Narnia: The Resurrection of Aslan

[Content Note: Death, Bondage, Scarring from Cat Scratches, Roughhousing]

Narnia Recap: Aslan has been executed by the White Witch at the Stone Table. 

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, Chapter 15: Deep Magic From Before The Dawn Of Time

Well, you know what this Narnia deconstruction has been missing? Me being positive about the text, that's what. Brace yourselves, because I don't think I have anything negative to say about this chapter.

   WHILE THE TWO GIRLS STILL CROUCHED in the bushes with their hands over their faces, they heard the voice of the Witch calling out,
   "Now! Follow me all and we will set about what remains of this war! It will not take us long to crush the human vermin and the traitors now that the great Fool, the great Cat, lies dead."
   At this moment the children were for a few seconds in very great danger. For with wild cries and a noise of skirling pipes and shrill horns blowing, the whole of that vile rabble came sweeping off the hilltop and down the slope right past their hiding-place.

Well, I guess I do have one criticism, but it's a reiteration of my earlier one that Aslan really should not have brought the girls with him to his execution. Even if we disregard the fact that they are children who should probably not have had this experience inflicted on them, there is also the point that they are very important children on whom the future of Narnia rests, so it would not be a stellar idea to let them get killed right after going through all this to save Edmund. Strategery!

But! We've already talked about that, so I won't dwell on it. I will instead note that I have learned a new word from this passage: skirling. It means "shrill" and is apparently almost exclusively used on bagpipes. I heartily encourage everyone on the site to work it innocuously into a comment at some point. I know I will be. For instance, my Primary Cat is a skirling cat. No doubt about that. (Auxiliary Backup Cat can also be skirling, but she's less skirling than Primary Cat.)

I will also point out here that I, personally, do not like bagpipe music. At all. I realize it has a rich and worthy history and I would never criticize anyone else for liking or producing it and I still tear up every time I watch the funeral send-off in "Braveheart", but I cannot hear the stuff without feeling like my brain is bleeding out my ears. And there is a bagpipe track on the excellent Claymore soundtrack, and I can't even bear that, so that's saying something because I love the music in that series. So all that is a long way to say that if C.S. Lewis meant to convey with this paragraph he doesn't like bagpipe music, then I personally am not going to disagree with him. *grin*

   As soon as the wood was silent again Susan and Lucy crept out onto the open hilltop. [...] And down they both knelt in the wet grass and kissed his cold face and stroked his beautiful fur -- what was left of it -- and cried till they could cry no more. And then they looked at each other and held each other's hands for mere loneliness and cried again; and then again were silent. At last Lucy said, "I can't bear to look at that horrible muzzle. I wonder could we take it off?"

This chapter is going to almost entirely focus on the unmuzzling, untying, and undying of Aslan. We start with the unmuzzling, which is initiated and completed by the two young queens of Narnia.

Lucy and Susan have, in only a few hours, transitioned from the world they knew as their home to a world completely foreign to them. This new world has jaunty fauns and talking animals and magic lions and vicious witches. Narnia is an amazing place, with moments of real joy -- consider how deeply wonderful they feel when they hear the name 'Aslan' -- but it's also a world that has at various points in the narrative confused, frightened, and mortally threatened them, and which now sends them spiraling into despair. They have lost everything they ever truly cared about in this world: Mr. Tumnus is stoned and gone; Aslan has been murdered.

The most logical course of action for these girls would be to leave Aslan here in this place, gather up their brothers, and disappear into the night. The Witch's troops are holed up in or near her castle, waiting the battle at dawn; Aslan's people are sleeping in their tents and are so inattentive that Susan, Lucy, and Aslan were all able to sneak out with a minimum of stealth or fuss. The four Pevensie children are alive, but not necessarily for much longer now that the Witch has killed Aslan. Surely the logistic difficulties involved in trekking back across the forest and finding the lamppost are significantly less cumbersome than the idea of seriously trying to win tomorrow's battle without Aslan there to rally the troops.

But Susan and Lucy don't do this. They don't even consider it. The narrator throughout this chapter describes them as being utterly lost to grief, and that's very possible, but I think their decision to stay is deeper than that. I think they don't consider leaving because they already consider Narnia their home. In the last few days, they've been on a whirlwind ride of loving and losing and seeing and experiencing and knowing. This Susan and Lucy are a different Susan and Lucy than the ones who lived in England a few days ago. This Susan and Lucy can no more get up and dust off their clothes and say let's leave this world for another one anymore than the English Susan and Lucy could have a few weeks ago when a world war forced them out of their house. The idea seems not to be conceivable to them.

When Susan and Lucy stay by Aslan's side, making the decision to unmuzzle him and then wait for a morning that -- as far as they know -- will change nothing, they make a decision to become citizens of Narnia. As cold, brutal, and horrific as this world can be, they're not going to seek to leave it. They've chosen to stick it out, for better or worse, and it is that moment of choice -- much like the choice that causes Peter and Edmund to grit their teeth and go into battle knowing they are likely to lose -- that makes them citizens of this world.

    "I wonder could we untie him as well?" said Susan presently. But the enemies, out of pure spitefulness, had drawn the cords so tight that the girls could make nothing of the knots. [...]
   But at last [Lucy] saw that whatever-it-was had begun to move up the upright stones of the Stone Table. And now whatever-they-were were moving about on Aslan's body. She peered closer. They were little gray things.
   "Ugh!" said Susan from the other side of the Table. "How beastly! There are horrid little mice crawling over him. Go away, you little beasts." And she raised her hand to frighten them away.
   "Wait!" said Lucy, who had been looking at them more closely still. "Can you see what they're doing?" [...]
   "I do believe -- " said Susan. "But how queer! They're nibbling away at the cords!"

The girls are not able to untie Aslan, but the tiny Narnian mice are able to do the trick.

These are not Mice in the sense that Mr. and Mrs. Beaver are Beavers. These mice are not Talking Mice, for there are none; Aslan didn't make Talking Mice at the Dawn of Time. He made mice, but did not bestow on them the gift of speech or the special protections that come from being an Animal.

