Consolation or Challenge?
By Juliet Marillier | May 13, 2020 |
At a launch event in London some years ago, where my publisher was featuring several new releases, one of them mine, I first heard the term ‘consolatory fantasy.’ How jarring and condescending it sounded, even though the much-respected speaker was possibly not referring to my work but making a general comment about the genre. By nature an introvert and then relatively new to such public events, I remember wishing I could retreat to a warm burrow and sleep until the launch was over. The term has stayed in my mind for a long, long while. So what is consolatory fantasy, or indeed consolatory fiction in any genre? Isn’t consolation a good thing? Don’t we generally want to feel better after reading fiction?
I hope I’m wiser now. I’ve built a solid career as a writer of historical fantasy. Made my mistakes, learned my lessons. Criticism still stings, but I’ve become better at weathering it – something we all need to do to survive in this business. The fantasy genre comes in many shapes and forms, and I celebrate its breadth and diversity. Fantasy is built around the ancient bones of storytelling: the myth, the fable, the fairy tale, the ghost story, the quirky scrap of folkloric wisdom. They are the raw ingredients that go into our cook pot or cauldron or baking dish, but each of us blends them differently, and each of us adds our own secret herbs and spices. Every dish is different. Every dish has some of the old and some of the new. Some of grandmother’s wisdom, some of the crazy world around us, perhaps a pinch of what we see in our children and our grandchildren. We may choose to set our stories in an uncanny version of the here and how, and see them called urban fantasy. We may set them in imagined worlds or in alternative history, or perhaps in a more magical, mythical version of real history. Or in the future. Label them as you will.
The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary defines consolation as “the alleviation of sorrow or mental distress.” These days I know from experience that reading fantasy – and reading in general – can indeed alleviate sorrow and improve mental health, and I delight in that. I’ve often blogged about the wisdom contained in those bare bones I mentioned above: folklore, fairy tale, myth and so on. Such stories were told and re-told for a reason: entertainment, sure, but also to pass on a message, something that would help people cope with the challenges of everyday life, large and small. Yes, those tales were full of unlikely, strange and magical things – the fiery dragon, the people who could fly, the mushroom circle that was an opening to a different world. Those fantastic elements grasped the listeners’ attention and kept them enthralled. But the stories also held something far deeper and more important – wisdom from the forebears on how to live your life safely and well. How to be brave. How to look and listen before making judgments. All manner of useful advice.
Now, those bare bones can be used by today’s writer in as many different ways as there are fish in the sea, folks. Are they all consolatory? Or are some quite the opposite?
Ask the girl whose stepmother was made to dance in red-hot iron shoes, or the maid who was rolled down a hill in a barrel studded with nails, or that other girl who accidentally cut off her little brother’s head, then balanced it back on the body, tied a scarf around his neck, and told her family everything was just fine, thanks. Some of the old stories provide ingredients akin to poison toadstools or deadly nightshade. So easily fantasy becomes horror. The starkly horrifying elements of folklore and fairy tale creep into other genres, too: thriller, mystery, crime fiction and more. Consolatory? Well, usually at least some of the characters survive to soldier on, and maybe they learn something on the journey. But happy endings all around? No way. Even in a sweet fairy tale there are winners and losers, as in real life.
A novel that provided consolation and nothing more, one in which our main characters were always happy, would be so boring the reader would give up after a couple of chapters. Consolation is not a matter of a pat on the head and someone saying everything will get better. It comes from learning we are not alone in our sorrow, our grief, our confusion. It comes from sharing the protagonist’s trials and challenges; from walking the difficult path with that character, and watching as they are changed by the journey. Seeing them learn something – about themselves, about others, about the world – until they reach the end renewed. Maybe they will stuff up then get things right. Maybe they will lose and then win. Maybe they’ll be lonely and then find a friend, a lover, a loyal dog. As we read, we share their experiences and relive our own. Ah, I recognise that! Oh, yes, that’s just how I felt when … We see them win through, find courage, become wiser, and we know we can do the same. We are not only consoled, but ready for the next chapter of our own story.
What do you read when you’re in a dark place? Writers, does your work provide consolation for readers, and if so how?
