@residentmiddlechild / residentmiddlechild.tumblr.com
THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: PRINCE CASPIAN 2008 | dir. Andrew Adamson
The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (dir. Andrew Adamson) + The Hunting of the White Stag
peter returning from fighting the giants: what did i miss?
susan and edmund: 👀
Peter:
Susan:
Edmund:
Lucy:
so I know the popular reading is that mr. lewis used susan as a misogynist straw woman against womanhood and that he didn’t like her when compared to lucy, but I’m reading the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe again and I want to say that, to me, he actually has a very humanizing fondness for her
when she first hears about aslan, she feels as if she smelled something delicious or heard beautiful music, and we all know how much jack loves food and music, the goodness of the senses. she gets understandably irritable (like mr. beaver) at mrs. beaver for slowing them down with food and supplies - she’s not a mothery figure, she’s a scared girl who doesn’t want to be captured. and (this is as far as I’ve gotten in my reread) when the children are walking to meet aslan, the narrative says that susan has a slight blister on her heel
she’s human! she’s a child! something about the blister on her heel has me inconsolable. c.s. lewis didn’t see susan as nothing but an evilly feminine foil to lucy; she’s her own character, she is the senses and the emotions, she gets blisters. she’s the most human of the pevensies.
Susan is my favorite Pevensie, not for who she was in the books, but rather for the symbol she became. Her ending is ambiguous, open-ended. We do not know if she found her way back to Narnia and, more importantly, Aslan. We only know that she drifted from and lost her faith. But C.S. Lewis made the point to say that her damnation is not a forgone conclusion. And that is so important to me.
The Chronicles of Narnia are, without a doubt, a Christian allegory, possibly the most famous and widely read Christian allegory in modern times. And there is a character who has lost her faith but whose story does not end with it gone forever. She is not damned for having lost her faith. She suffers for it, yes, but her suffering is not the end, simply the middle, with possibility and hope on her horizon should she choose it.
That is possibly one of the most important messages of The Chronicles of Narnia, especially in this day and age when more and more young people are setting aside their faith (usually after bad experiences, which, hey, if you need space from toxic interpretations of God's Word, I don't blame you).
The important thing to remember is, turning away now does not prevent your return, however and whenever you find your way back. God's love is neverending and He will not turn away those who come to Him in good faith, no matter how long they were gone (and don't let anyone ever tell you any differently).
For Peter, Narnia was soaring towers and summer blue skies. It was the smell of horses and fresh bread and polish and leather. It was the wise murmuring of centaurs, the laughter of dryads, the wild dances of the fauns, the haunting melodies of the naids. It was silken, billowing tents of royal purple and lion gold, the clash of steel on steel, the smoky-sweet smell of a campfire. Narnia was racing through a forest, faster-faster-faster, heart thumping, blood rushing, wild glee bubbling up behind your throat. Narnia was flags flying, lions roaring, the distant beating of drums, the joyous satsifaction of knowing you've won - the image disappears and he's back home but Peter is beaming.
For Susan, Narnia was starry nights and crystal caves. It was tracing unknown constellations Tarva-and-Alambil and charting unknown seas. It was delegations and dignitaries and the grandest of balls and feeling oh so grown up. Narnia was running barefoot through stone corridors, the smell of perfume all jasmine-and-myrtle-and-nighttime-mist, secretive smiles and laughing eyes, a myriad of unexplored chambers, the flickering light of a fiery torch, the fairy-light touch of curling vines on her bare shoulder, the softest of fabrics pooling around her, falling to the floor, emerald green vivid against the warm buttery stone. Narnia was the straining pull of a bow string, the gleaming tips of arrows, the reassuring weight of an ivory horn in its place at her hip. Narnia was wind and winter bringing far-off friends to her doorstep. Narnia was crossing mountains and oceans and visisting exotic lands and learning foreign tongues. Narnia was dancing away the night with her dearest friends, swaying and twirling and spinning-spinning-spinning, the refracted light of the chandeliers scattering broken rainbows like beads- the memory fades and she's back home but Susan is shining.
For Edmund, Narnia was wet earth and dappled sunlight and fresh grass. It was picnics in golden fields, hanging upside down from aging rafters, cool water soothing wounded hands, four well worn coats folded in a trunk. It was obsidian chess pieces and marble chess boards, curling silver and intricate gold crowns, whorling patterns carved into leather saddles, a single lone lantern rising high above the surrounding forest. Narnia was magic and enchantments and making the impossible seem easier than breathing. Narnia was plumes of coloured smoke and sparks of metallic fire and the birth of hope and light. Narnia was ice and snow and an oppressive castle with sharp towers and terrible smiles and cruel whips and loss and loneliness and quiet sorrow Narnia was summer and life and Lucy playing the pianoforte in the evenings and Susan and Peter sparring in the mornings and Edmund buried under stacks of old books from dusk till dawn and Phillip scolding him for not getting enough sleep in one breath and badgering him for apples in the next- the dream is broken and he's back home but Edmund is laughing.