The mice are (presumably) prey for practically every animal and Animal in Narnia. They may well be prey for Aslan, assuming he eats at all. As Aslan is lord of Narnia, so too is he lord over the mice and has dominion over them, but their treatment under his lordship cannot be reasonably different from their treatment under the reign of the White Witch: they are the food, no matter who is in charge. Aslan has, in short, never given the mice anything except their existence as the lowest on the Narnian food chain.

Yet it is these mice that step forward to help Aslan, and to restore his dignity. They are the only animal or Animal who both witnessed Aslan's execution and then stepped forward from the protection of the shadows to offer him help. They do so not out of love, or duty, or because his fight against the White Witch will benefit them in the long run. They do so because they take pity on him, or possibly because they value him in spite of everything he hasn't done for them.

And Aslan -- not here, not now, but in the time between now and the next book -- will honor his debt to the mice. In Prince Caspian, Aslan will announce that he bestows a favor on a Mouse "for the love that is between you and your people, and still more for the kindness your people showed me long ago when you ate away the cords that bound me on the Stone Table (and it was then, though you have long forgotten it, that you began to be Talking Mice)."

And so we find that in the same chapter where Susan and Lucy transform from English citizens to Narnian ones, so too will the mice transform from Narnian food to Narnian citizens. And I think there is a certain symmetry there: both girls and mice transform because they stay beside Aslan, not because they reasonably think that doing so will help him or themselves, but because they value him. Even if they don't have any reason to value him, as with Susan and the mice! I find that very touching.

Susan and Lucy take a quick wall around the hill to warm themselves up after their long night vigil.

   At that moment they heard from behind them a loud noise -- a great cracking, deafening noise as if a giant had broken a giant's plate. [...] The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan. [...]
   "Who's done it?" cried Susan. "What does it mean? Is it more magic?"
   "Yes!" said a great voice behind their backs. "It is more magic." They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself.
   "Oh, Aslan!" cried both the children, staring up at him, almost as much frightened as they were glad.
   "Aren't you dead then, dear Aslan?" said Lucy.
   "Not now," said Aslan.
   "You're not -- not a -- ?" asked Susan in a shaky voice. She couldn't bring herself to say the word ghost. Aslan stooped his golden head and licked her forehead. The warmth of his breath and a rich sort of smell that seemed to hang about his hair came all over her.
   "Do I look it?" he said.

Though we really don't get to dwell on it, Lucy and Susan are as brave here as Peter and Edmund will be in battle later. The girls rush back to the Stone Table ready to defend Aslan's corpse with their bare hands, even knowing that in the light of day they will certainly be immediately seen and killed.

And then we have the resurrection scene. Aslan is restored to his former glory, with his mane grown back and the blood washed from his coat. Susan doesn't quite ask to see his stigmata, but she does get a heady scent of cat dander and warm breath. And you know, I find that touching, too. But what I like most about this scene, and the roughhousing that follows, is that this is really the first time where I've understood why the girls like Aslan so much and are referred to in later texts as having such a close connection to him. (Or, at least, Lucy is. But I said I'd be positive today.)

The girls have already been described as being close to Aslan, but in a way I don't fully comprehend. He has a magic name that makes you feel lovely all over, yes, but he is also stated to look very frightening. He was rude and curt to Susan when she made a perfectly sensible suggestion in the hopes that it might save her brother's life. And he then roared at the White Witch so fearsomely that no one dared to ask how he had saved Edmund.

And I know that a few pages later the girls were running their fingers all through his hair rapturously when he asked them to, but as a kid that didn't ring really true for me. I mean, I adore cats and always have and I've got two of them now and Husband understands that there will always be at least two cats in the house because that is how much I love cats. So I understand wanting to pet the pretty lion. I get that.

But I also have permanent scratch marks all over both my arms from where our house cat when I was six took umbrage to being dressed in doll's clothes and decided after the first bite! ouch! let kitty go! that it would be best to extract revenge right there in the middle of my heartfelt apology. Twice. Cats are complicated like that. And I learned soon after that that cats like to show you their tummy so that they can remind you all the reasons why you shouldn't dress them in dolls clothes. So even as a child, while I could understanding wanting to pet the pretty lion, I would have waited until my hypothetical little sister went first. I'm just saying.

Well, that story got away from me there. Anyway, my point is that here, I understand the love and affection and connection. As deeply traumatic and horrible and awful and really-should-not-have-been-witnessed-by-children as this event was, it is the sort of event where the resurrection after could really bind the participants together emotionally. They've gone through something incredibly difficult together, and come out the other side with everything all better now, and I think that could create a deep connection. Lucy and Susan, of all the children in this series, will be the only ones who saw Aslan in his intensely vulnerable state, who sat vigil by his corpse, and who saw him in all his glory and gladness when he came back to life. That's powerful. 

   "It means," said Aslan, "that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward."

And, oh dear, I really did say I had nothing bad to say about this chapter and I think I've lied. I'll try to say this as non-badly as I can.

I have always seen Aslan as a Jesus allegory. I have always seen this portion of the text as a shout-out to the sometimes-expressed theological theory that only Jesus could die for our sins because only he was pure and sinless. If anyone else had stepped up to the plate to die for our sins, it wouldn't have worked because they themselves weren't sinless. In this particular theory, Jesus was the only possible sacrifice that could work as a substitution for us. And while I don't really hold with that theory and while I know there are a lot of Christians who don't hold with this theory, I did at least figure that C.S. Lewis was invoking that here and... once again I feel like something was lost in the translation.

This explanation from Aslan only seems to work if the reader understands this is an allusion to the Jesus As Uniquely Sinless theory; otherwise I feel like we're left wondering why no one else has ever volunteered to be substituted for a traitor before, especially if "traitor" is so vague in this world that it also includes 9-year-old boys who haven't, in my opinion, really done anything treacherous.

I mean, saying that the substitution has to be someone who has "committed no treachery" is not the same thing as saying that the substitution has to be someone who has committed no sin. Narnia doesn't seem to have a concept of a Fall and Original Sin, nor for that matter of Original Treachery. Furthermore, the Witch here is an active executioner not a passive collector of souls. She doesn't wait for death to come to the sinner; she brings death to the traitor. I think we can infer from Jadis' active status and the fact that not everyone in Narnia is dead that quite a few people in Narnia have "committed no treachery" and therefore would -- apparently -- be just as capable of substitution-and-resurrection as Aslan. The only difference seems to be that the other Narnians wouldn't be assured of resurrection beforehand.

