Warning: This post contains spoilers for both Lost and the Chronicles of Narnia.

While watching the series finale last night, I was struck by the similarities between the last book in the Chronicles of Narnia, The Last Battle and the final part of Lost.

As Christian Shepard tells Jack, they aren’t dead. They’ve just moved on. The Island wasn’t some type of purgatory, nor are they in heaven. They’re just in a special place they created through their relationships with each other.

Isn’t that similar to the new Narnia that is experienced after Puzzle the donkey and Shaft the gorilla cause the unlikely fall of Prince Tirian’s Narnia? Everyone is returned to Narnia for the final chapter: Digory, Polly, Edmund, Peter, Lucy, Eustace and Jane. (Susan stopped believing, so she was left behind.) Think about what Digory says:

“Listen Peter.  When Aslan said you would never go back to Narnia, he meant the Narnia you were thinking of. But that was not the real Narnia. That had a beginning and an an end. It was only a shadow or a copy of the real Narnia, which has always been here and always will be here: just as our own world, England and all, is only a shadow or copy of something in Aslan’s real world. You need not mourn over Narnia, Lucy. All of the old Narnia that mattered, all the dear creatures, have been drawn into the real Narnia through the Door. And of course it is different; as different as a real thing is from a shadow or as waking life is from a dream.”

After everyone reaches the golden gates, they find all of their loved ones, and everyone cared about in Narnia from the time when Digory and Polly saw it created until its destruction. The Pevensies’ parents were even brought over.

Sounds a bit like the church in Lost, doesn’t it?

Sure, this is open to interpretation. Given the writers tendency to borrow from other epic stories (I loved it last night when Hurley said, “I have a bad feeling about this.” Great Star Wars reference!), both ancient and modern, why not take a concept from the Chronicles of Narnia?

Earlier today, I had a twitter debate whether or not Lost had a mythology. Jimmie, who admitted to not having ever watched an episode prior to the finale, which I have issues with*, argued that it wasn’t a mythology because the creators didn’t establish a lore until after the first season was written. He called it a soap opera.

I call it a character-driven myth. After all, isn’t the essence of a myth the evolution of a story?

It wasn’t until college, when I took a Greek and Roman mythology course, that I discovered why I enjoyed science fiction and fantasy. I’ve never participated in a role-playing game nor dressed up in costume at a convention, but I enjoy mythic stories. In our modern society, those are most often represented in the fantasy or science fiction genres.

Myth is described as:

a traditional or legendary story, usually concerning some being or hero or event, with or without a determinable basis of fact or a natural explanation, esp. one that is concerned with deities or demigods and explains some practice, rite, or phenomenon of nature.

Myths typically have common threads (these are from memory from my sophomore year of college, so there are many more.)

• Conflict with a supernatural being
• Hero that saves the day
• Rebirth
• Baptism by blood
• Resolution through some supernatural act by mortal

Several themes that are familiar in Lost, don’t you agree?

Does a myth have to be tightly written? Absolutely not. The ancients were constantly evolving their myths to suit different cultures or locations. Depending on the time and writer, well-known Greek and Roman mythology differs greatly.

Even modern mythology was written on the fly. Think of Star Wars. George Lucas wrote a film treatment and turned it into a successful movie franchise which evolved into an enormous universe of toys, books, comic books, clubs, games and fans. The Star Wars myth we know today is incredibly different than the original story that Lucas created.

Look at other modern mythical stories. Buffy the Vampire Slayer originated as a movie. Joss Whedon was disappointed with the final product, so he created a television show. The Buffy universe also evolved over time and continues to do so.

C.S. Lewis wrote the Chronicles of Narnia out of order. His books evolved over a decade. The Magician’s Nephew, the “first” book and my favorite one, was actually written second-to-last before The Last Battle.

J.R.R. Tolkien wrote a tight plot and mythology in The Lord of the Rings, but he spent decades doing so.

Alias, my favorite TV show ever, also had an evolving myth. Created by the same people as Lost, its mythology wasn’t as tight, and the show was canceled rather than ended like Lost. This created a sloppy mythology that didn’t answer all of the questions.

Currently, I’m working my way through Battlestar Galactica. This re-telling is based on a cheesy 70s show. The new version is much darker and the elements of faith, religion, humanity and mysticism are at it’s core. Just as Lost does.

The point of a myth isn’t to be a tightly written serial drama, but a story that deals with some aspect of humanity dealing with the supernatural.

Did Lost suffer from bad periods of writing. Absolutely. Were all of the ends tied up? Nope. Arc-type shows are rarely satisfying. But doesn’t that separate a fairy tale from a myth? Myths dealt with the issue of humanity. Humanity is messy and never wraps up neatly. I would be disappointed if Lost had answered every question that I had left over. It’s better to leave audiences hanging.

I watched Lost for six years because it was compelling drama. Sure, I loved the fantasy aspect. A smoke monster? An ancient culture that created protections for an island with strange electro-magnetic energy that seems to have something to do with good and evil? That’s not why I turned in every week. I became hooked because of the character development and suspense. You never knew who was going to be killed (well, eventually everyone!) or crazy things happen. You watched to see the backstory of every character and what had driven them to be on Oceanic Flight 815.

