The whole world, it seems, has recently been gripped by Pullman fever. Children, adults, theatre and ? soon ? cinema, all fixated on the compelling tale of Lyra and her parallel- world Oxford, the daemons and witches and other spheres that all began with Northern Lights.
The suggestion that his writing owes its success largely to its similarity to Tolkien, C.S Lewis and J. K Rowling elicits immediate protests. Pullman?s main objection to the comparison with these other fantasy writers is that they fail to address reality in the same way his own books do. After the second part of the trilogy, The Subtle Knife, was published, Pullman was quoted as saying that his work was not mere fantasy but ?stark realism?. I ask him what this means. ?Exactly what it says. The fantasy elements are there to serve what I hope is a realistic depiction of human nature. The quarrel I have with much fantasy is that it has this magnificent imaginative machinery and it does so little with it ? rather like having the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra at your disposal, and all you can think of to play is ?Happy Birthday To You?.?
Certainly this attempt to confront controversial issues of reality is one of the distinguishing features of His Dark Materials: Its blatant attack on the Church has provoked accusations of Satanism. Pullman seems a little tired of this continued focusing on a particular aspect of his work but continues to defend its legitimacy: ?I don?t apologise at all,? he says defiantly, referring of course to his fictional representation of the Church as propagators of persecution and traditionalist ignorance. ?That kind of thing is still going on today.? Understandably, he objects strongly to the comparisons made between his books and those of the C.S Lewis? Narnia series, which sustains a widely-recognised Christian allegory. He describes Lewis? characters as bullies who appear to represent a religion that advocates intolerance for the unfamiliar.
What then makes Pullman?s books so different? Aside from the exposition of the Church?s wrongdoings, I put it to Pullman that this ?stark realism? explores the nature of innocence: ?I?m actually much less interested in innocence than in experience, and especially in the transition between the two.? This is, perhaps, why the books are so popular, not just with adults but with children, who for once, far from being patronized, are allowed a glimpse of the journey to adulthood they are on the verge of making. The two main characters, Will and Lyra, are thrown into an adventure of child-snatching, world-jumping and murder, but the real heart of the book lies in their own experiences and the maturity they seem to acquire without succumbing to the bitterness that suffocates many of the adults around them.
Having challenged both children and adults in this way it seems strange that Lyra?s Oxfordis apparently a reversion to the Pullman of yore, an uncomplicated writer of children?s books. It is a small story of sixty pages or so describing an adventure of Lyra?s unrelated to that of His Dark Materials. It is entertaining to read but seems rather trivial in comparison with its predecessor. Pullman is a little defensive when I broach this subject. ?Is it just an issue of size then?? he demands. The tiny book, released just before Christmas and the opening of the His Dark Materials play at the National Theatre, does just seem a little too commercially convenient. ?I do this for money, you know,? he quips, and he seems only too aware of how critics may condemn the lucrative enterprises that fans and Hollywood alike are understandably impatient for.
But Pullman?s stance is one of resolute faith in the knowledge that he, at least, likes the stuff. He talks animatedly about the charming John Lawrence engravings in Lyra?s Oxford and about the play he enthuses, ?I've seen Part One and it?s all going to be wonderful. A great cast, for one thing, and a superb adaptation, for another.?
It seems that Pullman is growing weary of intellectual dissection of his books: his enthusiasm, and the enthusiasm he seems to find so charming in his readers is simple, unabated enjoyment of them. He is delighted when, at a talk in the Ashmolean, the last question is from an ever-so-eager little boy, asking who Pullman?s favourite character is. ?Mrs Coulter? (Lyra?s magnificent but wicked mother) , he replies gleefully. ?You can write about complete evil and pretend to be virtuous.?
And this is perhaps the most interesting thing about Pullman; his irony and refusal to acquiesce to the demands of the over-intellectual readers that he explain himself and satiate their desire for more of the same. Having understood the questions raised in His Dark Materials, one feels rather smug; having met Pullman however, I sense he feels even more smug, as if he, along with the children, understood something more primal, more important than the grand debates that his work has generated.
Whatever the public?s response, Philip Pullman will no doubt go away with the satisfaction of having enlightened, but more importantly, entertained.
[© Cherwell Online, 30/1/04]
0 comments - Add yours