So how does this work that no one has ever offered themselves as a substitute before? Do the treacherous of Narnia have no loved ones, no family, no friends, no lovers that value them over their own lives? (Which isn't to say that just because you love someone, you should be willing to die for them, but some people are willing to die for others nevertheless.) Is the key that people have offered and the Witch has just never taken them up on the offer? But is that's the case, that's a strange escape clause because -- as noted -- a wiser Witch would have just told Aslan that she'd stick with her original victim.

More than anything, I guess, what's been lost in the translation seems to paint the Narnians as very different from the people I know, or paints the Emperor as even more evil and/or short-sighted when (presumably) he set up all these laws before the Dawn of Time. And that kind of throws me out of the text a little. But I said I would be happy today, so let's move on.

   Round and round the hilltop he led them, now hopelessly out of their reach, now letting them almost catch his tail, now diving between them, now tossing them in the air with his huge and beautifully velveted paws and catching them again, and now stopping unexpectedly so that all three of them rolled over together in a happy laughing heap of fur and arms and legs. It was such a romp as no one has ever had except in Narnia; and whether it was more like playing with a thunderstorm or playing with a kitten Lucy could never make up her mind. And the funny thing was that when all three finally lay together panting in the sun the girls no longer felt in the least tired or hungry or thirsty.

And now we're back to me being happy because I can understand the bond between the two girls and Aslan. I think, in some ways, that this is when I as a reader formed a bond to Aslan. This is a piece of personality, a piece of characterization, that we haven't seen before: Playful Aslan. Happy Aslan. Relieved Aslan. The mask comes off and he's not a frightening god or a stern lecturer or a nurturer who -- as the narrator can't stop reminding us -- isn't tame and could tear you to pieces at any time but probably won't. No, he's a kitten just relieved to be alive, rolling around on the ground with the girls and chasing his tail. That brings tears to my eyes.

This Aslan feels like a person. He had worry and doubt and sorrow and regrets. Now he has relief and happiness and joy and that lovely feeling that the worst has happened and everything is going to be okay. He's giddy. I like that.

Even if we have to be reminded that he's so terrible that it's like playing with a thunderstorm. I am not going to let that ruin my happy.

   "We have a long journey to go. You must ride on me." And he crouched down and the children climbed onto his warm, golden back, and Susan sat first, holding on tightly to his mane and Lucy sat behind holding on tightly to Susan. And with a great heave he rose underneath them and then shot off, faster than any horse could go, down hill and into the thick of the forest. [...]
   Next moment the whole world seemed to turn upside down, and the children felt as if they had left their insides behind them; for the Lion had gathered himself together for a greater leap than any he had yet made and jumped -- or you may call it flying rather than jumping -- right over the castle wall. The two girls, breathless but unhurt, found themselves tumbling off his back in the middle of a wide stone courtyard full of statues.

And it's interesting to me that everything really is going to be okay. You can feel it -- in the aftermath of the tension of the death and resurrection, everything else is to follow will really mostly be wrapping up loose ends, like that whole Witch War thing. And we won't even see anything but the tail-end of that.

We the readers are not going to get to see the Very Scary Battle where Edmund is wounded and Peter is nearly defeated. That's going on right now, but we don't get to see it because it's not really the focus of the story. Instead we get to follow Aslan and the girls as they make everything lovely and better and cozy with the magic power of Aslan's magic breath and magic roar. And I don't think that's a coincidence that we're following Aslan now and almost to the end of the novel -- I really do think he's the main character of the novel now. And possibly he always was.

The raison d'etre of "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe", at least as I see it, is the death and resurrection of Aslan. Everything else -- the Pevensie children and their evolution from frightened kids to confident monarchs, the war for the liberation of Narnia, the defeat of the ancient evil that has plagued the land for centuries -- these things are significantly less important than the life, death, and rebirth of Aslan.

And maybe that's okay. It's not every day that a mythological figure dies and is reborn. (Although it does happen once a year in quite a few mythologies.) Maybe I can't reasonably complain that the Pevensie children's loss of Narnia after a decade or more of living there is treated with a few throw-away lines, since it's not their story. I mean, I probably still will complain, but not today.

Ana's Note: Actually, I did remember after writing this that I like Heather Alexander's "March of Cambreadth". And that has bagpipes. So now I think I have to go join the Jadis side. 

57 comments:

Fourthage said...

I think the fact that Susan was there for Aslan's death and resurrection was why, as a child, I found her eventual estrangement from Narnia such a betrayal and why, as an adult, I find the text's handling of it so baffling. I don't want to jump ahead in the series too much, but the more I think about it now, the more it makes absolutely no sense.

John said...

So how does this work that no one has ever offered themselves as a substitute before? Do the treacherous of Narnia have no loved ones, no family, no friends, no lovers that value them over their own lives?

If the witch didn't know about that escape clause how likely was the common Narnian?

Ana Mardoll said...

If the witch didn't know about that escape clause how likely was the common Narnian?

Oh, I wouldn't expect anyone to know about the escape clause. There are people I would give my life for, knowing I wouldn't pop back to life the next day. Not many, but they exist. :)

Kish said...

Indeed, I would guess that Aslan was the only "person" in Narnia who knew about it right up until it came true and he told Susan and Lucy.

What that says about Aslan is left as an exercise for the reader.

chris the cynic said...

I can sort of believe that, while the witch had the ability to make exchanges, she never before had the inclination.

Aslan is the only person she's afraid of, so when Aslan makes the offer it seems too good to pass up. With anyone else it would just be, "I'll kill you in good time," but Aslan she isn't convinced she can kill, and so as precious as executing Edmund may be for her, the opportunity to get to kill Aslan for sure was just too great. If anyone else had made the offer she might have scoffed at it.

Loquat said...

And doesn't the execution have to take place on the Stone Table to count? The Deep Magic certainly didn't have a problem with Jadis casually killing Narnians she didn't like, and we're given no detail on just how many people she actually bothers to execute on the Stone Table. It seems like an awful lot of work, compared to just turning offenders to stone, or declaring them wolf chow. Traitors to Jadis' rule apparently either don't count, or don't merit the effort, since she's repeatedly seen turning them to stone and calling it a day.