For Lucy, Narnia was a world in a world in a world. It was flying higher and higher and higher on the backs of griffins, and falling down down down to swim with the merfolk and going three rounds at the Battle of Beruna and emerging victorious, hair sweaty, face flushed. Narnia was ruby-red-umbrellas and coal-black-horses and crystal-clear-oceans and bright-joyful-laughter. Narnia was strong, supple boots and flowing white dresses and soft pink flowers caught in riotous golden curls. Narnia was dancing flames and fauns playing flutes and the softest golden fur imaginable. Narnia was home and hope and unconditional love and- the door opens and she's back home but Lucy is smiling.
Whenever Netflix gets around to doing something with the rights to the Chronicles of Narnia, I want them to know one thing:
One that begins right after the Pevensies’ coronation, and ends when they accidentally stumble back through the wardrobe.
We want episodes about adjusting to the responsibility of being rulers.
We want episodes about Peter subconsciously using WWII tactics when fighting the Giants in Ettismoor to the north, and being horrified with himself when he realizes.
We want episodes about how the Pevensies earned their titles—the Magnificent, the Gentle, the Just, the Valiant.
We want episodes about Susan receiving her first offer of marriage from a suitor, and struggling with the idea of ever leaving her siblings—even for love.
We want episodes on how Archenland was rebuilt, and about the disappearance of Prince Cor.
We want episodes about Edmund having chronic nightmares for their first couple of years in Narnia and trying to hide it, struggling to learn to forgive himself as Aslan forgave him.
We want episodes about how the apple orchard came to be.
We want episodes about the wars with Calormen.
We want episodes about Lucy getting tired of being cooped up in Cair Paravel and deciding to go on an adventure of her own—only for Peter to comedically misread the situation and believe she’s been kidnapped.
We want special episodes about the Horse and His Boy from the Pevensies’ point of view, possibly even tying in with a Horse and His Boy movie.
We want episodes where, matched in a battle of wits with a neighboring princess, Edmund is too busy trying to verbally destroy her to realize that he’s fallen head-over-heels in love with her.
We want comedic episodes where Peter and Edmund test their sisters’ suitors.
We want episodes where it becomes painfully obvious that Lucy is Peter’s favorite sister.
We want episodes where, when a sudden sickness strikes the land, Susan abandons all caution to help nurse her people, and all learn why she is called the Gentle.
We want episodes where the Pevensies first come to the Lone Islands.
We want episodes where, when visiting a neighboring country, someone in court is abruptly murdered and Edmund plays detective for an entire arc.
We want episodes where Lucy saves Peter in just the nick of time with a force of archers during one of the battles with Calormen.
We want episodes about Narnia healing from its time under the White Witch.
We want episodes about how much their people loved them—and how distraught they were in the aftermath of their disappearance.
We want Golden Age Narnia.
In Prince Caspian Susan literally throws an arrow fast and hard enough to pierce through a man’s armor and kill him. Savage.
What’s even more savage is the way she stabs the first guy in the crotch before using the same arrow to kill the second guy. Susan’s not messing around.
Turn on
My history teacher told me once that people use to give kings titles ironically. Like if he was a great king they would called him “X the Terrible”
Lets just say that’s what they were going for here
Here’s the thing though: this isn’t sarcastic. Susan is the gentle one, the one who doesn’t go to battle. But when she does…. oh boy. If she’s the least scary Pevensie, I’d hate to see what the others can do.
oh she IS
did you see the boys with a sword? edmund is canonically the best swordfighter in all of narnia, lucy is the best warrior they’ve ever seen and susan is the best archer - those are statements made by various different characters and the narrator, at one point two telmarine soldiers shit their collective pants when they see Edmund, who looks at this point about 11 years old, and isn’t even armed, only accompanied by a giant and another narnian, two creatures the telmarines aren’t scared of
susan is a pacifist, and she’s the least terrifying one because she’s the social one who does all of the organising, the balls, the audiences - she’s hard to get to fight, unlike the others, that’s an aspect of why she’s gentle.
edmund fights using two swords and no shield, lucy is fast and agile and can throw that dagger with a precision that honestly scares me, peter took on the white witch one on one and CAME OUT ALIVE, if I had to choose between who’s the least terrifying from a warrior’s perspective, i’d pick susan too.
