalent than before. There are a lot more messages in the dialog of the characters, and different secular ideas mixed into the fiber of the story. The words in this book get a lot more specific, and a lot less subtle.

In The Amber Spyglass, the rebel angel, Balthamos, talks about the Authority, saying: “The Authority, God, the Creator, the Lord, Yahweh, El, Adonai, the King, the Father, the Almighty—those were all names he gave himself. He was never the creator. He was an angel like ourselves—the first angel, true, the most powerful, but he was formed of Dust as we are, and Dust is only a name for what happens when matter begins to understand itself. Matter loves matter. It seeks to know more about itself, and Dust is formed. The first angels condensed out of Dust, and the Authority was the first of all. He told those who came after him that he had created them, but it was a lie.” The book depicts God as a fraud, and “Dust,” which is a main focus throughout the trilogy, as true knowledge and understanding.

Another Atheist view is that there is no life after death; that when one dies, it’s over. Pullman makes this clear in his third book. In The Amber Spyglass, the two main characters, Lyra and Will, journey to the “world of the dead” to find Lyra’s departed friend. When Will asks another character in the story about what happens in the world of the dead, the character, Baruch, says, “It's impossible to say. Everything about it is secret. Even the churches don't know; they tell their believers that they'll live in Heaven, but that's a lie. If people really knew…” While in the world of the dead, Lyra and Will are trying to free the ghosts from the world of the dead, and they come across the ghost of a young woman who had died as a martyr centuries ago. This ghost woman tells the other ghosts around them: “When we were alive, they told us that when we died we'd go to Heaven. And they said that Heaven was a place of joy and glory and we would spend eternity in the company of saints and angels praising the Almighty, in a state of bliss. That's what they said. And that's what led some of us to give our lives, and others to spend years in solitary prayer, while all the joy of life was going to waste around us and we never knew.

“Because the land of the dead isn't a place of reward or a place of punishment. It's a place of nothing. The good come here as well as the wicked, and all of us languish in this gloom forever, with no hope of freedom, or joy, or sleep, or rest, or peace.

“But now this child has come offering us a way out and I'm going to follow her. Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.”

There are other direct hits on the Christian religion throughout the story. In another part of The Amber Spyglass, another character, who was once a nun and a scientist, tells the children (Lyra and Will): “I used to be a nun, you see. I thought physics could be done to the glory of God, till I saw there wasn't any God at all and that physics was more interesting anyway. The Christian religion is a very powerful and convincing mistake, that's all.” Later on, a witch tells the ex-nun of her encounter with a female (rebel) angel: “Her name was Xaphania. She told me many things...She said that all the history of human life has been a struggle between wisdom and stupidity. She and the rebel angels, the followers of wisdom, have always tried to open minds; the Authority and his churches have always tried to keep them closed. She gave me many examples from my world.”

The His Dark Materials trilogy brings readers into a grand journey in the beginning of the series, but by the third book, the message of the author becomes way too obvious, and way too heavy; weighing the story with more of the author’s worldview than true storytelling. In the short video below, Philip Pullman speaks of his intentions with the series.

In my next post, I will conclude this series on Messages in Fantasy (at least for now), looking at the other side of the spectrum, with messages in the works of C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia.

RELATED POSTS: 
Messages in Fantasy – Part 1

Messages in Fantasy – Part 2 

Messages in Fantasy – Part 4

Inspirations of Fantasy

Messages in Fantasy – Part 2

 

This is part two of my post about Messages in Fantasy. If you have not read the previous post, you can read it here.

Fiction, in general, can be, and has been, a medium used by writers to express their thoughts, passions and beliefs. Classic literature has been scrutinized in classrooms and in non-fiction books for decades, spelling out the authors meanings and intents. Fantasy fiction is no exception. It is a genre which is more pliable for infusing meanings; however, one could spend years reading in the genre and not really grasp what the author is wishing to convey—whether it’s subtle or obvious. As I pointed out in my last post, the story is everything, and a message should not overpower the story.

