FANTASTIC LITERATURE

Fantasy has the longest and richest literary heritage of all of the forms of genre fiction. Indeed,
fantasy could be said to be the progenitor from which the other forms came from. Fantasy's habit
of taking real-life situations and characters and introducing them into a world where unexpected
(and unexplainable) things happen has resonated with readers since the earliest days.
he !ery first recorded literary works in history were fantasy" the #pic of $ilgamesh, %omer's
&dyssey, he 'ook of a housand (ights and a (ight (which featured the first appearances of
)inbad and *laddin) and countless others were the prototypes upon which modern literature was
formed.
+any of the most enduring works of popular and literary fiction fall s,uarely within the realm of
fantasy, such as )ir homas +allory's -e +orte .'*rthur, /udyard 0ipling's he 1ungle 'ook
and )ir 2alter )cott's I!anhoe.
.espite this, fantasy today retains an image of literary inconse,uence. #nglish professors are as
likely to lump fantasy no!els in with romance no!els as they are to take them seriously.
Fantasy particularly is notable as the only form of literature that consistently blurs the boundaries
between adult fiction and children's fiction.
-ewis 3arroll's books *lice's *d!entures in 2onderland and hrough the -ooking $lass, for
instance, ha!e defied description since they first were published o!er 455 years ago. he books
un,uestionably were written for a child--the original *lice, who was the daughter of a friend of
3arroll's--but I would wager that they are 6ust as often read by adults looking for an escape back
to a simpler time.
he books written by heodor )euss $eisel under the pseudonym 7.r. )euss,7 arguably the most
popular children's books of all time, can be described as nothing other than fantasy. heir wild
and colorful worlds, inhabited by wild and colorful creatures, are the setting for tales that hold
merit both for their in!enti!eness and for the real emotional and social !alues they espouse.
* more modern example is 1. 0. /owling's %arry 8otter series, which--literary acclaim or no--
ha!e caused something of a re!olution in the publishing world. 2hile these again are aimed at a
youth9young-adult market, they ha!e become a 7trendy7 read for socialites and hipsters alike of
all ages.
/ecently, fantasy has en6oyed an upswing in popularity, if not in acceptance in literary circles.
he primary reason for this popularity is the unexpected critical and popular success of he -ord
of the /ings series of films, based upon the no!els by 1. /. /. olkien. he works of olkien once
were entirely the pro!ince of the 7geeks7 and other stereotypical fantasy fans, but the immense
popularity of the films has made it socially acceptable to del!e into fantasy for the first time in
the modern era.
Fantasy no!el sales ha!e benefited from this social change, with the original he -ord of the
/ings no!els, the %arry 8otter series and a host of other fantasy fa!orites becoming a force in
bestseller lists.
#!en more recently, a work of historical fantasy (a hybrid form of fiction that boasts particularly
dedicated fans), .an 'rown's he .a :inci 3ode, has captured the imagination of the world. he
no!el, as of *pril 44, ;55<, was on top of he (ew =ork imes' hardco!er fiction bestseller list,
e!en though the first edition came out more than two years prior. 2ith the hardco!er !ersion
doing so well, a softco!er has not yet been introduced.
It is clear that fantasy is showing no signs of abating in popularity, e!en if the literary elite are
slow to come around.
Definition
he fantastic can be seen in works where the reader has a sense of confusion about whether a
work presents what odoro! calls 7the uncanny,7 wherein superficially supernatural phenomena
turn out to ha!e a rational explanation (such as in the $othic works of *nn /adcliffe) or 7the
mar!elous,7 where the supernatural is accepted as real. %e also points out that the ending always
dri!es the hesitation towards one of two decisions"
he fantastic re,uires the fulfillment of three conditions. First, the text must oblige the reader to
consider the world of the characters as a world of li!ing persons and to hesitate between a natural
or supernatural explanation of the e!ents described. )econd, this hesitation may also be
experienced by a character> thus the reader's role is so to speak entrusted to a character, and at the
same time the hesitation is represented, it becomes one of the themes of the work -- in the case of
nai!e reading, the actual reader identifies himself with the character. hird, the reader must adopt
a certain attitude with regard to the text" he will re6ect allegorical as well as 7poetic7
interpretations.
he Fantastic can also represent dreams and wakefulness where the character or reader hesitates
as to what is reality or what is a dream. *gain the Fantastic is found in this hesitation - once it is
decided the Fantastic ends.