Susan's story is important to me because like Susan was no longer a friend of Narnia, I fell away from Yahweh. Susan's story is the story of lost faith.
I found my way back to Yahweh and in parallel I believe Susan eventually found her way to Aslan, Narnia, and her family.
The reason Susan wasn't on the train that day wasn't because she was no longer a friend of Narnia, but because Aslan was giving her more time to find her way back.
The problem of Susan isn't a problem. It's a beautiful and incomplete (open-ended) character arc that's a parallel to the journey of lost and found faith that many of us go through.
I am once again thinking about that scene where the Pevensies really know that all their friends are gone in Prince Caspian... the feeling of dread in your stomach... this is paralleled only by Eustace coming back to find Caspian an old man on the cusp of dying... the sick-to-your-stomach feeling.
Remember how when Tirian saw the Kings and Queen of Old for the first time, he couldn’t help but ask after their sister? Remember how Peter swallowed the lump in his throat to be as diplomatic a leader as he could be, saying she “wasn’t a friend,” and hoping they would move on? Remember how Lucy and Edmund kept quiet as Jill and Eustace and Polly took their turns sharing their thoughts, never interrupting, never defending her, because they knew that what they said wasn’t all wrong? They didn’t know Susan forgot to defend them, that day, too. They just didn’t have the strength to defend her any longer.
Because don’t you remember how Susan’s siblings would pray for her every night, even when they couldn’t bear to talk to her? How even though they nearly hated her at times, they loved her so much that sometimes all they could do was offer their fears and hopes to God, as they prayed that she would see him, too?
Remember how Lucy left a drawing in the back of her bible; a little lamppost “for Susan” in case she never “did the things she did before?” Remember how Peter wrote down all his thoughts and lessons and prayers in a journal, and even if he didn’t mention her name, his love for Susan bled onto every page? Remember how Edmund kept a prayer journal, as an effort to keep himself focused, and every other page contained his fears for her, his love for her, his worry for her, his hopes for her, and the pain he felt at seeing her turn from the person who saved him?
Don’t you remember how much they cared?
And don’t you remember that Lucy asked Aslan constantly if Susan would remember, and every time he told her the same thing: No one is told any story but their own. Don’t you remember how much she longed for a direct answer? Remember how her face lit up the day she saw a glint in Aslan’s eye that suggested her sister would be coming home?
Remember how Peter, Edmund, and Lucy were the first to greet her inside the gates?
Don’t you? Can’t you?
Well, then, don’t you remember how Susan collected it all in a box? The stories Polly had been writing, about magic rings and quiet woods, and Lucy’s bible, and her brothers’ journals? Don’t you remember when she read them? How she met Aunt Alberta for the first time in years, and discovered more mystery in Eustace’s journal than she’d have ever thought him capable of? Remember, won’t you, how the 7 Friends of Narnia left pieces of themselves behind, and how they formed into a path for one lost girl to follow?
Remember when Susan remembered?
Remember, please, that there was always a place for Susan. An empty chair at the dinner table; an empty throne in the castle; and a lamppost in the woods. Remember that Susan forgot, but would never be forgotten.
Remember.
Remember.
Like Susan.
^^^
This is amazingly beautiful and I support this wholeheartedly but side note
There’s this part in LWW where Lewis is describing “the cry of the gills”: he says something like “oh, can you hear it? Do you remember?” And it always strikes a chord in me when I read that line because it’s like he’s suggesting that somewhere along the line, we were there in Narnia with them, and he’s re-telling us that story. That’s what all of your “do you remember?”s remind me of. 💜
Oh my gosh, that’s adorable, thank you! I love that part, too. Somehow his, “Do you remember?” makes the imagery come alive far more than ordinary description. It’s so desperately passionate, begging us to feel it with him. And while I didn’t mean to draw on that, I am so glad you were reminded of it, because it’s really beautiful and fitting for the feelings I wanted to evoke. “Come on, feel this with me. Do you remember it? Doesn’t it call to you?” It’s how I felt writing this, and it’s how I want my followers to feel, as well. Remember it with me. We were all there.
Peter: Magnificent, righteous, clear as the Northern skies; A strategist, brother and knight; Leader of his people.
Susan: Gentle, caring, bright as the Southern son; A lady, sister and peacemaker; Mother of her people.
Edmund: Just, thoughtful, deep as the Western wilds; A judge, brother and warrior; Protector of his people.
Lucy: Valiant, faithful, free as the Eastern seas; A friend, sister, and brave lioness; Beloved of her people.