To all the mean people who mocked us for watching a mystical version of Gilligan’s Island, I watched because of the characters. The mythology was an added bonus. It wasn’t a soap opera. It was a battle of humanity against supernatural forces. Lost was essentially a battle between man’s free will and the fates.

We also grew attached to the characters. I cried with Sun and Jin died. I cried when Boone died. I cried when Mr. Eko died. I cried when Charlie died. Given that everyone ultimately died on Lost, I cried a lot. Part myth, part Lord of the Flies, part Gilligan’s Island, I watched to see the relationships evolve and new revelations emerge about the characters.

On some level, every person alive can relate to that. As John Eldredge has masterfully written in his books The Sacred Romance, Journey of Desire, Captivating and Wild at Heart, part of our soul corresponds to mythologies because they reflect the ultimate story of our creation. Since God created man with a soul that naturally seeks Him out, we respond with our human versions.

Even J.R.R. Tolkien described it this way. Lord of the Rings was not written to be an allegory as his friend’s C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia were. In setting to build his own creation, he ultimately reflected the same themes and issues that his Creator imagined. Thus, there are similarities with Aragon serving as a Jesus-like character.

Overall, I was happy with the ending. I know many were disappointed. As soon as Christian gave his speech, I saw the parallels to Narnia and was happy. I do think the season could have been better. I wish they had brought Mr. Eko back. Sawyer was also completely under-used in the latter part of the season and only stuck around to deliver a sarcastic comment. As the last few episodes proved that Jack was central to the story, all of the other characters just faded.

I do think that Lost will go down as one of the greatest television shows ever. It will probably live on in book series and fan fiction. It will become part of pop culture with references in Trivial Pursuit. That, along with the knowledge that I can turn on an DVD at any time, makes me happy. (Insert a mental Lost thud and fade to black.)

*To everyone who skipped watching the show either since season one or through the DVDs. YOU ARE CHEATERS! On Twitter last night, I was disgusted by all the people calling us stupid after they just read the synopsis on Wikipedia. That’s like picking up a mystery novel and reading nothing but the last chapter. You have no connection to the characters. You don’t understand the inside jokes or nuances. You having experienced the suspense. Sure, the plot would seem dumb if you didn’t understand that this was a character-driven show. Commenting via Facebook, Twitter, blogs or even the office water cooler on Lost after never watching it is similar to being an expert on politics because you watched The West Wing. It doesn’t fly, and you look stupid.

Update: I’m sad to see that AllahPundit has joined the ranks of LOST CHEATERS! Disappointed…

I can also add my boss to that list…even more sadness.

Over at Fourth Wave Woman, I’ve written about the left’s attack on Stephanie Meyers and how it seems to be a front for an attack on conservative Mormonism. Then, I ran across a post by Sarah Seltzer at RH Reality Check on how to get over Edward Cullen in four easy steps. Seltzer compares Twilight to other vampire series, namely Buffy and Sookie Stackhouse.

Unlike most of the articles about Twilight that I’ve read, I agreed with a few points, especially the first one. However, the author fails to note that all of the romantic interests of the highlighted vampire series have major issues. As a fan of all three, I deeply disliked the main love interests. Angel (Buffy) and Vampire Bill (Sookie Stackhouse) are just as creepy and controlling as the despised Edward Cullen from Twilight.

Years after the series ended, Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the paramount modern feminist heroine. This is despite her weakness for a controlling and domineering vampire boyfriend  in the case of Angel. I loved Buffy because she was a short, blonde who kicked butt and wore cute clothes. I always hated that she was so entangled with someone like Angel.

In all three examples,  I always preferred the alternate love interest (Spike in the case of Buffy, Eric in Sookie Stackhouse and Jacob in Twilight). Unlike the romantic lead, these men/vampires/werewolves respected the heroines and proved steadfast. Angel, Vampire Bill and Edward Cullen all leave the main characters in the lurch. It’s up to the other guy to always pick up the pieces and inevitably rescue the heroine in her time of need. In fact, if feminists are going to fault Twilight, they need to fault the wider vampire oeuvre. Within the pages of fantasy and vampire lore, sexism is rampant, and the heroine is generally in love with a dark, handsome…jerk.

Last summer, I read the Twilight series. After despising the first movie (Kristen Stewart cannot act, and Robert Pattinson needs a shower), I refused to watch any others. For about a three-month period, I was obsessed. As I said before, Meyers did a brilliant job capturing teen angst and first love. The people who write Bella off as weak apparently  never experienced heartbreak. They also apparently escaped the awkward, insecure teenage years. Aside from the dramatic romance, I believe this is the biggest appeal of the books. Bella is an average, awkward teenager who falls in love. Unless you’re a feminist, who doesn’t identify with that?

Then I realized how silly the books were. Edward was controlling, moody and brooding. Basically, he’s Mr. Darcy from P&P as a vampire. For some absurd reason, the Darcy archetype has been heralded as the romantic ideal since Austen wrote the original. Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre are also examples of brooding romantic ideals. Call me crazy, but pouting, mood-swings and self-righteousness are not strong foundations of a relationship. Think about it. Would you really like to date Fitzwilliam Darcy?