So does treachery only count for Deep Magic purposes when it's against a Good entity, or what?

depizan said...

Has Jadis been killing Narnians, though? We know she's been turning them to stone, but I can't recall if we actually see her kill anyone (besides Aslan) or have them killed. Prior to the battle, of course. But our heroes are also busy killing people in battle, so I don't think we can count that.

The more I try to understand the magic (particularly the Deep Magic) the more confused it gets.

And, since I'm that sort of person, the good part of this passage (which I've got to admit is better than a lot of the book) is rather undercut by the little nagging voice that goes "Didn't somebody get, oh, a knife as a Christmas present?"

Dav said...

She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward.

Clearly, Jadis was betting on a zombie revival, not a resurrection allegory. That's why she stoned all the good guys up to Aslan. She was betting that whatever power he possessed coming back would be dwarfed by the hordes of undead pushing through the unfrozen soil. Part of the reason for the winter was to give her a buffer when the undead did rise, in case she was forced to sacrifice an innocent early. But now, enough of her own lie dead under the frost so that she feels comfortable triggering the Zombocalypse. Jadis plays a long game, but she mistook her genre.

Cupcakedoll said...

"Didn't somebody get, oh, a knife as a Christmas present?"

Just tell your nagging voice that Lucy tried but quickly realized her knife was intended for self defense and doesn't have a serrated sawing edge. That's how I figured it anyway. Santa knew the kids were going to be in battle so he concentrated on gifts that'd help them not die, but he assumed their entourage would take care of them for the non-battley stuff.

Loquat said...

You know, you're right - all we see is the witch turning people to stone, so Aslan can bring them back later. Of course, without Aslan to bring them back, they're effectively dead, as Lazarus was before Jesus showed up to resurrect him, so it strikes me as cheating to declare that "not really killing". The Beavers also refer to her as the Emperor's Hangman, implying that she must have killed traitors in the past before taking over. Presumably she wasn't taking any substitutions at that point either, or the whole of Narnian history would have been derailed.

Oh, and she's also said to have killed the last true monarch of Narnia, so there's that.

Rikalous said...

Or she just didn't bring the knife. She hasn't had time to get in the habit of bringing it everywhere with her, and she didn't worry too much about having a weapon when going out at night because Aslan was there. Granted, a little thought would have suggested that she might need one after she died, but her train of thought stopped at "Aslan will protect us."
----
In addition to what people have been saying about the traitor exchange, I think treachery and...treacherouslessness might map better to sin and sinlessness than Ana suggests. I remember reading some evangelical material asking if I'd ever told any lies, or stole anything, or committed adultery in my heart with anyone. The idea being that everyone's sinned in some way, however small, and therefor needs Jesus's love. Given the wide definition the Deep Magic gives to treachery, I think that even if a Narnian did meet Kish's three requirements, than the fact that they talked behind their best friend's back when they were kids might disqualify them. Aslan, being a creature of the Deep Magic, is physically incapable of going against his nature enough to perform acts that the Deep Magic would recognize as treacherous.

Ana Mardoll said...

I think treachery and...treacherouslessness might map better to sin and sinlessness than Ana suggests.

My biggest problem with this is that if all Narnians and all Pevensies are guilty of treachery, Jadis should have been able to walk up and demand the lives of everyone in the Pavilion with the understanding that if Aslan didn't comply, Narnia would perish in fire and water. So, basically, by the Emperor's rules, all of Narnia is doomed to either die from fire/water curse magic or sacrificial knifing.

Amaryllis said...

Skirling, hmmm? Have you never heard of the Parish of Dunkeld?

They decided that the church building would be better used as a brewpub:

The steeple was doun but the kirk was still staunin',
They biggit a lum whaur the bell used to hang.
A still-pot they got and they brewed Hielan' whisky;
On Sundays they drank it and ranted and sang.

O, had you but seen how graceful it lookit,
To see the crammed pews sae socially joined.
MacDonald the piper stood up in the pulpit,
He made the pipes skirl out the music divine.


That's all, I have nothing more relevant to say. I think my brain is frazzled tonight.

...Except, maybe, that Susan and Lucy are present at Aslan's execution and resurrection in the same way that various women are said to have "watched from a distance" when Jesus was crucified, while the male disciples hid in fear. And it was, famously, women who, depending on which gospel you read, were either the first to meet the risen Jesus or the first to hear the angels' news. Because, in time of crisis, nobody worries about what the women are doing? I don't know.

Rikalous said...

Good points.

Ana Mardoll said...

Thanks. :)

I'm not so sure that you're not WAY closer to what we're supposed to think, though. I'm guessing that's precisely what Lewis meant because otherwise it just doesn't work.

So we're kind of back to Stupid Villains. Which is, I grant, I very well-established trope and hardly Lewis' fault.......

Will Wildman said...

"Now! Follow me all and we will set about what remains of this war! It will not take us long to crush the human vermin and the traitors now that the great Fool, the great Cat, lies dead."

I find this interesting ("traitors") because it's an obvious and intentional lie and that acknowledges the fundamental morality of Narnia. If those who oppose her were legitimate traitors, then Jadis would already have the right to execute them. She's only had to wait until now because the universe itself has as yet decreed that they are not. So by using the word, she's really kind of calling attention to their status as non-traitors, to her own magical usurpation. Jadis up to now has been very careful about following the rules and puffing up her legitimacy, treating Narnia as a chessboard that she can and does and will rule according to the law of the land. That law is still in place, but either she's on a power high and has decided she gets to define treachery from now on, or she's just made a rather embarrassing slip of the tongue.

For what it's worth, I never got the impression that there was anything about Aslan specifically that was supposed to make him the one true sacrifice - just that in all the years Jadis has been around, no one innocent has ever bargained themselves to take someone else's place. (Given what we've seen of Narnians, this seems likely to me.)

depizan said...

But isn't the Emperor the ruler of everything and Aslan's boss, too? This is where it gets all confused and complicated - why is the bad guy working for Lord of the Universe, just like the good guy? (Also, I would point out that Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado proves that you can have an executioner who's never executed anyone.)

