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lotesseMy mind has been utterly eaten by Narnia. Again,
And I remember how much I love it, how much I've always loved it. I can't remember the first time I heard those stories. By the time I learned memory I already knew them almost by heart. Their utter simplicity. God, I love them. To reread Narnia is, for me, to perfectly remember what it is to be a child.
But of course, innocence never lasts. Enter fic, stage left.
No children grow up twice, but Susan had already done it once. She remembered her body changing, shifting, becoming full curves instead of long leanness, the rich blood of womanhood that flowed from her. She remembered the suitors who would line up to kiss the fullness of her womanly lips, the sultry pleasure of their eyes and hands upon her lovely woman's body.
Her body was narrow again now, her breasts just beginning to round out her schoolgirl's sweaters, but she remembered what it was to be a desirable woman, and what it was to desire. She was the pretty one, and she had learned how to best use that. The other girls in her form at school had not, and they were clumsy, wearing too much makeup on their childish faces, choosing all the wrong clothes, making themselves ridiculous with their every attempt at elegance. But she was once Queen Susan the Beautiful, and had not forgotten the trick to creating allure.
She never understood the betrayal on Lucy's face when she refused to speak longingly of being a child and adventuring in Narnia. Lucy, she thought, had never learned womanhood, though she too would grow up twice. Lucy had been the Valiant Queen, and though some had loved her, Susan knew for a fact that Lucy had never seen it, and that they had never dared to show her. Lucy, she thought petulantly, was far too forward for men to ever approach her. She was brash and bright and vivid, but had no idea how to put them at ease or set them on edge with passion and promise never quite spoken. She thought that perhaps that was why Lucy longed so badly for childhood-because she didn't know what to do with womanhood now that she could have it. Susan thought that Lucy was a bit blind, or else only looked backwards.
But Susan looked forwards, to the glories ahead of her, a beautiful and sophisticated young woman, perhaps back in America, though without her parents this time. Narnia was over, and she would not forget what she had learned, but childhood must needs give way to maturity, and you couldn't have both, nor hold on to the past once it was gone.
She was ready to grow up again.
Because sometimes I have to wonder how exactly Lewis thought that the growing up again thing would work. It gives the children a strange agelessness, an uncertain, fluid status. I want the movie to be good, dammit!
And I remember how much I love it, how much I've always loved it. I can't remember the first time I heard those stories. By the time I learned memory I already knew them almost by heart. Their utter simplicity. God, I love them. To reread Narnia is, for me, to perfectly remember what it is to be a child.
But of course, innocence never lasts. Enter fic, stage left.
No children grow up twice, but Susan had already done it once. She remembered her body changing, shifting, becoming full curves instead of long leanness, the rich blood of womanhood that flowed from her. She remembered the suitors who would line up to kiss the fullness of her womanly lips, the sultry pleasure of their eyes and hands upon her lovely woman's body.
Her body was narrow again now, her breasts just beginning to round out her schoolgirl's sweaters, but she remembered what it was to be a desirable woman, and what it was to desire. She was the pretty one, and she had learned how to best use that. The other girls in her form at school had not, and they were clumsy, wearing too much makeup on their childish faces, choosing all the wrong clothes, making themselves ridiculous with their every attempt at elegance. But she was once Queen Susan the Beautiful, and had not forgotten the trick to creating allure.
She never understood the betrayal on Lucy's face when she refused to speak longingly of being a child and adventuring in Narnia. Lucy, she thought, had never learned womanhood, though she too would grow up twice. Lucy had been the Valiant Queen, and though some had loved her, Susan knew for a fact that Lucy had never seen it, and that they had never dared to show her. Lucy, she thought petulantly, was far too forward for men to ever approach her. She was brash and bright and vivid, but had no idea how to put them at ease or set them on edge with passion and promise never quite spoken. She thought that perhaps that was why Lucy longed so badly for childhood-because she didn't know what to do with womanhood now that she could have it. Susan thought that Lucy was a bit blind, or else only looked backwards.
But Susan looked forwards, to the glories ahead of her, a beautiful and sophisticated young woman, perhaps back in America, though without her parents this time. Narnia was over, and she would not forget what she had learned, but childhood must needs give way to maturity, and you couldn't have both, nor hold on to the past once it was gone.
She was ready to grow up again.
Because sometimes I have to wonder how exactly Lewis thought that the growing up again thing would work. It gives the children a strange agelessness, an uncertain, fluid status. I want the movie to be good, dammit!
no subject
Date: 2004-09-08 12:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 11:24 am (UTC)the Caspian/Lucy is going to be written, whether I will or nill. It will be. Eventually.
Thank you v. much for the happy feedback-y stuff.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-09 04:20 pm (UTC)