Chapter Two: Digory and His Uncle (TMN)

Horrified by Polly’s sudden disappearance, Digory yells, but Uncle Andrew clamps a hand over his mouth and tells him to shut up for his mother’s sake, because “you know what a fright might do to her” (17). Uncle Andrew is a bad, bad man. Although he’s disgusted by “the horrible meanness of getting at a chap in that way,” Digory has no choice but to keep quiet (17).

Uncle Andrew proceeds to tell a long, convoluted story about his godmother, the sinisterly-named Mrs. Lefay. Digory remembers his mother’s reluctance to discuss Mrs. Lefay in the past and asks his uncle whether she did anything bad. Uncle Andrew waffles a bit and finally admits that she “Did very unwise things. That was why they shut her up” (19). Digory asks if he means an insane asylum. Scandalized, Uncle Andrew corrects him: “Only in prison” (19).

Oh, Uncle Andrew. You always have your priorities straight.

Anyway, Uncle Andrew recounts how Mrs. Lefay gave him a magic box before her death, which he was supposed to burn but didn’t. Digory point out that this was a dick move, prompting a Randian speech from his uncle. “But of course you must understand that rules of that sort, however excellent they may be for little boys—and servants—and women—and even people in general, can’t possibly be expected to apply to profound students and great thinkers and sages,” Uncle Andrew protests.

Like many a youth, Digory is momentarily dazzled by this sort of rhetoric, but quickly realizes that it’s just a convenient excuse for Uncle Andrew to do whatever he wants. Unimpressed by the subsequent claim that Mrs. Lefay “had fairy blood in her,” Digory demands that Uncle Andrew reveal Polly’s whereabouts (22). Uncle Andrew takes umbrage at Digory’s lack of interest in his life story, then rambles a bit about Atlantis and “disagreeable experiences” with “devilish queer people” that somehow turned his hair gray before getting to the point (22). You see, the box was full of magic dust that takes you to another world. For whatever reason, Uncle Andrew couldn’t use it in its raw form, so he transformed it into the green and yellow rings on his tray, blowing up a few poor guinea pigs in the process. Because…yes.

Instead of screaming at Uncle Andrew that he’s high, like I would be tempted to do, Digory simply chides him for his abuse of guinea pigs.  Uncle Andrew counters that you have to break a few guinea pigs to become a mad scientist. Besides, what was he supposed to do, go himself? He’s an important man who deserves Digory’s respect, damn it!

“Oh, do stop jawing,” Digory tells him, hilariously, and then asks him if he has any intention of bringing back Polly (26). That’s when Uncle Andrew reveals his master plan: for Digory to travel to the other world where Polly went via yellow ring, bringing the two green rings with him so they both can come back. When Digory blanches at this revelation, Uncle Andrew implies that he’s a coward for not wanting to retrieve Polly. What opportunity won’t this guy take to blackmail his nephew?

Once again, Digory doesn’t really have the option of disobeying his uncle, but he does tell him that he’ll be “paid out in the end” for his wicked ways (27). Unsettled, Uncle Andrew strikes back by telling Digory he only thinks so because he was “brought up among women” and, by the way, the longer he stands around arguing, the greater the chance that Polly will be eaten by bears or whatever animals exist in the other world (28). For the second time, Digory agrees to go, but Uncle Andrew just keeps needling him in between instructions on how to handle the rings. This guy isn’t just an asshole; he’s a hemorrhoid.

“By gum,” Digory declares, a second before putting on the ring, “don’t I just wish I was big enough to punch your head!” (30).

Amen, Digory. Amen.

Discussion Questions

1. Do you suspect that Mrs. Lefay has fairy blood in her because she ate fairies?

2. Do you think the rings are made entirely of the magic dust, or is the dust just mixed up with the metal and stones?

3. How did Uncle Andrew manage to make jewelry in his study, anyway?

4. Have you ever wanted to punch somebody’s head because they wouldn’t stop jawing, by gum? Please elaborate.

Next Up: A guinea pig is happy!

