Short of the Standard

In his essay “On Three Ways of Writing for Children” C.S. Lewis suggests that the only reason you should write a children’s story is if the “children’s story is the best art form for something you have to say.” When reading the stories in the Narnia series, I sometimes try to put myself in the place of a child who is reading the story for the first time. I find it necessary because at times in these stories the allegory seems too obvious or a plot line comes off as too contrived; and, I think, as an adult reader I may be a bit jaded.

Perhaps an inexperienced reader—a child—would not have the same opinion. A child might enjoy sorting out the convolutions of certain story lines or thrill at explicitly associating a situation in the story to an incident in “real” life. In discussing these stories, one of my friends commented how important and powerful discovering and understanding stories on that level can be for a young reader. But Lewis states in the same essay that he is “almost inclined to set it up as canon that a children’s story which is enjoyed only by children is a bad story.” Given this assertion and also the importance of the child’s process of discovery, I’m sorry to say that Prince Caspian seems to fail Lewis’ own test. What happens in the story is too often based on coincidence and convenience. Characters move and act not by a well-developed sequence of events but more because Lewis is able to conveniently explain something that has taken or is about to take place.

Before I go too far down the road describing what bothers me about this story, I want to mention the parts that I did enjoy, particularly the characters and the setting. Trumpkin’s storytelling, for instance, satisfyingly brought the entire story up to date (if it failed to explain how he came to be with the children in the first place—but more on that later). The main characters, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy, who we first met in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, are people that we all can relate to. Through their adventures they have acquired admirable amounts of bravery, honesty and intelligence, but as people, moreover young people, they can also be stubborn, cranky, and impulsive. I enjoyed watching Lucy, in spite of her uncertainty and reluctance to contradict her older siblings, determine to follow Aslan—as He says she must do even if it means she must leave them.

I also enjoyed the wise Doctor Cornelius, his animal counterpart the badger, Trufflehunter, the practical Trumpkin, the friendly Bulgy Bears, the slow-witted giant, Wimbleweather, and the overly compensating mouse, Reepicheep (although I hate his name!). Even the villains—such as Nikabrik, King Miraz and his plotting lords—are interesting to watch and listen to. And all are placed in the woods, castles, rivers, hills, and meadows of Narnia, which Lewis does a wonderful job of describing.

But then these characters are required to participate in the action. While most of the ordinary occurrences (and many of the not-so-ordinary) are logical and I can follow them without overtly slapping my forehead, it only takes a few instances of foggy logic and contrivance for the story to run off its rails. One such example, as mentioned above, is the appearance of Trumpkin at the island where the children find themselves after being magically yanked away from a British train station. Though I enjoy his bit of story telling after they rescue him, even in that are seeds of convenient occurrences that weigh on the story later; and when I come to find out the coincidences that had to occur in order for him to meet the children at the island, I only wish his story could have continued on in some other direction. Alas, on we go anyway.

In chapter five, Caspian’s aunt, Queen Prunaprismia, seems ill—but it turns out she is actually about to give birth. When a boy is born, Caspian’s life is suddenly in danger because he is no longer needed by his uncle, King Miraz, to succeed the throne. This pregnancy is a cheap surprise sprung on the reader. Isn’t Caspian old enough and smart enough to have noticed that the Queen was pregnant? Wouldn’t wise Doctor Cornelius, who must have known she was pregnant, have previously considered that a male heir might be produced? He would have immediately known the danger to Caspian and would have had months to prepare and plan for that eventuality. Instead, at the birth of the Miraz’s son, Doctor Cornelius tells Caspian he must flee for his life in the middle of the night—also dropping the bombshell that Caspian is the true King of Narnia. Doctor Cornelius explains that Miraz murdered his brother, Caspian’s father, the previous King Caspian of Narnia. (I also find it curious that King Miraz’s son is never mentioned again. Though it turns out Caspian is the rightful king and Miraz is dealt with, I think the Queen and their son merit some mention in order to tie off that loose end.)

Before Caspian leaves, Doctor Cornelius gives him Susan’s Magic Horn. This is foreshadowed earlier in the book when the children discover it missing from the treasure room at the now ancient, island-bound castle of Cair Paravel. Doctor Cornelius has oh-so-conveniently acquired it by enduring terrors and uttering spells because it just so happens that Caspian will need it later in order to summon the children into Narnia and into the story. Perhaps if Lewis had given more time to explain how Cornelius would come into possession of such an important talisman (and plot device) it would make more of the rest of the story easier to believe; instead, it is just one of several rabbits he pulls out of a hat.

