On the Value of Fantasy Novels

Elliot Berkley // Guest Writer

You’re introducing yourself in a new lit class, and the professor asks what everyone’s favorite genre is. As the domino chain of answers makes its way to you and you hear “fantasy” over and over again mixed with seemingly cooler, smarter answers such as “literary fiction” or “experimental Sci-Fi,” you wonder whether to go with your heart and risk looking like another generic fantasy reader or to make something cool up like “new-wave alien murder mystery.”

Unfortunately, there’s always been a little shame associated with loving the fantasy genre. It’s somewhat taken less seriously than other genres. Some people perceive it as basic. With people making fun of BookTok trends, especially after series such as A Court of Thorns and Roses blew up, first in a positive light and then a negative light (zero hate, although it isn’t quite my taste), people almost look down on the genre. Labeling oneself as a fantasy lover potentially earns you the judgment of others. This isn’t an old battle; author of the acclaimed fantasy novels The Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis once called myths “lies breathed through silver” years before he even wrote the books.

In response, John Ronald Reul Tolkien, a close friend of his, composed both a poem titled Mythopoeia and, later on, a sixty-page essay titled On Fairy-Stories. As much as I love The Lord of the Rings, I never would have read a sixty-page essay if it weren’t for my Fantasy Lit class. Yet the points that Tolkien made in his essay, defending fantasy, rang so true to so many different parts of me, a kid raised on fantastical classics, an artist, a writer, and a lover of the beautiful things in the world. Essentially, Tolkien makes the argument that fantasy is necessary for the human needs of recovery and escape. 

Tolkien contrasts the concept of fantasy as a kind of trickery with the concept of fantasy as an artist sharing a secondary world with the reader. There is rarely malevolent intent in the creation of a fantasy world, only the genuine desire to create something and draw the audience in.

“Deception” definitely isn’t a common criticism of fantasy books in the 21st century. Not many people that I can think of have criticized fantasy on the grounds of deception or trickery. But there is a certain belief that a lot of people have subconsciously, which is the belief in magical worlds is embarrassing or contrasts interest in scientific matters. Tolkien says, “Fantasy is a natural human activity. It certainly does not destroy or even insult Reason; and it does not either blunt the appetite for, nor obscure the perception of, scientific verity.” Fantasy doesn’t contrast logic or reasoning. Logic is essential to fantasy. Knowing that reindeer can’t fly makes imagining them fly all the more wondrous. The person with the best grip on reality has the best grip on fantasy.

Tolkien moves on to defend why fantasy isn’t frivolous, which is more relevant to the conversations surrounding fantasy today. Fantasy is completely fictional and that must mean fantasy doesn’t offer tales from history or educate a person on human morals. And that’s completely false! Tolkien’s “recovery” concept is as follows: “We need, in any case, to clean our windows; so that the things seen clearly may be freed from the drab blur of triteness or familiarity—from possessiveness.” Stepping outside of our world allows us to see it in clearer, different ways.

Fantasy can be a new way to look at real historical events or contemporary problems. Gabriel García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude explores Latin America’s troubled history through the vivid language of someone who lived through it. It makes use of magical realism to portray important emotions, disasters, and grief. Hayao Miyazaki’s movie Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind is a breathtakingly touching story about the relationship between humanity and nature. To convey the urgency of environmental change, Miyazaki creates a lethally poisonous, but wildly alive, toxic jungle, polluted by the very people who now wish to be rid of it. This movie consistently instills in me the passion to protect our environment. Fantasy as a representation of the real world is similar to the use of a metaphor in poetry. If done well, it can make what the writer is actually trying to communicate more impactful and memorable and allow the reader (or viewer) to feel the message on a deeper level. 

Fantasy can open our eyes to the beauty of our physical surroundings and ourselves. It gives us something to compare our world with. After being plunged into a darker, sadder world, perhaps The Metamorphosis, or a favorite series of mine, The Queen of the Tearling, when you look up at the sunlight shining through your window, the candle flickering on your bedside table (not if you live in an Emerson dorm, though), or taking a walk through a chilly March afternoon, you might see the world a little brighter, aware of how grateful you should be for the little things. And then there are fantasy worlds that draw out the beauty of mundane life, our relationships, or ourselves and give us hope to keep moving forward. After watching Song of the Sea, I wanted to learn more about Irish folklore. I looked at the crashing waves of the ocean a little differently. I wanted to be the best older sister I possibly could. Perhaps there are no elves, dwarves, or hobbits in this world, but there’s a forest a bus ride away that feels like Mirkwood. Reading fantasy lets me bring whimsy into everyday life.

Lastly, I want to cover Tolkien’s belief that we use fantasy to escape momentarily and not as abandonment. As he puts it, “Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if, when he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls?” When we feel trapped in our lives, which, I’m sure, many of us do from time to time, it’s important to take a mental break. Especially when a physical break isn’t possible. People already take breaks in so many ways. Again, it doesn’t mean you’re abandoning logic or deserting the real world. It doesn’t mean you’ve somehow failed because you’re not reading for the sole purpose of learning. It’s a brief respite. Like a night of partying, a quick nap, or a two-day trip to the mountains. You’re not leaving forever. You’re allowing yourself to recuperate and return with a fresh perspective, renewed energy, and a clearer mind, ready to tackle whatever the physical world throws at you.

The poem “Mythopoeia” is much shorter and definitely worth the read. Tolkien’s argument is a little more artistic in this piece. He paints dreamy landscapes of myths and legend, arguing that our lives and culture would have less meaning without fantasy. I think the most important line is this: 

He sees no stars who does not see them first

of living silver made that sudden burst

to flame like flowers beneath an ancient song,

whose very echo after-music long

has since pursued.

Tolkien is reminding us that we have always used fantasy to assign meaning to things that, otherwise, would be completely meaningless. Stars would just be distant balls of fire. Music would just be noise. Fantasy is essential to our world, morals, and identities. Without fantasy, we wouldn’t have philosophy, poetry, or art. The cultural aspects of our world are dependent on fantasy, and we need to remember that. Fantasy novels aren’t overrated. We should keep making them, doing so with genuine love and care for the magic that makes our world meaningful.

References!

On Fairy-Stories by J.R.R. Tolkien

Mythopoeia by J.R.R. Tolkien