Narnia Fundament and Firmament (Part I)

Or, Narnia above and below.

Hold onto your hats, folks, for it’s going to be a rocky ride…

Now we come to tricky part of mapping out the world of Narnia – the skies above, and what’s underground. Both areas are magical and not limited by the geography and physics of our world. Both contain worlds and intelligent beings of their own.

They were also not pre-planned. Lewis wrote on the wing, known among the current crop of writers as “pantsing” – making it up as you go along. He likely considered his Narnian creations as elements for the kind of story he wanted to tell, whether or not that made sense for Narnia-the-world’s greater veracity. Some  elements were carried over from one book to the next, such Cair Paravel and the idea of the Calormenes being slavers. Other elements, like hags and werewolves, were dropped; after Prince Caspian they are not mentioned again. I would like to think it’s because hags and werewolves are an ill fit for Narnia, but likely it’s because they were not part of the stories that Lewis wanted to tell, so he left them out.

First I’ll examine what is known of Narnia’s underground. Fortunately we have a Pauline Baynes map which was published in the first editions of The Silver Chair.

Continue reading

Worldbuilding Wednesday 9/6/23: Let’s Talk About Bism (Narnia L)

AI Art

The Land of Bism appears in The Silver Chair. It is a magical land made of  molten rock shaped into terrestrial life, where gems grow on trees and there are streams and waterfalls of liquified ores. I’ve heard it said that the name came from the word abysmal, a descriptor of great depth; but, frankly, Bism is a happy place, not the dreary hellhole abysmal implies. Therefore, I propose a simpler origin: a contraction of “Burning Chasm” with a vowel change.

Bism has other connotations. There is the element Bismuth, which when oxidized develops a rainbow iridescence, which could apply to a land looking like “a tropical sun through a stained-glass window.” There is also the German battleship Bismarck, sunk in a famous naval battle in WWII at a depth of 15,719′, which sounds pretty deep to me.

Were there other Bisms, or flaming geographic divisions within Bism? Perhaps. I came up with this list of names based off words for vulcanism, depth, and heat.

 

Other Bisms

Charcoya

Cinnery

Scorlav

Fierno

Flagram

Pyrougia

Hypogaia

Sombra

Pyrocasm

Bysna

Limnless

Obsidia

Tomba

Caldrata

Efathm

Fissia

Gorgera

Bavernus

Salba

Vesuba

The Green Witch’s Bento Box

As long as we’re doing Narnian bento boxes, how about ones for specific Narnian characters? Like The Lady of the Green Kirtle.

You can interpret it either as something she might serve to guests, or one that’s merely inspired by her, intended to be served up at a Narnian theme park. Like all the AI food I’ve generated, some of the food, though it looks good, is visually obscure, so I brainstormed up a chart telling the diner what’s what.

It looks lovely and I’d eat it.

A Narnia Fanfic Cornucopia [Reviews]

It’s time for another group review of Narnia fanfics!

This time, the form is a buffet featuring authors on AoW who I haven’t written reviews on before. I had plenty of time to read, as I was sick with bronchitis during a heatwave (yeah, that’s fun) and couldn’t do much else.

Gale and the Dragon, by Sauron Gorthaur (Tough_Girl)

This story was longer than the ones I usually read, a whole novella in fact. But it was also the first time I’ve seen this premise tackled in a fanfic, despite Lewis’s promise in the Chronicles “to tell the tale one day” of how King Dale saves the Lone Isles from a dragon and they join the kingdom of Narnia.

Well, that day to tell comes in The Last Battle where the narrator is Jewel the Unicorn and the audience Jill, Eustace, Tirian and Poggin as they tromp towards the stable where their fates will be decided. I liked this framing device and the writer did an excellent job of capturing Lewis’s tone. Some parts were overdone: Jill and Eustace often sounded like the brats they were in The Silver Chair, not the more mature teens they should have been. But Jewel and Tirian’s voices were spot-on and through them I felt the heaviness and apocalyptic nature of the book.

The story-in-a-in-story, though, turned out to be more of a fantasy romance. It was well done, but not my cup of tea. I get bored with the trope of mistaken intentions where the characters are too thick to act on their attractions. That’s me, I emphasize; others may feel differently. Anyway, things start off with King Gale feeling bored; then he hears news from a talking bird of the dragon’s attack and wants to run off to save the Lone Isles, by himself, to prove his worth. As the author writes it, this idea is as dumb as it sounds and the King has to learn a hefty dose of humility, cooperation, and impulse control on the journey, especially with the woman he rescues from a slaver’s ship who becomes his love interest.