Now, this is not to say that all of fantasy fiction has a “message” to put forth. Most of the stories are just entertainment, as they should be, but, in the most part, there is usually always some kind of theme. The sort of themes that you find in most fantasy stories are things like: overcoming adversity and fears; comradeship between individuals; fighting injustice; banding together for a cause; discovery of one's potential; and what-ifs. This is only naming a few, but these themes tend to be universal and less complex—or less intrusive, for lack of a better word.   

When an author interjects their worldview into their stories the reader should be able to come out of that story with their own conclusions, not with a forced view by the writer. The reader may come away with misconceptions, but as long as they enjoyed the book the author should be content. In answering a question in regards to someone reading their own meaning into the story (fairytale), instead of his meaning, George MacDonald said, “Why should you be so assured? It may be better that you should read your meaning into it. That may be a higher operation of your intellect than the mere reading of mine out of it: your meaning may be superior to mine.” In a forum on his own website, author Stephen R. Donaldson wrote: “Reading is an interactive process. Readers have always supplied their own interpretations of what they read. In my case, the issue is simple: I've never had a ‘message’ I wanted to communicate (impose on the reader), so rejecting my message should be effortless. (I'm a storyteller, not a polemicist. As such, my only mission is to help my readers understand my characters and appreciate what those poor sods are going through.) In general, however, one might say that the task of any writer is to communicate his/her intentions so clearly that the reader will—as it were spontaneously—arrive at the appropriate interpretation. And if that task has been accomplished, what would be the point of rejecting the author's message?”  

Stephen R. Donaldson’s The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever series has been described as “existential fantasy”. The books hold a firm view of Existentialism, which gives the stories a pretty grim, melancholy setting, as the main character, Thomas Covenant, is a leper whose life collapses around him and he becomes a man of despair—suicidal—which makes him into the kind of character you really don’t enjoy following. Existentialism is a philosophical movement that sprung from Europe in the 19TH century, but rose to prominence after World War II, which focuses on the human condition. In his book, From Hegel to Existentialism, American professor of philosophy, the late Robert C. Solomon, wrote: “Existentialism is not simply a philosophy or a philosophical revolt. Existentialist philosophy is the explicit conceptual manifestation of an existential attitude—a spirit of the ‘present age’. It is a philosophical realization of a self-consciousness living in a ‘broken world’ (Marcel), an ‘ambiguous world’ (de Beauvoir), a ‘dislocated world’ (Merleau-Ponty), a world into which we are ‘thrown’ and ‘condemned’ yet ‘abandoned’ and ‘free’ (Heidegger and Sartre), a world which appears to be indifferent or even ‘absurd’ (Camus). It is an attitude that recognizes the unresolvable confusion of the human world, yet resists the all-too-human temptation to resolve the confusion by grasping toward whatever appears or can be made to appear firm or familiar—reason, God, nation, authority, history, work, tradition, or the ‘other-worldly’, whether of Plato, Christianity, or utopian fantasy. The existential attitude begins with a disoriented individual facing a confused world that he cannot accept.”

Solomon’s summed-up description of Existentialism just about lays out the theme in The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant. Author Stephen R. Donaldson created a character that is a man in the real world, a successful, bestselling novelist, with a wife and a son, and financially secure, but he is diagnosed with leprosy, and all comes crumbling down. Thomas’ wife and son leave him, he loses his confidence and ability to write, and people around him reject him as one accursed. One day he finds himself in another world, known as The Land, where he is embraced as a foretold hero who has returned to save them from Lord Foul. The people try to raise him up as someone of great significance, but Thomas is determined not to believe such things, and resists the inclination that this other world that he has found himself in is real—so much so that he goes to the extreme of raping the young woman that was simply trying to sympathize with him. The story follows Thomas’ conflict of seeing himself as a man of any worth, holding on to his own assured death in the real world, and resisting the realty of the “fantasy” world (the Land). Thomas feels that the Land only offers a false hope, something that gives him escape from his condition. However, as the story progresses, Thomas begins to see that he is of worth and begins to resist the thought of suicide. He begins to believe in the Land and the people around him, and he sees himself as someone who can be effective.

