An Colún: Tales of escapism, tales of deeper truths
"I write, not for children,” he said, “but for the child-like, whether they be of five, or fifty, or seventy-five."
GOBLINS in European folklore are misshapen, subterranean creatures who can be mischievous, roguish, treacherous and murderous.
In Ireland our versions of them come in the form of the Pooka, the Leprechaun, the Grogoch and the Fear Dearg. The Pooka is a shape-shifting spirit that can appear as a goblin, goat, or dark horse; in Irish folklore he roams the Irish countryside and plays tricks on unsuspecting travelers. The Grogoch is a solitary, goblin-like spirit inhabiting remote areas and caves. And the Fear Dearg is a solitary, goblin-like fairy known for his mischievous and sometimes malicious pranks. When I was a child growing up in Ireland in the 1970s adults would sometimes warn me to be wary of the boogeyman. Boogeyman was an Americanised spelling, popularised in the U.S. and Canada, of the word traditionally used in Ireland and Britain – the Bogeyman. Adults telling children that the boogeyman could "get you" was a disciplinary tool to enforce good behaviour and keep children safe. It deterred children from wandering into dangerous, dark areas like bogs or woods at night. The bogeyman could have been the Pooka or the Fear Dearg. While many parents no longer use the bogeyman tactic as a way of keeping their children safe, there are still some who refer to it in a lighthearted way.
One of my favourite writers in the fantasy genre is the Scottish writer George MacDonald. "I write, not for children,” he said, “but for the child-like, whether they be of five, or fifty, or seventy-five." In his 1872 novel “The Princess and the Goblin”, MacDonald displays his writing prowess with a great description of a goblin. “Her nose was certainly broader at the end than its extreme length,” he writes, “and her eyes, instead of being horizontal, were set up like two perpendicular eggs, one on the broad, the other on the small end. Her mouth was no bigger than a small buttonhole until she laughed, when it stretched from ear to ear – only, to be sure, her ears were very nearly in the middle of her cheeks.” This is the queen of a race of goblins living in caverns within a mountain, and she is seated in front of a great gathering of goblins, which is being watched by Curdie (in hiding), a young miner of 13 years of age, who wishes to discover what mischief these creatures of the mountain are up to.
In MacDonald’s tale these misshapen creatures can be interpreted as being a metaphor for our disgruntled and irritable selves or, even worse, for our dangerous and murderous selves. These goblins can be vindictive, dangerous creatures and the miners are wary of them, using the chief defence against these creatures, which is the reciting of poetry. A miner is able to put a goblin to flight by reciting a poem!
GK Chesterton said “The Princess and the Goblin” made a difference “to my whole existence.” CS Lewis was another great admirer. “I have never concealed the fact,” commented Lewis, “that I regarded him as my master; indeed I fancy I have never written a book in which I did not quote from him.” One day, while in a train station, Lewis picked up a copy of MacDonald’s “Phantastes” and began to read. “A few hours later,” he remarked, “I knew I had crossed a great frontier.” He said Phantastes “baptised” his imagination. The novel is largely viewed as the first modern fantasy novel written exclusively for adults. It tells the story of Anodos, a 21-year-old who discovers a magical portal that spirits him away to a forest. There he encounters malevolent creatures, fairy queens, and his own living Shadow.
Chesterton, Lewis and MacDonald all shared the belief that fairy tales were not just childish escapism, but a vehicle for communicating deeper spiritual and moral truths. There’s a correlation between MacDonald’s novels and the human condition. In a world bedevilled with unpleasantness, a lack of kindness and a dearth of love, MacDonald’s novels time and again point us back towards our better selves. In the novel “The Princess and Curdie” a preacher is talking to his congregation about goodness, kindness and being amiable and decent towards others: “To be just and friendly was to build the warmest and safest of all nests, and to be kind and loving was to line it with the softest of all furs and feathers.” When we bring these qualities of character to our married lives and to our family lives then we can elevate these important relationships to high and deeply comforting levels; we can raise our family unit to being a place where it’s akin to a warm and safe nest that is suffused with a sense of love.
In The Princess and Curdie there’s an excellent passage about the bad effects of others on our characters. Curdie has been working with the miners and their influence is noticeable. “They were not companions to give the best of help toward progress, and as Curdie grew, he grew at this time faster in body than in mind – with the usual consequence, that he was getting rather stupid – one of the chief signs of which was that he believed less and less in things he had never seen. At the same time I do not think he was ever so stupid as to imagine that this was a sign of superior faculty and strength of mind. Still, he was becoming more and more a miner, and less and less a man of the upper world where the wind blew. On his way to and from the mine he took less and less notice of bees and butterflies, moths and dragonflies, the flowers and the brooks and the clouds. He was gradually changing into a commonplace man.”