The Supernatural In Literature

In her book From Angels to Aliens: Teenagers, the Media, and the Supernatural, Lynn Schofield Clark argues that the changing opinions of religion is dominantly responsible for the upsurge in popularity of supernatural texts and television shows.

Clark’s point is that an increasing number of young people are abandoning religion in favour of “spirituality” and that this is what is responsible for most of the popularity the supernatural genre receives, though I believe that the popularity of supernatural texts has more to do with what the certain texts address and how young readers relate to them, such as romance and the significance of texts that resemble more classic literature in one way or another. I will however agree that the magic and the spirituality are also part of what makes certain supernatural texts popular.

Lev Grossman’s novel The Magicians could be described as a contemporary take on C.S. Lewis’s classic The Chronicles of Narnia series. This is because in The Magicians, Grossman very consciously pays homage to Lewis in numerous ways. Firstly, Grossman paints a very realistic portrait of a writer named Christopher Plover, author of the children’s book series Fillory and Further – a series that Grossman’s protagonist, Quentin Coldwater, read when he was younger and is still obsessed with – which is reflective of Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia. But Grossman does not stop there, as he takes it one step further; as the story progresses Grossman slowly reveals the existence of Fillory – the magical land that was previously thought fictional – and has Quentin and his friends journey to Fillory on a dangerous quest.

In addition to this, Grossman takes inspiration from Lewis in crafting his plot, such as when Quentin and his friends enter Fillory and it is explained to them that upon completing their quest four of them will be crowned Kings and Queens of Fillory – an obvious reference to Lewis. And at the end of the novel, Grossman even has Quentin hunt for the Questing Beast, a beast rumoured to grant a wish to the one who catches him, and when Quentin catches the beast he wishes to be sent back home – reminiscent of Lewis’s second book in the Narnia series, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, in which the four Pevensie siblings are chasing the White Stag which leads them back home.

To a lot of extents The Magicians is incredibly reminiscent of Narnia, only Grossman’s world is a lot darker, and the messages he tries to convey to the reader are perhaps more meaningful and less sugar-coated, directed at young adults; that the grass is always greener on the other side, and that you cannot simply escape your problems by running away from them. At first Quentin is unhappy at home in Brooklyn, and then he is unhappy at Brakebills, and then just when he thinks he has found what he’s looking for in Fillory he is unhappy there also.

Grossman also address the notion of what it means to be ‘evil’, and that things are not always being what they appear and can be more complicated than anyone could imagine – like Grossman has created a more macabre alternate version of Narnia while still reminiscent of it and aware of The Magicians’ literary roots – for example, Quentin isn’t the perfect role model type that Peter or Edmund from Lewis’s Narnia series are: Quentin has flaws; he is self-obsessed and is never happy; he indirectly gets a girl killed and never takes responsibility for it; he makes mistakes such as cheating on his girlfriend. Quentin is definitely not the kind of protagonist that Lewis would have created.

I believe that through all of this, the reason to The Magician’s popularity can be explained (or at least a contributing factor to its popularity) because of the large level in which this book is reminiscent of The Chronicles of Narnia, which will always be a favourite in lots of young peoples’ hearts.

In Pete Hautman’s novel Sweet-blood, Hautman takes the notion of vampires to a whole new and previously unexplored level – by suggesting its connection to diabetes. This thoroughly original take on traditional vampire lore is quite a feat, and Hautman really showcases his ingenuity and deep-rooted knowledge of diabetes.

In Sweet-blood, Hautman’s sixteen-year-old protagonist Lucy is a sufferer of diabetes, and through her articulate narrative voice she explains the similarities between undiagnosed diabetes and traditional vampirism, and believes that that is where the vampire myths originated.

Though his text takes a completely different angle than that of traditional vampire fiction, Hautman pays homage to Bram Stoker and his seminal classic Gothic text, Dracula, specifically citing the vampire lore Stoker mentions, and even acknowledges the history of Vlad the Impaler, the Wallachian price who was notoriously known as the historical figure whom Stoker based his vampire Dracula on, in Lucy’s creative writing essay on the subject of vampires, titled The Sad Truth About Bloodsucking Demons.