After Caspian flees to the mountains to the south, he meets and helps organize the true citizens of Narnia on the slopes of Archenland—the dwarves, talking animals, and mythic creatures who have fled and gone into hiding. With the counsel of the Centaur, Glenstorm, they determine that they must go to war. In a short couple of paragraphs (and without much trouble or muster) they move to Aslan’s How and are soon engaged with Miraz’s troops; and these battles go badly. This quickly brings us to one of the main aspects of the plot that bothers me—how Trumpkin and the children come to meet at Cair Paravel.

A council decides that Caspian will blow Susan’s horn in the hope that Aslan or the fabled Kings Peter and Edmund and Queens Susan and Lucy will come to help them defeat Miraz’s army. Trumpkin is sent to the coast in case help arrives there. At this point we know what happens when he gets there. He is captured and then rescued by the children. But in order for him to get captured he had to do something that even Lewis (by way of Trumpkin himself) has to explain and apologize for. The practical and careful dwarf says, “As if I’d no more sense than a Giant, I risked a short cut across open country to cut off a big loop of the river, and was caught.” Trumpkin adds, “Anyone else would have run me through there and then.”

But Trumpkin has been “fortunate” enough to be caught by one of Miraz’s lords, a “pompous fool” who intends a grand execution by sending Trumpkin “down ‘to the ghosts’ in the full ceremonial way.” He is placed in a boat with two of the lord’s soldiers who are interrupted in their mission to drown the dwarf by Susan’s well-aimed arrows. So by this series of convenient events Trumpkin is able to meet Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy and the saving of Narnia and the rest of the story is able to proceed. But why is this pompous lord off in the wild in the first place, instead of helping engage Caspian’s army? Why, in the heat of a pitched battle, can two soldiers be spared for days disposing of a spy in such a convoluted way? Why the ceremonious effort? Ah, because Trumpkin needs to “meet cute” with the children.

The children and Trumpkin eventually meet up with Aslan, as well as Silenus, Bacchus and the Maenads—“his fierce, madcap girls”—and together they find their way to Aslan’s How. Peter challenges King Miraz to single combat to avoid risking further bloodying of Caspian’s army. By the treachery of a couple of Miraz’s own lords, Miraz is defeated and killed. By the help of the Awakened Trees of the Narnian Woods, the Telmarine army is routed and run off to Beruna where the Telmarines hope to make their escape over the bridge that now spans the ford. But the bridge is gone and so they surrender.

Here begins one of the most curious scenes in the book, where Lewis explains the convenient necessity of the missing bridge. While Lewis likely has his purposes for this scene, and it may be important to his overall purpose for this story and for its place in the Narnia series, from a purely literary standpoint it feels like he opens the back door of the whole production and moves it to the burlesque theater next door.

And so he starts the explanation by rightly asking, “But what happened to the bridge?” Silenus, Bacchus, and the Maenads are still with Aslan, Susan, and Lucy. The girls wake up and Aslan tells them they will make a holiday. Everyone is up laughing and playing instruments. The girls climb on to Aslan and they are off. With the help of Bacchus’ magic vines the bridge is pulled down—but why?—and the revelers wade across the river and into the town. They scare away a shrewish schoolmarm and most of her class except one girl, Gwendolyn, who joins them. Then the Maenads help her “take off some of the unnecessary and uncomfortable clothes that she was wearing.” From there on to the rest of the chapter, the party winds through the nearby countryside scaring off most people, but they are joined by various animals and a few free-spirited locals. Except for taking down the bridge, little of this seems to have much to do with the story. It feels like a superfluous song and dance number in a staged musical. Eventually the revelers find their way to where Miraz’s army is being held at bay by Peter’s victorious army.

Following this party (and then another to celebrate the victory), Aslan is prepared to grant the Telmarines mercy. And it is here in one long paragraph that Lewis, through Aslan, strings together a number of wild coincidences that explains how the Telmarines came to be in Narnia. They are descended from pirates from Earth. These pirates were shipwrecked on an island. Several of the pirates and their women fled from the others to a mountain where they discovered a cave. In the cave was a magical place that connected Earth and the world of Narnia. They were transported to Telmar, which happened to be uninhabited at the time. They lived there for many generations until there was a famine and they invaded Narnia and conquered it. So not only is Caspian king by his Telmar lineage, but also because he is actually a descendant of Earth and thereby a son of Adam he can truly join the King Club of Narnia.

I have to admit; I was feeling a little woozy after wading through Aslan’s “explanation.” Is this because I’m an adult? Or is it just my personal taste?

While all that is a fanciful yarn and some readers might be pleased with it, I can’t help thinking that with more time spent considering the possibilities, a mind as brilliant as Lewis’ could have come up with something more interesting, exciting and, above all, plausible.