The adventure part of the plot was routine in that the characters had the conflicts you expect them to have. Gale has disagreements with his advisors over his decision to go, then there’s the choosing of his party, a ship, and a captain; on the way to the islands there are clashes with slave-trading pirates and sea-people. No, they don’t meet Poseidon riding a giant sea turtle, or an isle of talking dogs, or killer seaweed; none of that. Finally we get to the dragon battle in the last two chapters where, amazingly, he still has no idea how he’s going to defeat this beast until it dawns on him he needs help from his friends. Again, he was kind of thick. It was hard to take him seriously despite other parts of the writing working. In the end he learns his lesson and everything is tied up without being too sappy. Secret sauce: the side characters who turn out to be more than you expect, and Darkspot, the King’s talking leopard companion, who is savage as well as loving and caring.

The Last Battle; Narnian History

Continue reading

Worldbuilding Wednesday 8/30/23: Glenstorm and His Sons (Narnia XLIX)

… and daughters too, let’s make that clear.

Trufflehunter called again, “Glenstorm! Glenstorm!” and after a pause Caspian heard the sound of hoofs. It grew louder till the valley trembled and at last, breaking and trampling the thickets, there came in sight the noblest creatures that Caspian had yet seen, the great Centaur Glenstorm and his three sons. His flanks were glossy chestnut and the beard that covered his broad chest was golden-red. He was a prophet and a star-gazer and knew what they had come about.

“Long live the King,” he cried. “I and my sons are ready for war. When is the battle to be joined?”

— From Prince Caspian, by C. S. Lewis

Glenstorm gets quite an introduction in this passage from the otherwise problematic (my opinion) Prince Caspian, so much so he’s one of the most memorable side characters from the books. Though he doesn’t evince as much character as, say, Reepicheep or Trumpkin do in the same book, he’s much more badass, adding gravitas and an adult — or as Lewis would say, “grown-up” — feeling of seriousness to the proceeds. This passage is so evocative, in fact, I can picture the sons galloping up beside him, more youthful versions of their father, with slight variations in color and hairstyling.

The introduction touches as well on the centaurs’ wisdom allied with their role as warriors.

The four named centaurs in the books were Glenstorm, Cloudbirth, Roonwit, and Oreius. Oreius was Greek-inspired; I went into Greek centaur names here and here.

Of the others, Glenstorm and Cloudbirth are constructs of two words, like stereotypical “Native American” names from the Elfquest comics I did for a Worldbuilding Wednesday ages back. Roonwit, from The Last Battle, could be one of those as well, if it was spelled Runewit. But I prefer Lewis’s spelling, which adds ambiguity and suggests that proper names, over time, drift from their original spellings and origins.

The two centaurs Eustace and Jill ride in The Silver Chair did not get names so let’s give them some, as well as Glenstorm’s sons, wife, and daughters, from the list I generated below. These are mix of two-word constructs, vaguely Greek, and what-the-hell-but-it-sounds-good.

 

Narnian Centaurs

Male

Caralorn

Cloudstance

Cormander

Dunwyrm

Fabrun

Fierax the Starsmith

Fillodge

Furnador

Graygrove

Hawkstride

Marthorn

Morbrand

Parfax

Pendergan

Rhantarion

Riverbard

Rockstop

Spartread

Stagbrace

Stonewater

Tyrefar

Umberwood

Female

Brightmoss

Callepa

Chytraine

Fawnstep

Firehair

Fornsa

Foxfern

Goldmist

Hylasa

Jacinth

Jadewater

Lyretha

Moonwillow

Ostina

Rainplum

Rheevia

Rhomona

Snowplait

Startessa

Tinteasel

Ursa

Windrose

The Walden movies gave us two more names: Windmane and Lightning Bolt, which are so pedestrian and uncreative, I didn’t even consider them as models.

Which brings me to another opinion I have about the movies: the centaurs are all wrong.

They’re not Greek enough, number one. Where are the bare chests and beards? Why did they have to wear armor? They looked silly with clothing and leather straps on, especially those big plates of metal that shielded their horse chests. It’s like the designers were too lazy to get a convincing join between human skin and horse hide, so they decided to hide where the two met, making it into a decorative element, even, so the viewer wouldn’t notice. Logically, it makes sense for a fighting centaur to wear armor there; but this is Narnia, fer Chrissakes. Throw logic out the window.