If the feminist outcries were based on the characterization that Hollywood has perpetrated this ideal of romance through endless remakes of Austen plots (settle down. I’m a Jane Austen fan. Just tired of the Darcy idolization), I might agree with them. However, most of the attacks are aimed at the positive values found in Twilight, which stem from Meyers’ Mormon faith. Did the feminists attack Sookie Stackhouse for staying with a manipulative and troubled character like Bill? Nope, in fact Seltzer claims:

For me, the Sookie Stackhouse novels, recommended by a feminist friend who had ravenously read Twilight after I lent her the books, were a near-total cure. Compared to Sookie, a sassy heroine who bites her undead lovers right back after they bite her, stakes and shoots her rivals when they threaten her life, and still has time to go to the tanning salon, Bella seemed unbelievably drippy.

Let’s compare Sookie to Bella: 1. Sookie was  virgin until she dates Vampire Bill (she’s really empowered there). 2. Sookie is considerably older than Bella (26 compared to 18). 3. Sookie was a mind-reader and deemed an outcast by her small community. Conversely, Bella was a normal, well-adjusted but insecure girl. 4. Sookie refuses to better herself, dropped out of college and works as a barmaid.5. She only gets involved with the supernatural world and defends herself after her grandmother is brutally murdered. In fact, most of the books are spent by Sookie trying to escape that universe. Given these points, how is Sookie superior or more of a feminist than Bella? She’s merely older.

So, feminists hate Twilight. As alternatives, they praise Sookie Stackhouse and Buffy. However, both of these women remain with loser boyfriends despite many signs of dysfunctional relationships. Any hypocrisy here? What could the problem be? Is it possible that feminists hate Twilight because it encourages traditional values such as marriage and abstinence?

Apparently, urging young people to not be sexually active is a bad thing. Funny. I thought encouraging teens to delay sexual activity and decreasing their odds of getting pregnant or an STI would be construed as a good thing. Given the recent spike in teen pregnancy, you’d think feminists would be happy that sex ed was engaged in pop culture.  Stephanie Meyers is hardly throwing Bible verses at readers. She merely postpones their sexual activity until they’re married. It’s not a religious issue. As a vampire, Edward is from the early 1900s. He treats Bella with the same respect and social norms in which he came of age. In other words, he’s a gentlemen.When given the option, Bella decides to wait until they’re married despite the charge that Edward “controlled” her sexual activity as some of the articles state.

It should also be noted that unlike the double-standard that feminists love to complain about — girls must be virgins while boys need “experience” — Edward is also virgin when he is married, and Bella is his only sexual partner. Why has that not been highlighted? Vampire Bill has certainly been with a number of women. Both he and Angel are portrayed as being violent womanizers until some “change of heart” moment when they become the tortured romantic.

Furthermore, since Twilight was written as a Young Adult series, there’s a limit on sexual content. From the way that these women carry on, you’d think that Edward should be standing outside of the school in Forks tossing condoms to his fellow students. The books are aimed at girls 12-16. What was Meyers supposed to do? Have Dr. Cullen give them a speech about waiting until you really love someone and demonstrate how to use a condom with a banana? Even Judy Blume books, which feminists love, have less sexual content than Meyers’ novels. The characters may  not have sex, but there’s no shortage of sexual tension.

Then Seltzer takes a rib at Bella’s choice to have her baby:

So you’ve read Sookie and followed Lestat and you still have a yen for Twilight? Have you really looked closely at the last book? With its really rabidly anti-choice plot (Bella refuses to abort the demon baby that is literally killing her), its incredibly creepy resolution to the Bella-Jacob romance (Jacob “imprints”–falls in future-love with, Bella’s newborn daughter, thus neatly explaining his attraction to Bella herself), and its complete failure of a climax (no one fights after two huge armies are mustered), Breaking Dawn dashes all hopes that turning Bella into a vampire would provide redemption for the lackluster character.

I agree that the ending is anticlimactic and the Jacob angle is creepy. However, abortion? Bella is married. Feminists also keep trying to pull a fantasy world into the realm of reality. Breaking Dawn clearly explains that Bella’s pregnancy is far different than a human one. For starters, her stomach has the same hard marble appearance that the vampires’ skin has. Also, from the earliest days, the baby is clearly sentient. After about two weeks, she has some type of mental connection with the fetus. If abortion was even possible, the developing creature inside of Bella is clearly alive and cognizant.

I never even realized that Meyers wrote a best-selling teenage book series to be a puppet of the Bush administration. Perhaps Karl Rove’s Jedi-mind tricks go past the Beltway and into pop culture? I’ve been shocked to read these articles because the “political” messages in the books never even struck me. Are feminists so desperate for something to write about that they’re picking on a book series for girls? Are they trying to make feminism appeal to a young generation? If the feminists could actually get the facts of the book straight, it would be good for them to look at the larger world of vampire fiction. Going after Meyers only reveals their latest hypocrisy. This anger isn’t a result of weak female role models, but the fact that the author professes a deep faith that offends the majority of these harpies.