The Lure of the Real, the Power of the Fantastic

Fantasy and Reality in "Swallows and Amazons" and "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone".

This was an essay written as an assignment for the Open University Children’s Literature course EA300. I loved writing it, and it still includes what I consider to be important principles about the nature of literature and art generally. I’ve not included proper references - I can’t find the full original essay, and you’d not bother looking the references up anyway. Most of the 2009 references relate to essays or content provided in the course material. I referred to Hardyment’s book “Arthur Ransome and Captain Flint’s Trunk”, the 1962 edition of “Swallows and Amazons” and the 1997 edition of “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone”. Dahl (1961) is “James and the Giant Peach”.

In adult literature, Maybin writes, fantasy has traditionally been considered characteristic of “popular rather than prestigious literature” (2009, p.170). This is inevitably a generalisation. It reduces science fiction and fantasy to their shallower incarnations, and completely sets aside mature and critically respectable genres such as magical realism (Kafka, Murakami, Rushdie, García Márquez). It also disregards the fact that the reader of any text is involved in the construction within their imagination of a world which must be considered at some level, as Hume expresses it, a “departure from consensus reality” (quoted in Maybin, 2009, p.169). For example, Rio, the fictionalised version of Windermere in Swallows and Amazons (Ransome, 1962), is today no more real than Hogwarts in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Rowling, 1997).

It is the case, though, that within children’s literature, the fantastic is “more acceptable and sometimes highly valued.” (Maybin, p.170) There is less self-consciousness about crossing the boundaries between two or more worlds represented by the author as “real” and “fantasy”. The phrase “the lure of the real” comes from the title of Bogen’s (2009) essay, in which she is comparing the role of the fantasy worlds in Peter and Wendy and Swallows and Amazons. “The power of the fantastic” (Maybin, 2009) presents different ideas about the way in which fantasy, however defined, appeals to readers. We can explore the boundaries between real and fantasy, and the way in which they work together, in the context of Swallows and Amazons and Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.

It has already been remarked that all fiction involves the imaginative construction of an unreal world. The characters and narrative in Swallows and Amazons are presented in a realist manner – based on actual people and places (see Hardyment, 1984). Tucker (2009, p.192) talks of Ransome’s aim of creating “settings which transmit a powerful illusion of reality mixed with pleasurable fantasy”. Hunt speaks of Ransome’s striking and original “control of pace” (2009, p.186) – that is, he is not afraid to “let nothing happen”. For some readers coming to Swallows and Amazons for the first time, this is a matter of frustration. But for others – including, one assumes, Ransome who claimed to have written the book to please himself (see Bogen, p.201) – pleasure is gained simply by participating vicariously in exploring, sailing and camping on Wildcat island.

Yet the whole of Swallows and Amazons is a fantasy world. The geography of the book is synthesised – whilst individual locations may be recognisable, their arrangement is not, something which Hardyment (1984) explores in depth. Equally significant are the “serious barriers … to all but the most nostalgic adult reader” (Tucker, 2009, p.188). There are many ways ways in which the characters and situations don’t reflect the reality of human life – “who digs the latrines?” … “do healthy young adolescents … sleep alongside each other without incident?” (Tucker, 2009, p.189). Wider historical contextual matters are also disregarded. Tucker argues that because of these omissions, critical assessment of Ransome’s work can be negative, and the interest of a mature reader will not be sustained “other than nostalgia” (2009, p.192). Ransome “failed but only just” in his objective of writing books that “a man will feel some temptation to peruse” (p.192) – in effect because of the fantasy aspects.

It is unreasonable to judge a fictional world on the basis of how well it conforms to the reality that somebody else wishes it portrays. All authors make judgements about the detail they wish to include in their narrative. The significant issues are whether the text is coherent and whether it achieves the author’s intention. As Tucker points out, a different critical perspective is that fictional worlds can be “different from the real one in a number of ways acceptable to a child’s still limited experience and understanding.” (2009, p.190) Adult understanding, in this perspective, can be “an unwelcome intrustion into a magical period of life when fantasy … reigns supreme ...” (p.191). Tucker remarks that Ransome should be counted a “total success” if his goal is the provision of a “convincing, consistently child-centred imaginative escape” (2009, p.192).

Another significant aspect of Swallows and Amazons is “the combination of textual fantasy and textual reality” (Bogen, 2009, p.194). The children, in addition to interacting with the “real” world created by Ransome, also have their own imaginative mental landscape. Sometimes this is shared, as for example in the Swallows’ visit to the “native” charcoal burners through “a jungle almost” (Ransome, 1962, p.140). Sometimes it is private, revealed through changing focalisation, as we see in the opening passage in which Roger imagines himself to be a boat sailing up to Holly Howe (p.11). The fantasies of the other Walker children are portrayed in their choice of books for the ship’s library – Titty takes Robinson Crusoe; John takes instruction books for sailors; Susan takes Simple Cooking for Small Households (p.29). The Blackett girls’ imaginative landscape is revealed in their self-portrayal - “I am Nancy Blackett, master and part owner of the Amazon, the terror of the seas. This is Peggy Blackett, mate and part owner of the same” (p.113).

In her essay, Bogen (2009) contrasts the fantasy worlds of the children with the fantasy space of Never Land in the Peter Pan stories. This was a space bound by the nursery, and growth into adulthood resulted in its being forsaken. The heart of Bogen’s argument regarding the “lure of the real” is that in Swallows and Amazons, the fantasy world of the children is what effects change in the real world. Uncle Jim becomes Captain Flint; the burglars are confounded; and “unrealistic plans for ‘next year’” (Bogen, 2009, p.200) are made (Ransome, 1962, pp.332-4) and will come to fruition. It is the “retention, rather than rejection, of the childish imagination” (Bogen, p.200) that leads to true moral insight.