Chapter One: The Wrong Door (The Magician's Nephew)

We open on London circa 1900 or, as Lewis puts it, when “Sherlock Holmes was still living in Baker Street and the Bastables were looking for treasure in the Lewisham Road” (1). This sentence, by the way, led me to believe that Sherlock Holmes was based on a historical personage until I was in sixth grade. I also thought the Bastables were a group of back-up detectives who helped Holmes solve mysteries, probably because “Bastables” sounds vaguely like “Baskervilles.” (They’re actually a group of Enid Blyton characters, according to the Wikipedia article I looked at a minute ago.) I swear I wasn’t a particularly stupid child. I just didn’t have much interest in Sherlock Holmes, so the issue never really came up.

Anyway, Lewis describes these days, which would have coincided with his early childhood, as a mixed bag. Just like in the more upbeat Little House books, the clothes were uncomfortable and the schools were filled with unspecified horrors, but the food was awesome. Living the semi-dream is Polly Plummer, my second-favorite female character in the series. At least, she was when I was wee. I don’t want to spoil the rest of the chapter right now, but so far I don’t know how Jill Pole is going to top her.

Polly is just hanging out in the back garden of her row house when our hero, the unfortunately-named Digory Kirke, pops his head over the wall and introduces himself. Lewis interestingly remarks that his face “could hardly have been grubbier if he had first rubbed his hands in the earth, and then had a good cry, and then dried his face with his hands. As a matter of fact, this was nearly what he had been doing” (2). This description has always raised questions for me. The crying and the face-drying, I understand, but why was he rubbing his hands in the dirt? Was his grief so intense that rubbing dirt on his face seemed appropriate at the time, or did he suddenly become upset in the middle of some recreational digging? I mean, either way, I get where he’s coming from; I’m just curious how this all played out.

After an exchange where they insult each other’s names, an annoyed Polly points out that Digory’s face is dirty. She manages to stop herself before she calls him a crybaby, but it’s too late, because Digory’s life has turned into an Awful Shit Parade and he doesn’t care who knows it. He hates living in London (which he calls a “Hole,” Sweeney Todd-style), he misses his pony in the country, his dad’s in India, he’s staying with his crazy uncle, and, worst of all, his mom’s dying.

Now, The Magician’s Nephew is usually considered one of the most light-hearted books in the series, but, really, a dying mother is a very somber element to introduce in the first chapter of a children’s book. I remember being very worried about Mrs. Kirke, personally. Orphans and half-orphans abound in children’s literature, but it’s less common for authors to describe when the protagonist actually loses (or is in danger of losing) a parent. C. S. Lewis’s own mother died of cancer in 1908, when he was nine or ten, so there’s sadly an autobiographical element here.

Embarrassed, Polly says that she’s sorry and quickly changes the subject to something more cheerful: the possible madness of Digory’s uncle. The topic does seems to distract Digory, whose description of Uncle Andrew is worrying to read as an adult. Aunt Letty, Andrew’s sister, makes every effort to prevent communication between uncle and nephew, even at the dinner table…and Digory doesn’t seem to think she’s being unreasonable. Polly and Digory speculate about what might be hidden in Uncle Andrew’s forbidden study, making some Jane Eyre and Treasure Island references as they do.

It’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship. They hang out nearly every day that summer, mainly playing indoors because the weather is so wet and cold. (As a North Carolinian child, I had no concept of wet, cold summers, so this element of the story seemed quite exotic to me.) Polly shows Digory her “cave,” a little room of sorts in her attic where she stores “a cash-box containing various treasures, and a story she was writing and usually a few apples. She had often drunk a quiet bottle of ginger-beer in there: the old bottles made it look more like a smugglers’ cave” (7). Have I mentioned that Polly is awesome?

Digory and Polly also develop a scheme to sneak into the abandoned house next to Polly’s through the attic passage. According to Polly’s dad, it’s vacant due to “the drains,” but Digory says that’s “all rot” and invents a more outlandish explanation that involves “a gang of desperate criminals” (9). Polly doesn’t seem as invested in the possibility of mortal danger, maybe because her home life is more stable than his. Nonetheless, she’s psyched to explore. They prepare by taking candles—adorably, they bring two “[because] it was such an important occasion” (9)—but it turns out that they both suck too much at math to figure out how far they need to walk before they reach the empty house’s attic. These are clearly my people.