Furthermore, I’d think the Narnian centaurs would disdain such armor anyway, which brings them to the level of humans and speaks against their battle prowress. If they were strong on the offense, they wouldn’t need a defense.

Which brings me around to another reason I felt the movies fell short: the emphasis on the big battle scenes the producers felt necessary to attract a blockbuster audience. But the books weren’t about battles and wars. They were mentioned, but not described; it was the little events around them that were.

Anyway, on to the second reason why the centaurs looked so wrong. They were ill-proportioned, which is noticeable here.

In most classic paintings of centaurs, the horse part is proportional to the human one. The front legs of the horse could be the legs of the human, as if he or she was wearing a pantomime suit. Ideally, a centaur should look like horse and human could detach, the human walking forward on his two front horse legs instead of his human ones. Like the picture of our friend at the start of this post, or Chiron in this pic. But in these centaurs the horse’s point-of-shoulder goes on too long, and the horse legs are too skinny and tucked in too far. It’s like the designers went too far in the direction of realism for the horse, but stopped short in giving those realistic horse bodies the fat, round barrel of an equine body, made for digesting tough grass and powering the animal forward.

In sum, the human bodies look undersized for the horse ones. This centaur from one of the Percy Jackson movies handled the balance better.

Lastly, I didn’t like the pointy elf ears of the Narnian centaurs. They’re not a new species, they’re a join of two already existing ones. Let’s keep it that way.

Prince Rilian: Narnia’s Hard Luck Hero

The Silver Chair, Rilian’s nemesis (AI art)

 Every Summer of Narnia I’ve done since 2020 takes on its own shape as the weeks progress. I didn’t expect this summer to focus so heavily on The Silver Chair, yet that’s the way it turned out. In this post though, instead of saying more about the Green Witch, I’ll turn the lens onto her victim: Prince Rilian, son of Caspian X.

Continue reading

Wyrm among the unicorns

I’ve no idea who the artist is of this or what its era of creation is, as it’s from a Russian language site. But doesn’t it look like an untold tale from Narnia with the deadly yet puzzled wyrm and all the astonished unicorns?

Worldbuilding Wednesday 8/23/23: Centaurides (Narnia XLVIII)

 

Decorative medallion, 1770s

A centauride is the Greek term for a female centaur. Though only one was named in Greek myth, they were common motifs in ancient Greek and Roman art and have remained so up until the present day. Walt Disney even played a riff on them for Fantasia (1940); they were going to be bare-breasted like the one above, but the censors nixed that, so they got garlands or bikini tops made of flowers.

I love the 1930s Art Deco stylization of this sequence, which is set to Beethoven’s Pastoral, but narratively I cringe because it’s so sappy.

The candy-colored creatures, however, may have inspired the creations of two later fantasists, writers Piers Anthony and John Varley. Anthony used them as a template for the magical unicorns in his Apprentice Adept series, whose first book was published in 1980. Anthony’s unicorns can shapeshift between human and centaur versions of themselves and are as crazily-colored as Disney’s version. Plus, their horns emit the sounds of different musical instruments through which they communicate. But Anthony was beaten to the punch by John Varley, who came out with a similar creation, the Titanides, who were published a year earlier in his SF novel Titan. Did the latter steal from the former? Or the former, the latter? Or did they both drink from the same source?

Wraparound jacket from John Varley’s Wizard, the second of his Gaea trilogy.

Varley’s Titanides are the creations of Gaea, a living orbital ring space habitat in the vicinity of Saturn. They all look like sensual, multicolored female centaurs and are gendered only by the human organs growing out of their human torsos; their horse parts are hermaphroditic. Titanides also communicate in song and have a unique reproductive system because of their three sets of genitals, the various combinations referred to by the names of chords. (The author helpfully includes a chart of them in the back of the book.) They come across as “improved” versions of human beings because they are stronger, smarter, braver, purer, and don’t need to sleep; in keeping with the time the book was written (the 1970s) they are enthusiastic proponents of recreational sex and polyamory so they don’t fall victim to nasty human jealousies, which, in the ethos of the decade, makes them morally superior.

The Titanides show their silly side. Line drawing by Connor Freff Cochran.

Neither book is discussed much today, which is a shame. But on the other hand, there are thousands of artists creating their own centaurides on sites such as Deviantart.com. The one below is based off an antelope or gazelle.