I wonder if the turning people to stone is also reversible by Jadis. We never really find out. If it isn't, then, yes, it amounts to killing people. If it is, then... er... it amounts to freezing them in carbonite*. Not exactly the same thing.

There's just so much left out of the story, which must be great for fanfic writers, but causes some problems when trying to figure out how we're supposed to look at things and why.




*You'll have to excuse me if I've got Star Wars on the brain. I've been playing SW:TOR and loving the heck out of it. This conversation is also slightly bizarre to me now, since my Imperial Agent has been co-opted rather against his will by a Darth Jadus. I'd almost think it's some kind of in joke, but I think the Darth is a him. It's kind of hard to tell with the mask the guy(?) wears, but I'm pretty sure the voice is male.
I must say, playing a lightsider Imperial is really fun - and funny. At least if you've got a somewhat warped sense of humor. I don't think I'm supposed to be amused by the fact that my poor agent got force lightninged for refusing to bow to the Darth he doesn't want to work for in the first place. I mean, what else would you expect to happen? But, at the same time, I've played five other MMOs and I have never been electrocuted by a quest giver before! Of course, I never had the option of sassing them before. Don't sass the Sith.

EdinburghEye said...

Slightly offtopic, but the thing about bagpipes is:

They're really meant to be heard outdoors and also some distance off. A bagpipe operated by a bellows instead of the player's breath can be used indoors, because the drones can have more delicacy (so I understand), but mouth-blown pipes need a lot of space around them - they're meant to be good loud instruments for outdoor music.

I always loved Aslan playing with Susan and Lucy like a happy kitten, too.

Loquat said...

a) The Emperor Beyond The Sea strikes me as rather an absentee ruler. It could easily be one of those fantasy scenarios where the king's out of commission for some reason and his advisors and heirs are fighting over who should be in charge in his absence.

b) I don't really see much moral difference between killing someone and freezing them in carbonite with no plans to ever let them out. And I wouldn't be surprised if Jadis lacked the power to un-stone her victims due to un-stoning being a Good-aligned spell.

c) I don't recall if I ever had the opportunity to mouth off to an NPC and/or get beaten up by one, but I did once get my kidney stolen in Rift. (Which was cool, but the impact of losing an organ is kind of lessened when you're an immortal being that can just make a new body when the old one is damaged beyond repair.)

Kit Whitfield said...

I will also point out here that I, personally, do not like bagpipe music.

Me neither. And apparently bagpipes are also a health hazard to their players because they can create a bacterial culture inside themselves.

An instrument that carries its own punishment, apparently.

(Not that I actually wish harm to bagpipe players. I just wish them far away from me.)

--

Aslan stooped his golden head and licked her forehead. The warmth of his breath and a rich sort of smell that seemed to hang about his hair came all over her.

Since I've been making points about the way physicality, sensuality and power seem inextricably linked in Lewis, let me just say: Exhibit A. (Or probably C or D by now.)

Which to me, makes the romp uncomfortable. Aslan is presented in two basic ways: he's a force of intimidating authority, and he's a presence of sensual virility. There's little about either of those two traits that suggests he's someone it's wise to romp with. And before Lewis's ghost brings up that 'Not a tame lion' get-out-of-everything-free card, I think when we're talking about presenting children in the context of this kind of thing, when there's an air of sensual interaction between little girls and a kind of personified alpha maledom ...

...well, it makes me uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable. Not just as an adult: even as a child, I read this as a kind of sex scene. (Though this might say more about me than anything else, of course.) The whole thing feels lover-like, and while I know there's a long tradition of Christ-the-lover, it's not usually applied to children.

Lonespark said...

why is the bad guy working for Lord of the Universe, just like the good guy?

Because He's the Lord of the Universe? Everybody works for Him, even Him. Definitely an absentee landlord type...

Lonespark said...

And apparently bagpipes are also a health hazard to their players because they can create a bacterial culture inside themselves.

Is this particularly different from other wind instruments, apart from bagpipes maybe being harder to disassemble and clean?

Lonespark said...

he's a force of intimidating authority, and he's a presence of sensual virility. There's little about either of those two traits that suggests he's someone it's wise to romp with.

That seems pretty standard for certain types of Gods. Not Christian ones, I'll grant.

Lonespark said...

...except for Christ the Lover traditions, yah, maybe I should read to the end...

I don't know if I picked up on that as a kid or not, but if I did, I think it would have fit in with ideas of Deities are not being constrained by human mores, sexual or otherwise. Not that they necessarily violate them; they just transcend them, and have their own Laws and Natures.

Kit Whitfield said...

Is this particularly different from other wind instruments, apart from bagpipes maybe being harder to disassemble and clean?

I think the bag is a particularly incubatory sort of thing.

Rowen said...

Lonespark,

From what I understand, the hot air from your breath gets caught in the bag pipe bag, and just kinda sits there being warm, and dark, and you can't really clean it out easily.

As opposed to my bass clarinet, where I can take it apart and swipe the insides, and it's more or less a big tube so fresh air and circulate through it.

Rowen said...

Why do bagpipers march?

To get away from the noise. . .

(one of the few times I've enjoyed a bagpiper's playing is in conjunction with the band Clandestine, though, even then, sometimes the bagpipes are too up front and personal, but in the album "The Haunting" they recorded it so often times the bagpipes have a far away, eerie quality that I kinda like. http://clandestineceltic.com/ )

depizan said...

Why does a) sound better than what we have in text? It's really very little different. Perhaps it's the Jadis is inherently the wrong ruler, Aslan/the kids inherently the right ruler that bothers me. As opposed to Jadis is a bad ruler (see turning people to stone, etc) and Aslan is a good ruler (see...um...things he does after we put him on the throne? he'll be good, promise). (I can't discuss the kids, because they've got roughly zero experience leading anything. At least your average farm boy rightful king spends a book or two building up an army before he takes back his usurped throne.) And I might have just hit on another minor problem - I want to see my good guys demonstrate goodness before the other good guys hop on the "put them back on the throne" train. Weirdly, Aslan does a better job of seeming good, or at least likable, after dying.

