At the moment we are reading (or should I say, my wife is reading to me) C.S. Lewis’ “Chronicles of Narnia”. Somehow I missed out on these when I was a child. In fact, my parents had little idea at all about literature for children, and once I had learned to read I navigated on my own. Consequently, my contacts with the classics of children’s literature is patchy, and a large part of it only acquired as a parent, reading to my own children. I have been aware of C.S. Lewis for a long time, and read several of his books intended for adults (such as Surprised by Joy). My wife came across the “Narnia” books in a bookshop recently, and thought that it would be a good idea to catch up with what had been missed.
I have enjoyed her reading throughout our marriage, and it was she who introduced me to the poetry of Wendy Cope and that of e.e. cummings. Being read to is a very different experience from reading for oneself. In particular I think that freedom from the duty of actually reading, and the liberty of being just a listener, allows one to appreciate writing in a rather different way. There have been all kinds of parallel tracks along which my mind has been free to run in addition to simply following the story, or appreciating the quality of the writing. I have to confess that it is often the case that my brain sets off on a kind of “meta-listening” during which I’m engaged with a variety of “critical” adventures (engagement with Lewis’ theology, for example). This morning was no exception.
I was struck by the way in which Lewis, in creating a world of fantasy, has to do so by drawing upon other established traditions in children’s literature. Of course, there is the anthropomorphism that is a staple of stories for children, by which all kinds of animals are able to operate as if they are human. Then, a staple of Lewis’ work is the use of imagery taken from the mediaeval world.* Lewis does construct a world of fantasy, but by re-ordering material which he collects from elsewhere. In this case, from an imagined remote past.** Fantasy, I suppose, is never completely unconstrained, and builds its worlds with material “recycled” from elsewhere. Incidentally, I don’t intend this to be a derogatory comment. That is how fantasy normally works, and its creations are not usually made from mental ore newly-smelted. Fantasy is normally what Claude Levy-Strauss called a work of “bricolage”.
What struck me this morning, however, was the difference between the materials for fantasy which were the common currency of children’s literature in my own childhood, and the things which I see my grandson absorbing. This might be putting the matter too crudely on the basis of too small a sample, but it seems to me that whereas in my own generation (and even that of my children) the resources for fantasy were derived from the past, these days children are fed a diet of imagery which invites them to engage with an imagined future. This is a big subject, potentially, but I do find myself wondering how the reading enjoyed by children today might possibly frame quite different ways of experiencing the world in which they live.
*He was far from being alone in this, of course, as there are strong similarities in this respect between Lewis’ writing and that of his friend J.R.R. Tolkien.
**Rosemary Sutcliffe does something similar, I suppose using imagery drawn from ancient Rome.