Impossible Creatures

“His father trusted him with nothing, he thought bitterly; not even with his own safety. He was nervous about everything; always assessing the world, every stick and stone, every car and street, every instrument in the kitchen, for how it might harm Christopher. He warned against potato peelers and tin openers; he viewed birthday candles as deadly weapons. Christopher loved his father, but it felt like being nailed down, pinioning them both to the ground.”

Rundell reveals the central conflict in Christopher’s life as he laments the overprotective habits of his father. The passage employs a tone of wry yet bitter humor as Christopher recalls his father’s warnings against “birthday candles as deadly weapons,” and this detail reinforces the fact that the boy has never been able to embrace his deep longing for adventure. Whereas Mal is free to fly, Christopher is bound by his father’s overprotectiveness. As the novel develops, Christopher breaks free of his restrictive life and embraces his destined role as a guardian of the waybetween, finding new purpose and meaning.

“[S]ometimes, if you are among the very lucky, a spark of understanding cuts like lightning across the space between two people. It’s a defibrillator for the heart. And it toughens you. It nourishes you. And the word we’ve chosen for it (which is an insufficient word for being so abruptly upended in a new and finer place) is friendship. (He would never find it again, that kind of friendship. But once is enough. You need it only once—so that you may know what your human heart is capable of).”

In this passage, Rundell uses a metaphor—“a defibrillator of the heart”—to illustrate the depths of true friendship. Mal and Christopher have only known each other for a short while, so the quote serves to foreshadow the intensity of their eventual bond amidst the adventure that is to come. The parenthetical comment also foreshadows Mal’s disappearance at the end of the novel and the enduring impact that her friendship has on Christopher.

“The Senator General spoke. ‘Thank you for your testimony.’ His voice was precise and sharp. ‘We will take six months to consult with the relevant authorities, as is procedure, and let you know what is decided.’ […] From here he could see the faces of the senators. There was true learning there, and a great sweep of understanding. But there was also a love of procedure and resistance to change. There was arrogance etched on some of those mouths.”

Although the Azurial Senate listens to Irian’s plea, its members respond with bureaucratic delay and a lack of humility, demonstrating that bureaucracy often impedes effective action and fails to enact laws that protect the natural world. In this way, Rundell suggests that the fragility of nature is exacerbated when humans fail to move decisively to protect it. Her portrayal is thus a commentary on how humanity is collectively failing to respond to real-world threats against the balance of Earth’s interconnected systems.

“But there’s been no Immortal for you to protect, has there, not for a hundred years, so what you are, sir, is an unemployed drunk who just so happens to be unusually large.”

Before committing to protecting Mal, Nighthand lacks any purpose in his life. He therefore wastes his days in drunkenness and idleness. Rundell uses this passage to set up the contrast between Nighthand the smuggler and Nighthand the true Berserker. Nighthand’s friendship and love for Mal eventually transform him into a person who is willing to lay down his life for another. His relationship with Mal ultimately allows him to redeem himself.

“Irian swallowed. ‘Dragons don’t travel this far from their mountains, as far as I know.’ ‘No,’ said Nighthand. ‘But we have moved far beyond what we know.’”

Irian is pointing out one of the many things that have gone awry because of the disappearance of the glimourie. Her observation is just one of the many made by disparate groups of people who have noticed the deadly changes in the Archipelago. A lack of communal action to counteract the growing imbalances in nature has contributed to the crisis. Nighthand is referring to the lack of knowledge about what will happen now that the destruction of glimourie has accelerated, and this scene draws strong parallels to the real-world issue of climate change.

“‘Berserkers do not weep,’ he said. ‘And they do not love. How could they, when they mustn’t fear? Love has fear baked into it.’”

Ironically, even as Nighthand makes this declaration, he is indeed weeping for the death of Warren, his beloved friend. His comment about the relationship between love and fear therefore highlights the risk involved in embracing new bonds of friendship and love. However, the novel as a whole advances the philosophy that friendship and love are worth risking the pain of loss.

“The woman took from her pocket a small, jeweled figure of a bird, cast in gold and emeralds, with a ruby-studded crest of feathers atop its head. She unscrewed the head feathers and poured some liquid into her palm. It smelled of something rich and woody and slightly overpowering: like money, distilled.”

