Journeys in imaginary worlds
When I was a kid, I desperately wanted to go to Oz.
Sure, I already lived in upstate New York, in a yard with an enchanted rose garden where shadows could talk to you, if you caught them right at the right moment; Indiana, near a park with magical trees, and in Italy, a place of its own strange magic, where I had a rock playground to conquer and later a small "hidden" area to sneak into and rule. (It wasn't that well hidden.) But I still wanted to visit Oz. After all, in Oz, animals could talk, meals literally grew on trees as complete three course meals (and apparently waste disposal was never a problem); candy grew in great profusion; and girls could wander off into adventures whenever they wished.
And Narnia, again with the talking animals. (I think part of this want was just to talk to talking animals. I admit, after years of living with cats, I am a little less inclined to hear them vocalize their thoughts since I fear this will deteriorate into endless complaints about how their food bowl is not exactly filled to the precise amount needed with the food they most desire, that, and endless conversations about the great advantages of napping and sun and being left utterly alone during these critical sun napping times and that they are not getting scratched enough. But I digress.)
But other places never pulled at me in the same way. I loved the Earthsea books, for instance, and I have always wanted to see a dragon, but the islands themselves felt cold, not places I ever wanted to live. I felt the same way about Pern, even with its fire lizards (I never really wanted to ride any of McCaffery's dragons, though I'd love to have a little fire lizard. Think about how much fun it could have with the cats. And vice versa.). But for whatever reason - perhaps knowing that at certain moments your mind could be overtaken by the mating needs of alien dragons - I never exactly wanted to go there.
Or I found myself only wanting to visit parts of imaginary worlds. I had a faint curiosity about the Shire (though I liked the sound of the food), and none at all about Gondor (which seems to have wretched food), but I most certainly would want to take a boat to the uttermost west and wander in Tol Eressea and Valinor (which has magical food). I would not want to visit most of George RR Martin's Westeros - mostly because I assume I'd lose a couple of feet and hands on the trip - but I would love to spend a day or two resting in the Water Gardens. And, ok, it would be awesome to see the Wall and the Eyrie. Not that I'd want to live in either place.
(In thinking it over it does seem as if my desire to visit imaginary places strongly correlates with the quality of the food there. Or at least the descriptions of the food. Hmm.)
I'm not sure how a writer can build that desire - I'm not sure it's even always a good thing to have in a book. The Oz books, much though I love most of them, are not exactly up to the same literary quality as Le Guin, for instance. And I happily reread books set in places I would never want to see. But that doesn't keep my mind from wandering in the imaginary worlds I'd love to travel in.
Sure, I already lived in upstate New York, in a yard with an enchanted rose garden where shadows could talk to you, if you caught them right at the right moment; Indiana, near a park with magical trees, and in Italy, a place of its own strange magic, where I had a rock playground to conquer and later a small "hidden" area to sneak into and rule. (It wasn't that well hidden.) But I still wanted to visit Oz. After all, in Oz, animals could talk, meals literally grew on trees as complete three course meals (and apparently waste disposal was never a problem); candy grew in great profusion; and girls could wander off into adventures whenever they wished.
And Narnia, again with the talking animals. (I think part of this want was just to talk to talking animals. I admit, after years of living with cats, I am a little less inclined to hear them vocalize their thoughts since I fear this will deteriorate into endless complaints about how their food bowl is not exactly filled to the precise amount needed with the food they most desire, that, and endless conversations about the great advantages of napping and sun and being left utterly alone during these critical sun napping times and that they are not getting scratched enough. But I digress.)
But other places never pulled at me in the same way. I loved the Earthsea books, for instance, and I have always wanted to see a dragon, but the islands themselves felt cold, not places I ever wanted to live. I felt the same way about Pern, even with its fire lizards (I never really wanted to ride any of McCaffery's dragons, though I'd love to have a little fire lizard. Think about how much fun it could have with the cats. And vice versa.). But for whatever reason - perhaps knowing that at certain moments your mind could be overtaken by the mating needs of alien dragons - I never exactly wanted to go there.
Or I found myself only wanting to visit parts of imaginary worlds. I had a faint curiosity about the Shire (though I liked the sound of the food), and none at all about Gondor (which seems to have wretched food), but I most certainly would want to take a boat to the uttermost west and wander in Tol Eressea and Valinor (which has magical food). I would not want to visit most of George RR Martin's Westeros - mostly because I assume I'd lose a couple of feet and hands on the trip - but I would love to spend a day or two resting in the Water Gardens. And, ok, it would be awesome to see the Wall and the Eyrie. Not that I'd want to live in either place.
(In thinking it over it does seem as if my desire to visit imaginary places strongly correlates with the quality of the food there. Or at least the descriptions of the food. Hmm.)
I'm not sure how a writer can build that desire - I'm not sure it's even always a good thing to have in a book. The Oz books, much though I love most of them, are not exactly up to the same literary quality as Le Guin, for instance. And I happily reread books set in places I would never want to see. But that doesn't keep my mind from wandering in the imaginary worlds I'd love to travel in.