Luke Zhan: "Who's Your Designated Driver?"

Who’s Your Designated Driver?
By Luke Zhan

While browsing SFF World, I stumbled upon R. Scott Bakker’s “Why Fantasy and Why Now?”. Particularly intriguing was his belief that fantasy serves as an “…attempt to give meaning to one’s life by forgetting, for a time, the world that one lives in.” Now, if we interpret this in context of Joseph Campbell’s monomyth, there are two sections of it that best exemplify Bakker’s criterion: “crossing the first threshold” and “crossing the return threshold.” The former represents the protagonist’s departure from normalcy while the latter signals their return and self-improvement. These are the components that typical readers (with typical lives) desire most. However, low and high fantasies accomplish the two differently, as seen in Ursula Le Guin’s A Wizard of Earthsea and Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. My question for you: consider which fantasy is your designated driver, where it takes you, and how it shows you the way when you’re lost.

             “Crossing the first threshold” is done more aggressively in low fantasy; the protagonist must cross into a world utterly different from their own. It is this breaking of boundaries, this smashing of rules and limits that launches the protagonist’s adventures. In the case of Neverwhere, Richard unknowingly crosses the threshold when he follows the marquis de Carabas “…into the wall beneath the manhole, feeling so far out of his depth that it didn’t even occur to him to question any further.” As a result, he is quickly confronted with and forced to adapt to the strange world and characters of London Below. The change in setting strips the protagonist to the core of their character; they lose their status, expectations, and circumstances. Richard quickly realizes that although his life “…had prepared him perfectly for a job in Securities, for shopping at the supermarket…”, he must now face his conversion to “…an un-person on the roofs and in the sewers of London…” In high fantasy, though, a transition between worlds doesn’t need to occur because, well, we’re placed in an unfamiliar setting from the get-go. It makes sense that the crossing of thresholds isn’t so much traversing a physical barrier between worlds as it is surmounting a personal challenge for the protagonist. Ged, our hero in Le Guin’s A Wizard of Earthsea, is confronted with the prospect of training at Roke but in return must abandon Gont, Ogion, and any sense of constancy in his life. He inevitably chooses to go, thus propelling Ged forward into the unknown.

            In low fantasy, “crossing the return threshold” entails returning to the original world and juxtaposing it with the fantasy world. The protagonist uses their newfound experiences to view their world and themselves through a different lens. Although Richard initially rejoices in reclaiming his life in London Above, the challenges he has overcome in London Below force a redefinition of his character. During his conversation with Gary, Richard reflects on his unbearably normal routine in London Above and somewhat rhetorically asks, “Work. Home. The pub. Meeting girls. Living in the city. Life. Is that all there is?” For Richard, apparently not. His time spent in London Below has influenced him greatly, yet he’s only able to realize this by returning to London Above, where he sees his previous life for what it really was. It’s no surprise that he summons the marquis de Carabas and together they go “…back into the darkness, leaving nothing behind them…” On the contrary, high fantasy emphasizes the completion of the quest and the protagonist’s subsequent catharsis and introspection. After conquering his shadow, Ged concludes that he “…had made himself whole: a man: who, knowing his whole true self, cannot be used or possessed by any power other than himself…” The protagonist must turn inward to cross the return threshold, and it makes sense given that they began their journey facing a personal struggle. Although Ged ventures far from home, I doubt he would gain or learn much going back to Gont. The high fantasy setting simply creates a unique backdrop for the story and the protagonist’s transformation must occur primarily through their own struggles.

Low fantasy may be “…slouched down in the seat, holding the steering wheel with one hand, and wearing sunglasses” (Sarah LaPolla). Yet, it’s still a competent driver, heading towards very much the same destinations as high fantasy. It’s just the road they take that differs. So, don’t worry, get in either car because each driver does their job just as well.