#The Last Battle

[idkaguyorsomething]

it’s thinking about the last battle time again

[narniansteel]

My Roman empire is that time this 13 year old girl threw an arrow so hard it went through a man's armor and into his chest 🙂

[quecksilvereyes]

sometimes i think about narnia and i vibrate out of my skin like...

you walk into a world you cannot understand, frozen and dying, and it is you who thaws it. you who kills the witch, you who breaks the stone table, you who slays the wolf. it is you who is crowned and it is you who wails for two worlds when the wardrobe doors shut behind you.

your skin never sits quite right and your teeth are too dull. there are wars in your bones and decades in your eyes before you can reach the telephone on the wall.

you are king. you are queen. they won't let you read the newspapers at breakfast.

it calls you back from beyond a train and from within paint. begs with bloody palms and salt-crusted cheeks. takes from you all that you can give - and sends you back.

you watch your sister fade.

you are a child twice and an adult once. and when you stand in your home again, with crushed bones and the smell of coal still in your nose, you watch them sneer at your sister.

your sister is the sun above you. she is, beautiful and stone-cast, alive in a world you could never stomach. she smiles, still, and stretches her skin over human bones.

she is no longer a friend of narnia. do you tell them it is her who has to bury you all and the stars that are falling from the skies in shards?

[justsomedutchgirl]

‘‘It’s such a shame they died so young, my condolences miss Pevensie.’’ Susan couldn’t remember how many people had said they were sorry for her loss even if she tried. Too many people pretending to know her and her siblings well enough to have an opinion about them. Too many people just saying what is expected of them to say. Because what to those words mean to her? Absolutely nothing.

It doesn’t matter what people say directly to her, she can hear them whisper; about how she’s all alone, about how she had to bury the rest of her family, about how it is such a shame for a young woman to navigate the world without her siblings. As if she hadn’t navigated a new world before, as if she didn’t rule a world before, as if she wasn’t crowned to the radiant southern sun before. Because what do they know? Absolutely nothing.

The sun, although it was not her sun, brought her some comfort by warming her cheeks, even if it was a only a little bit. She couldn’t help but compare herself to the sun, so, so, so far away and o so alone. But still the sun had a purpose, she had lost hers. How could she when the sky had fallen down, the woods all turned to dust and the sea had went dry?  What purpose does the sun still have when there is nothing to give light to, nothing to give warmth to, nothing to shine for. Absolutely nothing.

The southern sun is not enough anymore, true north is gone, western woods make way for buildings to hide from the sun and sailors make there way across the eastern sea using the stars but more often than not a compass. What can the gentle do, when the valiant can’t encourage her, when the just can’t help her and the magnificent can’t protect her. Absolutely nothing.

But she still passes statues of lions, and something about them angers her but comforts her all the same. But there are still people that need to be protected; a lone boy walking past four older boys who look like they found their next target. But there are still people to help; an old man cleaning the graves of loved ones and strangers alike. But there are still people to encourage; the little girl determined to climb the tree just like her brothers did. The sky is still clear, the woods are still great, the sea is still glistening, therefore perhaps the sun can still be radiant. So that there is something left of kings and queens of old.

[minamorris1857]

I wish we’d gotten more Jill and Lucy interaction in The Last Battle. Lucy and Susan were so close and when Susan steps away from Narnia, Lucy suddenly has this sister shaped hole in her life. I like to imagine that Eustace writes a letter to Lucy and says “help I went to Narnia with this girl from my school and she’s asking all these questions and I don’t know how to answer” and Lucy is like “Peter, Ed, we need a support group”. So Peter asks Professor and Polly and they all go to Polly’s house for tea and Eustace arrives with this sweet girl with dark hair and bright eyes and Lucy’s just immediately “mine and y’all can back off”. They’re pen pals and phone buddies and talk about every thing, from clothes to books to art to movies to Narnia and Jill is at the Pevensie house almost as much as she’s at the Scrubb house. I imagine that Jill is really good at sewing and manages to make Narnian dresses for her and Lucy and they’ll have picnics in secluded corners of parks in their not-quite Narnian dresses because British fabric will never compare to Narnian fabric but it feels almost real if they take their shoes off and drink water from the springs and eat apples and fish and bread with thick, salty butter with their fingers. Lucy uses her drawing skills to record what Jill and Eustace saw in the Silver Chair and Jill has drawings of Aslan and Cair Paravel tucked in her school books. Susan never quite understands how Lucy became so close to Jill but they always ask her to join in, and Jill shows Lucy how to make a dress for Susan, who leaves it hanging in her closet for years after they’re gone. Lucy and Jill are sisters in the same way that Eustace and Caspian and Edmund are brothers and they’re never found far from each other. Lucy loves her brothers (Eustace included) but I think there’s something special about the relationship between the two younger daughters of Narnia and I really wish we could have seen that in the series.

