There is something special about Beowulf that inspires adaptation, that makes authors and artists want to sub-create within that world. At the same time, the epic poem exhibits certain flaws and gaps that call out for correcting and for filling. It is apparent from their body of work—a body which is still growing through posthumous publications of Tolkien’s earlier works, and through Gaiman’s powerful and unabated imagination—that both authors have successfully stood up to the critics and brought readers new and existing treatments of the traditional Beowulf story, a story which, thanks to Tolkien and to Gaiman, remains both ancient and brand new.
____________________ 1 Gummere, 4.
2 “During the 18th century, the Cotton manuscripts were moved for safekeeping to Ashburnham house at Westminster. On the night of 23 October 1731 a fire broke out, in which many of the manuscripts were damaged, and a few completely destroyed. Beowulf escaped the fire relatively intact [the edges of some pages scorched] but it suffered greater loss by handling in the following years, with letters crumbling away from the outer portions of its pages. Placed in paper frames in 1845, the manuscript remains incredibly fragile, and can be handled only with the utmost care.” (British Library, “Beowulf ”).
3 (Tolkien, Monsters, 33). Tolkien delivered the Sir Israel Gollancz Memorial Lecture to the British Academy on November 25, 1936. That lecture, “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics,” was subsequently published in Volume 22 of the Proceedings of the British Academy and has been reprinted many times. It has been called “the single most influential article ever written on Beowulf in the poem’s
200-year critical history” (Drout, “Seventy-five Years Later”, 6).
4 Temple, 428–9.
5 George Brewerton was “an energetic man […], one of the few assistant masters at the school who specialized in the teaching of English literature. […] Always a fierce teacher, he demanded that his pupils should use the plain old words of the English language. If a boy employed the term ‘manure’ Brewerton would roar out: ‘Manure? Call it muck! Say it three times! Muck, muck, muck!’” (Carpenter, Tolkien,
27–8; italics original).
6 Carpenter, Tolkien, 35.
7 Beowulf and the language in which it is written are difficult for undergraduates, and nowadays even for graduate students. But in Tolkien’s view, “Old English (or Anglo-Saxon) is not a very difficult language, though it is neglected […]”; however, he admitted that “the idiom and diction of Old English verse is not easy” (Tolkien, Monsters, 51). This is perhaps an understatement, and one suspects that Lewis’s approach might have found more success with the average college student.
8 Hooper, 749.
9 Béorscipe is an Old English word for a feast or revel. These events were a centerpiece in medieval English culture, as typified by the unflagging revels at Heorot in Beowulf. The first element in the word means “beer,” which shows that the Anglo-Saxons had their priorities straight!
10 Scull and Hammond, 84–5.
11 Tolkien, Monsters, 14.
12 Scull and Hammond, 85–6.
13 For more, interested readers may consult Fisher, Bolintineanu, Christensen, among many other essays on the subject.
14 Tolkien, Hobbit, 228.
15 Tolkien, Letters, 31.
16 Tolkien, Monsters, 17.
17 Shippey, Road, 90.
18 Shippey, “Tolkien Society Annual Dinner” 15.
19 Gaiman and Avary, 5; italics original.
20 Gaiman and Avary, 5.
21Gaiman and Avary, 10.
22 Gaiman and Avary, 10.
23 Gaiman, “Astonishingly”.
24 Gaiman, Mirrors, 196.
25 Gaiman, Mirrors, 191.
26 Gaiman and Avary, 58 [screenplay pagination].
27 Gaiman and Avary, 87 [screenplay pagination].
28 (Sweet, 202). This theory has been joined by several others over the history of Beowulf scholarship, but it remains the most popular. Even if the etymology “bee-wolf ” is correct, this might not be a kenning for bear after all, but rather woodpecker (see Skeat, 163).
