“On Fairy-Stories,” Part 5: Consolation

Hurray! We’re getting down to the real goods today, folks! This post and the next one are why I set about to discuss Tolkien’s “On Fairy-Stories” in the first place. Think it’s crazy that I slogged through four previous posts before getting around to what I really wanted to write about? Well, it probably is, but what can I say? I’m a girl after Tolkien’s own heart.

Recently we’ve looked at the first three purposes of fairy-stories (or imaginative literature): Fantasy, Recovery, and Escape. In today’s post, we’ll talk about the final purpose: Consolation. I’m so excited about it, because this is where he really starts to apply fairy-stories to the Gospel.

Wait, what?

I know! Unexpected, but very awesome. We’ll get just a glimmer of it this week, but it will explode into fireworks next week. Read on to find out more!

Escape from Society and Suffering

Last week we looked at how fairy-stories provide a kind of Escape from the drudgery of modern life, such as ugly, mass-produced electric street lamps. But he also acknowledges that “there are other things more grim and terrible to fly from than the noise, stench, ruthlessness, and extravagance of the internal-combustion engine. There are hunger, thirst, poverty, pain, sorrow, injustice, death” (151). Even though reading a fairy-story won’t solve these problems outright, a good story will provide a healthy way of escaping from these sad realities for a while. An even better story will give you a fresh perspective through which to view and deal with these realities.

But fairy-stories can do even more! In addition to providing a mental escape, it can also give consolation for our desires. “Even when men are not facing hard things such as these, there are ancient limitations from which fairy-stories offer a sort of…satisfaction and consolation” (151). But what does he mean by “consolation,” and what sorts of limitations is he referring to?

Consolation of Desires

To me, the word “consolation” can be a little confusing in this context. The term conjures up a “consolation prize,” or a little trinket that you receive for trying but losing. It also suggests a crying baby being consoled by a parent. But both of these do hint at the way in which Tolkien uses the word. You may not have won the game, but your desire to get a prize is consoled. The baby may still feel grumpy, but his desire to be cared for is consoled. To Tolkien in this context, the word “consolation” means a satisfaction of deep desires.

For example, Tolkien lists a few “pardonable weaknesses or curiosities” such as the desire to explore the depths of the ocean with as much freedom as a fish or to sail effortlessly through the air with the noiseless grace of a bird (151). He even mentions the desire to talk with and understand animals. These may be things that we think about more often as children than as adults, but if we’re honest with ourselves, desires like these never truly leave us. Fairy-stories offer consolation or satisfaction not by giving us skills to perform these feats but by letting us imagine ourselves in the place of those who can.

The Great Escape

He then goes on to list “the oldest and deepest desire, the Great Escape: the Escape from Death” (153). Stories about this desire can be written from numerous perspectives: scientific, medical, historical, science fiction, and fantasy, to name a few. Given the chance in many of these stories, the characters would choose physical immortality over a life of death and decay. And if we were given the choice, wouldn’t we be tempted to do the same? But Tolkien points out that this kind of “endless serial living” would not satisfy us like we think it would (153).

In fact, he imagines that when Elves write human-stories (much like we write fairy-stories), they probably fill their tales with the theme of the “Escape from Deathlessness” (153). Even worse than the curse of a mortal life is the curse of physical immortality in an ever-changing world.

Consider a scene from Peter Jackson’s movie version of “The Two Towers.” In speaking to his daughter Arwen, the elf Elrond paints a bleak picture of an immortal life in a mortal world. If Arwen chooses to stay in Middle Earth and marry the human, Aragorn, she will experience temporary happiness followed by eternal sorrow. See, Tolkien believes that it is not prolonged physical life that our hearts truly desire. Rather, he says, “far more important is the Consolation of the Happy Ending” (153).

A Happy Ending

Tolkien believes that one of the chief characteristics of a fairy-story is its happy ending. He states that “tragedy is the true form of Drama, its highest function; but the opposite is true of Fairy-story. Since we do not appear to possess a word that expresses this opposite—I will call it Eucatastrophe. The eucatastrophic tale is the true form of fairy-tale, and its highest function” (153). I love this! The opposite of tragedy is Eucatastrophe. Leave it to Tolkien to scour the English lexicon and reject all of its antonyms for “tragedy” in favor of his own Greek-derived concoction. But what on earth does he mean?

He defines eucatastrophe as a “good catastrophe, the sudden joyous ‘turn’” just when you think the story is at its lowest point (153). In Greek, the word “catastrophe” means an overturning. The prefix “eu” means good. So think of a story’s eucatastrophe as the point at which the plot is overturned by something good. It’s the unlikely maneuver that changes the outcome of the battle. It’s the unexpected but much-desired change of fortune for the underdog hero. It’s Luke Skywalker’s using the Force to destroy the Death Star just moments before it’s too late.

But isn’t that just the wishful thinking of an escapist? Not necessarily. Tolkien argues that eucatastrophe “does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief” (153).

I hope you got butterflies from thinking about those last few lines. This idea of eucatastrophe being a glimpse of the Gospel, or evangelium, is what we will focus on next week, so be sure to tune in. It’s the grand finale, and I know you won’t want to miss it!

Today’s Question: What is your favorite example of eucatastrophe in a book, movie, or other story?

Check out the final post here!

Sources:
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Monsters and the Critics and Other Essays. London, Harper Collins, 2006.
Video clip from Peter Jackson’s “The Two Towers”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_i3Ax4YJySg