Words are a central and core part of a person or group’s identity. To quote Melina Marchetta’s Finnikin of the Rock, a novel which I read years ago but that has never left me, “Who are we without our words?” (Marchetta 65). I read Finnikin of the Rock in 2008, but words from it still dance around in my head. Certainly, the importance of a book I read 6 years ago in my current life is proof that words are significant. While Finnikin of the Rock may be a fantasy novel, its power lies in its close proximity to the “real world” (whatever that may be). Reading it brought me closer to the tangible world I (sometimes) live in by giving me a new perspective and distancing me from my own perspective enough to give me a critical eye and ear.

     As Chamberlin emphasises, we build our lives around the notion of “us” and “them”: those who share our beliefs, rituals, and customs – and those who do not. While we can certainly visit other countries, it takes time to learn their ways and come to accept them. As readers and listeners, we generally sympathise with the protagonist of a story, regardless of culture. As such, reading brings us closer to those who do not share our values and beliefs; it gives us greater understanding of our differences and of our similarities.

     Reading and storytelling play on the notion Chamberlin mentions of “a cat that is both there and not there” (132), of “the happening that is not happening” (Chamberlin 152). When we read a book or listen to a story, we are experiencing something that seems very real, yet which we know did not happen (or not exactly in the way presented to us, in the case of nonfiction). It is both real and not real, true and not true. While stories may not have happened, we build our world upon the truth of them.

     We learn from a very young age that magic does not exist and that animals cannot talk, yet we also learn that Glooscap was formed by lightening, that Eve was created from Adam’s rib, and that Skywoman was rescued by talking animals. While, on the one hand, we know that these things cannot be true, they also become the basis for our understanding of the world.

     “The Book of John” tells us that “in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (New International Bible, John 1.1), a reminder that God, like the cat invoked by three letters on a sheet of paper, is both there and not there. God was created in a word.

     Likewise magic is created by words. Harry Potter may seem far from the truth, until we remember that Diagon Alley is a play on “diagonally” (Appelbaum 86), the way we need to look at the world to perceive the magic all around us. Harry’s England is not far from the England my father went to school in: steam trains, prefects, Latin, and elitism. Surely, even the most fantastical of stories contain more truth than fiction. After all, no story we cannot relate to will hold our imagination. As Chamberlin points out, “our English word ‘fact’ comes from the same root as ‘fiction;’ both mean ‘something made up’” (138). No story told can be 100% true as truth is imperfectly remembered; however, a story that is 100% fiction could not be conceived. We live our lives in the space between the two. Our stories are both fact and fiction, true and not true, existing in the space of contradiction which Chamberlin talks about. This is not to say that words are insignificant.

     It is important to remember that God – created in a word – has been the cause of wars and death. Surely, this goes to prove the power of words. Like Chamberlin’s cat, God both exists and does not, yet God has clearly had an impact on the world around us. God may not have a physical existence, but he provides an answer to questions we cannot answer. The belief in the existence of a god helps humans of diverse cultures to come to terms with the world around them. Our explanation draws us closer to the world and holds us away from it, giving us answers and keeping us from answers both at once. God, in this sense, is no different from science.

     Riddles are a means of revaluating language. What does a raven have in common with a writing desk (Carroll 104)? Perhaps there is no answer, but writers and readers alike have spent decades searching their knowledge – both of the world and of language – for an answer. Certainly, the multitudes of answers that can be found with a google search do not change our understanding of the world, but they may alter our understanding of language.

     Charms, on the other hand, be they poems, songs, prayers, or stories, hold us together by presenting us with a story that may not match our lived experience of the world, but which we believe in nevertheless. As Chamberlin puts it, “riddles and charms bring words and the world together and test one against the other to see which gives way…In a riddle, it is language that gives, while the world stays just as it is…In a charm, it is the world that changes – if only for that moment when we sing our national anthem or recite our creed or repeat our creation story” (239). When I read Finnikin of the Rock, my notion of the world shifted, as I came to understand the struggle of refugees around the world, through the eyes and ears of a fictitious character in a fantasy land.

© 2015 Heather Josephine Pue

Works Cited:

Appelbaum, Peter. “The Great Snape Debate.” Critical Perspectives on Harry Potter . Ed. Elizabeth Heilman. New York: Routledge, 2003. 83-100. UBC Library. Web. 16 Jan. 2015.

Carroll, Lewis. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Press, 2000. Print.

Chamberlin, J. Edward. If This is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories? Toronto: Vintage Canada, 2003. Print.

Giffard, Sue. “Finnikin of the Rock.” School Library Journal. Vol. 56 Issue 3 (2010): 163-164. UBC Library. Web. 15 Jan. 2015.

Marchetta, Melina. Finnkin of the Rock. Camberwell, Victoria: Penguin Group (Australia), 2008. Print.

New International Bible. Bible Gateway. Web. 15 Jan. 2015.

Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. London: Raincoast Books, 1997. Print.