29 Dr. Virago [pseudonym]. “A diminished Beowulf, a shrinking Grendel, a wussy Wealhtheow, and Grendel’s MILF.”
30 Ibid.
31 Nokes, Richard Scott. “Beowulf Movie Review.”
32 Stanley, 105.
33 Gummere, 2–3.
34 Lawrence, 9.
35 At the same time, the Beowulf poet had a clear agenda to promote the new faith, while Gaiman clearly did not. Tolkien probably falls somewhere in between. The goals of the Beowulf poet are clear, and while some may consider them to be artistic faults, they should not be regarded as thematic ones. “When early scholars traced the mythological parallels of Beowulf, they did not reckon with the mind of a poet well-versed in Christian apologetic techniques against the pagans, deliberately using, and diminishing the stature of, older myths for his Christian didactic purposes; an imaginative explorer who obliterated most of the tracks of his journey; an ingenious craftsman creating from strangely assorted stones of native tradition a mosaic of symbolic design. Yet the assumption of such a mind, and such a context, would do much to explain the enigmas of Beowulf.” (Dronke, 325). Moreover: “[a]lthough the Christian veneer seems the least admirable part of the poem, from a literary point of view, it may, by a curious irony, have saved the whole from destruction, in days when many a bonfire of old manuscripts was lit for the faith” (Lawrence, 15).
36 Beowulf is part of the Nowell Codex (named for Laurence Nowell, Dean of Litchfield, died 1576, the first known owner of the manuscript). The Nowell Codex is itself one of two manuscripts bound together in Codex Vitellius, A, xv, part of the famous Cotton Library, now a part the British Library. Beowulf is the next to last work in its codex.
37 Stanley, 105–6.
38 Lawrence, 14.
39 Roberts, “Cast of Beowulf Interview”.
40 Lee and Solopova, 109.
41 Stoker, xvi–iii.
The Problem with Bod:
Examining the Evolution of Neil Gaiman’s Response to C.S. Lewis’s The Last Battle in “The Problem of Susan” and The Graveyard Book
Chelsey Kendig As children’s books, The Chronicles of Narnia and Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Bookpartake of literary traditions that are as old as the art of storytelling itself.”1 The stories most deeply embedded in Western Culture are those that were told to children: Bible stories, Greek myths, and fairy tales. In Children’s Literature: A Reader’s History from Aesop to Harry Potter,Seth Lerer documents the ways in which Greek and Roman children were taught using the texts of Homer and Virgil. Children of the American Revolution toted hornbooks featuring Bible quotes, and scholar Jack Zipes has put endless time and energy into examining the ways in which fairy tales were manipulated to have the most didactic power.
Gaiman seems to be very aware of the power of children’s books. In his short story “The Problem of Susan,” the main character is a professor of children’s literature, and she comments on this phenomenon, when she discusses “the Victorian notion of the purity and sanctity of childhood [which] demanded that fiction for children should be made…well…pure… and sanctimonious.”2 This observation is important, because this story is focused on exploring the issues in C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia, and through it Gaiman illustrates that Lewis’s beliefs seem to be similar to the Victorians. Gaiman himself has said he believes in the “remarkable power of children’s literature.”3 The Chronicles of Narnia certainly seem to have had power, or at least influence, over Gaiman.
Everywhere in literature, but perhaps most pronouncedly in children’s literature, there is a visible progression from era to era. The popular books of the previous generation are passed down and influence the writing of the next generation of authors. In the way that Elizabethan children studied Roman classics, and then as adults alluded to these classics in their writings, so do today’s children read authors such as Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. These works become, in
a way, modern myth—referenced explicitly and implicitly by later authors. Neil Gaiman noted he read The Chronicles of Narnia hundreds of times as a boy, and then “aloud as an adult, twice, to my children,”4 and “there is so much in these books I love.”5 His works show this familiarity and this love, but they also question The Chronicles of Narnia—questions that lead to the next addition to the myths that build cultural conscious.
