1. I have decided to focus on one scene in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe: the scene in which Santa Claus appears, signalling the beginning of the end to the White Witch's power over Narnia. I take this scene at random--it was the scene in front of me when I opened the book tonight. It is also short.
2. What to say about this scene? First, I make no secret that I dislike this book. This particular scene is not the most egregious of the book's scenes by any means, and therefore it might prove a useful place for me to direct my attention to. I might add that I dislike the presence of Santa Claus in Narnia because he seems to me out of place in this world of violence and hierarchy. I know the story of St. Nicholas and the children in which St. Nicholas comes to the rescue of the children when they are about to be eaten by a giant, and I see it hinted at in Lewis's book in the horn which Santa Claus gives Susan, the horn which, when blown, will summon help. But the Narnian world is such a hodge-podge of mythological creatures that I find the book ragged. I guess Lewis's point is that all mythology, whether pagan or Christian, has something in common, expresses a common truth about human desire for the divine. And I suppose there is no real reason not to mix mythologies in a fantasy, but I find it jarring. I guess what I dislike is Lewis's assumption of authority. He includes whatever he happens to want to include.
3. And he assumes the authority of setting us to rights regarding what we should think of these mythological creatures. For example, Santa is not conventionally funny and jolly; rather, he is "so big, and so glad, and so real" that he makes everyone solemn. What does "so real" really mean? And why should his being so glad make the others solemn? Solemnity is something Alsan invokes too, and it smacks of Lewis's authoritarianism. Lewis is nothing if not an authoritarian. He cannot envisage a world of frivolity, of the carnivalesque, of freedom from authority outside the self. His world is filled with authority figures, either positive ones such as Santa Claus or negative ones such as Jadis. Santa brings presents, but he also brings instructions telling the girls he doesn't mean them to fight and telling Peter that his presents are not toys but tools. In order to sanction his acceptable authority figures Lewis invokes a language of abstraction: "that deep shiver of gladness which you only get when you are being solemn and still" (99). What does this tell the child reader? It tells her that characters such as Santa are to be revered, looked up to, believed, followed, not questioned. And it is here, I guess, that I balk. Lewis sets himself up, as narrator, as one of these authority figures, someone who knows the truth, someone the reader should instinctively and unquestioningly accept and believe.
4. Santa, by the way, is a minor Alsan. In other words, he is a type of Christ--a kind of Old Testament prefiguration of the Messiah yet to come. I say this not only because of the solemn and still mood he brings or creates, but also because of the tea, sugar and cream he brings from out his pack. Here is a version of loaves and fishes or of water into wine. The narrator, in a parenthetic aside, says he supposes the tea came from Santa's pack, but that no one actually saw him take it from there. This aside serves the purpose of emphasising the mystery of Santa and his powers, but it also draws attention to the narrator himself and to his powers of understanding. Why even mention this unless he wants to remind his readers of his grasp of the situation?
5. But none of this bothers me as much as the presents Lewis has Santa dole out to the characters. First the Beavers: Mrs. Beaver gets a sewing machine, a good gender specific present that reminds me of Lewis's reactionary attitude to women (remind me to tell you of Lewis's war year classes at Oxford). She gets something to keep her working. But what of Mr. Beaver. He gets his work finished for him, the dam built and the sluice gates finished and the leaks mended. Now I ask you, is this fair? Mrs B. must continue to work; Mr. B. has his work done for him.
6. The children's presents focus on weapons, sword and shield for Peter, a bow and arrows for Susan, and a dagger for Lucy. As others have pointed out, Lewis likes a bit of righteous violence and he here prepares the children to engage in brutal activity--all in the name of Alsan, of course. I note the simile Lewis uses to describe the ramping Lion on Peter's shield: "as bright as a ripe strawberry at the moment when you pick it." The Lion is a reminder of Aslan, but in its ramping position it represents the lion red in tooth and claw, the lion ferocious, attacking, fierce. To compare it to a strawberry is to underline the natural quality of this lion; it is natural to ramp and rend. Violence itself is natural. After all, when you pick a strawberry, you are effectively ending its life. The simile is supposed to be familiar, unthreatening, natural. For me, however, it is a ruse to disguise the real meaning here: death, violent death. The ploy is typical of Lewis's method. He defers and disguises. He does not say what he really thinks and feels because he could not do so and remain sane. In short, Lewis does not fully grasp his own anger and desire for violence. Battles are ugly when women fight them, but the implication is that they are not ugly when men do so. Also, ugly as these battles may be, women must be prepared to engage in battle bravely and with a will.
7. The horn Susan receives and the vial of cordial Lucy receives are supposed to be women's gifts. The horn summons help--women are usually in need of help and protection, the help and protection of men. Women are also nurturers, the Florence Nightingales of this world. Lucy has the power to restore the wounded in this bottle. And perhaps I will end here. The power is the thing. Everything in Narnia rests on power, authority, positions of influence. In Lewis's world, Santa Claus is not simply a kindly old man who spreads relationship and love, who connects times past and present and future, who reminds us of the importance of giving; no, in Lewis's world Santa Claus reminds us of our duty to fight and our duty to work. The Beavers of this world must work and the future kings and queens must fight.
8. I do not cease to wonder why these books have attracted children as they have. The scene I have taken at random is, after all, pretty harmless, maybe even curious for the young reader. Perhaps the 10 year old newly disabused of his or her belief in Santa Claus can smugly enjoy Lewis's manipulation of the Santa Claus fantasy. Yes, Santa does exist--as fantasy--the way hobbits exist. But do they really like this silly stuff with the Beavers? Do they really like this pseudo-spiritual stuff with the gladness, the solemnity, the stillness and all that guff? It seems some children do, and I can only shrug and say there's no accounting for taste. In the long run, I doubt that this book with all its sexism, war-mongering, status-seeking, colonialism, and let's-hear-it-for-the-class-systemism will do irreparable damage to young minds. Despite some evidence to the contrary, young readers do not always believe everything they read.
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