[maysileepevensie]

what died didn’t stay dead

what died didn’t stay dead

you’re alive, you’re alive

in my head.

[petermorwood]

Prime Minister WHO?

There are many reasons why I seldom post about politics, and I've just found another...

*****

I was glancing at the news just now and muttered something to @dduane about the sequence of musical-chairs PMs who've passed through 10 Downing Street in recent years.

"Why doesn't Parliament let Larry take over," I said, chucking firewood into the stove. "More self-interest and cosying up to chums, typical cat, but I bet he'd make a better job of it than Bojo or Lettuce Woman or..."

And that's when I had a memory blip and Picked The Wrong Name.

"...Rishda Tarkaan."

Oops.

Of course once the words were out I remembered the right ones (Rishi Sunak) but by then DD had given me one of the most classic "Say What?" looks I've seen in a very long time.

:-P

[nateofgreat]

CS Lewis: And now for Susan Pevensie, I think I’ll include a little message about how being overly concerned with unimportant things like beauty, popularity, a desire to grow up too fast, etc can hinder ones spiritual growth, and sometimes even cause them to leave their faith entirely because this is reflective of my own spiritual journey. But not all is lost for her and someday she may-

Woke fans: Oh my gosh! MISOGYNY!!?!??!?!?

JK Rowling: Clearly Susan’s being punished for being a woman. Since, as we all know, you should take spiritual allegories at their most basic meaning and never think any deeper.

Neil Gaiman: Oh yeah? WELL I’LL WRITE BIZARRE PSEUDO SATANIC HORROR PORN OF YOUR CHRIST ANALOGUE! THAT’LL SHOW YOU WE’RE NOT DEPRAVED! AHAHAHAHHAHA!

CS Lewis: ... Why do I even try with you people?

[thenerdyindividual]

The problem of Susan this the problem of Susan that why does no one talk about the fact that all the past protagonists die in a train crash AND ARE HAPPY ABOUT IT

[locitapurplepink]

Taglist : @photogirl894 , @leosardonyx18 , @commander-tech , @aintinacage , @trapezequeen , @cassie-fanfics , @zaya-mo , @genericficerblog , @laughingphoenixleader , @kanerallels , @ambulance-mom , @fulltimecatwitch and anyone else who wants to vote this one.

[idkaguyorsomething]

The Problem of Susan Fic Recs

For many reasons, The Last Battle is probably the most contentious addition to the Narnia canon. The standout, though, has to be the infamous Problem of Susan, wherein the Pevensie children are all killed in a train crash and brought to Narnia 2 Electric Boogaloo aka heaven, then declare that Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia because of her interest in “lipsticks and nylons”. Hardly any time is spent on this, but the implications have been the ground for a lot of argument and discussion. What exactly would happen to Susan, and should it have happened? Over the years, dozens of fic writers have thrown their hats in the ring and weighed in on the subject, making the Problem of Susan almost a prism for the fandom: everyone shines through it a bit differently, resulting in a wide spectrum. Here’s some of the highlights under the cut.

http://shedletsky.com/blog/the-god-who-loves-you

Starting with the fic that coined the term, written by Neil Gaiman himself, this fic is a reflection and deconstruction of the idea that Susan would be able to find Narnia again by delving into the trauma that the experience of losing all her family at once as well as the social injustices that a young woman of her time would’ve faced, something that the narrative of The Last Battle never really addresses. It took off for a reason, as it presents a lot of good food for thought, but it’s also got some pretty weird shit that can feel like it’s conflating adulthood with edginess. Well worth a read for all the points it raises, but if you’re fond of canon you probably won’t like the way it takes a hammer to it.

Now this one is exactly what you’d want to read if you wanted some feel-good time. This story is probably the closest to how C S Lewis would’ve written Susan’s return to Narnia, detailing her rediscovering all the things she put away as well as what led up to her rejecting Narnia in the first place. It falls more to the end of being almost uncritical of canon, with the focus on Susan basically having the same sort of religious rediscovery that C S Lewis himself had in his life. Because of how she was treated in canon, that can be pretty frustrating, but the ending feels nothing short of joyous.

Swinging back to the other end of the spectrum, this fic is very critical of the idea of The Last Battle being a pretty happy ending for everyone, unambiguously stating that life is always worth living for all the Pevensie kids. It explores what their lives could’ve been like if they didn’t die, being a rebuttal of C S Lewis’ themes rather than a continuation of them while feeling equally as happy as the fic directly above.

And this story feels like a midway point between the above two. It dives really deep into the emotional damage that Susan would’ve suffered before and after the train crash in some absolutely gorgeous prose, showing both her and Aslan with great sympathy while maintaining that what happened to her is not a punishment in any way. Bittersweet and very, very good.