The Narnia tales are centered on the four Pevensie siblings who discover another world in the back of a magical wardrobe found in a relative’s country house. Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy are not the only ones to have adventures in Narnia, but they are the central figures of the seven tales, and known as High Kings and Queens of Narnia. Lewis’s tales are, on the surface, moralistic adventure books that headed the trend of children’s fantasy for years afterward—but they also rely heavily on Christian allegory, which Gaiman and other critics frequently take issue with. This is particularly important in the final book of the series, The Last Battle, where all the High Kings and Queens of Narnia are admitted back into the magical world—which symbolizes heaven—after they die in the real world—all except Susan. The designation of The Chronicles of Narniaas modern myth can be seen in the way readers, particularly Gaiman, question Susan’s expulsion from heaven. First, critics such as David Downing and Laura Miller attempted to explain Susan’s exile with what is known about her in the books, and about Lewis in the writing of them, but this leads to further complications. Then comes “The Problem of Susan” wherein Gaiman creates a fix—a story of sorts, one that highlights the problems of Susan’s exile within the world of The Chronicles and within the “real world.” These explicit examinations aren’t enough, though. In the way that the Romans adapted Greek myth to incorporate their own beliefs and worldviews, and in the way that the New Testament adapts for a changed world, The Graveyard Book is a children’s book aimed at a contemporary audience that serves to solve—whether done intentionally or not—the problem of Susan.
Before one can understand the way this is done, one must understand what the problem of Susan is and the depths of the attempts that have been made to solve it.
Before delving into the depths of Lewis’s controversial decision to ban Susan from Narnia, I will first acknowledge that in a letter to a reader dated 22 January 1957 he says that:
….the books don’t tell us what happens to Susan. She is left alive in this world at the end, having by then turned into a rather silly, conceited young woman, but there is plenty of time for her to mend and perhaps she will get to Aslan’s country in the end in her own way.6
He qualifies this, saying, “I think that whatever she had seen in Narnia she could (if she was the sort that wanted to) persuade herself, as she grew up, that it was all nonsense.”7 This quote illustrates what Lewis believes he is doing by keeping Susan out of Narnia. Lewis is punishing her for not “learn[ing] to know [Aslan] by that name”― meaning Jesus, which was “the reason why you were brought to Narnia that by knowing me here for a little you may know me better there.”8 Thus, one assumes that the way to be exiled from Aslan’s country at the end of the book would be to prove unfaithful during the time in the other world. What causes Gaiman and other scholars to question this is that Lewis is not consistent enough with his characterization of Susan for this insistence upon her lack of faith to be supported.
David C. Downing in Into the Wardrobe: CS Lewis in the Narnia Chronicles believes that at the end of The Last Battle, “Lewis took the Christian doctrine of salvation and applied it to each person’s spiritual journey as a whole.”9 Does he do so with Susan? Certainly, Susan is shown to be the most doubting character in the books. Upon first entering Narnia she says, “I—I wonder if there is any point going on. I wish we’d never come,” but she quickly adds, “but I think we must do something for Mr. Whatever-His-Name-Is—I mean the faun,”10 showing her willingness to adapt her thinking. In Prince Caspian, she also has a moment of doubt wherein she “really believed it was him—he I mean—yesterday, and I really believed it was him tonight when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I’d let myself.”11 This admission reveals much about Susan’s desire to be certain, her attention to exactness in her correction of her grammar, and her willingness to listen to doubt and fear.
However, these doubts are part of her overall journey, and she is forgiven for them. Immediately after she admits them Aslan says: “come let me breathe on you. Forget [your fears]. Are you brave now?”12 Downing believes that in doing this, “Aslan expresses his spirit in breathing upon his creatures,”13 thus after this moment Susan is given strength from the Holy Spirit. Is this redemption still not enough for Lewis? Even when he admits to a reader in a letter dated 27April 1956—the same year The Last Battlewas released—that “people do find it hard to keep on feeling as if you believed in the next life, but then it is just as hard to keep on feeling as if you believed you were going to be nothing after your death. I know this because in the days before I was a Christian I used to try.”14 Did he think Susan was falling victim to this difficulty? That her doubts were strong enough to undermine the power of Aslan’s spirit and her own willingness to accept Aslan? Perhaps. And perhaps he set out to do this from the start. When Susan first hears the name Aslan she “felt as though some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her,”15implying that she’s set up not to completely grasp Aslan, but always have him floating by her.
But Susan’s lack of faith and willingness to doubt do not emerge in the conversation wherein the Kings and Queens of Narnia discuss Susan’s exclusion from Narnia.
“My sister Susan,” answered Peter shortly and gravely, “Is no longer a friend of Narnia.” “Yes,” said Eustace “and whenever you’ve tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia she says ‘What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those games we used to play as children.’”