Related genres
here is no truly typical 7fantastic story7, as the term generally encompasses both works of the
horror and gothic genres. wo representati!e stories might be"
*lgernon 'lackwood's story 7he 2illows7, where two men tra!eling down the .anube /i!er
are beset by an eerie feeling of malice and se!eral improbable setbacks in their trip> the ,uestion
that per!ades the story is whether they are falling prey to the wilderness and their own
imaginations, or if there really is something horrific out to get them.
#dgar *llan 8oe's story 7he 'lack 3at,7 where a murderer is haunted by a black cat> but is it
re!enge from beyond the gra!e, or 6ust a cat?
here is no clear distinction between the fantastic and magic realism as neither pri!ilege either
realistic or supernatural elements. he former, in its hesitation between supernatural and realistic
explanations of e!ents, may task the reader with ,uestioning the nature of reality and this may
ser!e to distinguish the Fantastic from +agical /ealism (in which magical elements are
understood to constitute in part the reality of the protagonists and are not themsel!es
,uestionable).
he fantastic is sometimes erroneously called the $rotes,ue or )upernatural fiction, because both
the $rotes,ue and the )upernatural contain fantastic elements, yet they are not the same, as the
fantastic is based on an ambiguity of those elements.
Propp's Morphology of the Fol Tale
!ladi"ir #ao$le$i%h Propp was a )o!iet folklorist and scholar who analy@ed the basic plot
components of /ussian folk tales to identify their simplest irreducible narrati!e elements.
%is +orphology of the Folktale was published in /ussian in 4A;B. *lthough it represented a
breakthrough in both folkloristics and morphology and influenced 3laude -C!i-)trauss and
/oland 'arthes, it was generally unnoticed in the 2est until it was translated in 4A<B. %is
character types are used in media education and can be applied to almost any story, be it in
literature, theatre, film, tele!ision series, games, etc.
Narrati$e str&%t&re
:ladimir 8ropp broke up fairy tales into sections. hrough these sections he was able to define
the tale into a series of se,uences that occurred within the /ussian fairytale. Dsually there is an
initial situation, after which the tale usually takes the following E4 functions. :ladimir 8ropp
used this method to decipher /ussian folklore and fairy tales. First of all, there seems to be at
least two distinct types of structural analysis in folklore. &ne is the type of which 8ropp's
+orphology is an exemplar. In this type, the structure or formal organi@ation of a folkloristic text
is described following the chronological order of the linear se,uence of elements in the text as
reported from an informant. hus if a tale consists of elements * to F, the structure of the tale is
delineated in terms of this same se,uence. Following -C!i-)trauss (4AGH" E4;), this linear
se,uential structural analysis we might term 7syntagmatic7 structural analysis, borrowing from
the notion of syntax in the study of language (cf. $reimas 4AGGa"H5H). he other type of
structural analysis in folklore seeks to describe the pattern (usually based upon a priori binary
principle of opposition) which allegedly underlies the folkloristic text. his pattern is not the
same as the se,uential structure at all. /ather the elements are taken out of the 7gi!en7 order and
are regrouped in one or more analytic schemas. 8atterns or organi@ation in this second type of
structural analysis might be termed 7paradigmatic7 (cf. )ebag 4AGE"I<), borrowing from the
notion of paradigms in the study of language.
/especti!ely e,ui!alent to syntagmatic and paradigmatic are the terms 7diachronic7 and
7synchronic.7 .iachronic is the analysis that gi!es the reader a sense of 7going through7 the highs
and lows of a story, much like the pattern of a sine wa!e. he second term, synchronic, is where
the story is taken in all at one time, like in the pattern of a circle. +ost literary analyses are
synchronic, offering a greater sense of unity among the components of a story. *lthough both
structural analyses con!ey partial information about the story, each angle of analysis deli!ers a
different set of information.J;K
Propp's analysis
/ussian :ladimir 8ropp (4BA<-4AI5) analy@ed many of his country's folk tales and identified
common themes within them. %e broke down the stories into morphemes (analy@able chunks)
and identified E4 narratemes (narrati!e units) that comprised the structure of many of the stories.
