I maintain, even after I learned that Susan was "no longer a friend of Narnia," that there was nothing wrong with Susan but the patriarchy. Yep, the good old fashioned patriarchy. Someday maybe I'll write about women in children's fantasy--not girls, women--and analyze how often they are portrayed by male authors as fussy, ineffectual stick in the mud mothers who reinforce the rules while the boys (and sometimes the girls) go exploring and discover things. Paging Dr. Freud! Dude fantasy writers, please go see your therapist.
Or maybe I'll just read more of Ana Mardoll's Ramblings about the Chronicles of Narnia, which she deconstructs brilliantly, skewering Lewis' sexism and racism without flinching. Fans of Susan--even fans heartbroken by her "betrayal" of Narnia--should check out this post and others re: Narnia on this amazing blog.
I admit that, as a kid, Susan was a distant second fiddle to my favorite, Lucy. She was the one who was always reluctant to start adventures, counseling caution and foresight (often quite practically, as in Prince Caspian, wherein Susan is the one to suggest they maybe outta find some food soon), but ultimately being too much of a woman for battle. The Horse and His Boy was the first book to really trouble my daughters about Susan's status: why, for example, does Lucy go to war against the Calormenes, performing "as good as a man...or as good as a boy, at any rate" while Susan is a "real grown up lady," more woman than girl, and therefore stays home from the war. Never mind that she is a kick ass archer and swimmer, nor that she participated in battles as a teenager. For Lewis, growing up into a woman means leaving the battles behind in favor of "lady stuff" like nylons and lipsticks, of which (along with parties) Susan has always been inordinately fond.
As a 'tween reader of the Chronicles, I fancied myself a tomboy, despite my inept performance at most games involving balls, precisely because I scorned things like lipstick and nylons. Lipstick was for painting wounds on my Barbies, and nylons were for putting over my face in order to impersonate robbers and terrify my little brother. Parties? At the time, these consisted of parties of the slumber variety, which (when I was invited at all) were the 6th grade Catholic school version of psychological Abu Ghraib. I exaggerate. But still, any party that involves a crowd of tween girls taunting you to take off an article of clothing makes staying a girl and fighting in Narnian wars seem a hell of a lot less scary. I'll admit it--Susan's world was scary. I felt more comfortable in Lucy's kinder, gentler boy-land.
Lucy got to fight with the boys. Susan had to stay home with her lipsticks. As a kid, I was sure which side I was on.
My daughter C., on the other hand, had always loved Susan. This was pre-revelation that Susan was no longer a friend of Narnia, of course. In fact, C. went as Susan one year for Halloween. She wore a red velvet dress, a gold cape, a tiara, and cowboy boots. She carried, of course, Susan's bow and arrow and her horn, a gift from Aslan. For C., it was a very big deal that Susan got the horn, the instrument that allows the blower to call for help during the darkest, most dreadful circumstances. It was also a big deal that Susan was beautiful, and gentle, yet also a kick ass archer. I think it fascinated my daughter that you could be feminine AND shoot arrows like a boss. Perhaps this says more about her generation than it does about the merits (or demerits) of Susan. For little girls today, femininity does not rule out, well, ruling. For my generation, you had to masquerade as a boy or a man to get any respect.
C. was disappointed to find out about Susan's disavowal of Narnia, but her questions are quite revealing. Rather than asking why Susan was no longer a friend, she cut right to the chase: Why didn't Susan remember Narnia? How could she seriously claim that it was all a game the Pevensie children played as kids? C.'s practical bent in this line of questioning is worthy of Susan herself. Deny Narnia? Why in the world would you do that if you'd spent an entire lifetime in Narnian time ruling it as queen?
I tried to comfort C. as I would have comforted myself. I told her that Susan might go back to Narnia someday. In fact, a friend of a friend has allegedly written a fan fiction novel about Susan's (adult) journey back to Narnia. Definitely an idea I wish I had come up with. But when the Last Battle came around to its conclusion, C. was no longer satisfied. How could Susan come back to Narnia if Narnia were at an end?
Eventually, C. abandoned Susan. She has plans to be Lucy for Halloween this year. I can tell that her heart isn't in it in the same way.
For all of C.S. Lewis' extraordinary imagination, he failed to imagine a world outside of patriarchy. Girls may be boys, but women are always women. And women ultimately have no place in Narnia. (Except the grandmotherly figure of Polly, but I'd argue that post-menopausal women in Lewis' mind were not "women" in the same lipsticky, nylon-clad sense. Though I bet Polly still liked to party).
Next up: My best friend, Jill!
