Look, I don’t have anything against Philip Pullman. A lot of people whose reading tastes I share and respect have adored his books; I just have yet to read any of them. The Golden Compass is one of those titles that’s perennially on my “to read” pile, and one day it will fight its way to the top, after which I can decide if I have any bones to pick with C.S. Lewis’s self-proclaimed adversary, or if I want to pick up the next book. Maybe I’ll even do both.
I know it’s not in vogue in these days to grant the validity of a position you don’t share, but I understand Pullman’s critique of C.S. Lewis’s Narnia books, and I respect the heck out of the fact that his chosen method of rebuttal was to write his own novels (which, again, I have yet to read, but one day will, really). This is how art facilitates great cultural conversations. (Although it is a shame that Lewis (1898-1963) and Pullman (b. 1946) were never contemporary enough to directly exchange a few characteristic, sharp-witted and sharper-penned intellectual ripostes.)
What I just can’t wrap my head around is Pullman’s much more puzzling comments about J.R.R. Tolkien, as expressed in his recent interview in The New Yorker. Here’s the relevant portion, excerpted in full:
Continue reading “Pullman, Tolkien, and the Absurd Antithesis”