You might have a point or two there with b). Even locking people up and throwing away the key (or other excessive punishment) for disobedience, backtalk, and the like is standard bad guy procedure. Also, with out some idea of how magic works in Narnia, you're absolutely right and releasing her victims might require spells of an alignment she can't cast.

As for c), here's to games doing unexpected things! It makes them more interesting. (I should mention that I'm also amused that sleeping with people for information is a light side option, at least if you're an agent. It somewhat makes up for the fact that I suspect the poor guy had better get used to force lightning.)

Ana Mardoll said...

I did not know that about bagpipes being a music best sampled from far away by design. How interesting!

Ana Mardoll said...

Not just as an adult: even as a child, I read this as a kind of sex scene.

For me, it reads more like an ecstasy scene, but since "ecstasy" and "sexual" are very very very very very closely linked in many ways, I think there's a lot to what you're saying.

[content warning: non-orthodox Christian views of Christianity below]

The myth of Dionysus is, to my mind, very deeply wrapped up with the way a lot of people see and celebrate the Christ. I still can't tell if Lewis meant to evoke Dionysus with all his talk of river-gods and nymphs and satyrs and other elements of Grecian myths, but I feel it in the text regardless. (And we'll kind of see it later when Aslan rides into battle with children and unarmed bunny rabbits at his side -- that's pretty much precisely the sort of thing Dionysus did, was taking traditionally gentle groups and making them potentially and shockingly dangerous.)

IIRC, the Dionysus frenzied romps *could* be totally innocent and non-sexual, or they could also be orgiastic depending on the group and how the ecstasy took them. So while this scene reads to me as an innocent ecstasy, it's an ecstasy regardless and those tend to be pretty unpredictable, especially when there's an immortal and changeable god at the center of it all. So I see the direction you're coming from, I think.

Ana Mardoll said...

I do wish that we could mathematically figure out how many statues are in the courtyard and house, and what her rate of stoning has been, assuming a constant over the 100 years of her rule. I never get the impression in text that there's more than, oh, 500 statues -- so... she stones 5 people a year? That's not bad for your average fantasy dictator.

'Course, maybe she leaves some of them in the wild, like with the squirrels. I hope Aslan remembers to get them.

EdinburghEye said...

"'Course, maybe she leaves some of them in the wild, like with the squirrels. I hope Aslan remembers to get them. "

I think we have from the Voice of God somewhere that Aslan does de-stone the creatures at the teaparty, but

Kit Whitfield said...

I did not know that about bagpipes being a music best sampled from far away by design. How interesting!

I believe the same is true of yodeling. Not the cowboy-movie 'yodelay-ee!', but the traditional Swiss singing, which is rather nice - or at least, once I was on holiday in Switzerland visiting my godmother, and she explained that the very harmonious male-voice choir over there was doing yodeling. If you're driving sheep up and down the mountains, you want to be able to make yourself heard a long way off.

Ana Mardoll said...

There's a joke in there somewhere. "Bagpipes! Yodeling! If you don't like it, you're just not standing far enough away!" :p

Ana Mardoll said...

Aw, that made me all shivery-sad. :(

But in a good way. There is an awesome fanfic story in there. Or twenty.

Loquat said...

sleeping with people for information is a light side option, at least if you're an agent.

For real? That's hilarious. The more I learn about the agent class, the more I like it. Mind you, the agent already earned a permanent <3 from me in the beta, the first time I heard him switch accents as part of his disguise. Incidentally, can your agent dance at all well? My Chiss agent had me well convinced he was a blue-skinned James Bond, and then I decided to try out the /dance emote and, well, let's just say my first thought was "Let us never speak of this again".

Once the game starts going on sale, I may pick it up - as a single-player game, it seems well worth playing.

Lonespark said...

Well...it's not like they're romping with the Nightlord, although I would totally read that fanfic.

depizan said...

Oh, it is. I've only tried two classes, so far, but both Smuggler and Agent have engaging stories.

I have not tried the dance emote, but dances in the games I've played have mostly been on the "Let us never speak of this again" side, especially for guys. You do very briefly cut scene dance with the girl you sleep with, but it's too short to give an impression and I don't know if it's the /dance anyway.

I am still vastly amused at getting lightside points for seduction. It seemed like the right (in character) thing to do, who knew it was the right thing to do as well.

(You don't have to get force lightinged to be lightside, by the way, that was a combination of recklessness and making a point that he worked for Imperial Intelligence, not Darth Jadus. Darth Jadus disagreed.)

depizan said...

Hmm, good point there. I was thinking about it from the point our our Evil Queen, not the relatives of the enstoned people. I don't generally side with villains, but designated villains bother me and there's something very designated about her villainy. I think it's that she's such an improbable evil ruler. Why is it always winter? Is this her idea or is the land in stasis because the wrong person is on the throne? How is a land surviving in always winter? Why do people follow her? What, exactly, is she doing, besides sitting in her palace fretting about the coming of humans and occasionally turning people to stone? Her on screen villainy ranges from clever (drugging Edmund) to childish (nearly everything else) to oddly reluctant (not just offing Edmund). It makes for a very weird character.

Marie Brennan said...

I don't know that I would say the thunderstorm comparison is about Aslan being terrible so much as powerful. It's like the way people will sometimes describe horseback riding: here's this animal that weighs half a ton and could stomp you into a wet smear on the ground, but instead it's letting you sit on its back and point it in the direction you want it to go. If the horse starts galloping, then (presuming you're a good enough rider not to scream and fall off), then it's a bit like riding a storm, yeah.

For me, the description works really well. I've seen video of lions playing exactly the way kittens do -- but instead of glitterballs it's pumpkins or whatever. And if you imagine yourself as the glitterball/pumpkin, then you can imagine how it mixes the playfulness of a kitten with the power of a thunderstorm. They don't have to be scared of his power to be awed by it.

Toby Bartels said...

Well, Dionysus is *in* Narnia, under his Roman name of Bacchus. In LWW, Tumnus makes reference (in his description of the halcyon days before the Witch --just how old is he, anyway?) to dancing with Bacchus. And in Prince Caspian [SPOILER ALERT], Bacchus himself appears, and you get your ecstatic (but not sexual) romp.