Photo credit: ID 67983336 © Sandra Foyt | Dreamstime.com
Juliet Marillier has written twenty-four novels for adults and young adults and two collections of short fiction. Her works of historical fantasy have been published around the world and have won numerous awards. Juliet’s most recent series was Warrior Bards, of which the third and final book, A Song of Flight, was published in 2021. Her collection of reimagined fairy tales, Mother Thorn and Other Tales of Courage and Kindness, had its trade release in 2022. Mother Thorn is illustrated by Kathleen Jennings and published by Serenity Press.
Juliet is currently working on a two-book fantasy series. The first book in this duology, The Amber Owl, will be published by New Dawn in February 2025.
When not writing, Juliet looks after a small crew of rescue dogs.
First off, Juliet, I love that image! What could be more consoling than the companionship of a dog? Also LOVE “the ancient bones of storytelling” analogy. Brilliant!
Your lovely essay gets at the heart of what I aspire to do. Although I hadn’t heard the phrase “consolatory fantasy,” I’ve been thinking along these lines a lot lately. I just read R.F. Kuang’s The Poppy Wars, and though it’s definitely epic fantasy, it’s clearly and firmly rooted in actual Chinese history. When I got to the scenes that so clearly depict the Nanjing Massacre (perpetrated by Japanese troops in 1937) I began to see the story as a young woman of Chinese descent coming to grips with a truly horrifying and tragic (and fairly recent) past for her fore-bearers. It’s so damn dark. And yet, from a certain perspective I can see how it’s consolatory, as well. How do we move on from something like that? Step one is facing up to it, not sweeping it under a rug.
Although I’ve made my peace with the myriad ways people dismiss or belittle our genre, I admit I still occasionally bristle. But I am so heartened by the myriad ways young writers and readers of fantasy embrace and redefine it, as well (Kuang is a good example–I think she’s 23…Eep!).
Thanks for being such a guiding and inspiring leader in our fascinating genre. Be well and stay safe!
Thank you, Vaughn. I too am heartened by the way our genre keeps expanding and diversifying! I’m building up a huge ”to be read” list to get into once I finish writing the current book. I tend to avoid reading fantasy while I’m writing, and I have been reading mysteries instead, notably series whose protagonist has an unswerving moral compass (Ellis Peters’ classic Brother Cadfael series, and Louise Penny’s Chief Inspector Gamache series.) Both those series manage to be thrilling and reassuring at the same time.
You stay well and be safe too!
Yes, I too read mysteries where the protagonist has a moral compass and find them reassuring. All the examples of how to apply one’s personal philosophy in the real world make my spine a little straighter, my step a little more confident.
“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” — Neil Gaiman and/or G K Chesterton
It’s a great quote and I understand the symbolism. But I tend to believe dragons might be understood and learned from rather than beaten!
Juliet, thank you for this piece!
I write historical fantasy for kids, and I’ve thought about this topic a lot, especially when, on occasion, people ask if I’m ever going to write serious books (argh!). Your post reminds me of Tolkien’s famous essay “On Fairy Stories” where he talks about fairy tales–and by extension, fantasy literature–as escape and as consolation. And he means good things by these words! His definition of escape is generally positive: sometimes, as Tolkien notes, we read to escape a world that is untenable, and we returned from our reading refreshed and ready to take up our burdens again–and sometimes we returned a changed person, and even more ready.
Tolkien uses a religious framework to talk about consolation, but even for non-religious folks, I think the point is valid. Fantasy literature, he says, generally offers hope beyond the boundaries of whatever tragedy may be occurring in the story. He writes:
“The consolation of fairy-stories, the joy of the happy ending: or more correctly of the good catastrophe, the sudden joyous “turn” (for there is no true end to any fairy-tale): this joy, which is one of the things which fairy-stories can produce supremely well, is not essentially “escapist,” nor “fugitive.” In its fairy-tale—or otherworld—setting, it is a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It 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.”
Thank you for this, Heather. Yes, that is a wonderful quote from Tolkien – I love ‘sudden and miraculous grace’ and hope to achieve such joyous moments of surprise from time to time in my own writing.
