Volume 33 Nº 1 - February 1997

Elidor: the gardens within

Joanne McPherson

The 'garden' is, for many writers, a platform through which characters may learn, develop and mature. It is a landscape upon which the motifs or issues of the novel are displayed, and a representation of social fears and apprehensions. This paper considers the 'garden' as it is represented in Alan Garner's post-war novel, Elidor, and speculates as to its function within the text. Neither of the two 'gardens' within this novel conforms to the traditional imagery of trees, birds and flowers. Yet this, it is argued, can be read as a symptom of the movement away from Arcadian images within children's fiction and the tendency toward a bleak form of realism.

Firstly, I will be considering the representation of Manchester and its backstreets, which function as the children's playground within the text. What is the symbolic purpose of the demolished church? Why is Manchester chosen as the setting for the novel and how does the war function as a peripheral issue within the text? The second 'garden' which I will consider is the parallel world of Elidor whose bleak landscape is intended as both a forewarning to the children and their world against 'war, and siege, and betrayal, and the dying of the light' (p. 38^*) and as a boundary which the children must cross in the completion of their quest. I conclude with a recognition of the transformed or re-discovered 'garden' within children's literature and emphasise the correlation between the changes in children's 'gardens' and those of post-war society.

* Page references are to the 1965 Harper Collins edition of Elidor.

Arcadian images of the 'garden', apparent in books such as Kenneth Grahame's Wind in the Willows , became popular in late nineteenth century children's literature when the relationship between society, author and the child allowed for such idealism (Carpenter 1985). However, by the 1960s children's literature had undergone numerous radical changes as authors and children alike recognised the advent of the Cold War, and the impending threat of atomic warfare in their world (Townsend 1990, p. 68).

In this climate, the idealism that surrounded the 'golden age' of children's literature was, to many writers, both inappropriate and undesirable. Many realised that for children future 'gardens' might not be hidden within castle grounds or beside stately homes, but might neighbour derelict warehouses or be situated amid the wasted landscapes of bomb-sites. Society, once portrayed on idyllic river banks, was rediscovered in the slums of Manchester by authors such as Alan Garner.

An example of the rediscovered 'garden' in children's literature occurs in Garner's third children's novel, Elidor , which captures the post-war landscape of Manchester and recreates it as a desolate terrain, a 'garden' of life and death, in which the four central characters must survive. Carpenter, in Secret Gardens: A Study of the Golden Age of Children's Literature , notes that 'gardens' do not in themselves offer goals to child protagonists, instead they provide a pathway to discovery, an adventure in which children develop and mature until they reach a state of increased awareness (Carpenter 1985, p. 218). In Elidor the city streets of Manchester and the parallel world of Elidor are the pathways through which Roland, Helen, Nicholas and David are to achieve this state of 'increased awareness'. Both landscapes present the children with the challenge of survival and the adventure of discovery. The first 'garden', the streets of Manchester, functions as a metaphor for the society in which the children live. There they are confronted with decay, social complacency and religious dereliction. In this land the only things portrayed with colour and light are the rose bushes in the Watsons' own garden. It is this garden that connects the two worlds and is the catalyst for concluding the children's quest. The second 'garden' is Elidor, a hidden world that functions to create boundaries that the children must overcome, and acts as a forewarning against the darkness that is threatening to overwhelm their world.

Each of these landscapes contributes to the dystopian imagery which Garner utilises as a representation of the dysphoria into which our world has sunk. The power of this imagery lies in its antithetical role in comparison with the gardens and parks of past novels for children. In Elidor the children are forced to play in 'a warren of grimy streets' and among the 'wastelands' of demolition sites where:

Old women stood in doorways, wearing sacks for aprons, and men in carpet slippers sat on the steps. Dogs nosed among crumpled paper in the gutter; a rusty bicycle wheel lay on the cobbles.

This empty desolation is an effective contrast to the observations of Mole on his rambling walk through the country, in Grahame's The Wind in the Willows:

Hither and thither through the meadows he rambled busily, along the hedgerows, across the copses, finding everywhere birds building, flowers budding, leaves thrusting - everything happy, and progressive, and occupied (Grahame 1961, p. 9).