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Narnia Reconsidered Part I: Lucy
I'll admit a personal bias here. C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia was my favorite series as a 'tween (this, of course, long before 'tweens had a name). Actually, to call it my favorite series is an understatement: I actually believed Narnia existed, and would search for entrances to that magical world in closets (we had no wardrobes), attics, and the drain pipes from the hospital that opened into the woods behind our house. I never found Narnia, but I did find a cache of very dirty magazines hidden at the entrance to a boarded up lead mine. That, however, is a story for another time.
My girls are now big fans of Narnia, and always ask me which book was my favorite. Honestly, I was fond of all of them, even the much maligned Last Battle, wherein the dwarves reject Aslan, the Calormenes are pilloried in racist fashion as godless "darkies" and we learn that Susan has abandoned Narnia. More on Susan later. But I loved hearing about heaven as another Narnia, and the steadfast Jill was the heroine I'd been seeking ever since Lucy was banned from Narnia, having used up all of Aslan's passes and grown too old. More on Jill later, when I extol The Silver Chair. For now, let's just say I saw the merits of all the books, though The Voyage of the Dawn Treader struck me, at times, as dull. Naturally, it is my daughters' second favorite, after A Horse and His Boy. (What about Hwin and Aravis? More on Aravis later). First, and foremost, was Lucy.
Lucy was the first heroine that I identified with, despite the fact that she was the youngest of the four Pevensie kids, and I was a classic uptight, anxious first-born. She was, after all, the one who discovered Narnia in the wardrobe, the one who befriended the first Narnian (Tumnus) and the one who never stopped believing even when her siblings mocked and (in Edmund's case) betrayed her. In the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, she uses her diamond vial to heal Edmund's death wound. In Prince Caspian, it is she who figures out that they've landed in Narnia again and takes up her bow and arrow against King Miraz's army. In the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, she treats Eustace gently when everyone else has given up on him. In the Horse and His Boy, now an adult, she fights the Calormenes alongside the men. Prince Corin describes her as "as good as a man...or as good as a boy, at any rate."
I liked Susan, but I adored Lucy. I felt as if we'd grown up together, and when Aslan tells her she can't return to Narnia, I was heartbroken. What kind of Narnia would it be without Lucy in the mix? (It turns out, a funnier one--Eustace steals the show, and Jill is more than his match in both battle and sarcastic barbs. But I'll get to Jill eventually. I promise).
Lucy was a proto-feminist heroine: a girl in a man's world who was gentle and kind, yet nevertheless kicked ass in battle. Of all the Narnian heroines, it was she that I most wanted to be. Interestingly enough, while my daughters adore Lucy, it is Susan that has most captured their fascination. Well, Susan and the talking horses of A Horse and His Boy. We listened to that one on our long road trip east this summer, and (Anti-Calormene racism aside) it holds up remarkably well. It does make me wonder, though--why doesn't Lucy appeal in the same way that Susan does?
My theory--which I welcome you to challenge--is that Lucy never really leaves the realm of childhood. There is always something innocent about her, even after she becomes a teenager, even after she envies Susan's beauty in the Voyage of the Dawn Treader. For 'tween readers, Lucy is the little sister--the one you dote on and protect. Susan, on the other hand, is the older sister--the teenager, the young woman, the one you look up to and yearn to be someday.
My daughters were all about Susan...until they learned that she grows up to reject Narnia.
Coming next: Girls, Boys, and Men...but No Women.
My girls are now big fans of Narnia, and always ask me which book was my favorite. Honestly, I was fond of all of them, even the much maligned Last Battle, wherein the dwarves reject Aslan, the Calormenes are pilloried in racist fashion as godless "darkies" and we learn that Susan has abandoned Narnia. More on Susan later. But I loved hearing about heaven as another Narnia, and the steadfast Jill was the heroine I'd been seeking ever since Lucy was banned from Narnia, having used up all of Aslan's passes and grown too old. More on Jill later, when I extol The Silver Chair. For now, let's just say I saw the merits of all the books, though The Voyage of the Dawn Treader struck me, at times, as dull. Naturally, it is my daughters' second favorite, after A Horse and His Boy. (What about Hwin and Aravis? More on Aravis later). First, and foremost, was Lucy.
Lucy was the first heroine that I identified with, despite the fact that she was the youngest of the four Pevensie kids, and I was a classic uptight, anxious first-born. She was, after all, the one who discovered Narnia in the wardrobe, the one who befriended the first Narnian (Tumnus) and the one who never stopped believing even when her siblings mocked and (in Edmund's case) betrayed her. In the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, she uses her diamond vial to heal Edmund's death wound. In Prince Caspian, it is she who figures out that they've landed in Narnia again and takes up her bow and arrow against King Miraz's army. In the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, she treats Eustace gently when everyone else has given up on him. In the Horse and His Boy, now an adult, she fights the Calormenes alongside the men. Prince Corin describes her as "as good as a man...or as good as a boy, at any rate."