Folk stories around the world form a web of connections and the same or similar stories can be
found in many places. hese old stories also ha!e formed the basis of many more stories since
and hence 8ropp's morphology is useful not only in understanding /ussian folk tales but pretty
much any other stories.
8ropp has been both lauded for his structural approach and critici@ed for his lack of sensiti!ity to
subtle story elements such as mood and deeper context. (e!ertheless, his analysis pro!ides a
useful tool in understanding stories ancient and modern and, after early influence on such
luminaries as 3laude -C!i-)trauss and /oland 'arthes, has become a classic of folklore and
structuralist analysis.
'e identified that (Fi$e %ategories of ele"ents define not only the %onstr&%tion of a tale) *&t
the tale as a +hole,-.
4. Functions of dramatis personae (see below)
;. 3on6ucti!e elements (ex machina, announcement of misfortune, chance disclosure L mother
calls hero loudly, etc.)
E. +oti!ations (reasons and aims of personages)
H. Forms of appearance of dramatis personae (the flying arri!al of dragon, chance meeting with
donor)
<. *ttributi!e elements or accessories (witchMs hut or her clay leg)
2hilst not all stories will contain all of 8ropp's narratemes, it is surprising to find stories that
contain none, and many modern books and mo!ies fit nicely into his categories.
The /0 Narrate"es
%ere are the E4 elements of stories that 8ropp identified, plus their symbol, interpretations and
discussion. (ote that some of these functions generally occur in pairs, such as departure and
return. hey may also be repeated.
Few stories contain all elements, but where they do contain elements, they will !ery largely occur
in the se,uence gi!en here.
1, Initial sit&ation
0st Sphere. Introd&%tion
)teps 4 to I introduces the situation and most of the main characters, setting the scene for
subse,uent ad!enture.
4. *bsentation" )omeone goes missing
;. Interdiction" %ero is warned
E. :iolation of interdiction
H. /econnaissance" :illain seeks something
<. .eli!ery" he !illain gains information
G. rickery" :illain attempts to decei!e !ictim
I. 3omplicity" Dnwitting helping of the enemy
2nd Sphere. The 3ody of the story
he main story starts here and extends to the departure of the hero on the main ,uest.
B. :illainy and lack" he need is identified
A. +ediation" %ero disco!ers the lack
45. 3ounteraction" %ero chooses positi!e action
44. .eparture" %ero lea!e on mission
/rd Sphere. The Donor Se4&en%e
In the third sphere, the hero goes in search of a method by which the solution may be reached,
gaining the magical agent from the .onor. (ote that this in itself may be a complete story.
4;. esting" %ero is challenged to pro!e heroic ,ualities
4E. /eaction" %ero responds to test
4H. *c,uisition" %ero gains magical item
4<. $uidance" %ero reaches destination
4G. )truggle" %ero and !illain do battle
4I. 'randing" %ero is branded
4B. :ictory" :illain is defeated
4A. /esolution" Initial misfortune or lack is resol!ed
5th Sphere. The 'ero6s ret&rn
In the final (and often optional) phase of the storyline, the hero returns home, hopefully
une!entfully and to a hero's welcome, although this may not always be the case.
;5. /eturn" %ero sets out for home
;4. 8ursuit" %ero is chased
;;. /escue" pursuit ends
;E. *rri!al" %ero arri!es unrecogni@ed
;H. 3laim" False hero makes unfounded claims
;<. ask" .ifficult task proposed to the hero
;G. )olution" ask is resol!ed
;I. /ecognition" %ero is recognised
;B. #xposure" False hero is exposed
;A. ransfiguration" %ero is gi!en a new appearance
E5. 8unishment" :illain is punished
E4. 2edding" %ero marries and ascends the throne
Chara%ters
+ain article" *ctant
%e also concluded that all the characters could be resol!ed into I broad character functions in the
455 tales he analy@ed"
he !illain N struggles against the hero.