Stephen R. Donaldson’s choice to take a character and inflict him with one of the worst diseases know to man, and bring him into loss and despair, illustrates a character that takes an existential view of life. This character is aware of his human condition as a leper and his assured death, but he later finds purpose for his life; therefore, shunning the thought of suicide. His discovery of purpose is not obtained from a higher power, but by taking his own action, and being responsible for himself.

There are essays and books that go into great detail in pointing out the Existential themes in The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant. One essay is called Suicide and the Absurd by Benjamin Laskar, available online here. Books like Variations on the Fantasy Tradition by W.A. Senior and Stephen R. Donaldson and the Modern Epic Vision by Christine Barkley also discuss, in part, about the Existential message in Donaldson’s work.

Donaldson wrote in his essay, Epic Fantasy in the Modern World: “Now that the door has been opened, what I want to do is to bring the epic back into contact with the real world. Putting it another way, I want to reclaim the epic vision as part of our sense of who we are, as part of what it means to be human. For that reason, I chose to focus my epic on one ‘real’ human being. . . He is an ‘Unbeliever’ precisely because I wanted to bridge the gap between reality and fantasy: I wanted to take a fantasy-rejecting modern human being and force him to confront all the implications of an epic vision. Epic vision is powerfully seductive—because it is powerfully human—and I wanted to consider the question of what might happen to a modern man who was seduced by such beauty. . . Also because I wanted to bring the epic back into contact with the real world, I chose the technical device of reversing Tennyson's method. He took one epic character, Arthur, and surrounded him with ‘real,’ ‘modern’ human beings. I took one real, modern human being, Thomas Covenant, and surrounded him with epic characters. . .”

The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever is a series that one either loves or hates. Not everyone can endure such a flawed and depressing character long enough to see him overcome his despair; and the Existential overtones flowing through Thomas Covenant may make an interesting story for some, while causing others to discontinue their journey in the series.

See Part 3 of Messages in Fantasy here.  

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Messages in Fantasy – Part 1

Messages in Fantasy – Part 3

Messages in Fantasy – Part 4
Inspirations of Fantasy

Messages in Fantasy

The fantasy genre was born from the essence of mythology, folklore and fairytales—from sources that were created to craft illustrations of existence and beliefs; as well as morals, fears and superstitions. These primary sources fed the imagination, and manifested in civilizations, taking the forms of art, literature, traditions and religions. From the ancient times to the modern world, myths, legends and tales, in the most part, were infused with messages and morals. Allegories like the epic poem, The Faerie Queene, by Edmund Spenser, gave praise to Queen Elizabeth I and told tales of virtue; and the novel The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald gave a message of faith and hope.

In modern fantasy, as character-driven stories becomes the archetype, the story is no longer just a tale of good against evil, but illustrations of life with a fantasy setting. Now we are journeying into the human experience within the pages of today’s fantasy fiction. There’s no longer a blatant moral message or an unapproachable virtuous hero laying out an artificial image of honor. Today, when we open fantasy fiction, we are presented with a whole slew of underlined worldviews, philosophies and messages.

In an interview, sci-fi/fantasy author Michael A. Stackpole said, “Writers forget that, first and foremost, we’re entertainers. Anything that gets in the way of that, like a message poorly delivered, hurts our work and our credibility. Story must carry a work. If you can get information in or get readers to think about an issue, that’s a bonus. And there’s nothing wrong with going for the bonus, as long as it doesn’t overshadow the story.” I believe Stackpole speaks for many authors here. A writer should always aim to write a good book; but if they can convey a message in the process, then it could be beneficial. But if a writer goes into their story with the intent to push forth a message, then it’s more likely to harm the work.

I don’t think readers in general care too much about an author interlining a message in their work; however, no one wants to be beat over the head by a didactic story. We want to experience how such a lesson affected or changed the character(s). I think this is the only way that this could work.