I liked Susan, but I adored Lucy. I felt as if we'd grown up together, and when Aslan tells her she can't return to Narnia, I was heartbroken. What kind of Narnia would it be without Lucy in the mix? (It turns out, a funnier one--Eustace steals the show, and Jill is more than his match in both battle and sarcastic barbs. But I'll get to Jill eventually. I promise).
Lucy was a proto-feminist heroine: a girl in a man's world who was gentle and kind, yet nevertheless kicked ass in battle. Of all the Narnian heroines, it was she that I most wanted to be. Interestingly enough, while my daughters adore Lucy, it is Susan that has most captured their fascination. Well, Susan and the talking horses of A Horse and His Boy. We listened to that one on our long road trip east this summer, and (Anti-Calormene racism aside) it holds up remarkably well. It does make me wonder, though--why doesn't Lucy appeal in the same way that Susan does?
My theory--which I welcome you to challenge--is that Lucy never really leaves the realm of childhood. There is always something innocent about her, even after she becomes a teenager, even after she envies Susan's beauty in the Voyage of the Dawn Treader. For 'tween readers, Lucy is the little sister--the one you dote on and protect. Susan, on the other hand, is the older sister--the teenager, the young woman, the one you look up to and yearn to be someday.
My daughters were all about Susan...until they learned that she grows up to reject Narnia.
Coming next: Girls, Boys, and Men...but No Women.
Giggles, Secrets, and Whispers
Compared to other girls their age, my daughters have had relatively few playdates. As twins, people often remark that they "have each other" and while this glosses over the times when "having" your sister means pinning her to the floor and beating the shit out of her, the point is well taken. Living with your best friend means you simply aren't driven to seek out friends or have other girls over to your house, because there is already a girl in your house. She sleeps in your bedroom, wears your clothes, and is always there--sometimes right in your face--but loneliness is seldom a problem. For my girls, the entire day is one long playdate.
The other reason my kids haven't had a lot of playdates is because the girl culture at their elementary school is cut throat, often vicious, and largely unmonitored by adults. While students are evaluated within an inch of their lives in the classroom, once recess and lunch begin, the giant eye of Sauron vanishes. I don't mean to suggest that teachers are evil--it's constant TESTING and assessment that attempts to suck every kid into the darkest depths of Mordor. Most teachers use recess and lunch to grade papers (if they're lucky); others catch up on the massive amounts of paperwork that come with being an educator. In order to do their job--educate--they have to fight everything in the system that prevents them from actually teaching kids, which includes a mind numbing amount of busy work. Thankfully, they are well paid and respected by society. Oh wait...they're not?
Teachers are a subject for another day, though. What I want to write about now is the girl culture that develops when students are left basically alone to "play." Some of it is benign, of course, but in my experience it can become pretty psychologically vicious. It is not that girls are mean, exactly, but because they aren't encouraged to express themselves physically, they find other ways of taking out their frustrations. Some girls who have very little control over their home environments come to school and attempt to exercise control there, and the mother of all control mechanisms is friendship. It is far more complicated than popular v. unpopular kids, though these lines in the sand are drawn. Rather, it is about who is friends with whom--more specifically, who is BEST friends with whom, and most importantly, who is your BFF (Best Friends Forever). It's a hell of a lot of pressure for 8 year olds. The girls my daughters played with consistently tried to sabotage their bond, playing them off against one another, threatening not to be friends with one unless she shunned the other, called one "the nice one" or "the smart one," reliably generating enough angst to take us through to dinner and beyond. Though there are obvious (and sometimes similar) problems with boy culture, the scene at this school made me actively encourage my girls to befriend boys. Whatever other shit they were up to, the boys didn't seem to be jockeying for each other's BFF status, or spending a lot of time talking, period.
At any rate, the few playdates my girls have had simply exported this nastiness to another environment. Too many afternoons ending in tears made me shy about calling up other parents to set up a date. After all, my girls "had each other." They weren't lonely, they weren't asking to play at other kids' houses. It seemed easier to avoid the whole issue. We found one friend who was reliably kind--a friend that I'd adopt into my home, actually, were she not beloved by her large, loud, friendly family--and we focused on her for about a year. No tears, lots of giggles and laughter. The girl scene was crazy and cupcake-fueled, but ultimately positive. Whenever hurt feelings were an issue, the girls were able (with the help of a grown up) to work things out.
Now that we've moved to another city and left this amazing friend behind, I will admit that I am worried. What will the girl culture be like here? Will the girls be able to make new friends that won't use their twin bond against them?