Artwork by Skeptic Archer

No female centaurs were mentioned by Lewis in the Chronicles, but at least one was depicted in the movies.

She’s a little… off-putting, I guess? The rustic clothing and braided hairstyle doesn’t fit in with the Greco-Roman aspect of Narnia’s inhabitants. It looks like something from the Viking Age, save for that crocodile leather armor. But, more on the awkwardness of the movie centaurs later.

Here’s a bunch of names that would be appropriate for centaurides who are named in the Greek style. They were culled from lists of actual names of Greek deities, historical personages, and demigods. (Note: The Charities are demigodesses in the same vein as the Muses or Graces.)

 

Some Greek Names for Narnian Female Centaurs

Aella (Amazon)

Agnodice (Historical woman)

Arktos (Goddess of the night sky)

Aspasia (Historical woman)

Bremusa (Amazon)

Calleis (Beauty – a Charity)

Cheimon (Winter goddess)

Cleta (Glorious- a Charity)

Dysis (Sunset goddess)

Eiar (Spring goddess)

Epione (Goddess of soothing a sick one’s pain)

Erada (Goddess of crossroads)

Hesperis (Evening goddess)

Hydna (Historical woman)

Hypatia (Historical woman)

Iaso (Goddess of healing)

Mesembria (Noon goddess)

Myrina (Amazon)

Orithyia (Amazon)

Paidia (Play and amusement – a Charity)

Pandaisia (Banquet – a Charity)

Phaenna (Shining – a Charity)

Philaenis (Historical woman)

Pthinoporon (Autumn goddess)

Telesilla (Historical woman)

Thargelia (Historical woman)

Theros (Summer goddess)

 

Malignment in Emerald [Fanfic]

I realized I didn’t announce this particular fanfic. It’s on AoW.

I am tired of this slander.

Oh, I suppose I should be flattered that all of Narnia thinks of me as a femme fatale… the cunning, poisonous witch who seduced a crown prince and kept him in my thrall. The lute-playing enchantress who created an underground army of earthmen that would burst through Narnia’s fertile crust, spilling my armies out onto its green, virgin lawns, to claim Cair Paravel for my captive prince and rule through him as its Queen.

Yet, none of that is true.

 

Narnian Witches: The Lady of the Green Kirtle (AI Remix)

Let’s see what AI does with this poisonous green lady. For example, bringing her into the 1970s.

OF COURSE she’d have an electric guitar as her instrument of choice! That said, this one looks like a still from the movie flop Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the one that starred the Bee Gees and Peter Frampton.

But honestly, her era is the Pre-Raphaelite one, and to get these pics I used those artists. Midjourney would not generate a mandolin no matter how hard I tried (she got an acoustic guitar instead) and her feet came out abnormally large, at least a woman’s size 10. But, I like her threatening expression in the first pic and the more “innocent” one in the second.

The definitive version, based on Titian and Rembrandt. The mandolin is a little odd, but at least it’s a mandolin! Stylistically the painting is similar to this one, Francesca and Her Lute, by Charles Edward Halle, but I think the expression in the AI painting is more fitting for the character.

What else did the Green Witch do, besides play her mandolin? Well, she rode around sidesaddle on a beautiful white horse.

I set her on my pacing steed
     And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
     A faery’s song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,     
     And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
     “I love thee true.”

The above is from “La Belle Dame sans Merci” by John Keats, clearly inspirational for Lewis’s conception of the Green Witch. Maybe I’ll go into the whole poem next year.

The artists in the above prompt were George Stubbs and Alfred Mullins, British equestrian painters, because Midjourney would not generate a woman riding sidesaddle with a text-only prompt. The attempts were laughable so I won’t post them here. I added Sir Laurence Alma-Tadema for the bright palette. The witch’s gown turned out to be a paler green than I’d like, though. Who are those figures huddling in the background? Some enslaved Earthmen?

Not only was it hard for AI to do mandolins and gowned ladies sitting sidesaddle. Serpent transformations were also incredibly difficult.

This one is evocative but jumbled in that all her limbs are transforming separately.

In this pic she puzzles over her next move. Again, her snake part is jumbled up so it’s not one coherent creature.

Lastly, here’s one of the witch and her victim in a vague Book of Hours style. AI still has problems with expressions, but in this case, it captured the lady’s look of feigned surprise, along with her hypnotic gaze, as Rilian asks her if she’s seen the serpent that murdered his mother. (Edits made for finger and hand oddness, as usual.)