Rundell uses a simile—perfume that smells like money—to convey Anja’s aura of wealth, privilege, and moral corruption, as the character clearly values material gain above all else. Her desire to protect her material interests is the reason why she proves disloyal to Nighthand, so this description also serves as an oblique form of foreshadowing.

“Icarus was not a metaphor! He was a person. He was on the island of Arkhe, and he flew too close to the Somnulum.”

By creating clear connections between the realities of the Archipelago and the myths and legends of the nonmagical world, Rundell establishes that a steady traffic of people exists between the two. In this way, she implies that the magical world of her novel is in some sense “real,” for she creates a plausible reason why the many real-world legends of “impossible creatures” are perpetuated despite their physical absence.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want it to be my responsibility! Why should it be on me? I still don’t have all my adult teeth!”

Despite becoming one of the heroes in Impossible Creatures, Mal initially refuses the task of saving the glimourie, and her whimsical reference to her lack of “adult teeth” reflects her greater frustration that she, a child, is expected to save the world. This moment of denial is a key part of the archetypal hero’s journey, and many aspects of Mal’s adventures implicitly connect her to the stories of others in the annals of fantasy literature.

“Nothing in the world was safe—and for a moment, he pictured the Earth, spinning in starlit dark, and it felt to him as vulnerable as a newborn, and panic rose in him like a wild thing.”

Christopher’s panic stems from his realization that nature in his own world may be in danger because of Sforza’s consumption of the glimourie. When he suddenly understands that all worlds are intimately connected, this quote promotes Rundell’s broader views on environmentalism, as she shows how interconnected and fragile all aspects of the natural world really are.

“[T]he water was red, and in the moonlight it looked as though the world itself were bleeding for them. The last griffin died as the clocks struck the half hour, and the noise rang out like a death toll through the sleeping city.”

This passage includes an example of pathetic fallacy, a term that is used to ascribe human emotions to inanimate objects or natural elements. Rundell specifically ascribes human emotions to the environment as a whole, creating the sense that the world itself is sentient. In this scene, the description invokes a dark, mournful mood after the death of Gelifen, the last griffin in the world.

“And Irian pulled the map onto the deck and unrolled it, and Ratwin bent over it, and Nighthand put his hand to the glamry blade and moved to stand beside Mal, where every inch of his blood and bone had told him he belonged, and Christopher tried to smile at her. And she smiled back. It was war, that smile. Her face as she turned to the horizon had the kind of look that ought to come with a warning sign: Stand clear: danger.”

In this passage, it is clear that all of Mal’s companions play vital roles in helping her to complete her quest. The combination of their efforts makes the group particularly formidable and emphasizes The Importance of Friendship and Love, as Mal would be unable to complete her quest alone. By smiling in the face of all the challenges that await, Mal demonstrates her acceptance of her quest and her appreciation that others are standing beside her.

“‘These are nuanced questions, far beyond your comprehension! My social position, my financial security…’ Her voice tailed off. ‘So I took the necessary steps.’”

As Anja desperately tries to defend her treacherous actions, the juxtaposition of her self-righteous exclamations and her moments of hesitation indicate that even she does not fully believe her own defense. In this passage, Anja makes it clear that she values status and wealth over her friendship with Nighthand. Such betrayal shows the damage that a transactional perspective on friendship can inflict upon everyone involved. Ultimately, she fails to justify her lack of loyalty.

“There was a rigid determination in her face; a fierce certainty had come to her since the night after Gelifen’s death, and it made her formidable.”

As Mal uses her grief over Gelifen’s death to galvanize her inner sense of determination, it is clear that friendship and love can be inspirations for action—even amidst the pain of loss. Mal’s grief over Gelifen’s loss takes the form of a militant acceptance of her role as the Immortal, and she fully embraces the call to action as a hero.

“I only trust things that you can touch—blood and gold and fire and dirt.”

Petroc the centaur is a creature who values material possessions more than abstract treasures such as honesty. This attitude foreshadows his betrayal of Mal when he uses the leaves of gold to help him escape and blackmails the group into letting him take their ship. This event shows that not all the marvelous creatures that the companions encounter are benevolent. With this negative encounter, Rundell offers a more nuanced, realistic perspective on life in the Archipelago.