So far, so good. Last night, the girls had a playdate with the daughter of two old friends of ours. After some initial shyness, within minutes they were throwing mud at each other and screaming with laughter. While the adults chatted, the kids whispered, told secrets, giggled, and generally exhibited all the same behaviors that the "mean girls" on the playground always did--but they weren't excluding or shaming anybody. Some of their jokes were inappropriate and there was some open defiance of parents. Shocking, I know. But it was all part of their small community of three, which was so rock solid by the end of the evening that they schemed together in the bathroom for ways to convince us to allow them another playdate the next day.
I'm not sure what the moral of the story is, other than that playdates for our kids seem to go better when we are close friends with the other girl's parents. But I will say that girl culture is complex--like anything else, it can either be leveraged for dark purposes, or harnessed in the service of good, joyful, community feeling. For parent (of girls OR boys), and especially parents of tweens, how do you navigate the swamp that is the proto-adolescent social scene? What "rules" of interaction do you have for your kids, and what kinds of things (negative or positive) do they report from their playdates?
The other reason my kids haven't had a lot of playdates is because the girl culture at their elementary school is cut throat, often vicious, and largely unmonitored by adults. While students are evaluated within an inch of their lives in the classroom, once recess and lunch begin, the giant eye of Sauron vanishes. I don't mean to suggest that teachers are evil--it's constant TESTING and assessment that attempts to suck every kid into the darkest depths of Mordor. Most teachers use recess and lunch to grade papers (if they're lucky); others catch up on the massive amounts of paperwork that come with being an educator. In order to do their job--educate--they have to fight everything in the system that prevents them from actually teaching kids, which includes a mind numbing amount of busy work. Thankfully, they are well paid and respected by society. Oh wait...they're not?
Teachers are a subject for another day, though. What I want to write about now is the girl culture that develops when students are left basically alone to "play." Some of it is benign, of course, but in my experience it can become pretty psychologically vicious. It is not that girls are mean, exactly, but because they aren't encouraged to express themselves physically, they find other ways of taking out their frustrations. Some girls who have very little control over their home environments come to school and attempt to exercise control there, and the mother of all control mechanisms is friendship. It is far more complicated than popular v. unpopular kids, though these lines in the sand are drawn. Rather, it is about who is friends with whom--more specifically, who is BEST friends with whom, and most importantly, who is your BFF (Best Friends Forever). It's a hell of a lot of pressure for 8 year olds. The girls my daughters played with consistently tried to sabotage their bond, playing them off against one another, threatening not to be friends with one unless she shunned the other, called one "the nice one" or "the smart one," reliably generating enough angst to take us through to dinner and beyond. Though there are obvious (and sometimes similar) problems with boy culture, the scene at this school made me actively encourage my girls to befriend boys. Whatever other shit they were up to, the boys didn't seem to be jockeying for each other's BFF status, or spending a lot of time talking, period.
At any rate, the few playdates my girls have had simply exported this nastiness to another environment. Too many afternoons ending in tears made me shy about calling up other parents to set up a date. After all, my girls "had each other." They weren't lonely, they weren't asking to play at other kids' houses. It seemed easier to avoid the whole issue. We found one friend who was reliably kind--a friend that I'd adopt into my home, actually, were she not beloved by her large, loud, friendly family--and we focused on her for about a year. No tears, lots of giggles and laughter. The girl scene was crazy and cupcake-fueled, but ultimately positive. Whenever hurt feelings were an issue, the girls were able (with the help of a grown up) to work things out.
Now that we've moved to another city and left this amazing friend behind, I will admit that I am worried. What will the girl culture be like here? Will the girls be able to make new friends that won't use their twin bond against them?
So far, so good. Last night, the girls had a playdate with the daughter of two old friends of ours. After some initial shyness, within minutes they were throwing mud at each other and screaming with laughter. While the adults chatted, the kids whispered, told secrets, giggled, and generally exhibited all the same behaviors that the "mean girls" on the playground always did--but they weren't excluding or shaming anybody. Some of their jokes were inappropriate and there was some open defiance of parents. Shocking, I know. But it was all part of their small community of three, which was so rock solid by the end of the evening that they schemed together in the bathroom for ways to convince us to allow them another playdate the next day.
I'm not sure what the moral of the story is, other than that playdates for our kids seem to go better when we are close friends with the other girl's parents. But I will say that girl culture is complex--like anything else, it can either be leveraged for dark purposes, or harnessed in the service of good, joyful, community feeling. For parent (of girls OR boys), and especially parents of tweens, how do you navigate the swamp that is the proto-adolescent social scene? What "rules" of interaction do you have for your kids, and what kinds of things (negative or positive) do they report from their playdates?
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