In the Manchester streets of Elidor nothing is 'happy, and progressive, and occupied'. Instead, the children are confronted with a growing sense of fear and hostility. There is an impression of neglect and impending doom hovering over the streets that are devoid of colour and light. It is a bleak 'garden', a physical and spiritual wasteland:

It was not one or two houses that were empty, but row after row and street after street. Grass grew in the cobbles everywhere, and in the cracks of the pavement. Doors hung awry. Nearly all the windows were boarded up, or jagged with glass (p. 11).

As a playground, this landscape is not only empty and colourless but dangerous. The children, playing among the rubble created by war and demolition, are caught up in the destruction of a church. Garner's choice of building is significant, not least because its demolition signifies the destruction of spirituality and recognises the social complacency that sanctions such an event. Garner clearly questions a society that demolishes a church and reveres the television and hints that the quest which Roland and his siblings are embarking upon is not an attempt to save another land, but their own.

Alone and black in the middle of the wasteland stood a church. It was a plain Victorian building, with buttresses and lancet windows, a steep roof, but no spire. And beside it were a mechanical excavator and a lorry (p. 13).

The derelict church, cobbled streets and deserted houses being swept away is only one of many allusions Garner makes to the degeneration of society. Like many children's novelists, Garner uses adults to reinforce this imagery. Mr and Mrs Watson are depicted as average, working-class, suburban parents who exist in a spiritual wasteland dominated by television (Philip 1981, p. 46). The most upsetting and puzzling occurrence in their lives transpires when 'the Treasures' interfere with their Friday night television programs:

Mrs Watson took the evening paper, and made a point of reading it. Every minute or so she would turn the pages fretfully, and hit them into shape, as if they were responsible for the television breakdown (p. 159).

Like the Watsons, their neighbours are equally unwilling to become either physically or socially involved in their community. This distance then extends to indifference when the children, being chased down the street by two strange men carrying spears, begin crying for help (p. 159). Rather than act, the neighbours retreat indoors, switching off lights, closing curtains and securely bolting their doors (p. 159).

In contrast to the imagery of Manchester with its vacant, soulless landscapes, the Watsons' home garden conforms to the more conventional concepts of childhood gardens. Whereas the Manchester streets are devoid of plant life, the home garden is filled with trees, flowers, birds, paths and rose bushes. Yet it too is different, for this garden is where the children choose to hide the Treasures. Like the other two landscapes this 'garden' is closely linked to the children's quest and is the final cause for Roland's renewed interest. He becomes fascinated by the effect of static electricity in the rose bushes and finally persuades the other children to gather and watch the effect of the white lights. This garden, like Elidor and the streets of Manchester, functions as the impetus for further action in the novel and acts as the place in which danger re-enters the children's lives.

The spots grew, lessened their intensity, changed, congealed, and became the expanding forms of two men... As they came nearer their speed increased: they rushed upon the children, and filled the shadows, and eclipsed them - and at that instant they lost their woodenness and stepped, two men of Elidor, into the garden (p. 150).

The intrusion of the two men from Elidor into the Watsons' garden and later into the streets of Manchester signifies the connection of the two worlds and their close and violent relationship to each other. Manchester and Elidor are only connected because they are both places that have been battered by war and are thus, 'shaken loose in their worlds' (p. 50). The violence of this relationship is not solely connected with past experiences. This is demonstrated when the warriors from Elidor encompass the children in their plans to kill Findhorn. The violence of this relationship is part of the path along which the children must travel to achieve greater awareness. Their courage and their fear are both elements in the adventure of discovery and their later fight for survival, both of which partly characterise the role of 'gardens' in children's literature (Carpenter 1985, p. 218).

Whilst the streets of Manchester symbolise the decay of modern society and provide a background for much of the violence and action within the text, Elidor is primarily concerned with a quest in which the four Watson children - Roland, Nicholas, Helen and David - attempt to save the blighted world of Elidor. To do so, they must overcome many boundaries that are all elements in their growth of self and social awareness (Philip 1981, p. 45).

Myth is central to the depiction of Elidor and is an important influence upon the choice of challenges that the children face. In this parallel world they must overcome both physical and metaphysical boundaries. According to Garner:

Man is an animal that tests boundaries... and the nature of myth is to help him understand these boundaries, to cross them and to comprehend the new (Philip 1981, p. 62).