Heading back towards the more critical end of the spectrum, this fic presents a Susan who is not interested in finding Narnia again, only her family. She is very much a character straight out of an ancient myth rather than a teen trying to make sense of a senseless situation here, filled with determination as much as desperation. It’s probably the closest fic on here to having something close to a plot as well as a character study, with the exception of The Queen’s Return and one other:

Being a crossover with what’s pretty much the antithesis of the Chronicles of Narnia, His Dark Materials, it’s probably easy for you to guess which side of the spectrum this story falls on. It’s more of a HDM story than a Narnia one, but the two worlds blend together surprisingly well, and it gives us a rare look into a Susan who’s lived decades of her life when the story picks up. She’s pretty much the Professor and it is fascinating, as is everything left to interpretation by this gem of a fic that is ambiguous yet deeply satisfying.

¡And here’s Susan as a Doctor Who companion! This isn’t directly a Narnia story so much as it is one about two people much older than they look mourning the loss of their worlds, with a Susan who is a queen wise beyond her years. Reading it is like taking an ice shower. It doesn’t hold back on the grief, and as a result it manages to feel honest as it reaches a warm ending.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/24311

Despite also being a crossover, this is in some ways the opposite of touch the sky with two arms. Susan is more of an everyday young woman than a queen, and [SLIGHT SPOILERS] Narnia itself does feature directly. But y’know, that’s part of what makes fandom so interesting. Not everyone is going to have the same take on everything, and the ending of this leans more happy than melancholy.

¿A shipping fic that’s also a crossover with Peter Pan that features neither Neverland or Narnia? Yes, this one probably has the least to do with Narnia or Aslan, but it tells a very compelling story about living life and growing up, something that isn’t perfect but can be good if you find someone you want to spend your life with. Susan Pevensie and Wendy Darling are a really good couple, pinky promise.

Technically more a series of ensemble oneshots, but Susan features very prominently in a lot of them, and they will make you feel every feeling that everything else on this list might’ve given you. Satisfaction, devastation, simple joy, just go give it a shot.

[narniansteel]

Whoever wrote this scene loves the Christian roots of Narnia BECAUSE THIS SCENE IS SO RELATABLE FOR SO MANY BELIEVERS. IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE IT.

[quecksilvereyes]

oh, sister, I am sorry. your eyes are sunken and your skin is bruised. your lips are chapped, your nailbeds bitten raw. your husband's hand on your waist is a ghost's touch held by the band on your left ring finger and I-

I am dead.

I got on the train, Su. Nevermind your tears, nevermind the plea you could not shape with words, nevermind your fingers on the pulse point of my wrist. "stay", you'd said, as you have always done, dictionary in hand and baby teeth yet lodged in your jaw. "don't go where i cannot."

I step through a wardrobe and you follow, damned be reason. I slay a wolf and you follow, I cling to the little ones and you follow, I am crowned and you follow, I am-

I go past a lamp post, and you follow, damned be dread. I go to a train station and you follow, trembling hands and tender heart. I go, and I go, and I go, and you follow. Sun of my skies. Light of my life.

I go. you stop.

are we too old for stories, now? ten-and-four and ten-and-three, budding bodies and steel bones, we are cast from our home. i hold the little ones until i drown in them. you grip your skirts until no iron can press the shape of your palms from them. and you have ever been, cruelly reasonable and logically callous.

say you, glass shard eyes and rouge-red lips: we are english. we are children. she thinks she has found a magical land in the upstairs wardrobe.

say I, trembling hands and coiling guts: we are narnian. we are monarchs. if she's not mad and she's not lying, then logically she must be telling the truth.

my sister Susan, beautiful as folk tales are and twice as sharp, did you intend every invitation you took for me to twist the knife a godly animal once thrust into my guts? perhaps it was the way your eyes turned blue, or the sound of your laughter losing its bells. perhaps it was just my trembling fingers at the back of your legs, drawing stocking lines where no stockings had ever lain.

the line came out shaking, and you rubbed it off until your skin cried red. the hem of your dress still dripped wet when you left that day, turning on heels too narrow for you to walk in.

do you remember? it took you days to come home, and mother wailed for all of them. you crawled into my bed that night, as you did when we were parents to our little ones, those terrible months. your head on my shoulder, your breath in my ear, I held you until morning.

your mouth in my throat, eyes heavy with sleep, tongue heavy with champagne: we are here now. we must make the best of it. he cannot have all our lives, and all our joys. i wish you would laugh again.

doesn't little lucy, shrieking mouth and tumbling legs, laugh enough for us all?

lucy's manic. if she didn't laugh she'd cry.

i think sometimes, in the parts of my guts that are still a schoolboy, and are mean and cruel to match, that the alcohol makes you softer than the daylight ever could. i do not tell you.

i press my lips to your forehead. i wrap my arms around you. the year between us rings heavy, and when I get up in the morning, you do not follow.

