Michael
Thinks …Low Fantasy is Cool Enough For School
By:
Michael Adams
Despite
numerous warnings and various deterrents, I decided to do the unthinkable:
watch the BBC version of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere.
For two hours, I watched with amusement as the incredibly average Richard
Mayhew was transplanted from the mundane reality of London Above to the mysterious
world of London Below. While the mini-series was not as bad as I was led to
believe, I was left with two major feelings. First, I was stunned that all of
the characters in the show had thick British accents. As I read the
novelization of the series, it had never occurred to me that Richard and his
companions would have accents. Secondly, and more importantly, I also felt a renewed
interest in Richard’s journey through John Campbell’s Monomyth
and its relationship to low fantasy. As opposed to the far-fetched, high
fantasy adventures of characters like Ged in Ursula Le Guin’s A Wizard of
Earthsea , Richard’s experiences were more relatable to the average audience
member.
After
indulging in the exquisite quality and special effects of late 1990’s
television, I looked back at the novelization and felt like I could form a strong
connection to Richard’s experiences. During the “Call to Adventure” stage, in
which the protagonist of the story leaves his or normal life and enters into an
unfamiliar world, Richard helped Door, a young girl form London Below whose
“face was crusted with dirt and [whose] clothes were wet with blood” Neverwhere.
In the same way, while good Samaritans do not typically carry people back their
homes, seeing one person helping a complete stranger is not completely uncommon
in the normal world. Similarly, Richard’s “Crossing the First Threshold” consisted
of crossing Night’s Bridge with the young rat-speaker Anesthesia and voyaging
to the Floating market. Although I have never felt darkness, as Richard put it,
“slip into [my] lungs, behind [my] eyes, and into [my] mouth”, an irrational
fear of the dark and nightmares are an experience that many young children have
lived through and huddled by their teddy bear night lights to escape.
On
a very different note, the events that the main protagonist in Le Guin’s novel encountered
were much more alien. Since high fantasy books like A Wizard of Earthsea heavily rely on the mystical and magical
aspects of the story, the Monomyth also revolves around these concepts. For the
“Call to Adventure”, for instance, Ged harnessed his newly found control over
the elements to “[weave] fog and scare off Kargish swordsmen with a mess of
shadows” A Wizard of
Earthsea. Despite overcoming small obstacles as a young child, like
learning how to ride a bike, I have never single handedly saved my town from utter
destruction at the hands a menacing army. As a result, I found it more
difficult to relate to Ged’s entrance into the unknown since his world was
already so different from my own. Correspondingly, the “Crossing the First Threshold”
stage of his journey was also far-fetched. Before leaving to attend Wizardry
school on the island of Roke, Ged’s mentor Ogion bestows the “real” name
Sparrowhawk onto Ged, stating, “Do not try any tricks with the sea and the
winds of the sea, Sparrowhawk; you are a landsmen still”. While nicknames and
name changes are commonplace in today’s society, a system of forgotten names
that pervades humans and nature is a larger concept that may be more difficult
to grasp.
After
comparing the mini-series and novelization with Le Guin’s story, I came to one
the conclusion: low fantasy is high
fantasy with accommodations for human expectations. In low fantasy, the plot is
based on the manipulation we know into a new world, as opposed to high fantasy,
where a new world seems is built from scratch. Based on this distinction, two
completely different approaches can be taken to writing fantasy. On one hand,
in high fantasy stories like A Wizard of
Earthsea, the author is able to explore grander ideas such as a “scale
head, spike-crowned, and tripled tongued” dragon. On the other hand, low fantasy writers can play on the
sensibilities of their audience by mixing the past and present in the
underbelly of a modern city Neverwhere.
Either way, both captivate the reader, taking their minds away from the
normalcy of reality.
Hmm.. . . Your post seems to proceed from the assumption that high fantasy trucks principally in experiences people in the given world couldn't relate to -- stake that are too high or too foreign for us to understand or relate to. I'd counter that suggestion with the idea that sometimes, the stakes are just what people of the given world strive for every day, blown up to some metaphorical extreme. Ged is on the run from himself, and this internal struggle is literalized through his actual shadow hunting him; it's only when he recognizes the darkness in himself and owns up to it that he's able to conquer it. The fantastical trappings of that drawn-out game of cat and mouse may make it seem something completely apart from what we could know, but to my way of thinking, it's just a dramatization of what it means to be young and powerful and full of potential: proud of, and scared of, yourself and what you can do (or have already done).
ReplyDelete