The Wardrobe Door

I have noticed that some of the best fantasy stories rely on an interesting device; they start out rather mundanely, in a mundane setting with a rather mundane though interesting protagonist. Then they move the protagonist–and the reader–into the fantastic realm where most of the adventure takes place. Sometimes the move is sudden, a matter of stepping through the looking glass or into a fairy ring. But some storytellers take their time, dipping their toes, absently wading, getting us deeper till we find ourselves immersed without any sense of transition. Only at the end, when we close the book, do we realize how far from reality the clever writer has taken us. Robin McKinley’s The Blue Sword is this kind of story.

I first read it back in high school, and it was years before I realized how clever McKinley had been. At its heart it’s an epic fantasy–the story of a faded kingdom standing against an evil invader. There is a heroic king and a dark lord. There are prophecies, wild magics, battles, an enchanted sword. And there is a young girl name Harry Crewe. And the opening lines are about orange juice.

She scowled at her glass of orange juice. To think that she had been delighted when she first arrived here–was it only three months ago?–with the prospect of fresh orange juice every day.

Harry was born in Homeland, a cool, forested isle very obviously England. Her mother died when she was young, so she grew up a bit of a tomboy, and when her father died she had only her brother Richard, now a junior officer in Her Majesty’s Service, to depend upon. And Richard is stationed at a distant fort in Daria, at the borders of Homeland’s empire. Fortunately, the fort’s Resident and his wife, Sir Charles and Lady Amelia, are childless and perfectly happy to bring Harry to stay with them at the Residence. Of course hot and dusty Daria is quite different from cool and green Homeland, and Harry is homesick.

McKinley goes to great lengths, using Harry, to establish how very mundane and English Homelanders are,and how mundane the desert town of Istan and its fort are. It’s not our world, she seems to say, but it’s not so very different. They have trains, and guns, and orange juice. It might as well be North Africa.

Then she begins nudging us through the door. Sir Charles is expecting a visit from an emissary of the Free Hillfolk, the wild people just beyond their borders, last remnants of the Old Kingdom. When Harry meets Corlath, their king, she experiences a strange shock. Corlath brings a warning, of danger from beyond the mountain passes, preparing to sweep away Hillfolk and Homelanders alike. When a well-meaning Sir Charles can’t help him, Corlath and his company departs, but, goaded by his royal magic–which he sees as something of a curse–Corlath returns in the dead of night, passing through walls and stealing away a dreaming Harry. And so the adventure begins.

Things get much more fantastical from here out, of course, but Robin McKinley preserves the spell she spent so much time weaving. Magic, even when obvious, is never understood: it’s magical. With Harry, the reader is thrown into a world of miracles and terrible wonder, and McKinley deftly avoids all the cliches that might develop. And this is the payoff; through all her adventures and changes, Harry remains Harry, the young woman with whom we have already so strongly identified. She is the wardrobe door, and her wonder is our wonder, her tears our tears, her victory, our victory, and her happiness, our happiness. The story ends almost as domestically as it begins, and, closing the book I can’t stop smiling.

About these ads

About George

I am a reasonably successful self-published author ("successful" means I can pay the bills and am highly rated in my Amazon category), former financial advisor (writing is more fun), and have something in common with Mitt Romney and Donny Osmond. Guess.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to The Wardrobe Door

  1. George says:

    Mike, what the hell is wrong with Amazon.co.uk? Once again, this is a Kindle title available here but not there. Is there any way for you to download from Amazon? Or can I “loan” you my Kindle copy? Or maybe you’ve read this one already. Let’s hope.

  2. Ben White says:

    Argh, the dreaded “not available to customers from your location”. Those pesky international rights. Such a shame, this looks like just my kind of book.

  3. Do you mean Mark? LOL!

    What’s wrong is that whoever uploaded over there though Am UK was a waste of time. And of course they prove their point by now selling nothing there.

    Not read this, but it sounds great. :-(

    I love those portal fantasies that maintain a semblance of real world alongside the la-la land (Harry Potter proves yet again portal fantasy sells!) and I especially adore those in which non-adults are the stars. Which is why I loved Wearing The Cape, I guess (not that there’s a portal in that, of course),

    As a kid I started out on Adventures of the Wishing Chair and The Magic Faraway Tree. They, and Enid Blyton’s best ever, The Land of Far Beyond, should be compulsory reading for every child.

    Cannot download from Am com from here. They don’t like “Africa”. Gonna do a mega buy when I go back to Europe in summer briefly.

    But at least I got Ben White’s Charlotte Powers. Eternally grateful to you for that!

  4. Grace says:

    McKinley’s world building was excellent in “The Blue Sword.” If you enjoyed it, you might also want to read “The Hero and the Crown,” which is set something like two hundred years before.

    • George says:

      I have read it, and it was also excellent although I enjoyed the Blue Sword more. Robin rarely misses as an author, and even her misses are as good as most stuff out there.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s