Imagine Narnia’s Aslan as the Lion of Judah. Or a wardrobe as the Tabernacle. Unlikely, says Michael Weingrad in a recent book review. “To no other field of modern literature have Jews contributed so little,” he writes. The idea that Jews can’t transport ourselves into another dimension? Ridiculous.
I’ll readily admit I’m a fantasy enthusiast. Since I was little, I’ve devoured books by the likes of Tamora Pierce, David Eddings, and other banner-waving authors with magic, royals, and the occasional dragon. Nothing could transport me away from the problems of everyday life faster than a magic carpet or a winged horse. I’d happily fly away…well, you get the idea. I’ve since come to accept the inevitability of the real world.! But the idea that none of my own people are involved in my favorite genre? Preposterous.
Weingrad argues that Jews do not have the same connection to feudal Europe, so often recreated in fantasy, that Western European Christians do. Because of violence against the Jews in medieval Europe, they have no desire to recreate situations that bring to mind such pain. That “is an obstacle in a genre that takes medieval chivalry as its imaginative ideal,†writes Weingrad.
Clearly, that is an issue with fantasy. The Jewish memory is long, as it should be in a religion of such history, and events like the Inquisition and other religious persecutions cannot, and should not, be rubbed out just to write books. But Weingrad disregards the joy of transporting oneself out of one’s own contemporary society that fantasy brings. He may mention it in his article, yes, but he seems surgically removed from the magic of fantasy, regarding it very dispassionately. It takes a fantasy lover to realize that the Jews’ flight of fancy is present in many other pieces of literature that they’ve produced.
For the sake of political expediency and space reasons, I won’t discuss the Bible’s historical accuracy or lack thereof. It may be the most famous piece of Jewish writing we have, but it’s too complicated of a text to examine so cursorily. The most famous example of Jewish fantasy, steeped in European legend and lore, is the Golem.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with the legend, I’ll give you a quick review. In Prague, a rabbi prayed to G-d to send him a means to clear Israel of rumors of ritual Christian murder. G-d told him to make a clay image that would accomplish his goals. To harness the four elements, the rabbi used his son-in-law (representing fire), his favorite student (water), himself and his knowledge (wind), and the clay (earth). Using Kabalistic ritual, he created an image of clay, the Golem, that performed acts of justice in the face of those determined to deface the Jewish reputation.
This tale clearly has many elements of fantasy. Magic is one of the biggest tools used in fantasy writing to separate the fictive from the real worlds. Though the story is set in Prague, it is clear that the Prague we see is not the Prague that literally existed. We hear a folktale of a giant clay man that’s a soldier for righteousness and hear of Jews’ reputations being harmed. It is likely that that is true, for much antagonism, as we have seen, existed against the Jews.
This alternative history in vindicating the Jews is a clear literary tradition, though, that developed out of storytelling and religious beliefs. What else is fantasy but these things? One may argue that Weingrad meant “the fantasy genre of the modern day†in his article. Fantasy isn’t a recent invention, though. The genre has been around for a long time and it is important to recognize our own place in it.