Barrie’s play laments the way in which his fantasy world has been taken away by maturity (see Hollindale, 2009). In contrast, Swallows and Amazons reflects Ransome’s rejection of the “grown-up” world – for example, writing about the Russian Revolution, which had “failed utterly in altering me personally” (Hunt, 1992, quoted in Haslam, 2009, p.174) – and his return to the imaginative landscape of his own childhood holidays, and friendship with the Altounyan family. Ransome’s writing, in which the fantastic has more power than the real, thus reflects his evaluation of his own life experiences.

Barrie’s play laments the way in which his fantasy world has been taken away by maturity. In contrast, Swallows and Amazons reflects Ransome’s rejection of the “grown-up” world.

Ransome lures readers with the apparently “real”, but constructs a fantasy world with strong appeal. The importance of fantasy is paralleled by the significance of fantasy and imagination to his characters, and the way in which the children’s imaginative world effects change in the real world.

The relationship between real and fantasy in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone differs significantly. In Rowling’s book, whilst Harry is introduced in a “real” setting, it is mundane and unappealing. Uncharacteristically of the series, in which the narrative is generally focalised through Harry, in the first chapter we are given an insight into the “real” through the eyes of Harry’s conformist uncle, Vernon Dursley, who with satisfaction picks his “most boring tie” (p.7) for work. In free indirect speech, it is recorded that Dursley “didn’t approve of imagination” (p.10), and he is clearly unsettled by a day that deviates from normal.

For the young Harry, the “real” is worse than simply dull. Not only must he live in this bland, grey suburbia, but he has to sleep in the space under the stairs (p.20). Not only is his life constrained by conformity, but his parents are dead, and he lives with step-family who treat him as at best a servant (see, for example, p.20). Rowling’s “real” world is one that the reader should recognise and identify with, but made (like those of Luke Skywalker in Star Wars, James Henry Trotter (Dahl, 1961) and Cinderella) substantially worse by Harry’s personal circumstances.

However, as is common in such stories, Harry is “the chosen one” – the circumstances which led to him being in this situation turn out to be what set him apart for greatness – in Harry’s case, the death of his parents at the hands of Voldemort, although the full significance is not apparent in this first book of the series. An outsider, the huge Hagrid, tells him “You’re famous … A wizard, o’ course.” (p.42) and he is able to enter a fantasy realm, through “magic portals” – the entrance to Diagon Alley (p.56) and Platform 9 ¾ at King’s Cross (p.70), in which, with helpers, he has to master skills, receive equipment and overcome evil before returning triumphantly to the “real” world (p.223). He is guided by the “saintly wizard” Dumbledore (Zipes, 2009, p.295), who despite his power is nonetheless unable to defeat the forces of evil on his own, following the pattern of Merlin, Gandalf and Cadellin.

Harry is clearly the latest incarnation in a series of heroes, as mentioned by Blake (2009, p.308), and explored even at a popular level, in books such as Colbert’s The Magical Worlds of Harry Potter (2005, pp.205-218). Blake and Colbert draw on Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces (1993), and this is itself influenced by Jungian ideas about archetypes. There are different theories about why fantasy stories which follow this pattern should have had such a wide appeal – Jung’s ideas are psychological; Booker, in The Seven Basic Plots (2004) argues that the repeating patterns found in narrative have a social function; a theological perspective might suggest that human nature results in our responding to stories about a saviour-hero who is the only one who can defeat evil. Regardless, the story – and the narrative arc for the whole series – conforms to this established fantasy pattern.

Much of the world is fantastic – with spells, an alternative history and magical creatures – and the power of this detailed alternative to consensus reality helps to hold the readers’ attention. And yet, the world is one in which the reader can recognise elements of reality. Whilst Hogwarts, on top of the magical elements, represents an idealisation of a boarding school, it is a world in which Harry has to face issues such as bullying, relationships and discrimination.

In evaluating Harry Potter, Gupta (2009) critiques the “unthinkingness” of Rowling’s settings, arguing that it is formulaic and shallow, and charging that it “is based on the unquestioning … acceptance of the way things just magically are” (p.298) - citing as examples Harry’s “anti-rational” defeat of Voldemort/Quirrell (p.300) and the relationship between the Muggle and magic worlds (p.302). His analysis, based only on the first two books (see Note 1, p.303), fails to take into account that the early books are the simplest, being targeted at the youngest readers. Rowling had largely mapped out the narrative arc of her whole series of books from before the publication of the first book (see Rowling, 2006), and more complex social themes are developed in greater detail in the later books, as one might expect from an author whose longest lasting previous job had been in Amnesty International (Rowling, 2006). In Harry’s first year, still a child, there are limits to his ability to recognise and respond to these things, although his upbringing as one of the “downtrodden” means that despite his wizard parents and poor treatment at the hand of Muggles, he rejects the idea of better “wizarding families”, with the moral assessment: “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.” (Rowling, 1997, p.81) As with Ransome’s critics, we have in Gupta’s essay the expectation that Rowling should place his priorities for textual realism ahead of her narrative intentions.

In both books, real and fantastic work together to create an experience intended to attract a reader. The author uses the “real” – a constructed fiction more closely aligned with everyday experience – to provide a convincing alternative world which the reader should recognise. Fantasy – textual and narrative – then captures and holds the reader’s imagination. Whilst fantasy may be regarded as uncharacteristic of prestigious literature, we see that the same process that creates fantasy lies at the heart of all fiction.