Like the settings of many children's novels, the 'gardens' of Elidor provide the Watsons with a physical place in which they can learn, grow and develop. In this land there are trees, tunnels, rock formations and even derelict castles to be discovered and explored. Yet there remains a contrast between the 'gardens' of Elidor and those of traditional myth. Whereas Burnett's Secret Garden is a place of beauty, Elidor is in a state of decay: it is a place of ugliness and danger. Even chapter headings - 'Dead Loss', 'Choke', 'The Wasteland' - hint at the darkness that pervades the text. Death is one of the primary boundaries the children must overcome as it is central to any understanding of Elidor:

There was the silence of death over everything: a silence that was more powerful for the noises it contained - the far off crash of trees, and the voices of cold things hidden in the fog that moved in ribbons where there was no wind. Oaks became black water at a touch (p. 29).

The 'garden' of Elidor serves a dual purpose in the novel. It both sets the mood and serves as a forewarning to the children about the possibility of darkness, war and destruction that could invade their world. Neil Philip (1981, p. 46) writes: 'Elidor's value is as a point of reference by which we may understand the emptiness and futility of our own world'.

Parallels between the two worlds of Elidor and Manchester can be drawn. What Roland sees in Elidor, however , is the promise of greatness and beauty - an ideal society. Ironically, we discover later that Elidor is not the superior Arcadian 'garden' Roland believes in, but simply a parallel world. The sacrifices made there by the children and Findhorn are without substance in Manchester. The words of warning Nicholas once spoke to Roland return to haunt the reader: 'Is it any better than our world? It's all mud and dust and rock. It's dead, finished' (p. 98).

Philip (1981, p. 61) writes: 'At the heart of Garner's use of the mythological or supernatural... is the concept of myth as the gauge of liminal experience, as the bridge between two states of consciousness'. As such, the children's adventures within the Mound of Vandwy represent the physical and spiritual boundaries that they are forced to overcome in their challenge to stay alive. Three of the four children fail this test as they are lulled into touching the silver branch and are caught under its spell. The Mound and the branch both represent the dangers of the 'garden', much as the snake of Eden represents temptation and evil in Christian mythology.

Therefore, the 'gardens' of both Elidor and Manchester function at two separate levels. The first is their physical appearance that is characterised by the death and destruction of war. Both worlds are desolate, surrealistic landscapes, drained of colour and life (White 1976, p. 193). In both worlds this landscape is symbolic of the social complacency and decay of a society in which homes and churches are demolished without regard for history or sanctity. Ironically, Roland's belief in the Arcadian world of Elidor proves to be simply a utopian dream, as Garner explains; 'At the end you realise that Elidor is just another parallel and not a superior world; and the cost of achieving Elidor is the death of reality' (Philip 1981, p. 48).

War is considered the evil that has brought darkness and danger to these worlds and this is the second level at which the 'gardens' function. For both 'gardens' house the darkness and dangers which challenge the physical and spiritual strength of the children and establish the boundaries which they must cross to achieve an increased level of awareness. Furthermore, the challenge of survival is highlighted in the conclusion to the text, which is fraught with both light and darkness, good and bad. Like the constant contrasts throughout the novel we are left with both hope and hopelessness for the song of the unicorn promises renewed life in Elidor, a revitalised 'garden', and then the text re-establishes the children in their own bleak 'garden' of reality.

The song faded. They were alone with the windows of the slum (p. 188).

Roland sees in Elidor a land of promise, an Arcadia, and his determination to fulfil the quest leads to ultimate destruction when Findhorn is killed as a sacrifice for the new world. Carpenter (1985, p. 13) claims that the search for the Arcadian 'garden' is as much a search for belief and believers, as it is for a land of promise. Garner's Elidor is a landscape of death and darkness, a representation and enunciation of the fears of England's post-war society. His 'gardens' are the bomb sites and slums of Manchester and his landscapes are representations of turbulence rather than tranquillity. Elidor maps the movement away from the idyllic 'gardens' of pre-war fiction and enters the darkness of the post-war dystopia.

References
Carpenter, Humphrey 1985, Secret Gardens: A Study of the Golden Age of Children's Literature , Allen & Unwin, London.

Garner, Alan 1965, Elidor , Harper & Collins, London.

Grahame, Kenneth 1961, The Wind in the Willows , Methuen, London.

Philip, Neil 1981, A Fine Anger: A Critical Introduction to the Work of Alan Garner , Collins, London.

Townsend, John Rowe 1990, Written for Children: An Outline of English Language Children's Literature , 5th edn, The Bodley Head, London.

White, Mary Lou 1976, Children's Literature: Criticism and Response , Bell & Howell, Ohio.