The Magic of Childhood in Black Swan Green

   

One of my favorite aspects of Black Swan Green is the role of “magic” in the story, where magic is anything out of the ordinary. It occurs most frequently in nature, as seen in chapters 1, 4, and 10, but can also occur outside it, as seen in Chapters 6 and 11. 

 

To set a very loose definition, let magic be when the “mundane” world and the world through the eyes of the child diverge. There’s this trope in media where you can see things that exist, but that aren’t viewed as real by adults, when you are young, but that you can no longer see when you are older, and I feel like that’s sort of what I think of when I talk about magic in the book. We can consider “magic” in Black Swan Green as being a heterocosmic intrusion into otherwise realistic fiction. However, we can also consider the act of writing to generally be reflective of a heterocosmic intrusion, because one invents a reality with one’s words.  

 

Note for people who weren’t in History as Fiction: heterocosm is here used to mean other world. You can think of fiction as being a heterocosm, and you can think of fiction within that fiction as being another heterocosm, allowing for a structure like nesting dolls. Consider a story with a framing device, for example, or a story where a character reads a book or daydreams. Further reading: Postmodernist Fiction, “Some Ontologies of Fiction” by Brian McHale, as well as “Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius” and “The Circular Ruins,” both short stories by Jorge Luis Borges. When I say heterocosmic intrusion here, I mean that something that seems like it would be from a different reality than our own (and by extension Jason’s) occurs. 

 

In chapter 1, we have the fairy-tale style depiction of the house in the woods and the ghost boy on the lake. The woman the house gives him a poultice for his injury, and seemingly talks about the boy who died, making her seem as ignorant as if she is from another time entirely. Jason himself says that after sleeping some with a poultice on, his ankle “swiveled fine, cured, like magic.” (p21). The way the woman reminds Jason not to wake her brother makes him seem reminiscent of the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk, and of course her oven calls to mind Hansel and Gretel. In this case, the ghost, as well as the woman’s generally unusual demeanor, and her successful alternative medicine practice, are the heterocosm. Given that in chapter 12 we finally discover that her brother died years before, the new information somewhat reframes the chapter in a more “realistic” adult view. We can consider Jason’s fairy-tale fears to be generally more childish in comparison.

 

In chapter 4, there is “Badger,” who seems wholly larger than life in mythos, the entire quest through the woods for a lost path, and Tom Yew’s premonition of his death. Badger seems a mythic evil, with his three Dobermans calling to mind Cerberus. He sics his dogs on Jason (although presumably this is an empty threat, seeing as they are leashed) and Dean later tells Jason Kelly’s improbable story of how he had a student fed to his dogs. Tom Yew describes his own nightmare of enemy fire on the Coventry as being “too real.” p90. The quest through the woods itself seems improbable: to Jason, (to borrow Alison Bechdel’s words) the world’s possibilities are still infinite. There are still uncharted paths. But England has grown past that. There are no unknown ways anymore; all myth and quests for portentous obelisks have diminished into the west, vanished to Tol Eressëa with the long-drained fens and much of the old-growth forest. As Mr Mitchell points out in class, chapter 4 may parallel Sam and Frodo’s journey in the Lord of the Rings, especially given the fact that Jason’s Lord of the Rings poster is mentioned as being put back up at the beginning of the chapter. This may suggest some changes in the landscape of Jason’s imagination; as he matures, his interest in Lord of the Rings displaces the space previously occupied by fairy tales. 

 

In chapter 10, Jason is running through the woods to flee his bullies. He reflects that the woods is one of the few places that he can be himself, and that time is different there. The description makes it seem as if it is another plane of reality, a more fundamental one, as time is “truer” there p234. It also offers many possibilities, as “Ghosts of Might Be run in the woods,” again suggesting the closeness of other realities. It is the druid-like sensation of running through the woods that makes Jason realize he wants to be a forester. Given that the forest is associated with magic and childhood (we never see any adults in the woods besides outcasts, in the form of the woman in the house, and the Romani), this may imply that he wants to keep these two things close to him. Although he doesn’t know it, wanting to become a forester also symbolizes his connection to Black Swan Green—many places do not have forests the way Black Swan Green does. This again ties Black Swan Green to his childhood, strengthening the connection between Jason moving from Black Swan Green and part of his childhood coming to a close. 


The “magic” in chapters 6 and 11 is more subtle, but still extant in the way that Jason’s view of the painting in the Solarium is premonitory, and in the greater way that Mme. Crommelynck seems almost seer-like in her wisdom. Chapter 11 calls to mind the ancient Roman festival of Saturnalia, in which the lords would turn to aid their servants. Crommelynck is depicted as mythic, being able to gauge when Jason is lying or repressing aspects of himself, as in when she criticizes his penname of Eliot Bolivar and his naming of the poem “Back Gardens.” Madame Crommelynck’s lighter also has a dragon, a symbol of nobility and wealth. In Chapter 11, we have the mythic barfight on which Clement Oster’s father staked his livelihood, and we have the mirrors that allow Jason to have a conversation with himself, and crucially, consider who he is as a person, coming to the realization that he would do best to have a “One-You,” to have his presentation of his self match the person he is.  

 

Edit: I made a chart of common themes between books: Similarities Google Sheets.

 

Comments

  1. I've always struggled to cogently account for "what happens" at the end of the first "January Man" chapter, and why we never hear Jason's account of how he gets out of this fairy-tale cottage in the woods and safely back home. I think of it in terms of childlike imagination taking over, Jason being so fascinated with the concepts of life and death that he imagines the ghost-boy on the lake (which is how he sort of frames it when he writes the poem based on this chapter). But I can't explain the poultice (itself which seems to work like magic), or the "snowflakes" coming out of the woman's mouth at the end. It indeed feels like a "heterocosmic intrusion" into a heretofore realistically rendered fictional world. I agree that Eva herself has a kind of "magic" aura throughout her chapter, and many readers wonder if this is some kind of dream sequence--her presence in BSG seems so unreal, inexplicable, as if she's literally from a different book (which she is!).

    There is a sense in which this "magic" seems to dissipate near the end of the novel, most notably when Jason revisits the "house in the woods" and is assured that BSG is "not Sherwood Forest" and that Mrs. Gretton is an elderly woman who seems to be suffering some form of dementia (hence she is confused about whether her brother is living or dead). She is more literally afflicted with "ghosts," even if there's no sense in which she's looking to put any little kids into the oven. Her son explains everything in rather prosaic terms (including the formerly mysterious term "Brummie"), and that maybe represents a further "grounding" of Jason in objective reality. But it also feels like something of his childish imagination is lost.

    Perhaps this metafictionally reflects the movement from poetry to prose in his writing: his poetry invests the world with metafictional magic, but according to Eva, it removes him from the important underlying reality. One consequence of her influence is that his writing seems to be less attuned to this "magic" in the later chapters--although we do maybe get a version of this when he speaks to "Maggot" in the Hall of Mirrors at the Goose Fair (a setting that he literally describes as "magic"). But the second "January Man" chapter seems to be entirely devoid of this magic, and instead we get a realistic overlay on what previously HAD been "magical").

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  2. Throughout Black Swan Green, there is definitely some sense of mystical power. I’d like to disagree that this “power” is specifically magic, kindly, but rather some kind of supernatural setup, which is 100% more powerful during childhood, according to the novel. Also, the fact that most of the encounters are in some kind of natural setting is really revealing. Maybe the villages are too focused on other things, but in the forest, other things are revealed. Unfortunately, Jason is sucked into the oppressive world and isn’t able to continue exploring this other power, but that would be a completely valid reason for why he would want to grow up to be a forester. Really great blog!

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