he dispatcher N character who makes the lack known and sends the hero off.
he (magical) helper N helps the hero in their ,uest.
he princess or pri@e and her father N the hero deser!es her throughout the story but is unable to
marry her because of an unfair e!il, usually because of the !illain. he hero's 6ourney is often
ended when he marries the princess, thereby beating the !illain.
he donor N prepares the hero or gi!es the hero some magical ob6ect.
he hero or !ictim9seeker hero N reacts to the donor, weds the princess.
he false hero N takes credit for the heroMs actions or tries to marry the princess.J<K
hese roles could sometimes be distributed among !arious characters, as the hero kills the !illain
dragon, and the dragon's sisters take on the !illainous role of chasing him. 3on!ersely, one
character could engage in acts as more than one role, as a father could send his son on the ,uest
and gi!e him a sword, acting as both dispatcher and donor
The Un%anny and the Fantasti%
he $erman word 7unheimlich7 is considered untranslatable> our rough #nglish e,ui!alent,
7uncanny7, is itself difficult to define. his indescribable ,uality is actually an integral part of our
understanding of the uncanny experience, which is terrifying precisely because it can not be
ade,uately explained. /ather than attempting a definition, most critics resort to describing the
uncanny experience, usually by way of the dream-like !isions of doubling and death that
in!ariably seem to accompany it. hese recurrent themes, which trigger our most primiti!e
desires and fears, are the !ery hallmarks of $othic fiction.
*ccording to Freud's description, the uncanny 7deri!es its terror not from something externally
alien or unknown but--on the contrary--from something strangely familiar which defeats our
efforts to separate oursel!es from it7 (+orris). Freud discusses how an author can e!oke an
uncanny response on the part of the reader by straddling the line between reality and unreality
within the fiction itself. In he Fantastic, odoro! goes to some length to distinguish his
structuralist approach to this genre from a Freudian psychoanalytic approach> nonetheless, he
shares many of Freud's conclusions, especially in attributing literary terror to the collapsing of the
psychic boundaries of self and other, life and death, reality and unreality.
*lthough Freud ne!er mentions $othic fiction in his essay, and odoro! partially excludes it
from his, critics of the $othic ha!e drawn hea!ily upon both of them, often in con6unction with
one another. erry 3astle's article on the 7other7 in /adcliffe's no!els and 8eter 'rook's essay on
he +onk are two examples of this combined theoretical approach. *lthough +argaret *nne
.oody does not mention Freud or odoro! specifically, her essay--which describes how /adcliffe
blurs the distinction between dreams and reality within her no!els--seems indebted to both of
them. his emphasis on dreams is also essential to any analysis of Frankenstein, a text which is
itself the product of a dream-!ision and which seems to capture the !ery essence of the uncanny.
Sig"&nd Fre&d) 7The Un%anny)7 in The Standard Edition of the Co"plete Psy%hologi%al
8ors of Sig"&nd Fre&d) ed, 9 trs, :a"es Stra%hey) $ol, ;!II <London. 'ogarth) 0=>/?)
pp, 20=@2>2.
2hen we proceed to re!iew the things, persons, impressions, e!ents and situations which are able
to arouse in us a feeling of the uncanny in a particularly forcible and definite form, the first
re,uirement is ob!iously to select a suitable example to start. 1entsch has taken as a !ery good
instance 'doubts whether an apparently animate being is really ali!e> or con!ersely, whether a
lifeless ob6ect might not be in fact animate'> and he refers in this connection to the impression
made by waxwork figures, ingeniously constructed dolls and automata....1entsch writes" 'In
telling a story, one of the most successful de!ices for easily creating uncanny effects is to lea!e
the reader in uncertainty whether a particular figure in the story is a human being or an
automaton, and to do it in such a way that his attention is not focused directly upon his
uncertainty, so that he may not be led to go into the matter and clear it up immediately.7 hat, as
we ha!e said, would ,uickly dissipate the peculiar emotional effect of the thing.
