Rings, Returning, and the Narniad, part one: Christianity in Literature (plus something about Christmas)
This month’s words: Merry Christmas!
Japanese has Meri Kurisumasu; these are loanwords and sound closer to the original English than they look — the U’s all but disappear in quick speech (though they reappear in song).
Hawaiian supposedly has Mele Kalikimaka: I don’t know if this is “real” or a later invention (and a song), but again it’s obviously derived from English. If you think K doesn’t really sound like S, think about the letter C and a cat in a city. (That form of palatalization is common in the world’s languages.)
Italian has Buon Natale, the cognates of which are two women’s names: Bonnie Natalie. Actually the first comes from the same root as “bonny” (=”good” or “pleasant”, as sung in in folk songs) and the second is related to “Nativity” with a different suffix (the word “natal” is not entirely foreign to English). So: Good (or pleasant) Nativity.
In my Fyorian conlang (for my Tond books), one could either wish someone Méri Krísmas (obviously English loanwords again) or, with actual Fyorian words: Kíilikas ke Ntéldormátu! “Happy Anointed One Festival!” or even Kíilikas káa Ntéldormátu! “Happiest Anointed One Festival!”
Kíilikas = happy or merry (related to a word for happy laughter)
Ntéldormátu = Christ (“Anointed One”) Festival
Téldas = to anoint, choose, set aside for special purpose
Ntéldas = to be anointed (passive of Téldas)
Ntéldor = one who is anointed
Mátu = Festival
And while we’re at it, Kíilikas ke Atáu Áen! (Happy New Year!)
With these in mind, I’ll review some books where the Anointed One appears (symbolically, at least) in literature. I originally posted these reviews on the website of the local public library.
The Lord of the Rings
by J. R. R. Tolkien
Well, this doesn’t really need an introduction, does it? THE classic of the fantasy genre (some would say, erroneously, its founder), mother of countless similar books and whole worlds, video games, album covers, Led Zep songs, symphonies, parodies, stage plays, conlangs, and two movie versions. It’s nice to re-read it again, and to experience where all of this comes from. And yes – it IS quite an experience. (...And no, it's not really a trilogy.) Obviously there’s the contrast of the human (or hobbit) drama versus the mythic sweep of the narrative — partly supported by some of the characters’ homespun speech on one hand and the grand archaic language on the other (though the latter, not based on any actual historical form of English, gets a little overwrought in the Gondor section). Almost as obvious, there’s the allegory: Christian (there are three archetypal Christ-figures, if you think about it, as well as discussions on the nature of good and evil); WWII (obvious references to Nazism); environmentalist; possible others — part of the novel’s strength is its refusal to be shoved into a single interpretation. (In a development that would have left Tolkien aghast, some have claimed it to be satanic and/or a manifesto for white supremacy — both claims are as absurd as those philosophies themselves.) BUT — all of these interpretations (including the bad ones, I suppose) can be assigned to most fantasy novels, or novels of any genre. LOTR still stands apart. I think part of what’s compelling about it (even decades after its publication) is the comprehensiveness of the world that it creates and the fact that the characters are an intrinsic part of that world. Often a character (or the narrator!) refers to the mythology or long history of Middle Earth (which, obviously, a reader would not know) and makes no further comment — and the other characters immediately know the reference. We readers know the reference too, somewhere in our hearts and not our conscious minds. Middle Earth is completely self-referential in that way, but, in Tolkien’s own words, still refers to “things higher and deeper and darker” than mundane reality. These multiple layers indicate many ways to enjoy the tale, and therein lies its secret. Read and enjoy.
Pilgrim’s Regress
by C. S. Lewis
This is a fascinating, dense, deep resurrection of a long-extinct genre, the allegorical dream journey (see the Visio Tnugdali and Dante's Divine Comedy). It is also something of a commentary on The Pilgrim’s Progress. It contains quite a collection of quotables: “security is mortals' greatest enemy”, “What does not satisfy when we find it, was not the thing we were desiring.” ...And one of my favorites:
“Alas,” said he, “I have never learned to dive.”
“There is nothing to learn,” said she, “The art of diving is not to do anything new, but simply to cease doing something. You have only to let yourself go.”
Alas, this tale suffers from a flaw: there is what at first appears to be a misunderstanding of modern art as nothing but an expression of nihilism (an anathema to Lewis' religion) — but this book was written when “modern” meant Expressionism and Dada and the chapter in question would probably read quite differently had Lewis been aware of Rothko and Messiaen. Otherwise, though, quite enjoyable.
Planet Narnia: The Seven Heavens in the Imagination of C.S. Lewis
by Michael Ward
This is an interesting read; a detailed analysis of how C. S. Lewis thoroughly subsumed the old pagan world into the Christian symbolism in the “Narniad” (The Chronicles of Narnia) in more subtle ways than including dryads and minotaurs in the narrative. What’s particularly intriguing is that all of this had actually been done centuries earlier, in Medieval Europe — and Narnia does seem to be a slice of the Medieval world brought back to life. That’s partly what makes Narnia so enduring and magical (along with longer works by other authors: The Lord of the Rings and, to a lesser extent, the Dune series) — it’s a newly invented world, but it has deep, deep roots. On the minus side, some of the examples seem to be a bit of a stretch (particularly the chapter about Venus, which would not be appropriate in a book for children) and there’s no proof that Lewis had this detailed overarching astrological plan in mind to begin with. It’s worth thinking about anyway. And then, after thinking about it, read the original Narnia books. They're as entertaining to adults as to children.
However, please do not read “The Horse and His Boy” or “The Last Battle” (Narnia V and VII) to children without a disclaimer. There is some problematic material in these books, though I don't intend to go into that now, in this Christmassy blog post. I will bring up the topic the next time around.