For the readers of Terry Goodkind’s Sword of Truth series, the main complaint of the latter books in the series is the heavy theme of Objectivism, a philosophy developed by Ayn Rand, which concludes that reason is man’s basic means of survival; and that one should pursue life for one’s self (“rational self-interest”). The philosophy also shuns faith of any kind, because religion is accepted only by emotion, or it’s something that one is born into—it was not chosen in a rational sense. Objectivism also teaches that morality is to follow reason to the best of one’s ability—so that rationality is the basic virtue from which all the others proceed. These beliefs are circulated throughout Goodkind’s series, with books like Faith of the Fallen and Naked Empire really pushing the Objectivist message. For example, in Faith of the Fallen the main character, Richard Cypher, says, “The only sovereign I can allow to rule me is reason. The first law of reason is this: what exists, exists; what is, is. From this irreducible, bedrock principle, all knowledge is built. This is the foundation from which life is embraced. Reason is a choice. Wishes and whims are not facts, nor are they a means to discovering them. Reason is our only way of grasping reality—it's our basic tool of survival. We are free to evade the effort of thinking, to reject reason, but we are not free to avoid the penalty of the abyss we refuse to see.” Later on in the book, Richard also says, “Reason is the very substance of truth itself. The glory that is life is wholly embraced through reason, through this rule. In rejecting it, in rejecting reason, one embraces death.”

It is obvious that Terry Goodkind strongly embraces Ayn Rand’s philosophy of Objectivism. Those who know Ayn Rand’s novels, Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead, have caught the likenesses in Goodkind’s books (mostly Faith of the Fallen) compared to Rand’s work. Some go as far as saying that Goodkind is writing fan-fiction based on Rand’s novels. This takes away some of the originality of the story; and the maneuvering of the plot to give the characters opportunity to debate and give speeches to drive the Objectivist message slows the flow of the story. 

In an interview, Terry Goodkind said, “Art is the way we express the things that are important to us. When you read a story, you’re seeing what’s important to the author. When you see a story about characters that inspire us, that artist—that author—is telling you that’s what inspires him.” Goodkind doesn’t hide the fact that he weaves the tenets of his beliefs into his story. I believe all authors have something to say in their stories, but like what Michael A. Stackpole stated, a message not delivered right could hurt the story—a message should never overshadow the story.

In my next post I will continue the discussion of messages in fantasy, taking a look at the works of other well-known authors in the genre.


RELATED POSTS: 
Messages in Fantasy – Part 2

Messages in Fantasy – Part 3

Messages in Fantasy – Part 4 
Inspirations of Fantasy 

Good vs Evil – Part 2

This is part two of my post about Good vs Evil in fantasy fiction. If you have not read my first post on this subject then you can read it here.

French philosopher, Simone Weil, said, “Imaginary evil is romantic and varied; real evil is gloomy, monotonous, barren, boring. Imaginary good is boring; real good is always new, marvelous, intoxicating. Therefore ‘imaginative literature’ is either boring or immoral (or a mixture of both). It only escapes from this alternative if in some way it passes over to the side of reality through the power of art – and only genius can do that.” She says a lot here in these four sentences. Basically, in fiction, evil is romantic and diverse; but in real life, evil is not great at all. In fiction, good is not so intriguing, but in real life good is wonderful. Weil makes a strong statement in saying that fiction (“imaginative literature”) is either boring or immoral (considering that good is boring in fiction and evil is fascinating in fiction), but can escape such an outcome if it would depict reality—but “only genius can do that.” Now let’s keep in mind that Weil’s comments are from the early part of the 20^TH century, and, just like the talk of most philosophers, her comments are from the fountains of her own thoughts and opinions; but one cannot deny the degree of truth in those profound words.