Ana Mardoll said...

I had completely forgotten about that. o.O

J. Random Scribbler said...

Wow, JenL, I never thought about it that way either. I was all ready to post about how stoning/carboniting was actually quite a bit different from killing because it could be undone later... but it never occurred to me that this very aspect made it even more horrible for the family and friends. Chilling. And eminently fanfic-able as well.

Regarding the post-resurrection romp, I always read it as joyful childlike play rather than paying attention to the more 'adult' sensual aspects. This was of course heavily influenced by my very sheltered childhood -- I first read this book at a very naive eight (maybe nine?) years of age.

That also colored how I saw the whole death/resurrection arc as well; I had no sense of the whole book being an allegory, thinking only that this part of it was "like" the story of Jesus. Only when I read The Last Battle did it occur to me that Aslan was meant to be Jesus, which led to... well, I'll talk about that when we get there. Aslan's death was always hard for me to read, but I would plow through it knowing that the resurrection was right around the corner. Reading Aslan's return from the dead did something really profound for me at that age. Not so much anymore, though. I do miss that, but not nearly enough to want to return to that time in my life!

Darth Ember said...

It occurs to me that perhaps you could tilt things a bit so that even Aslan himself didn't know he would come back.
You could have it so that he knows the four children are the destined hope of Narnia, and so must survive so that all of Narnia will survive, and thus willingly chose to give his life for that survival of the children and the land they're destined to save.
He knew enough of the ancient secrets to know that he could replace Edmund, sacrificing himself... but what if he only learned of that Deeper Magic in those moments of death?

Much like how Gandalf in LotR was re-bodied and sent back to finish his task, without having actually known he'd get that chance, what if Aslan only knew that his sacrifice would save Edmund and by extension Narnia? He says Jadis didn't know; he doesn't actually say he himself knew before this.

In that sort of viewpoint, Aslan's sacrifice becomes an extension of who he is - not the Chessmaster who read up on that old, half-forgotten rule, but someone compassionate and wise, who knows that Narnia is more important than he is.

(And so I just now tried to write a snippet along those lines.)

***

The Knife strikes.

Aslan is dead. The great Lion is still and unmoving, tawny fur almost sickly in the torchlight.

All is ended.

And yet...

The spirit that rested in Lion form waits, silent and awed, far beyond a forgotten sea, before his father. Only now does he know the truth; only now does he understand.

He has done what was intended all along, and Narnia will be healed. Narnia, his home. And with the healing of his home, so too will he be healed; ancient laws have spoken at last.

The spirit that played, kitten-careless and joyous, at the dawn of time, leaps through space that is not, and time yet timeless. He will return to Narnia, for life is sweet, and the land he loves calls to him.

Love renews all.

Anna said...

Darth Ember, that was beautiful.

hf said...

That law is still in place, but either she's on a power high and has decided she gets to define treachery from now on, or she's just made a rather embarrassing slip of the tongue.

Or she has good reason to think she's taken some more of Aslan's power. Her Stone Knife seems like a powerful Artifact in VotDT, and someone (probably Aslan) has spirited it away to the ends of the Earth.

Darth Ember said...

Well thanks. :) I don't even like Narnia that much, but I decided to see if I could make a new viewpoint on it.

Rikalous said...

If Aslan didn't know that he was going to come back to life, than his sacrifice was compassionate, but not exactly wise. If Aslan had stayed dead, Jadis would have been right when she told him that now nothing stopped her from stomping out that rebel scum the old-fashioned way.

That said, if he knew it's still a meaningful sacrifice because of something I thought you were saying at first. Aslan knows, or would know if he gave it some thought, that he can't be certain he knows everything about the Emperor's magic. Jadis thought she knew everything about the Emperor's magic, because she knew about it stretching back to the dawn of time, but Aslan knew a loophole because he read a book she didn't know existed. For all Aslan knows, there's a double super secret law that invalidates his loophole because he let himself be shaved by Jadis's goons. His death may be a safe bet, but it is a gamble. He's so excited after he resurrects because his last thoughts before dying were "Oh me, oh me, oh me, what if I'm wrong?"

Rikalous said...

Fact 1: In Silver Chair, Aslan uses telekinesis breath on Eustace, with a range of at least the height of a mountain, and I believe a not inconsiderable distance from the base of the mountain as well.

Corollary: Aslan's breath has an unhimly long range.

Fact 2: Aslan de-stones critters by breathing on them.

Conclusion: A relatively short circuit through Narnia should let Aslan cover the whole country with de-stone breath.

Timothy (TRiG) said...

Ana, you need someone to rock you.

TRiG.

Chris Doggett said...

It's not that I'm looking for an excuse to skirl, but the whole "deeper magic" business as part of a Christ allegory kinda undercuts the character of Aslan a bit, at least as a noble figure.

Up until this point, we (the readers) knew that there was a Prophecy about four humans becoming rulers and ending the Evil Witch's reign. We discovered that if one (or more) humans were dead, the prophecy couldn't be fulfilled, and that tragically, one of the humans had fallen into the clutches of the witch. Adding even more tragedy, the powerful agent of Good was powerless to stop the Evil Witch from killing one of the children of prophecy. The only way that the human child could be spared, and that there could be any hope at all for the prophecy to be fulfilled, would be if the great Good lion, spiritual leader and icon of hope, allowed himself to die in the human's stead.

Now that seems pretty darn tragic. And yet, that's what we expect Good to do: to take the high road, even if it's hard. The Evil Witch is defeated, but it's a bit of a phyrric victory without one's sacred leader. The new kingdom rises, perhaps a bit more sober, leading not from divine right, but from moral righteousness. That feels like a pretty grown-up way to end a kids book, but not a bad way. (it would also work to explain why people care about the lion as a symbol, even though Magic-Jesus-Lion is never seen or heard from again)

Except... Aslan doesn't stay dead. And he knows he's not going to stay dead when he offers to take Edmund's place. Not only that, but he knows that the Evil Witch doesn't know about the Deeper Magic and Aslan's ressurction. Which means Aslan isn't making a brave and noble sacrifice at all. Since every other death in Narnia is permanent, when he offers to die so that Edmund can live, he's doing so knowing it's not a lasting "real" death.