he theme of the 'double' has been !ery thoroughly treated by &tto /ank (4A4H). %e has gone
into the connections which the 'double' has with reflections in mirrors, with shadows, with
guardian spirits, with the belief in the soul and with the fear of death> but he also lets in a flood of
light on the surprising e!olution of the idea. For the 'double' was originally an insurance against
the destruction of the ego, an 'energetic denial of the power of death', as /ank says> and probably
the 'immortal' soul was the first 'double' of the body.... )uch ideas...ha!e sprung from the soil of
unbounded self-lo!e, from the primary narcissism which dominates the mind of the child and of
primiti!e man. 'ut when this stage has been surmounted, the 'double' re!erses its aspect. From
ha!ing been an assurance of immortality, it becomes the uncanny harbinger of death...he
'double' has become a thing of terror, 6ust as, after the collapse of their religion the gods turned
into demons.
+any people experience the feeling Jof the uncannyK in the highest degree in relation to death
and dead bodies, to the return of the dead, and to spirits and ghosts....here is scarcely any other
matter, howe!er, upon which our thoughts and feelings ha!e changed so little since the !ery
earliest times, and in which discarded forms ha!e been so completely preser!ed under a thin
disguise, as our relation to death. wo things account for our conser!atism" the strength of our
original emotional reaction to death and the insufficiency of our scientific knowledge about it.
'iology has not yet been able to decide whether death is the ine!itable fate of e!ery li!ing being
or whether it is only a regular but yet perhaps a!oidable e!ent in life. It is true that the statement
'*ll men are mortal' is paraded in text-books of logic as an example of a general proposition> but
no human being really grasps it, and our unconscious has as little use now as it e!er had for the
idea of its own mortality....)ince almost all of us still think as sa!ages do on this topic, it is no
matter for surprise that the primiti!e fear of the dead is still so strong within us and always ready
to come to the surface on any pro!ocation....
he uncanny as it is depicted in literature, in stories and imaginati!e productions, merits in truth a
separate discussion. *bo!e all, it is a much more fertile pro!ince than the uncanny in real life, for
it contains the whole of the latter and something more besides, something that cannot be found in
real life. he contrast between what has been repressed and what has been surmounted cannot be
transposed on to the uncanny in fiction without profound modification> for the realm of phantasy
depends for its effect on the fact that its content is not submitted to reality-testing. he somewhat
paradoxical result is that in the first place a great deal that is not uncanny in fiction would be so if
it happened in real life> and in the second place that there are many more means of creating
uncanny effects in fiction than there are in real life.
he imaginati!e writer has this license among many others, that he can select his world of
representation so that it either coincides with the realities we are familiar with or departs from
them in what particulars he pleases. 2e accept his ruling in e!ery case. In fairy tales, for instance,
the world of reality is left behind from the !ery start, and the animistic system of beliefs is
frankly adopted. 2ish-fulfillments, secret powers, omnipotence of thoughts, animation of
inanimate ob6ects, all the elements so common in fairy stories, can exert no uncanny influence
here> for, as we ha!e learnt, that feeling cannot arise unless there is a conflict of 6udgment as to
whether things which ha!e been 'surmounted' and are regarded as incredible may not, after all, be
possible> and this problem is eliminated from the outset by the postulates of the world of fairy
tales.... he situation is altered as soon as the writer pretends to mo!e in the world of common
reality. In this case he accepts as well all the conditions operating to produce uncanny feelings in
real life> and e!erything that would ha!e an uncanny effect in reality has it in his story. 'ut in this
case he can e!en increase his effect and multiply it far beyond what could happen in reality, by
bringing about e!ents which ne!er or !ery rarely happen in fact. In doing this he is in a sense
betraying us to the superstitiousness which we ha!e ostensibly surmounted> he decei!es us by
promising to gi!e us the sober truth, and then after all o!erstepping it. 2e react to his in!entions
as we would ha!e reacted to real experiences> by the time we ha!e seen through his trick it is
already too late and the author has achie!ed his ob6ect. 'ut it must be added that his success is
not unalloyed. 2e retain a feeling of dissatisfaction, a kind of grudge against the attempted
deceit.