In her essay, Lucy references Stoker, but basically explains that his writing was all based on oldwives tales, and that she in fact has figured out the real story behind the origin of vampires. “Bram Stoker got many of his ideas from Romanian folk legends,” Lucy explains, “and ever since, the vampire legend has grown to become a huge force in modern literature.” (Hautman, 2003: p27-28)

According to her theory, if historically someone was suspected of being a vampire it was because they were in fact suffering from an undiagnosed case of diabetes. Lucy explains that all traditional notions of vampire symptoms – the rotten smell of infection; madness; insatiable hunger; sensitivity to sunlight; teeth that appear longer because of receding gums; clammy skin; falling into deathlike comas – are all the effects of untreated diabetes. Lucy also explains her theory on where the idea of vampires needing to be burned to kill them originated: in the Middle Ages a girl would suddenly awaken one day with a ravenous appetite, she would become increasingly pale and weak, and then she would fall into a coma and reawaken the next day, ravenous again. Believing that she is possessed, a priest would insist that she has to be burned. The townspeople would find the ‘vampire’, seemingly dead but really just in another one her deathlike comas, and would place her body atop a pile of logs and branches. They would set her on fire, and then they would watch in shock as she begins to scream as her body catches on fire and eventually burns, killing her for good this time. “Diabetics were the original, the real vampires. They weren’t evil or superpowerful or immortal. They were just sick. Like me.” (Hautman, 2003: p32)

An interesting thing about Hautman’s novel is that he pays homage to Stoker in another way: by naming his protagonist after one of Stoker’s original characters. The name choice of Lucy is obviously significant, as in Dracula Lucy is overpowered by Dracula and is turned into a vampire, a parallel to Hautman’s Lucy, who considers herself a ‘proto-vampire’, saying “when I take an insulin shot now, I think of it as a vampire vaccine. If I quit taking insulin altogether I would become that starving vampire girl from the Middle Ages,” (Hautman, 2003: p32) so she has to take her insulin to prevent herself from coming to that same awful demise.

What is curious about this book is that the facts are plausible enough and so well researched that the reader could be completely pulled in to Lucy’s world, and would be almost ready to buy into her theories. This is something that I believe would hook readers on Hautman’s book – that, though Hautman pays obvious homage to Stoker, what the reader would get out of his book is something so completely different, and more than they bargained for, as he doesn’t conform in the slightest to traditional vampire beliefs in other popular vampire fiction.

While Stephenie Meyer’s supernatural success Twilight may not be greatly written, with a narrative voice sounding more like an elderly man reminiscing about the good old days than a seventeen-year-old girl, or have the strongest plot, it is undoubtedly extraordinarily popular among young teenage readers, and, surprisingly, even sometimes among older readers. As I have said, this isn’t because the book is especially well written – because it certainly isn’t – or because the characters are positive role models for our young people and are well developed – because they aren’t. The popularity of Meyer’s novel can simply be summed up in a single word: Escapism.

According to Clark’s argument, the issue of religion is the main contributor to the supernatural genre’s upsurge in popularity amongst young people. But this is where I disagree with her, because Meyer doesn’t touch on religion in her novel; nor does she touch greatly on magic. In fact, though theoretically Twilight would be classed under the supernatural genre because of its sparkly ‘vampires’, it is essentially a glorified Mills and Boon romance with a hearty dose of anti-feminist overtones mixed throughout.

And by the end of the novel Bella is determined to give up her human life and everything that goes with it – her family; a chance at a normal life – to be with Edward forever, even though he tries to convince her not to.

On the one hand, Twilight’s increasing popularity baffles me, but then looking at it objectively Meyer did everything right – using as her protagonist a clumsy, self-conscious, ordinary girl feeling unhappy and isolated, whom many teenagers can identify with, whose life is miraculously given meaning when a handsome, immortal, do-gooder vampire falls madly in love with her and vows to love her and protect her forever – it is the perfect recipe for getting young impressionable girls to imprint themselves onto the character of Bella, to live out that fantasy, and to hold on tight and ride that – here’s that word again – Escapism rollercoaster.

