Fairy Tales: Nicholas Stuart Gray, Fantasy, & The Free Imagination

Nicholas Stuart Gray is one of those important fantasy writers who is often overlooked. He was published from the 1950s through the 1970s. And he inspired a generation of British writers. 

My favorite book by him growing up--and a book I tracked down when I got older--is the short story collection A Wind from Nowhere (1978). I also admire The Seventh Swan (1962). 

The Seventh Swan connects with one of my favorite fairy tales so I will discuss it later. 

The short story collection includes a tale about a demanding yet ultimately self-sacrificing magical broom, a Screwtape-like devil telling a rueful tale of being outwitted (the devil's conclusion: Avoid humans!), a princess who gets herself into a bad situation when she badgers a witch into giving her magic lessons and so on. 

On the surface, Gray's work may seem standard fantasy fare. I would argue that standard fantasy fare is precisely why he made an impact on other writers.

Like Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, Gray was so steeped in fantasy/lore tropes, he could easily and imaginatively deploy them. 

Frankly, a great deal of literature that emerged in Tolkien and Lewis's wake comes across as Deliberately Fantastical or, once the hoity-toity crowd got a hold of the ideas, Deliberately Magically Realistic. (The latter delivers nothing so crass as in-your-face talking brooms and actual evil witches and undeniable other worlds: "hey, I'm going to invent something and see what happens" fun & play. Rather, Magical Realism carefully corrals the fantasy impulses into "ah, yes, the environment produces magical moments, properly taken in out of the corner of one's eye; now, now, don't take it too far" earnestness). 

Gray, who was writing concurrently with Tolkien and Lewis, ignores all that "I must remember my place and genre and deploy my fantasy with proper humility" stuff. He just writes it. 

He also exhibits a trait that shows up in Diana Wynne Jones and Roald Dahl at a slightly less manic level. That is, he is so comfortable with the tropes--and so indifferent to "propriety"--he goes off in exuberant directions, so the first story in the anthology, "The Wind from Nowhere," not only includes a broom that eats and drinks and complains but a toadstool that makes threats as well as sci-fi-like time changes (for no apparent reason).

In sum, Gray's work is a testament to the creative impulse. Current media commentary re: the arts crawls down the rabbit hole of "I'm breaking barriers because I've challenged what I designate the establishment and shown my disapproval," producing little more than self-congratulatory pieces of Victorian-like rectitude. Such commentary mistakes "I've performed meaningfully" for "I made something." 

Gray told story without apology because the story itself mattered. He added to the universe. 

Letting one's imagination roam is Nicholas Stuart Gray's gift.