This predates Milton. A lot of early Christians held that the pagan gods were real, but that they were demons. See Augustine, City of God, for example.

But I digress.

In creating Tash as a real being, not simply a imaginary false god created by humans, Lewis is clearly following Milton in Paradise Lost, where all the gods of the Mediterranean world are revealed to be demons, that is, fallen angels in the service of the Daddy Fallen Angel, Satan.

Here’s another Narnia puzzler: how much time elapsed between the creation of Narnia and the beginning of the White Witch’s reign? How many kings and queens descended from Frank and Helen were there in that interim? If the kings and queens of Archenland are descended from Frank and Helen, why aren’t they the proper rulers of Narnia rather than Caspian’s line? (I think we know why the Pensevies don’t create a dynasty of their own: it would require Lewis to admit that they had sex while adults in Narnia, which gets him into some weird territory. Though Susan appears to have flirted on the edge of that, judging from The Horse and His Boy.

I quite agree. In general Christianity never seems so appealing, or so coherent, or so morally plausible to me as it does when Lewis is presenting it– in Narnia, in Screwtape, and in the apologia.

Say, for example, how the Calormens got into that world, and if they’re Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, why they weren’t equally threatening to the White Witch.

Yeah, I think that was alwasy problematic. It seems like the polity or Narnia operates under special rules relative to the world of Narnia. The talking animals and other assorted magical beasties don’t spread south, and the Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve are only especially important when they come north. Probably tied to the especially-intense relationship the polity of Narnia has with Aslan– they are, in some world-appropriate way, his chosen people. He ordained founding matters about it in a way analogous to God directly ordaining rules of governance for Biblical Israel– rules that Christianity holds to have been binding then-there but not to bind elsewhere or elsewhen.

Or for that matter, where all the nasty evil creatures in the Witch’s army come from, given that she’s the only evil creature in Narnia at the Creation

That worries me less, since the Wood between the Worlds (is that right) allows movement around, and for that matter since random interworld portals show up between Earth and Narnia. If Men can wander in, why not Werewolves, from whatever world they’re native too? (They could also be creations of Tash; I don’t know that Tash is ever said to operate under the Morgoth-Sauron restriction about only perverting not creating.)

In contrast, a novel tends to try for extreme detail. Characters examined and described in great detail, long investigations into motivation, realistic fleshed-out dialogue. Rather than being a sketch of a story with artistic flourishes, a novel aims to be the complete story in itself, without the reader having to add too much himself (at least as far as characterization and plot go). Two people who’ve read the same novel should be able to come to an agreement on what the characters are like and, in large part, why they do what they do. This isn’t always the case, but when motivations are left ambiguous it’s deliberate and seen as a departure–it’s noticeable. In contrast, in the epic you’re just told “Achilles did so-and-so” and left to fill in, from your knowledge of the culture in which he lived and your own perceptions of the world, why he did it.

Star Wars, and RotS especially, seems to fit this epic mold. RotS doesn’t explain, really, why Anakin did what he did; but I feel like I understand it anyway, because I fill it in with the part of me that could succumb to the same temptations. Lucas doesn’t give you a fully explored character and tell you “this is why he did it”; instead, he gives you a set of forces acting on Anakin that push him in that direction, and leaves you to decide for yourself 1 why these forces act so powerfully, and 2 which of them were important. For me, it’s the whole idea of “I have the power to fix things.” At the end of the movie, when Anakin suggest to Padme that they overthrow Palpatine, seize control, and establish a peaceful rule over the galaxy, and make things the way they ought to be–that spoke to me powerfully. If not for the truly horrendus things Anakin was doing to try to get there, I could see myself making the same choice–especially if a powerful and trusted authority figure spent a couple years putting me in a position where I would make that choice.

But if that one doesn’t speak to you, there are other justifications you can choose. He did it to save Padme. He did it because he felt like Palpatine respected him, and the Jedi Council were just using him. He did it because he valued the institutions of the Republic over the institutions of the Jedi. He did it because the Council violated his trust. This ambiguity is really nice in some ways, because it lets you read the story that touches you most powerfully. But it comes at the expense of a strongly characterized, novel-like construction. Lucas just plots a basic story, then throws in a lot of the Hollywood equivalent of purple prose–special effects.

Sorry about the really long post. I’m not sure I entirely believe this, but I know I don’t disbelieve it. I’ve been a big fan of your blog for about a year now, and I’m really curious what you think. And I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m certainly not unhappy with tons of Star Wars posts; I think the first thing I did when I got back from RotS was check your blog to see if you had any thoughts on it up yet.

Greg Egan-land?

I just want to know how we wound up in The Space Merchants….