Secondary Belief
Part of what makes good fantasy great is effective world-building. The ability to suggest a realistic world, complete with its own cultures, governments, geography, and religions, is part of what separates competent writers from the great ones. (That’s part of why I’ve titled this post “a phrasebook for travelers in Russian fairy tales”, but more on that in a bit).
And it’s not just that a reader is more easily transported, his disbelief more easily suspended, when a writer creates a beautiful world. In his essay On Fairy Stories, Tolkien suggests the sub-creation of secondary belief is more than just good writing. It’s almost a transcendent act, allowing the reader to understand certain basic truths about the human condition that he might have never considered, had he not experienced them in the form of story.
I’ve written about this extensively in my writer’s manifesto. Today, I merely wanted to suggest that this is true even of “escapist fiction.” In a recent article in The Atlantic, we read about Tolkien’s great short story “Leaf by Niggle,” where (spoiler alert!) an artist’s painting of a tree eventually becomes a real tree under which the writer then finds his ultimate rest.
As the article beautifully suggests, Tolkien believed that the escapism of fantasy was not simply permissible, but necessary:
The author believed that a well-realized fantasy world is just as important as mundane existence—if not more so. Tolkien also thought the genre should be escapist and offer renewal by emphasizing timeless themes such as nature and good and evil, as “Leaf by Niggle” demonstrates.
The modern world, Tolkien believed, was a place that fragmented people and dissociated them from reality. We now know that this is actually happening in a physically demonstrable way, due to obsessive consumption of social media through smart phones.
In an odd way, reading escapist fiction in which the writer has convincingly described a secondary world can actually help people engage better with real life:
Fantasy, Tolkien suggests, is a way out that’s also a return to fundamentals: the tree and leaf, earth and stone. It revives those who are choking on the exhaust fumes of modernity.
The World of Russian Fairy Tales
If Tolkien was largely inspired by Icelandic sagas and other medieval literature, I find the fodder for my secondary worlds in the complex, sometimes scary world of Russian fairy tales. This comes out in different ways, including the names I choose, the mythical creatures who populate my world, as well as some specific plot points that occur in my novels.
But on a smaller scale, the tales provide lots of small details that can make writing my novels a rich experience. Things like the shape and color of drinking vessels or the symbolism of clothing. I love to read about these things, so it’s no surprise they show up in my novels.
So as I get serious about finishing book 5 of my Raven Son series (by Christmas 2019, if all goes well), I thought I’d offer you a bit of that world-building research. Russian epic poetry has its own language that even some Russians find difficult to understand. It gives the stories part of its epic feel, while also grounding it in very earthy reality.
I’d like to incorporate some of this idiom into casual conversations between characters in my novels. As for you, you never know. You might need this phrasebook. Just in case you ever find yourself lost in the world of Russian fairy tales.
Important Phrases for Travelers in Russian Fairy Tales
(translated from a Russian site, which you can find here)
“I’m very angry!” : “I’m going to chop it down to a stub!”
“What a gentleman!” : “Your bow is well-studied, your cross is straight from the book!”
“A dangerous woman” : “A wolf’s meal”
“He’s in shock” : “He shakes his golden curls; he clicks his bejeweled fingers”
“I’m beside myself” : “My warrior’s heart is boiling!”
“Bad dog! (or any animal)” : “You bag of grass!”
“Would you like to play a game?” : “Should we not play checkers-chess, those tablets of gold?”
“Who is that person?” : “What sort of stink comes from behind my stove?”
“Hi!” : “Hail, you brave young warriors!”
“He opened the door” : “The door swung around his ankle”
“Sorry I’m late!” : “I traveled a straight road, but how that road has lingered!”
“He’s upset” : “That became for him a great sorrow; it seemed a horrible grief!”
“She’s a ditz” : “A woman’s concerns are dazzling, dazzling, and mercurial”
Come to think of it, I’m not sure how much of this is useful. But I’m definitely going to start greeting everyone as brave young warriors. And I think I’ve found my favorite new insult, you bag of grass!
If you enjoyed this post, I bet you’ll also like my essay “A Passport to Russian Fairy Land,” in which I guide you through the opening lines of Russian Fairy Tales, help you interpret cryptic fairy tale phrases like the ones above, and introduce you to the infamous Baba Yaga herself! Enter your email and I’ll send your passport!
“I traveled a straight road, but how that road has lingered!” is a /fantastic/ excuse for being late, right up there with “A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.”
Also now I really want to use “The door swung around his ankle” in a novel.