“Oh Susan!” said Jill. “She’s interested in nothing nowadays except nylons and lipsticks and invitations. She was always a jolly sight too keen on being grown up.”
“Grown up indeed!” said Lady Polly. “I wish she would grow-up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now and she’ll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one’s life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can.”
“Well, don’t let’s talk about that now,” said Peter. “Look! Here are some lovely fruit trees…”16 Eustace does point out that Susan no longer believes in Narnia, but it is not tied to a lack of faith, but rather to a different transgression— the desire to “grow up.” Not only has this desire been established in Narnian canon,17 but it deviates wildly from the established idea that Aslan’s Country is an allegory for Heaven. It is never acknowledged that the other Pevensies were particularly religious in the real world, except for Lucy’s statement that “In our world too, a stable once held something in it that was bigger than the whole world.”18 It is assumed that they are, and if this passage had been omitted it might have been assumed that Susan was not faithful to God, and this was why she was excluded from Narnia. But Lewis chose to include this passage, and he chose to write the rest of the novels allegorically, and so the disparity remains, which eventually led to the idea for Neil Gaiman’s short story “The Problem of Susan.”
Feminist critic Laura Miller comments on Susan’s damnation in her book The Magician’s Book: A Skeptic’s Adventures in Narnia. Like Neil Gaiman, she read and loved The Chronicles of Narnia as a child, but encountered difficulties with them once she’d grown up. She says, “I wanted to grow up didn’t I? As a child I’d always thought Lewis was on my side in that, as a young adult I realized he’d disappointed me.”19 Miller focuses on Lewis’s purportedly anti-female line, summarizing his attitude toward Susan’s plight as “if she keeps on as she has been, preoccupied with feminine nonsense, this alone will be enough to bring her to a bad end.”
20 After an interview with Neil Gaiman she states that “[Gaiman] maintains [that] there was a level on which, of course [Susan] doesn’t get to heaven because she’s just like the witches, and they wear dresses and they’re pretty,”21 suggesting that Lewis is anti-female. Certainly, many of his villains are beautiful women—the witches mentioned in Gaiman’s quote. On the other hand, during the third novel in the Chronicles, The Horse and His Boy, Susan is described as being “the most beautiful woman he had ever seen” by Shasta, the main character, and there are no negative implications tied to this. Gaiman, too, seems to realize this, or at least move past this explanation for Lewis’s damnation of Susan, because vanity is a small issue in “The Problem of Susan.”
Lewis’s letters suggest his prejudice isn’t necessarily toward women or the idea of beauty. It’s toward adolescence — or at least the idealization of adolescence in society. This bias emerges several times in his letters, most often in his correspondence with a nameless American woman whom he’d never met, but to whom he wrote regularly. In a letter dated August 1, 1953 Lewis writes:
Yes, I think there is lots to be said for no longer being young…it is just as well to be past the age at which one expects or desires to attract the opposite sex. It’s natural enough in our species, as in others, that the young birds should show off their plumage—in the mating season. But the trouble is that there’s a tendency to rush all the birds on to that age as soon as possible and then keep them there as late as possible, this the real value of the other parts of life in a senseless, pitiful attempt to prolong what, after all, is neither its wisest, its happiest, or its most innocent period.22
This reasoning is almost the exact sentiment he has Polly express about Susan, although Polly’s statement lacks the sympathetic admission that flashy behavior is allowed “in the mating season.” It’s impossible to say definitively why Lewis became so steadfast in this view in the three years separating the letter from The Last Battle, but perhaps had to do with a realization that his readers were approaching the period of life he so disliked. In 1962 a child with whom he’d often exchanged correspondence informed him of her choice of college, and he says, “I should however have thought you could have found what you wanted nearer home.”23 Lewis shows disdain for the adventuresome nature of adolescence —fine, apparently for children— and the message he obviously felt he needed to impart. Miller says “Lewis remarked that asking yourself ‘what do modern children need?’ can never produce a good story,”24 but he wished to impart to modern children the idea that adolescent desires were to be frowned upon, and he didn’t care that he contradicted the nature of the character he’d created to do so.
The Mythological Dimensions of Neil Gaiman Page 4