As the title of the chapter and their dubious arithmetic skills foreshadowed, Polly and Digory end up opening The Wrong Door…to a rather cozy room with a fire in the grate and tons of books on the shelves. It seems to be empty, so Polly decides to walk inside, where she is promptly distracted by a tray with four sparkly rings on it. “If Polly had been a very little younger she would have wanted to put one in her mouth,” Lewis comments, blissfully unaware of Ring Pops (12).

After noticing a strange sort of humming sound in the room, Polly tells Digory it’s okay to come inside. He enters, only to suggest leaving immediately. Before he can dissuade Polly from staring at the pretty, shiny rings, Uncle Andrew pops out of nowhere. Well, okay, I think he’s been sitting in a high-backed armchair facing away from them the whole time, but still, who does that?

I’ll answer my own question: Uncle Andrew does that. His physical description—“He had a long clean-shaven face with a sharply-pointed nose and extremely bright eyes and a great tousled mop of gray hair” (13)—makes him seem a tad eccentric, but things quickly go from colorful to creepy. Uncle Andrew immediately locks the door to the room, grins at the kids, and says, “Now my fool of a sister can’t get at you!” (14). Dude!

Polly and Digory have roughly the same reaction as me, thinking “[it] was dreadfully unlike anything a grown-up would be expected to do” and edging towards the attic door (14), but Uncle Andrew blocks that exit, too. He’s creepily described as having “very long, beautifully white, fingers” (14). Then he ignores the children’s pleas to let them go and sighs, “You’ve no idea how lonely I sometimes am” (15). You know, I really didn’t want to write this sort of thing here, but I have to say it: Uncle Andrew makes a very credible child molester. I’m glad this is high fantasy novel for children that was published in 1955, because this scene might otherwise take a very upsetting turn.

Uncle Andrew continues not to help his case by telling Polly she’s pretty and offering her a shiny yellow ring as a present. Apparently using people’s ability to notice her attractiveness as a litmus test for their sanity and having a squirrel-like affinity for shiny things, Polly reaches for the ring…and disappears as soon as she touches it!

What is going on?

Discussion Questions

1. Do you think it’s best to read the Narnia books in order of publication, or in chronological order? Do you think it matters at all?

2. Who is your favorite female character in the series?

3. In your opinion, did Digory intentionally rub dirt on his face, or was it an accident?

4. Do you ever want to put jewelry in your mouth? If not, do you think you would if you were just a little bit younger?

5. Why is the creepy relative so often an uncle? 

Next Up: Uncle Andrew continues to be creepy.

Introduction

I'm going to be recapping C. S. Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia, book by book and chapter by chapter. Before starting this project, I had to make an important decision: was I going to do the books in Narnian chronological order, starting with The Magician's Nephew, or in order of publication, starting with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe? I chose the first option for three reasons:

1. The set of books I have owned since childhood are numbered in Narnian chronological order, so that will be easy for me to remember. Not that double-checking the publication dates would be difficult, but I just don't feel like it.

2. I didn't really want to start with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, because it's entered into pop culture more than any of the other books and I wanted to come at things from a slightly more obscure angle.

3. I didn't want to wait so long until I could recap The Horse and His Boy.

With that out of the way, I'm going to talk about what kind of blog this is probably going to be. It's not going to be a snark blog, because I love these books, but I do tend to make jokes about things. There's not going to be a lot of academic analysis, but I might end up dabbling in it; I was an English major and I'm still taking English lit classes in grad school, so it might come through. I'm not a devout Christian by any means--or, if we're going to be really technical about it, a Christian at all--but I was raised United Methodist and I'm quite familiar with the Bible and I don't not believe in God, so I'm not very good at being non-religious, either. I'm probably only going to talk about religion sporadically, but you know there's a Jesus-lion in here so be prepared.

I guess that's about it. Next up, The Magician's Nephew!