Finding Life in Death: Journeying with Anodos in Phantastes
Illustration from Phantastes by Arthur Hughes
Last night, I finished re-reading George MacDonald’s wonderful book, Phantastes. I can still remember the first time I ever pulled it off a shelf. I was in college and I was taking a class on C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. As part of the class, we took a day long field trip to Wheaton College to visit the Marion E. Wade Center. For those unfamiliar, the Wade Center is one of the largest storehouses for the works (published and unpublished) of its seven authors: G.K. Chesterton, George MacDonald, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Charles Williams, Dorothy Sayers, and Owen Barfield.
I read most of Lewis’s main works by this time, and knew that in his book, Surprised by Joy, he claimed that MacDonald’s Phantastes had “baptized [his] imagination.” He even claims there isn’t a single work that does bear some influence from MacDonald. So, I wanted to write about how we might find that influence in Lewis’s Narniad. When we arrived at the reading room of the Wade Center, I went and found a copy of Phantastes, sat down in a squashy chair, and began reading. I didn’t stop until it was time to go. The book was that entrancing that I nearly finished it in the hours we were there. I likely missed many opportunities to engage with Wade Center staff or do some hard-hitting research by asking to see journals or letters. Still, I felt I had used my time well, used it in a way that would have been approved by the authors enshrined there.
The book centers on a character named Anodos. MacDonald, who was himself no poor scholar of the Greek language, chose the name well. Literally, it means pathless. And that is our character when we meet him. He’s getting ready to take over as the head of his family, and yet the way before him is not clear. And so, he has to get lost in Faërie (Fairy Land as it is called in the book) in order to find his way. The transition from our world to Faërie is one of my favorites. There is no magic painting or door that leads Anodos into the Perilous Realm. Rather, his room, which itself has many floral themes throughout, transforms into a grassy meadow before his eyes.
This transformation is a favorite of mine because it gets at what I think Fantasy and Poetry can do for us at their height, they can show us the deeper truths that exist behind what our senses can perceive. The vines of ivy carved into the woodwork of the room become true ivy, they become that of which they are an image, just as we will at the resurrection. And from this meadow, Anodos finds his way into the forest of Faërie. There, he discovers his own sin, which follows him around as a shadow, and he discovers the only means to overcome his sin, humility, and, ultimately, death.
Death is a central theme in MacDonald’s works. In a different story, and perhaps my favorite, “The Golden Key,” one of the characters, a boy named Mossy tastes of the river of death.
“You have tested of death now,” said the Old Man [of the Sea]. “Is it good?”
“It is good,” said Mossy. “It is better than life.”“No,” said the Old Man: “it is only more life.”’
MacDonald showcases the notion of vita ex morte, Life from Death. For Christ defeated death by dying, and as death is the wage of sin, we too can use it to overcome sin, by dying to our sins instead of letting them cause our death.
Anodos, despite being now 14 years my junior, reminds me of myself. I too am listless, wandering about, lost, like Dante in the dark wood. But Anodos, and Dante, give me hope. With help, with humility, with the grace of God, I can find my way back to the true path. I may have to die on the way, but that, according to another great nineteenth century author, will be an awfully big adventure.
David Russell Mosley is a poet and theologian living in Washington State. His second book of poetry, Liturgical Entanglements, is out now. If you like this blog, please consider donating to it through the button below.
