Creation Parallels in The Chronicles of Narnia: The Magician's Nephew

Last month, I started reading The Chronicles of Narnia (I have an edition where all seven books are printed in one volume).  While reading The Magician's Nephew, I found multiple parallels between the founding of Narnia and Creation.

Chapter Nine (titled The Founding of Narnia) starts with "The Lion was pacing to and fro about that empty land and singing his new song.  ...  And as he walked and sang, the valley grew green with grass."  Polly notices that there's a "connection between the music and the things that were happening" and that "when you listened to his song you heard the things he was making up: when you looked around you, you saw them."  The Lion's singing is similar to God's speaking at Creation.  The first six days of Creation start with "And God said," followed by the existence of whatever God called into being.

A few chapters later (in Chapter Twelve), Aslan (The Lion) gives a horse wings.  He then asks the horse whether it's good, to which the horse replies, "It is very good."  It's not as similar as the parallel between God's speaking and Aslan's singing to call their respective worlds into existence, but it does bear some resemblance to the repeated "And God saw that it was good" throughout the account of Creation.

In Chapter Eleven, after the creation of Narnia, Aslan tells the Cabby and his wife that "You shall rule and name all these creatures, and do justice among them, and protect them from their enemies when enemies arise."  Aslan gives them dominion over Narnia in the same way that God gave dominion over the Earth to man:  "Now out of the ground the Lord God had formed every beast of the field and every bird of the heavens and brought them to the man to see what he would call them.  And whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name" (Genesis 2:19).  Chapter Nine details how Aslan also brought forth creatures from the Earth:  "The humps moved and swelled till they burst, and the crumbled earth poured out of them, and from each hump there came out an animal," which is similar to God's forming the animals from "out of the ground."

Both accounts (Creation and the founding of Narnia) also contain the entrance of evil into the world.  In Chapter Eleven of The Magician's Nephew, Aslan declares that "before the new, clean world I gave you is seven hours old, a force of evil has already entered it; waked and brought hither by this son of Adam."  This parallels with the serpent's deception of Eve, which results in man's "knowing good and evil" (Genesis 3:22).  Aslan's calling Digory a "son of Adam" strengthens the Biblical connection.

Both entrances of evil are linked with a tree, although not in the same way.  In the Bible, the tree is what evil uses in order to enter the world; in The Magician's Nephew, the tree will provide the seed for an-other tree that Aslan will plant in Narnia so that it will be protected from the Witch, the representation of evil.  The trees function differently, but both are accompanied by temptation.  The serpent tells Eve that if she eats of the tree in the Garden of Eden, "your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil" (Genesis 3:5).  In Chapter Thirteen of The Magician's Nephew, the Witch tells Digory that if he eats the fruit of the tree within the gates, "you and I will both live for ever and be king and queen of this whole world."  This tree within the gates actually bears some resemblance to the second tree in the Garden of Eden - the tree of life, which would grant man life forever if he ate of it (Genesis 3:22).

I've only just started to really get into C.S. Lewis' works, so while I've recognized a lot of the Biblical parallels he includes in The Chronicles of Narnia, I don't really know why he includes so many.

The Apple in Kafka's "The Metamorphosis"

For Franz Kafka's 130th birthday on 3 July 2013, the Google Doodle was a scene from "The Metamorphosis."

I was really excited that they included the apple, and then I started thinking about what rôle the apple has in the story.  Last month, I finally re-read "The Metamorphosis" to see if the apple could represent original sin.  The edition of "The Metamorphosis" that I have includes critical essays, which helped a bit in determining whether my view was a valid one (my view certainly isn't as far-fetched as some).  I think I've come to the conclusion that the apple could represent original sin, but only narrowly, as other elements of the story don't have the same religious context.

