Tolkien Tuesday: Reading "The Magician's Nephew--Chapters 13-15"
Lewis brings the first volume of "The Chronicles of Narnia" to a triumphant close, in the process creating a prequel that blends seamlessly into the existing mythology.
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Well, I’ve finished The Magician’s Nephew, and I can say without a doubt that I really did enjoy this outing in Narnia. As I wrote when I started on this journey a few weeks ago, I honestly never expected to find myself drawn in by Lewis, mostly because I’d long ago decided that his very allegorical style of writing was simply not for me. After all, when your best-loved series is essentially one big Christian allegory, what else is there to say?
Perhaps it’s because I’ve begun my own journey back to being a Christian, or perhaps I’m just in the mood for fantasy fiction that reminds us of the beauty and joy in the world, but I found myself increasingly drawn back into the magic of The Chronicles of Narnia. Reading The Magician’s Nephew has been such a calming experience, and I remain enchanted by its own simple form of magic. I’m not sure that I’d go so far as to say that I love it as much as I love The Lord of the Rings, but re-reading the first chronological book in the series has given me a renewed appreciation for Lewis’ creation.
In the final group of chapters that round out the book, Diggory manages to procure the apple that Aslan sent him to get, while also enduring his own final temptation at the hands of Jadis. Once he returns to Aslan and the other gathered animals and the apple is planted–giving rise to yet another tree–the benevolent Lion gives him one of its fruits, which heals his mother and returns her to health. As the narrator also reveals, that apple would go on to become the tree that, in turn, was used to make the wardrobe from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
As she has since the moment that Diggory and Polly met her in the ruins of Charn, Jadis casts a very long shadow. When she appears in the garden–again, that not-so-subtle Christian symbolism of which Lewis was so fond–one can feel her power and her influence. Say what you will about her, but Jadis knows just the right pressure points to press on when it comes to Diggory. She knows quite well that it’s his fear for his mother that remains one of his abiding concerns but, like so many evil forces and characters, she overplays her hand. Had she not urged Diggory to leave Polly behind, it’s entirely possible that she might have been able to sway him to her side and led him down her own dark path. Diggory wouldn’t be the first or the last to find himself destroyed by a desire to do good for the world and those that he loves.
At the same time, there’s also something more than a little tragic about Jadis. She is mighty and powerful, yes, and she clearly isn’t going to be dispatched very easily (in fact, she won’t meet her final doom until many centuries in the future of Narnia). Nevertheless, she has also created the seeds of her own destruction by devouring the fruit in that sacred garden. She will have a long life, and she will hold onto her power–in fact, she’ll grow so strong that she’s able to keep Narnia in the vice-like grip of winter for ages–but one can’t help but wonder if, deep down, she realizes just how miserable she is. Then again, Jadis doesn’t seem like the type of person to have much self-reflection.
This whole sequence in the garden is, obviously, another instance of Lewis drawing on the stories of Christianity. In this case, however, he offers up a more optimistic vision of the temptation that took place in the Garden of Eden. Diggory, unlike Adam and Eve, turns away from the lure that Jadis holds out to him. Rather than giving in and earning his own destruction he, instead, is guided by his own internal moral compass and, just as importantly, by his enduring loyalty to Polly and to his mother. Small wonder that Jadis looks at him with contempt, since he is willing to do what she cannot.
For me, the most powerful moment is the one in which Diggory and Polly look into Aslan’s face and are filled with the warmth and joy that anyone would feel were they to look into the face of God Himself. This is one of those moments in The Chronicles of Narnia that really does seem to pierce you right in the heart. For all that these books are often quite whimsical and sweet and even simple, there’s a great deal of joyous depth to them, too, and such is the potency of Lewis’ prose that, even if you’re not a particularly devout person, you can’t help but feel and uprising of emotion at this moment in which our characters witness the divine. Who among us, after all, hasn’t yearned for some sort of connection with something beyond ourselves, particularly if doing so would mean encountering the purest form of love?
Now, it has to be said that the final chapter does rush things along a bit, but at least Lewis knew when not to outstay his welcome. Moreover, there’s something almost fairytale-like about the way that he ends his story, with the revelation that the apple tree that Diggory grows from the fruit ends up begetting the famous wardrobe. It’s also quite touching to see his mother at last restored to health, a nice little corrective to those many Victorian stories that end with frail mothers wasting away.
In concluding the novel in this way, Lewis accomplished something that few other fantasy authors have ever really mastered: writing a prequel that actually fits pretty seamlessly with the events that come after. I must admit that I have now fully embraced the joys of The Chronicles of Narnia, and I can’t wait to dive right into The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.