And then there’s also that seductive danger element – that at any point Edward might not be able to stop himself from biting Bella or accidentally killing her – which awakens in readers that deep hidden attraction to the flirtation with evil or death, which Meyer plays on, and obviously benefits from, going by the commercial success of her novel. “About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him – and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be – that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.” (Meyer, 2006: p170-171)

Not only is Twilight full of aggressively anti-feminist and borderline misogynistic suggestions, but it also fully encourages them; the book is an advocate for the thoroughly 1950s ideology of a woman’s role within society and a relationship, and ultimately concludes that a woman needs to be chastised; that her life is basically forfeited without the love of her Knight in Shining Armour; that she is both defenseless and useless without her man; that she needs to be protected and controlled by him, which, when you think about it, is a dangerous message to be sending young impressionable readers.

While having previously noted Sweet-blood’s popularity within the element of classic texts and its comparison to Dracula, what I have not yet addressed is the way in which Hautman handles romance. Lucy’s approaches romance in a different way than Meyer’s Bella does, in the sense that Lucy is more of a realist, a skeptic, and less prone to become overwhelmed by a love interest.

The first of Lucy’s love interests that the reader is introduced to takes the form of a mysterious transfer student, Dylan, and with his blue eyes and his ability to turn the usually sullen, stoic Lucy into an infatuated giggler. Lucy harbours an affection for Dylan, which only increases when he gives her a strange present of a monarch butterfly, still in its chrysalis, and her initial impression of Dylan is that because of this present he is unusual and different from all the other boys she knows. She is also enthralled by his heart and dagger tattoo on his wrist, which she sees as signifying that he is a bit of a rebel, an outlaw, which Lucy finds enthralling. Lucy’s image of Dylan is shattered, however, when she realises that, firstly, the butterfly did not come from Dylan himself but was actually a present from Draco, a shady wannabe-vampire who was trying to lure Lucy into his grasp to seduce her, and secondly, Dylan’s tattoo that had presented him as a maverick was in fact only a fake, reflective of the type of person Dylan was himself.

Lucy’s relationship with Mark was a lot different though, and this is the relationship that really grounds her, as Mark is her rock in a way that Dylan / Guy never was. Although Lucy doesn’t think of Mark as a love interest throughout the book, Hautman gives suggestions of Mark’s affection for her, most noticeably during his confession to Lucy about when he found her in one of her deathlike comas:–

“I never told you this. I didn’t go for help right away. I just watched you sleep. You were Sleeping Beauty. […] I tried to wake you up, but you kept on sleeping. Then I remembered there was only one way to wake up Sleeping Beauty. I kissed you. […] I…I’m sorry.” (Hautman, 2003: p112-113)

After the drama with Draco and Dylan is resolved and Lucy is transitioning from an angst-filled teenager to a more mature and contented young adult, she has a heartwarming conversation with Mark during the closing paragraph of the book and the possibility of a future romance between the two is reinforced:–

‘ “I’m still the same twisted individual. Just different.”

“You still Skeeter?”

“Still Skeeter, still Lucy, still Sweetblood, still all of them.”

“Good. I like you that way.”

“Which way?”

“I like you all those ways.”

[…] We walk for a wordless while with the autumn sun warm on our backs, and every now and then his arm brushes mine. ’ (Hautman, 2003: p180)

While having previously referred to The Magicians regarding its comparisons to The Chronicles of Narnia to explain popularity of the genre of the supernatural, what I have not yet referred to is Grossman’s usage of magic and also the love interests of his protagonist.

Needless to say romance is key when writing for young people, and for adults as well. It is universal; something that everyone longs for or can identify with. Grossman’s novel is not only a romance story, however, as it is an even balance within the genres of romance and magic.

The character of Quentin is probably one of the most relatable protagonists out of the books covered in my essay, as he is a modernist: constantly searching for meaning and trying to find order and control in a universe that is swallowing him up whole, and this makes him just like many young people out there: inadvertently self-obsessed; perpetually dissatisfied; suggestible.

Quentin is a very contradictory character, as his relationship with Alice seems to completely take him by surprise – after years of pining after Julia, a girl who would never come to love him back, he has finally found someone who returns his feelings, which he often finds unbelievably lucky – and yet after a while he seems to tire of her, as he does with most things, and begins to entertain the idea that there is someone else out there who could make him happier than Alice can, which is when he has a regrettable drunk encounter with their friend Janet, which inevitably results in disaster for Quentin and Alice.

And as for the magic, Grossman implores traditions of magic and relies on it for much of his story: it appears in the form of spellcasting; transformation; magic portals and alternate realities; mythical beasts. In short, Grossman doesn’t so much as create his own new kind of magic but again pays homage to tradition.