Like original sin is inherited from one's parents after Eve took the fruit from the tree, Gregor is pummeled with apples by his father.  My edition notes the "religious connotation of [Kafka's] images," which includes the apple.  The explanatory notes in my edition confirm this connection between the apples and the tree (and between the tree and sin), adding that - unlike Eve - Gregor does not reach out for the fruit, but it is forced upon him.  The story also mentions debts that the father has that Gregor has to pay.  In some ways, this financial debt could be seen as a sort of moral deficiency.  The explanatory notes remark that "the debt that Gregor assumed for his parents and must pay resembles original sin."  Furthermore, Gregor's metamorphosis into a bug sort of reflects his fallen state.  As the introduction in my edition states, as a bug Gregor is "without a place in God's order."

As a whole, I don't think the story works as a religious allegory (if it were meant to be allegorical, I think there would be some salvation for Gregor that would restore him to his human form), but the image of the apple certainly works within that religious context.

"Fustian" in Catch-22

If I run across a word that I don't know while I'm reading a book, I generally look up the definition.  This is why I looked up fustian when I ran across it in chapter twenty-four of Catch-22 last month.  According to Merriam-Webster, fustian means "a strong cotton and linen fabric" or "high-flown or affected writing or speech."  I was really glad I looked up the definition because I think fustian is a key word in the sentence in which it appears:  "Yossarian was unmoved by the fustian charade of the burial ceremony, and by Milo's crushing bereavement."  For some context: Yossarian is sitting in a tree watching a funeral while Milo is complaining to him that no one is buying his Egyptian cotton.  Milo does notice the funeral and even comments on it, but he seems more concerned about his cotton:

"That's terrible," Milo grieved, and his large brown eyes filled with tears.  "That poor kid.  It really is terrible."  He bit his trembling lip hard, and his voice rose with emotion when he continued.  "And it will get even worse if the mess halls don't agree to buy my cotton."

A lot of things in the book are inverted like this or don't make sense in some other way, and I think fustian indicates that here.  Both of its meanings are applicable: it could apply to the funeral in the sense of "high-flown or affected writing or speech," and it could apply to Milo's predicament with his Egyptian cotton in the sense of "a strong cotton and linen fabric."  So the sentence could be re-written as "Yossarian was unmoved by the crushing bereavement of the burial ceremony, and by Milo's fustian charade" and still make sense.  In fact, it might make more sense that way.

While it's not related to fustian, I found something else interesting while reading Catch-22.  In chapter thirty-nine (subtitled "The Eternal City," one of the few subtitles that isn't a person), there's this sentence: "Buildings and featureless shapes flowed by him [Yossarian] noiselessly as though borne past immutably on the surface of some rank and timeless tide."  I couldn't help but notice the similarities between this sentence and the last sentence of Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby:  "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."  Although the movements they describe seem to be opposite, there are structural similarities between Heller's "borne past immutably" and Fitzgerald's "borne back ceaselessly," and both sentences mention time and contain nautical imagery.  Both seem to describe a sort of desolation and helplessness too.

Seeming/Being in Hamlet

When I read Hamlet last month, I started finding some instances that involve the dichotomy of seeming and being that Hamlet mentions early in the play:

Seems, madam?  Nay, it is.  I know not "seems."
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forced breathe,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected havior of the visage,
Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief,
That can denote me truly.  These indeed seem,
For they are actions that a man might play;
But I have that within which passeth show -
These but the trappings and the suits of woe (I.ii.81-91)

Shortly after I started reading Hamlet, I also started Macbeth, and one of the essays in my edition (David Scott Kastan's "Words, Words, Words: Understanding Shakespeare's Language," which I think appears in all the Barnes & Noble editions of Shakespeare's plays) mentions this seeming/being dichotomy with regard to Claudius' announcement of his marriage to Gertrude:

Sometimes it is not the network of imagery but the very syntax that speaks, as when Claudius announces his marriage to Hamlet's mother:

Therefore our sometime sister, now our Queen,
Th' imperial jointress to this warlike state,
Have we--as 'twere with a defeated joy,
With an auspicious and a dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral and with dole in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole--
Taken to wife. (Hamlet, 1.2.8-14)

All he really wants to say here is that he has married Gertrude, his former sister-in-law: "Therefore our sometime sister... Have we... Taken to wife."  But the straightforward sentence gets interrupted and complicated, revealing his own discomfort with the announcement.  ...  The very unnaturalness of the sentence is what alerts us that we are meant to understand more than the simple relation of fact.

