Why There is No Jewish Narnia
I thought this was an interesting article, appearing in the Jewish review of books:
http://www.jewishreviewofbooks.com/publications/detail/why-there-is-no-jewish-narnia
The author, Michael Weingrad, reviews two books: THE MAGICIANS by Lev Grossman and THE WATER BETWEEN THE WORLDS by Hagar Yanai, but uses these reviews to discuss a larger question of why there is no Jewish Narnia-type books. There are supernatural stories written by Jews, to be sure, tales of ghosts and magic and metamorphosis (he mentions Kafka) and certainly plenty of top-notch science fiction (he mentions Isaac Asimov and Robert Silverberg and Stanley Weinbaum). But why no antiquarian high fantasy?
You might by reflex wonder who the heck cares what race or religion an author is, so long as the story is well-told? If that is your reflex, thank your native and conniving stars, because you have a healthy attitude toward race, a melting-pot attitude. But on the other hand, this is the Jewish Review of Books, an article written by a Jew about Jewish writers, reviewing Jewish books written by Jews for Jews, so if you can’t kvetch and kvell about Jews in that forum, where can you?
Besides, the Jews are so accomplished in every other part of the arts and entertainment field, to see any part of the field where they do not predominate, must less are absent, is worthy of comment.
With clear-eyed insight, Mr. Weingrad defines fantasy (as distinguished from ghost stories or supernatural fictions) in this way:
But the supernatural does not itself define fantasy literature, which is a more specific genre. It emerged in Victorian England, and its origins are best understood as one of a number of cultural salvage projects that occurred in an era when modern materialism and Darwinism seemed to drive religious faith from the field. Religion’s capacity for wonder found a haven in fantasy literature.
The experience of wonder, of joy and delight on the part of the reader, has long been recognized as one of the defining characteristics of the genre. This wonder is connected with a world, with a place of magic, strangeness, danger, and charm; and whether it is called Perelandra, Earthsea, Amber, or Oz, this world must be a truly alien place. As Ursula K. Leguin says: “The point about Elfland is that you are not at home there. It’s not Poughkeepsie.”
He offers several answers (1) Jews tend to exclude both magic and Dark Lords from their theology and folk tales, unlike Christian folk tales, which are replete with them, and magic and evil are the standard tropes of fantasy; (2) The Holocaust was too horrific to allow for the escapism and wonder, the standard theme of fantasy, to have much hold on the Jewish imagination; (3) Jews suffered in medieval Europe, so tales of knighthood and chivalry, the standard setting of fantasy novels, do not sit well with them; and (4) the Jews tend to be modern, urban, and future-oriented, which suits well the mood and theme of Science Fiction, whereas fantasy tends to suit the mood and fantasy of the nostalgic, pastoral, backward-looking.Myself, must as I like his definition of fantasy, I doubt both the question and the answer. As for the question, I can think of at least two Jewish fantasy writers right off the top of my head: Esther Frienser and David B. Coe (who, by the way, is an acquaintance of mine, and an all around swell guy).
(It was David B. Coe who uttered the most professional and wisest words I ever heard a writer speak when asked about blockbuster writers like Robert Jordan. When asked whether he was jealous of more famous writers, Mr. Coe replied mildly that Robert Jordan not only made our audience grow, he also paid our bills. Unless Tor Books gets enough cash in its coffers from its top selling author sales, it can’t pay the midlist authors like us.)
(2) Lewis and Tolkien wrote their most memorable works during the horror and loss of World Wars, and both suffered loss. The need of escape from the dull and bloodstained prison camp which forms the modern world and its world view is not obviated because of greater rather than less suffering — even if we can put a measure on suffering, which I am not sure we can or ought.
Although it might seem unlikely that anyone would wonder whether the author of The Lord of the Rings was Jewish, the Nazis took no chances. When the publishing firm of Ruetten & Loening was negotiating with J. R. R. Tolkien over a German translation of The Hobbit in 1938, they demanded that Tolkien provide written assurance that he was an Aryan.
Tolkien chastised the publishers for “impertinent and irrelevant inquiries,” and — ever the professor of philology — lectured them on the proper meaning of the term Aryan: “As far as I am aware none of my ancestors spoke Hindustani, Persian, Gypsy, or any related dialects.”
As to being Jewish, Tolkien regretted that “I appear to have no ancestors of that gifted people.”
Despite my skepticism, I still think it an article thought-provoking enough to recommend reading. See here.