Don't get me wrong; I love me a good Trickster god. Promethius pulled some pretty good fast-ones over, first on the Titans, and then on Zeus, all to the benefit of mankind. (Fire was just the last thing that put Zeus over the edge) But Aslan isn't a trickster-god! You could make the case for Jesus-as-Trickster, but it's reaching more a bit, and I doubt Lewis was up on his mythological studies enough to recognize the Trickster Archtype and apply it.

Winning through trickery is still winning, and deserves celebration, but it's a victory of cunning and knowledge. It's a victory of deceit versus pride, of misdirection and manipulation. It could be called "brave" if you still had to face consequences once your trickery was discovered, but that never happens to Aslan. It could be called "noble" if you actually paid a cost that benefitted others, but Aslan didn't really pay any cost at all. He's alive, healthy, his mane grew back and if there were scars or stigmata, no one noticed them in the happy romp.

Again, not saying I don't dig on tricksters or love a good win by the smart guy over the strong guy. (lifelong Dr. Who fans represent!) But the proud, noble, glorious lion of Spring... is not a trickster. Yet that's how he "won" the deal with Jadis for Edmund, and it does rankle a bit.

Ana Mardoll said...

Not only did you use "skirl", but you also posted one of the best defenses for trickster gods I think I've ever seen. Nicely done!

JenL said...

Wow, JenL, I never thought about it that way either. I was all ready to post about how stoning/carboniting was actually quite a bit different from killing because it could be undone later... but it never occurred to me that this very aspect made it even more horrible for the family and friends. Chilling. And eminently fanfic-able as well.

Gotta admit that part of it came from the one Doctor Who episode where the Scrooge analog had people corpsicled in his basement, and it starts with one woman's family begging him to let her out for just one day so they can have one last Christmas with her... He makes a comment about her being their daughter, and the mom of the family (or maybe even grandma) says it's her sister.

[Sorry - this paragraph's spoilery, but about older books - assuming I'm remembering the books right.] And the Doctor Who idea got tangled in my head with the set of books (I think it's the Ireta and Sassinak books) by Anne McCaffrey that has a protagonist who leaves her daughter behind for what was supposed to be a reasonably short trip, but she winds in a cryochamber because of some crisis or other, and it takes rather longer than it should have before she's found and awakened. And over a series of books, she winds up missing other gaps in time. Eventually, she winds up meeting Sassinak, who turns out to be a great-great-descendant, but physically looks a bit older than her ancestress.

And it just got me thinking about the emotional paralysis of *knowing* that a loved one is "only mostly dead" - that you're living your life day by day, without knowing whether this is the day he or she comes back to life. And that whenever (*if*) that does happen, he or she will not have known the passage of time - they'll have missed all your joys and triumphs, all your failures, and all of those little (or big) compromises you've made that have led you to where you are now.

I can't write fiction worth anything, but the idea of it just gets to me....

JenL said...

For it to have happened before, someone before would have needed to have 1) willingness to sacrifice himself/herself for the "traitor," 2) a reason the Witch would rather have that person dead than the "traitor," and 3) enough power to prevent the Witch from just killing both out of hand

Actually, given the process the Witch was following, simple lack of public notice and due process might have been a BIG part of it. Compare Hunger Games (where lots are publicly drawn, and after the girl or boy is selected, there is a formal "do we have a volunteer" moment) to the Witch's process. Given all the statues in her courtyard, she normally just stones anyone who looks at her cross-eyed, or has the misfortune of having to bring her bad news. With Edward, when she decided she no longer had need of him, she immediately started sharpening her knife. Given actual process - public notice of a trial date, some sort of public trial & sentence, setting an execution date - someone, sometime would have volunteered to die in place of his or her parent, spouse, sibling, child... The Witch just doesn't give folks the opportunity.

JenL said...

You know, you're right - all we see is the witch turning people to stone, so Aslan can bring them back later. Of course, without Aslan to bring them back, they're effectively dead, as Lazarus was before Jesus showed up to resurrect him, so it strikes me as cheating to declare that "not really killing".

Which makes me picture "The 4400 in Narnia" as all those folks that have been frozen - some for a week or two, some for decades, wake up and find out how the world has changed while they've been gone...

JenL said...

Aslan, being a creature of the Deep Magic, is physically incapable of going against his nature enough to perform acts that the Deep Magic would recognize as treacherous.

And yet, somehow, he was perfectly able to tell others NOT to save Susan, and that wasn't the least little bit treacherous...

JenL said...

But isn't the Emperor the ruler of everything and Aslan's boss, too? This is where it gets all confused and complicated - why is the bad guy working for Lord of the Universe, just like the good guy? (Also, I would point out that Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado proves that you can have an executioner who's never executed anyone.)

But if this is a Biblical allegory, then it works. I mean, yeah, there are various verses that say Lucifer is in rebellion against G-d, but other books (like Job) show Him setting out ground rules that the Devil follows. And of course, you have that whole issue of an omniscient, omnipotent being with a grand plan that requires a betrayer so there can be a savior...

I wonder if the turning people to stone is also reversible by Jadis. We never really find out. If it isn't, then, yes, it amounts to killing people. If it is, then... er... it amounts to freezing them in carbonite*. Not exactly the same thing.

Not exactly, when you're an outside observer. Close enough - worse, actually - if that was your husband, wife, father, sister, or child that has been frozen. Whether the Witch holds your loved one for a week or a decade - you don't know if or when you will ever get him or her back. You can't grieve your loss and move on - maybe , if you are the lucky one who finds those humans and betrays them to the Witch, maybe she'll unfreeze your mother so she can be there for your wedding! But that didn't happen... But it could still happen in time for her to be there when you have your first child! But no ... And now your child is planning her own wedding, and you are older than your mother was when she was frozen, and you wonder if she will one day meet your grandchild, or a great-grandchild. Whether one day, she will be unfrozen, and go rushing out to go home to make sure you are okay, expecting to find her child waiting at home, without waiting long enough to hear that home burned down 3 decades ago and you've been dead for a year.

And if it was your spouse? How could you move on and form another relationship, when your spouse isn't *actually* dead? But in a hard, cold world - *can* you raise your kids alone?

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