I decided to steer clear of spiritual or religious consolation in my essay, though I admit that I (once a Christian, now a druid) find the works of John O’Donohue, Anam Cara in particular, excellent for lifting the spirits.
The comments on this post remind me all over again what excellent and thoughtful human beings the Writer Unboxed community is made up of. Deeply reassuring.
I love Anam Cara (also the words engraved on my wife’s and my wedding rings). A good one to reread.
Thanks for the reminder, Juliet, and the wonderful Tolkien quote, Heather. Also, I agree with you about this community being deeply reassuring.
The light and the dark coexist in stories. A story would not be a story without trouble, woe, and a time of hopelessness. At the same time, a story would not be read if things did not come out okay and, finally, invoke a feeling that all our trouble, woe and hopelessness happens for a reason.
If some like their murder with tea or their quests with humor, there is fiction for their level of tolerance. If others want their fantasy GrimDark or their thrillers with gore, they can find it. Everyone may not buy books but every human alive has been shaped by stories.
Consolatory? I would say necessary, regardless of the temperature of the tale.
I’ve read some high-profile, celebrated novels that seemed to end without any note of hope for the protagonist(s). Maybe the note of hope/understanding/acceptance was hidden too deep for me to find.
Celebrated or widely read?
I have found fantasy and science fiction to be a way writers (myself included) can address so many “real life” issues and emotions in a less in-your-face manner. All cultures have some form of monsters, angels, fantastical creatures, and the like. By taking the specificity (or maybe the “real world”) out of an experience, and moving it to the realm of the fantastical, the story becomes more available and relatable for a broad range of people. It isn’t a dumbing down, but rather a lifting up of the human experience and often the fight to overcome those obstacles that keep us from being our best selves. A little bit of magic gives everyone hope.
Yes, in just the way traditional stories with their fantastic trappings made the challenges and terrors of the real world easier to understand and to face. I think we as fantasy writers are performing the role of the storyteller by the fire. Thank you so much for this, Lara!
My aim as a writer is to produce works (novels, plays, what have you), that are like a cup of tea. Sitting down for a cup of tea is both a rest, and a restoration; it eases your weariness and it prepares you to face the world again.
Antonyms for consolation include distress, anguish, and torment. I’m fine with being consolatory :-)
I love the cup of tea analogy! Double consolation, the work that is as restful and restoring as a good cuppa, plus an actual cup of tea to drink as you read. I enjoy reading Romance, great for lifting the spirits when one is feeling low. Also revisiting childhood favourites such as the Moomin books by Tove Jansson, which are quite philosophical and soothing, despite the Moomin family dealing with floods and storms, unexpected voyages. comets and hobgoblins. At the heart of that series are wonderful lessons in tolerance and understanding.
When I’m blue, I like to read funny stories or stories of saints–their lives are so inspiring. I like to write stories filled with hope, no matter how difficult the struggle.
Vijaya, you’ve inspired me to dig out a book I have on my shelf but haven’t read for years: Beasts and Saints by Helen Waddell. One of my children is named after a relatively obscure British saint who was a monk at Durham – there are no less that four stories in the book about his encounters with animals, all marked by the saint’s patience and kindness. I see the book was published close to the year of my son’s birth. He’s grown up and a father now.
Clearly this is another reason I love the Brother Cadfael stories so much – Cadfael is notable for his kindness and his deep appreciation of the natural world. So you’ve given me my moment of joyful understanding for today.
I wish there were more Cadfael stories. They worked wonderfully both as reading and on film.
They are great for re-reading too. I never saw the TV series, but I am working my way through all the books currently. Very beautifully written, the historical background woven seamlessly into the stories.
I love the Cadfael books! Ellis Peters never fell into the trap of making her characters modern people in historical settings.
I found the TV series a bit frustrating, though, as it seemed to be made from a modern secular viewpoint which didn’t sit well with the original books.
For example (spoiler!) a miracle in one book is turned into a cynical con in the TV series. Disappointing.
Lately, for consolation and courage I’ve been reading books that evoke a quieter world, community life, and a personal moral journey: Brian Doyle’s wonderful essays, Wendell Berry’s Port William novels, Elizabeth Strout’s books.