I tried, Su. I did. I applied for university, I saw that girl with that smile. with those eyes. I let you take sections from the paper before I ever touched it, I held the little ones in my arms, and I made coffee in the morning. I sat all my exams.

I smiled when the little ones came back smelling of home.

Aslan's wounds, did I try. but-

I have ever been a thing made for stories. brave the way knights are, bloody knuckles and buckling pride. a horse between my calves, a sword in my hands.

I think, sometimes, that I was born for my sword, for the hollow ringing of my heart when I first held it. a part of me, even then, ten-and-three and soaked to the bone.

such bravery is not made for real world boys and real world taunts. there is a map, I think, from the summits of my knuckles to the jaws of every boy who ever looked at me and bared his teeth.

I am sovereign. I am the skies for your sun to burn in.

I am made wrong, for this england, and I cannot take this life you want. I belong, I think, into myths and legend, the star-studded shards of our home.

so I went on the train, Susan. so I died, and I named what you have chosen. so I banned you from their scorning mouths. so you grip your husband's hand, realest of us all, and you cry. you do not follow.

Forgive me.

[doverstar]

if c.s. lewis said susan pevensie is no longer a friend of narnia, then she’s no longer a friend of narnia. he’s not a misogynist, he’s the author. he created susan pevensie. he made the character. he was making a point. it was good writing. stop whining

[thebeesareback]

Thoughts on The Chronicles of Narnia

There are plenty of valid criticisms to make about the Chronicles of Narnia. There's the xenophobia, sexism, treatment of Susan, heavy and relentless religious overtones, and the fact that the plots get more and more bonkers throughout the series. The Silver Chair and The Last Battle, in particular, seem more like a description of a trip than an actual narrative. However, there is a criticism which I'd like to address, and that's the lack of humour.

These books are actually pretty funny. In Prince Caspian, the Pevensie kids are transported across time and space and brought to the ruined castle in which they used to live, climb into a magical vault full of incredible treasure... but they also have to worry about their torch running out of batteries. There's plenty of humorous juxtaposition whereby things have enormous power and potential, yet end up being used for incredibly mundane things. In The Magician's Nephew, there's a forest full of pools, and if you jump into a pool you're transported into a different world. Alas, the only beings which live there and can freely explore are, um, guinea pigs. Likewise, an apple (of course) which came from Narnia grew into a tree. It could have all sorts of incredible powers, but when the tree dies, they just turn its wood into a wardrobe and store old coats there. Finally, the first king and queen of Narnia are a random London cabbie and his wife because, well, they were there. Perhaps they're still in Narnia, grumbling about Bolt and taking the long way around.

anyway here's baby Ben Barnes

[supernovasilence]

Thinking about how the books introduce us to Narnia as this vibrant, beautiful land and then make us watch it die piece by piece. If you read in publication order you start with Narnia a place of wonder and magic even under the Witch's power and then the Pevensies save it and we get "the Golden Age" and Narnia is really something; if you read chronologically you start with Aslan making Narnia and everything so full of life and song that trees grow from everything that touches the earth and people laugh to be the butt of a joke because they (and everyone else) have never heard a joke before in the history of the world and jokes are fun! And then you read LWW and get to see what Narnia has grown into and get the Golden Age.

And then you read about a Narnia where people are in hiding and magic is a legend (even under Jadis, there was magic) and Cair Paravel is in ruins and lions and beavers are extinct. Cair Paravel can be rebuilt but lions and beavers can't be revived. The characters restore Narnia but it will never be quite what it was. It will never be another Golden Age.

We watch Caspian, boy hero of the last two books, die, grieving and broken and old before his time. Narnia is saved again and it's time for a coronation, just like in MN, LWW, and PC! Yay! Except this coronation will happen alongside a funeral. Underneath Narnia swims a dead kingdom and caves full of monsters waiting for the end of the world. Remember children, all things die.

The next time we open a book, we become the Pevensies, returning to Narnia to find centuries have passed and our magical home has become warlike and worn. Aslan has not been seen in ages; guard towers have been built around Narnia's borders for the many battles. Where are the clearings full of moonlight dances that Mr. Tumnus spoke about, back at the beginning? Tirian assures us Narnia is like that, in times of peace, only visitors from Earth tend to be brought over when Narnia is in trouble. We will not see it. Narnia was like that; good and beautiful and wonderful things did happen. Narnia is death. There will be no after the battle this time, no awakening land or Golden Age after cruelty is stopped. Cruelty and war have seeped into Narnia itself. Guard towers must be built: not a temporary war, but long term militarism. People turn on one another. Everyone dies. Narnia dies.

"I saw it begin," says Digory/the Professor. "I did not think I would live to see it die." Neither did we.

"I did hope that it might go on forever," says Jill. It could have. This is a story. Turns out it's a tragedy.