As soon as Quentin is thrown into the Hogwarts-esque environment of Brakebills College for Magical Pedagogy he fully embraces it and steadily becomes a powerful magician. As his journey progresses it would not be unusual for the reader to become more enthralled also, as Grossman’s writing is compelling and both Brakebills and Fillory are described so exquisitely that one can envision them completely, and unsurprisingly makes the comparisons with other texts, J.K Rowling’s Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for example, and Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia as previously mentioned.

Through all this Grossman’s novel pays homage to many predecessors of the supernatural or fantasy genre that attract new readers to his work, and the romance element grounds the story in something familiar that readers can identify with, allowing it to have that balance between the fantasy and romance, classing his work as a sort of magic realism novel – which arguably it is, as other than the land of Fillory, Grossman bases his world of magic within the reality of Brooklyn and Upstate New York.

Francesca Lia Block’s The Hanged Man has two main elements that are responsible for its popularity among young readers: the romance and the way in which magic is approached.

Block’s protagonist Laurel is a lot different from Twilight’s Bella and Sweet-blood’s Lucy, and I think her character would attract a lot more older reads, perhaps even university-age young people. Firstly, this is because of Laurel’s narrative voice. Block’s writing style is very unique in the way that it is almost poetic; it is smooth and allows the reader to in a way just flow along with it.

The voice of Laurel differs to Bella’s matter-of-fact register and Lucy’s colloquial-esque register, mainly because of Laurel’s uniquely spiritual temperament and what she has been through in her lifetime.

Though Block’s novella is not inherently supernatural, the character of Laurel would be the closest to a supernatural protagonist out of the three female characters I have referred to. This is because Laurel is clearly a spiritual character, and not only does she see things differently than other people she interacts with but she also sees things that others would not see at all. She has faith in Tarot cards, and has a completely different way of thinking compared with other teenage protagonists in young adult novels.

How Block handles the subject of magic differs from some other writers, Grossman, for instance – there isn’t outright evidence of magic or spells – as Block’s approach to the subject of magic is more subtle. Block implores on a pack of Tarot cards to convey her message and to give her plot structure.

The romance between Laurel and Jack is also a drive on Laurel’s way to emotional recovery after the abuse she was forced to endure at the hand of her father. Jack seduces Laurel, and in a way he brings her back to life – he awakens her desire and thirst for life, and then he disappears, giving her the chance she needs to be strong for herself and realise her inner strength.

In the final chapter, entitled Strength after the Major Arcana Tarot card, Laurel makes the journey to become whole again, and she exhibits her inner strength when she is capable of taking care of the young child Perdita, and her problems – such as her denial regarding the abuse she endured from her father, and her flawed relationship with her mother – begin to resolve as her state of mind improves.

“I will paint a Tarot deck – my own. […] Some of the people will be my mother, Perdita, Eddie, Flynn, Jack, my father. Some of the faces will be mine. I will be the Hanged Man, also the woman in the Lovers card, also the Queen of Cups. I will be Strength with her lion.” (Block, 1994: p137)

These things – the fresh exciting romance and the seductive power of the Tarot cards – contribute to why Block’s story would prove popular among young readers today, as it addresses the things that spark their interest, as well as having a deeper, darker message you see when, so to speak, you pull back the curtain of Block’s beautiful, alluring prose, and understand the meaning behind it.

To conclude, it is clear that while Clark may right in that the progression of different religions can have something to do with the popularity of the supernatural, it is not necessarily as restricted to religion, technology and society as she argues, as none of the texts referred to predominantly revolve around religion but instead rely mostly on the dynamics of a romantic relationship between young people, on the popularity of notions of magic, and on contemporary texts that remind us of classics that we grew up with.

Bibliography:

• Grossman, Lev. The Magicians. Viking, 2009.
• Lewis, C.S. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Harper Collins, 1998.
• Hautman, Pete. Sweet-blood. Simon & Schuster, 2003.
• Stoker, Bram. Dracula. Vintage, 2007
• Meyer, Stephenie. Twilight. Atom, 2006.
• Block, Francesca Lia. The Hanged Man. Harper Collins, 1994.
• Clark, Lynn Schofield. From Angels to Aliens: Teenagers, the Media, and the Supernatural. Oxford University Press, 2003.

© 2011 Anne Oddity. All rights reserved.