In “The Secret Country” and “The Hidden Land” Dean engages directly with the main problem of portal fantasy, namely how to demonstrate that the world on the other side of the portal has a reality of its own, and that the adventures the protagonists have there are therefore more meaningful than those they would have had over the course of an afternoon spent pretending to be heroic adventurers in a fantasy world. Most people’s bad memories of the Narnia books stem from the realization that Aslan is Jesus and therefore that Lewis has been in some fashion cheating his readers. But just as important is the fact that “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” ends with the children coming back from years spent in Narnia no more changed than if they had, in fact, spent the afternoon playing at defeating a wicked witch in a world full of talking animals. The result is to make it crystal clear that Narnia has no reality of its own, leaving only the thinly-disguised Christian parables. I think this may also have been contributed to “The Horse and His Boy” being my favorite of the stories for some time: since it’s set completely in Narnia, Narnia’s reality is less questionable. Dean, determined to avoid this kind of pitfall, tackles the problem head-on. Our protagonists have, over a number of summer vacations, created a complex fantasy world with an epic story. When they pass through the portal, they land in the middle of their world and their story, almost as if they were playing their game for real. Except, as they quickly discover, events like the poisoning of the king or the duel between Prince Edward and Lord Randolph in the rose garden take on a different hue when the king and Lord Randolph are people who you know and like. Most of “The Hidden Land” is taken up with the struggles of the protagonists to stop the events of their story from occurring: in a clever commentary on the power of stories, they usually fail. It doesn’t help that, although they know the broad outlines and the main characters, and can remember some of the details they invented, there is a lot to the Hidden Land that they don’t know about: it’s reality is defined by the people, history, customs and so forth that they didn’t come up with. The children are always having their ignorance despaired of, and trying to come up with ways of asking questions that will tell them things they need to know without revealing a lack of knowledge that would be utterly implausible in one born and raised in the country. They are trying to un-play their game, as it were, from the inside, without the knowledge they need, above all, the knowledge of what the other main characters are really thinking: it’s no wonder that they fail.
But Dean, after carefully and painstakingly building up the reality of the Hidden Land, then turns around and starts to undermine it. Patrick persists in believing that it’s not real, and Dean gives him some ammunition: the fact that the Hidden Land’s folksongs are English folksongs that the children all know, for instance, or the indeterminacy of the border of the Hidden Land — an essential piece of knowledge, since the Border Magic ensures that the country will be destroyed if an army crosses said border — thanks, perhaps, to the children’s lack of knowledge about surveying. When Ted returns, unscathed, from the Land of the Dead, he feels that perhaps he is just playing after all. The fact that the story continues to play out largely, if not entirely, as it did in their games also points in this direction. Most confusing of all, though, is the encounter between Ted and Laura and Claudia at the end of the book, after Ted and Laura have managed to return to our world. Claudia demonstrates a considerable degree of power over the Hidden Land: in fact, her ability to use her magical window to see anything that is going on there, and to influence the thoughts of its denizens, all while safely located in our world, is not entirely dissimilar to what Dean, as the author, is able to do. Ted’s destruction of the window thus reads a bit like Dean abjuring her authorial authority: trying, in effect, to say that the Hidden Land is only really real if she stops writing about it. The problem is that the truth is, of course, entirely opposite: the reality of the Hidden Land is a meaningful question only inside the book, and the confrontation with Claudia serves only to remind the reader of this fact. Plus, both books were already demonstrating the reality of the Hidden Land against the authorial intentions of the cousins: to add an additional authorial level only redirects our attention to the unreality of the non-portal world, which is, after all, a fictional representation of the one we live in. Dean can prove that the Hidden Land is just as real as the Midwestern town on the other side of the hedge, but only by reminding us that this town, too, is invented (for one thing, it apparently contains a witch), a rather counterproductive approach. Dean makes one last gesture towards recovering the Hidden Land’s reality by having Laura and Ted use the last couple of pages to demonstrate that they have indeed been changed by their experiences over the last two books, but the result is still to leave a funny taste in the reader’s mouth.
Nonetheless, “The Hidden Land” is stronger than the first book. Partly, this is just because more happens. We spend most of “The Secret Country” getting to know the place and its inhabitants, and trying to believe that the cousins could credibly impersonate their doppelgängers despite a completely different upbringing, extending even to the way that they speak. (This is still an occasional issue in this book: every once in a while, the contrast between the modern U.S. (if not overly slangy) diction the cousins use and the Shakespearean way in which everybody else talks becomes too glaring to be ignored.) “The Hidden Land” largely takes this impersonation, at least in its basic details (such as the accents), for granted, and gets on with the business of the plot: the dual plot, really, consisting both of the story the cousins invented and of their attempts to stop or change it. The fact that they know what’s coming gives everything an added urgency, as does their constant effort to avoid doing anything that might reveal who they really are, and, as the book goes along, an increased emphasis on the possibility of going home. Dean effectively keeps the reader guessing, too: there’s no way for the reader to find out the answers to any of the questions that baffle the cousins, and she is an expert at creating cryptically suggestive clues. The result is that when the children decide that they can’t bear to keep going — Ted, in particular, will have to kill Randolph if he stays — and manage to leave, there are still many questions left open. None of which are resolved by the confrontation with Claudia, which at best replaces them with new ones. Perhaps the sequels will provide answers, though the existence of sequels leads to further questions, such as how they come to exist, given that the ending of this book seems to foreclose the possibility of any such. Overall, an interesting and enjoyable book that is not entirely successful.