American writer, Flannery O’Connor, stated, “I know nothing harder than making good people believable.” It’s true, writing characters that are good, and trying to make them believable is quite the task for a lot of writers. The same can be said of characters that are evil; however, I think writers don’t have as much of a struggle writing a flawed, twisted character than writing a character that is good and noble in an interesting and believable manner. Readers want to read flawed characters, because in real life all people are flawed—nobody is perfect. Readers can relate to characters that are more like them than they could with characters like King Arthur or Aragorn. To me, a character that is “good” will have that struggle of good and evil within them; however, they tend to master, or suppress, their own “evil” desires to do what they know and believe to be right to oppose the external evils. Stephen King does a great job of writing flawed characters that are capable of standing against evil; but sometimes, in my opinion, King can go a little too far and make a character kind of goofy or bizarre, where it just doesn’t work all that well.     

George R.R. Martin has destroyed the likes of the chivalrous knight, and made him a murderer or rapist; and he’s smothered the likes of the noble king and made them brutal and manipulative. This completely grays out the contrast between good and evil, compared to the more traditional fantasy. Of course, Martin is not the only one doing this, but he’s the top of the fantasy chain right now, so I use him as an example.  

English writer, G.K. Chesterton, wrote: “This is also why the new novels die so quickly, and why the old fairy tales endure for ever. The old fairy tale makes the hero a normal human boy; it is his adventures that are startling; they startle him because he is normal. But in the modern psychological novel the hero is abnormal; the centre is not central. Hence the fiercest adventures fail to affect him adequately, and the book is monotonous. You can make a story out of a hero among dragons; but not out of a dragon among dragons. The fairy tale discusses what a sane man will do in a mad world. The sober realistic novel of to-day discusses what an essential lunatic will do in a dull world.” This quote is from the dawn of the 20^TH century, yet it is so relevant for today (over one hundred years later). Chesterton simply argues that the traditional stories of taking an ordinary person and putting them in extraordinary circumstances stand the test of time. But the stories where the character is ultra flawed in a world just as chaotic lacks any kind of variety. Think of a photo that has no contrast. It’s dull and washed-out looking. But the photo with good contrast is nice to look at, and makes for a much better picture. Fiction should be viewed likewise.  

Here is another quote from G.K. Chesterton: “The sane man knows that he has a touch of the beast, a touch of the devil, a touch of the saint, a touch of the citizen. Nay, the really sane man knows that he has a touch of the madman.” This goes back to my earlier point; a good person will have that struggle within, conflicting between the good and bad within them. This brings such a realistic contrast within a character; and this can go both ways—with hero or villain. The villain is no exception. He/she should have the same inner battles, but, of course, they tend to lean more towards the bad. Think of it in this simplistic way: a character is being good when they act selflessly; a character is being bad when they act selfishly.

A story should take the conflict of good and evil within the characters and display the same contrast externally. So when the hero acts out their selflessness (goodness) against the villain's selfishness (badness), there’s that iconic clash between the two, and the reader gets to sit back and watch a story of good versus evil unfold. When good and evil is blurred together in a story, and all the characters are acting selfishly, in most part, then you have a monotonous story. Everything is just grayed out, with no variety of color. Since modern fantasy is trying to steer more toward realism then it should reflect the real world, which has contrast and variety; and has people who do selfless acts and selfish acts, and the two acts battle each other for eons. Good and evil exists; and it should not be diminished in today’s fantasy fiction. 


RELATED POSTS: 
Good vs Evil 

Satan Isn’t Scary Anymore
All-Powerful Dark Rulers
 

Discussion Panel on Black Speculative Fiction - VIDEO

Back in April of this year, I posted about the rarity of black fantasy authors. Below is a link to a video of a panel discussing the State of Black Science Fiction at the 2012 DragonCon in Atlanta, GA. This blog concentrates mostly on epic fantasy, but I found this discussion worth sharing, and think it is very relevant to my post in April.

View video here.


RELATED POSTS:
Honoring Black Authors of Science Fiction/Fantasy - VIDEO   
People of Color in Fantasy
Black Authors Writing Fantasy...Where Are They?