Japanese has Meri Kurisumasu; these are loanwords and sound closer to the original English than they look — the U’s all but disappear in quick speech (though they reappear in song).
Hawaiian supposedly has Mele Kalikimaka: I don’t know if this is “real” or a later invention (and a song), but again it’s obviously derived from English. If you think K doesn’t really sound like S, think about the letter C and a cat in a city. (That form of palatalization is common in the world’s languages.)
Italian has Buon Natale, the cognates of which are two women’s names: Bonnie Natalie. Actually the first comes from the same root as “bonny” (=”good” or “pleasant”, as sung in in folk songs) and the second is related to “Nativity” with a different suffix (the word “natal” is not entirely foreign to English). So: Good (or pleasant) Nativity.
In my Fyorian conlang (for my Tond books), one could either wish someone Méri Krísmas (obviously English loanwords again) or, with actual Fyorian words: Kíilikas ke Ntéldormátu! “Happy Anointed One Festival!” or even Kíilikas káa Ntéldormátu! “Happiest Anointed One Festival!”
Kíilikas = happy or merry (related to a word for happy laughter)
Ntéldormátu = Christ (“Anointed One”) Festival
Téldas = to anoint, choose, set aside for special purpose
Ntéldas = to be anointed (passive of Téldas)
Ntéldor = one who is anointed
Mátu = Festival
And while we’re at it, Kíilikas ke Atáu Áen! (Happy New Year!)
With these in mind, I’ll review some books where the Anointed One appears (symbolically, at least) in literature. I originally posted these reviews on the website of the local public library.
The Lord of the Rings
by J. R. R. Tolkien
Well, this doesn’t really need an introduction, does it? THE classic of the fantasy genre (some would say, erroneously, its founder), mother of countless similar books and whole worlds, video games, album covers, Led Zep songs, symphonies, parodies, stage plays, conlangs, and two movie versions. It’s nice to re-read it again, and to experience where all of this comes from. And yes – it IS quite an experience. (...And no, it's not really a trilogy.) Obviously there’s the contrast of the human (or hobbit) drama versus the mythic sweep of the narrative — partly supported by some of the characters’ homespun speech on one hand and the grand archaic language on the other (though the latter, not based on any actual historical form of English, gets a little overwrought in the Gondor section). Almost as obvious, there’s the allegory: Christian (there are three archetypal Christ-figures, if you think about it, as well as discussions on the nature of good and evil); WWII (obvious references to Nazism); environmentalist; possible others — part of the novel’s strength is its refusal to be shoved into a single interpretation. (In a development that would have left Tolkien aghast, some have claimed it to be satanic and/or a manifesto for white supremacy — both claims are as absurd as those philosophies themselves.) BUT — all of these interpretations (including the bad ones, I suppose) can be assigned to most fantasy novels, or novels of any genre. LOTR still stands apart. I think part of what’s compelling about it (even decades after its publication) is the comprehensiveness of the world that it creates and the fact that the characters are an intrinsic part of that world. Often a character (or the narrator!) refers to the mythology or long history of Middle Earth (which, obviously, a reader would not know) and makes no further comment — and the other characters immediately know the reference. We readers know the reference too, somewhere in our hearts and not our conscious minds. Middle Earth is completely self-referential in that way, but, in Tolkien’s own words, still refers to “things higher and deeper and darker” than mundane reality. These multiple layers indicate many ways to enjoy the tale, and therein lies its secret. Read and enjoy.
Pilgrim’s Regress
by C. S. Lewis
This is a fascinating, dense, deep resurrection of a long-extinct genre, the allegorical dream journey (see the Visio Tnugdali and Dante's Divine Comedy). It is also something of a commentary on The Pilgrim’s Progress. It contains quite a collection of quotables: “security is mortals' greatest enemy”, “What does not satisfy when we find it, was not the thing we were desiring.” ...And one of my favorites:
“Alas,” said he, “I have never learned to dive.”
“There is nothing to learn,” said she, “The art of diving is not to do anything new, but simply to cease doing something. You have only to let yourself go.”
Alas, this tale suffers from a flaw: there is what at first appears to be a misunderstanding of modern art as nothing but an expression of nihilism (an anathema to Lewis' religion) — but this book was written when “modern” meant Expressionism and Dada and the chapter in question would probably read quite differently had Lewis been aware of Rothko and Messiaen. Otherwise, though, quite enjoyable.
Planet Narnia: The Seven Heavens in the Imagination of C.S. Lewis
by Michael Ward
This is an interesting read; a detailed analysis of how C. S. Lewis thoroughly subsumed the old pagan world into the Christian symbolism in the “Narniad” (The Chronicles of Narnia) in more subtle ways than including dryads and minotaurs in the narrative. What’s particularly intriguing is that all of this had actually been done centuries earlier, in Medieval Europe — and Narnia does seem to be a slice of the Medieval world brought back to life. That’s partly what makes Narnia so enduring and magical (along with longer works by other authors: The Lord of the Rings and, to a lesser extent, the Dune series) — it’s a newly invented world, but it has deep, deep roots. On the minus side, some of the examples seem to be a bit of a stretch (particularly the chapter about Venus, which would not be appropriate in a book for children) and there’s no proof that Lewis had this detailed overarching astrological plan in mind to begin with. It’s worth thinking about anyway. And then, after thinking about it, read the original Narnia books. They're as entertaining to adults as to children.
However, please do not read “The Horse and His Boy” or “The Last Battle” (Narnia V and VII) to children without a disclaimer. There is some problematic material in these books, though I don't intend to go into that now, in this Christmassy blog post. I will bring up the topic the next time around.
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