Diana is a meta sort of kid. She likes narrative asides to the reader—Lemony Snicket was an awesome thrill. She likes breaking through that fourth wall. When we watched Blazing Saddles (truly an awesome film for the fart-joke-loving middle school crowd), at the end of the movie when they crash through the walls of the set onto the set of another movie, she gave an audible shriek and leapt to her feet in a paroxysm of joy. It's what she loves about Monty Python—the constant strange balance of the separate worlds, one within the other.
At dinner last night, Diana mentioned, "You know why I love the first book of any fantasy series the best? Because that's the one where they discover the other world."
And I've been thinking about it.
I know what she's talking about. That moment when Lucy pushes through the old coats and ends up in the snowy wood. That sense of otherness, of the world's having more dimensions than you thought it did. And what I was thinking was that maybe that's one way fantasy makes more sense to me than science fiction does. Fantasy somehow implies that there's this world, and then there's another one, and you can move between the two, and that's what's so awesome. Science fiction gives you an alternate world, but it's the world there is—it's the future. It's farther along a continuum but not on a different plane, if you follow my tortured not-quite-mathematically-accurate metaphor.
Of course, once I thought of this I immediately saw that I was wrong. Some fantasy doesn't involve movement between worlds (though my favorite fantasy always seems to). And no doubt some sci-fi posits multiple worlds. But still, I feel like there's an idea here somewhere, if I could only grasp it. Ah, the trials of the half-baked theory.
What do you think? Are you a fan of that moment when one world connects to another? Is it part of fantasy only? And, just because I want to know, what's your favorite intsance of this moment? Please?