A friend gave me a copy of “Peter Pan in Scarlet” by Geraldine McCaughrean yesterday. It’s one of those books I’ve toyed with the idea of reading, but something has always stopped me. I started it last night and so far I’m really enjoying it. Really. Such a pleasant surprise.
It got me thinking about a number of things, however. Why was I reluctant to read this book? A number of reasons I suppose, chief among them being the fact that I love Peter Pan. LOVE. Almost as much as I love Robin Hood (I’m also strangely reluctant to see the new Robin Hood film). And in my love of Peter Pan I’m reluctant to see that character mangled. Again.
If you haven’t read Barrie’s Peter Pan, (or Peter Pan and Wendy) you should. Not that I am a purist but Peter embodies something about childhood, youth and the wild that I think gets missed in most of the interpretations. You see, Peter, while a hero, a marvellous boy, a dazzling exciting friend, is not a very safe person to be around. And that makes adults very uncomfortable.
Peter is dangerous because Peter has no concept of death. Nor of injury or disaster. Peter can’t conceive of anything “bad” happening because it doesn’t happen to him. Ever. “To die would be an awfully big adventure” he says. And that is that. Prepared with these words, assured of his own continued existence even beyond death (because nothing, not even death, can destroy Peter), he puts fear aside. And of course survives.
Wendy and the boys can’t continue on like this, as we are reminded right from the outset “all children grow up, except one”. Peter will rescus them, no doubt about that, but only to drop them into greater peril the next moment. Read more…