While reading Hamlet, I found an-other instance of this - where the syntax of the sentence reveals more meaning than the words themselves.  When Ophelia enters in Act II, Scene 1, she tells Polonius that she has been "so affrighted."  When asked the cause, she explains that

Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced,
No hat upon his head, his stockings fouled,
Ungart'red, and down-gyved to his ankle;
Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other,
And with a look so piteous in purport
As if he had been loosed out of hell
To speak of horrors--he comes before me.  (II.i.87-93)

Ophelia does the same thing that Claudius does in the previous act.  While Hamlet's appearance could very well contribute to Ophelia's fright of him, the only action in those seven lines is that "Lord Hamlet... comes before [her]."  Again, the syntax illustrates more than just the words, and here, it indicates the seeming/being dichotomy that's so important in the play.  Ophelia is putting more emphasis on what Hamlet looks like than on what he does.  More emphasis on how he seems (by means of his appearance) than on what he is (indicated by his action).  Interestingly, Hamlet himself points out this speaking syntax when he tells one of the actors to "Suit the action to the word, the word to the action" (III.ii.17-18).

Before the play (the play within the play) starts, Hamlet shares his plan (observing Claudius' reaction to the play, which Hamlet has re-written to resemble Claudius' murdering King Hamlet) with Horatio, explaining that he will "rivet [his eyes] to [Claudius'] face, / And after [they] will both [their] judgments join / In censure of his seeming" (III.ii.86-88).  In light of the seeming/being distinction, the word choice here seems important, but I don't quite know the whole implication.  Part of it seems to be that characters base their actions (their being) on others' appearances (their seeming).  Hamlet exhibits this with his watching Claudius' reaction just as Ophelia demonstrates this in her explanation of her fear at Hamlet's appearance.  Still, I feel there's more to this that I'm not grasping.

Claudius is attentive to the seeming/being thing too.  In Act IV, he questions Laertes' grief over Polonius death, wondering if it's genuine or not:  "Laertes, was your father dear to you? /  Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, / A face without a heart?" (IV.vii.120-122).

While it's not directly related to seeming or being (although "without [judgement] we are pictures of mere beasts" may relate), I found Claudius' lines in Act IV, Scene 5 really interesting.  Ophelia, mentally unstable after her father's death, has just left the scene.

O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father's death.  O Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions!  First, her father slain;
Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
In hugger-mugger to inter him; poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
Without the which we are pictures of mere beasts;
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France;
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death,
Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear.  O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murd'ring piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death.  (IV.v.77-97)

Claudius is doing two different things here, and I can't quite believe either.  First, he's sympathizing for Ophelia and her unstable mental state because her father is dead, and yet Hamlet is in the same position without any of Claudius' good will.  Maybe Claudius views King Hamlet's death and its effect on Hamlet differently than he does Polonius' death and its effect on Ophelia because he had a hand in King Hamlet's death.  Still, it's almost literally incredible that he can't see how similar the situations are.

Second, he seems to be making puns about how he killed King Hamlet.  In Act I, Scene 5, the Ghost of King Hamlet explains that Claudius poured poison in his ear while he was sleeping in the orchard, which is how he died (I.v.66-82).  And here in Act IV, Claudius mentions "poison," a "father's death," "want[ing] not buzzers to infect his ear / With petilen[ce]," "In ear and ear," and "murd'ring."  He doesn't connect King Hamlet's death's effect on Hamlet with Polonius' death's effect on Ophelia, yet he seems to be remembering King Hamlet's death at the same time.