This blog post is a continuation of the satirical series, Poking Fun at Fantasy Tropes. Find all of the humorous posts here.
So far, we’ve looked at the time-tested, favorite tropes of taverns, heroes, mentors, quests, allies, fantasy worlds, magic swords, dark lords, surprising timely cavalry charges, and battles between good and evil. Let’s take a look now at an integral part of fantasy stories—something that lets readers know they’re reading something other than historical fiction from the Middle Ages: Magic.
Ah, magic.
One of the integral, foundational aspects of fantasy stories. Without magic, people might wonder if the story is simply set in the Middle Ages. Not much else to separate the two. Swords, fancy pants, not a lot of hygiene, etc. (Sure, monsters might be a bit of a giveaway if the fantasy world has those, but if not, it’s really difficult to say whether a story is historical fiction or fantasy…)
Now, different fantasy stories and storytellers all have their own way of handling magic in their worlds. Like any aspect of storytelling, magic is simply one element, one tool in the author’s toolkit to be used however such an author wishes—and however adeptly they use such a tool. Some use magic like a hammer when they should really be using it as a coping saw. Such storytellers need finesse, but they’re just learning that there’s more than one way to apply themselves and use the tools of their trade.
But enough about tools and artisanry.
Some storytellers try to figure everything out realistically, in the confines of what can and cannot happen from a logical, almost mathematical standpoint. The system works, and the rules of magic are set in stone. Just because it’s magic doesn’t mean you can’t try to understand it.
Other storytellers shrug and say, “Well, who cares exactly how it happens? It’s being done. It’s possible. It’s a fantasy story. Of course magicians are able to ignore laws of nature for the purposes of the story. They can turn elephants into mice with but a thought. Throw physics out the window, they’re doing incredible magic! That’s explanation enough, isn’t it?”
Don’t get me wrong, both of these are fine avenues of thought. To be sure, one involves less math than the other (and that’s the avenue that I tend to gravitate toward, personally), but they’re both fine, well swept story streets.
Either a story has a carefully thought-out system of magic with rules and concrete laws set in place, or there are no rules and the system is such that anything can happen with magic (and usually, hopefully, does).
Here’s the important consideration, though:
If a story has a well-thought-out system, the story needs to stick to that system. Protagonists can’t suddenly be doing something that goes against previously established rules that the storyteller wrote. They shouldn’t suddenly be able to work outside the rules of magic—unless a lot of groundwork has been previously laid by the storyteller that such a thing actually is possible, even if everyone in the magical community forgot that it could be done. For some reason.
And if a story has no well-thought-out system, well, the story needs to stick to that too. Make it whimsical. Lean into it. Steer into the skid and let magical wackiness go wild. Have a world where anything can happen and does.
At the end of the day, magic in fantasy stories remind readers that no matter how realistic the setting might be, it’s still fantastical. It’s still outside the realm of reality, no matter how close it toes the line. And that makes such a story simply magical.
Why include magic in fantasy stories? Well, for one thing, it’s really, really cool. For another thing, it pushes the boundaries of what people think can and cannot be done. It gets us thinking about dreams and possibilities and making those wonderful things a reality. We might not ever be able to fly or shoot lightning bolts from our fingertips, but we can dream. We can imagine. We can create. We can write about such things.
And as other storytellers have said similarly, that’s as close as we can get to actual magic, I think.
Until next time,
Al
