Through children’s literature and the adventures of children, Lewis pits the child-likeness of Godâ€™s Kingdom against the childish grownups of Modern Western culture.
Of the many children in C.S. Lewisâ€™s fantastically magical series The Chronicles of Narnia, the most well known are the Pevensies, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. The four brothers and sisters have grand adventures in Narnia and become beloved Kings and Queens. Susan, however, is not as active in the series as the other children because she is not as much of a child.
Perhaps better than any adult in the chronicles, Susan represents the realm of Grownups. And it is her self-seeking desire to be grown-up that corrupts and misdirects her practicality, gentleness, and beauty.
Much like Mrs. Beaver, Susan is constantly concerned that everyone have adequate provisions. Without Susan, the four children would have frozen to death before seeing any adventures in Narnia (Lion 51). And again when they are suddenly called back to Cair Paravel to the aid of Prince Caspian, it is Susan who attends to their warmth and safety (Caspian 5-6). Susan is levelheaded and practical. But her streetwise never reaches the fullness of wisdom because of stifling motives in her heart. For Susan desires to show off her â€śgrown-upâ€ť savvy and do what grown-ups would say is right, which stops her from following her heart and doing what actually is right (Lion 2).
Wisdom is also shortchanged by fear. The flip side of Susan’s practicality is that sometimes Susan wants to do the practical thing because it is the safe thing. Twice in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe Susan suggests the children return home, once when home is England (56) and once when home is Narnia (184). But these instances do not define Susan. Not until Prince Caspian, is she characterized most by her fear. Susan fears the darkness of the woods and the treasure house despite Peterâ€™s encouragement to â€śCheer up,â€ť because â€śitâ€™s no good behaving like kids now that weâ€™re back in Narnia.â€ť â€śYouâ€™re a queen here,â€ť he tells her (21), but Susan lets fear rule her spirit and must be admonished by Aslan (148).
â€śGrownupâ€ť is Susanâ€™s false self, as Frederick Buechner would call it, and improper fear is always a result of living out of oneâ€™s false self. Susan is too afraid to live out of the empowerment of her name, Queen Susan, and settles for the reduction of society’s label, Grownup.
Not too unlike Lucy, Susan possesses tenderhearted intuition for which she is called, â€śSusan the Gentleâ€ť (Lion 181). In Prince Caspian, she cannot enjoy her shooting match with Trumpkin because she â€śwas so tender-hearted that she almost hated to beat someone who had been beaten alreadyâ€ť (102).
Susan displays this quality best in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (when she is youngest) as she and her sister minister to Aslan during the time leading up to his death and resurrection. Sensitive to Aslanâ€™s troubled spirit, the girls leave their beds to walk alongside the Great Lion, tenderly stroking his golden fur for as long as he will let them. Upon parting, they kiss his face and weep, and after his death they do their best to remove his un-kingly bonds (146-148, 154-155).
But this gentleness is never allowed to mature, and Susan remains a stagnant character; she remains childish, hindered from growth by being too grown-up.
Susan is constantly reproving Lucy for doing things she considers childish, such as pretending and storytelling (Lion 21), being unable to discern dreams from reality (Caspian 139), and being selfish (Caspian 143). However, the tension between the two sisters is more often a result of Susanâ€™s childishness and Lucyâ€™s child-likeness. Undoubtedly, Susan was ever praised for her â€śgrown-upâ€ť qualities by countless grownups, a thing most difficult to overcome. This flattery results unfortunately in vanity, and Susan never recovers.
There is no question of Susanâ€™s beauty, for she â€śgrew into a tall and gracious woman with black hair that fell almost to her feet and the Kings of the countries beyond the sea began to send ambassadors asking for her hand in marriageâ€ť (Lion 181). This was not just the effect of Narnia; in England too, â€śgrownups thought her the pretty one of the familyâ€ť (Voyage 2), and Lucy nearly makes a fatal choice because of her jealousy (130). Even in Narnia Susan is not quite strong enough to be so beautiful (Horse 61), and we mourn for Susanâ€™s beauty because it is wasted on things like â€śnylons and lipstick and invitationsâ€ť (Battle 135) when it could be, not a shadow, but a reflection, of true Beauty.
It is doubtful any reader will say Susan Pevensie is his or her favorite, but her character should be read with compassion, not contempt. Susan is the King Saul of Narnia, who, in the worldâ€™s eyes, should be in the spotlight (and in the worldâ€™s eyes is). But Susan fades into the periphery because Narnia is ruled by Aslanâ€™s economy of real Truth, real Love, and real Beauty.
The loss of the White Witch is triumphant because the White Witch is evil, but the loss of Susan is tragic because Susan is good but misdirected, and her greatest strengths become her greatest weaknesses. â€śOnce a King or Queen in Narnia always a King or Queen of Narniaâ€ť is heartbreaking when we remember Susan and think of how she should be there with the others in the end to begin the â€śGreat Story.â€ť
(Editor in Chief) is a poet whose work often centers around the relationships between nature and the city, loss and love, faith and protest. She holds an MLA in English Literature and an MA in African American Studies. In between her two Masters degrees, Renea took a "gap year" to study theology at the famousÂ L'Abri FellowshipÂ in Switzerland. L'Abri is also where she read the Harry Potter saga for the first time and fell in love with the characters and the story's triumph of sacrificial love. Renea leads an incredibly talented creative writing group at her church and spends a fair amount of time binging books and Netflix and swing dancing at the historic Sons of Hermann Hall.