“Sometimes he felt a spark of jealousy burn in his chest. ‘You’ll know everything. You’ll be asked by kings and dragons for your opinion.’ ‘But have you really imagined? Properly? Hard?’ Her voice was very small, under the vast sky. ‘What I’ll have to know, and see, and remember, forever?’ She breathed out, a rough-edged tight little burr of breath. ‘I’m scared. Sometimes I think about it and I can’t breathe.’”

Despite his loving friendship with Mal, Christopher feels envious of all the power that she will have as the Immortal. Because he initially fails to appreciate how Mal’s life will be changed by the unique challenges of being the Immortal and holding the knowledge of humanity, it is clear that envy and a desire for power can affect even the purest of friendships. Mal, on the other hand, has a clearer idea about the costs of power, and this is one of the reasons why she is immune to its corruptive influence.

“The manticore screamed, high and terrible, a cat’s screech more than a lion’s roar. Its body was engulfed in flame. It stretched its burning wings, tried to fly, and failed. The burst of fire came again, and a tiny voice roared, ‘Get back, vermin! That is my biographer!’”

The whimsical tone of this passage is juxtaposed by the ridiculousness of a tiny dragon daring to challenge a large, vicious manticore for the sake of its own vanity. This scene therefore provides a much-needed moment of comic relief amidst the otherwise dark tones of these chapters. Jacques’s valiant yet absurd stand provides a moment of relief from the intensity of the scene. The tiny dragon’s ability to produce a deadly fireball despite his size also contributes to the wonders of the Archipelago.

“By the Immortal! You may think me whatever you wish—venal, weak, selfish, wicked, whatever you choose—I don’t care. But I am not, I hope you’ll agree, stupid. Children have been underestimated for hundreds of years. Why are you continuing the tedious tradition?”

In the genre of children’s fantasy, authors frequently portray children as being capable of difficult feats—once they recognize their ability to act as boldly and decisively as any adult. This moment reflects Rundell’s use of the genre’s conventions, for this passage shows that Anja’s flawed and problematic friendship nonetheless makes the difference in the success of Mal’s quest. Anja’s exclamation explicitly draws attention to the cliché of the disempowered child, and through her words, Rundell condemns this “tedious tradition” and compels her protagonists to break free of old stereotypes and embrace a bolder existence.

“She walked with the look of a moveable battleground. She was a one-girl army […] ‘You can drink as we go, though.’ And after a second’s hesitation she nodded and drank from their bottle, spilling a little down her front.”

Mal embodies the portrait of the formidable hero going off into battle by herself. Despite being a “one-girl army,” she still has physical limitations, and she must rely on Christopher to see that she gets the practical help she needs to succeed in her quest. While Mal becomes a larger-than-life figure intent on saving the world, Christopher serves as a loyal sidekick who thinks of the mundane details that make the difference between life and death.

“It was just him and Mal, and the future of everything. Oceans and tides and earth, in their hands. The thought was so vast it threatened to crush him, to stop the blood in his heart—and he moved so that his shoulder touched hers, and she moved at the same time, and they lay side by side, watching the splendor of the infinitely fragile night pass by overhead.”

This passage shows how important the friendship between Mal and Christopher has become to the successful outcome of Mal’s quest to save the Glimourie Tree. Rundell also uses this passage to highlight the fragility of nature, suggesting that the integrity of the world can only be preserved if humans like Christopher and Mal act decisively to protect it from those who would destroy it for their own personal gain.

“It is freedom. The only freedom is in absolute power. Without absolute power, you will always be subject to some other man. Freedom is available only to those who are willing to take it by force.”

In this passage, Francesco Sforza embodies one of the common tropes of fantasy literature as he stops to explain his master plan. He explains why he wants to consume all the glimourie and thereby destroy the world, and his gloating, greedy speech reflects The Corrupting Influence of Power.

“Listen. I need you to tell people this; I need you, when you get back, to tell them: the brutality is terrible. And yes: the chaos is very great. But tell them: greater than the world’s chaos are its miracles.”

Mal tasks Christopher with telling her story and explaining the truth of what the Immortal can see in all the actions of humanity. Unlike Marik, the Man Who Said No, Mal understands that human nature is complex and that the evil that people do is balanced by the beauty and joy of which they are also capable. Her more balanced view of human nature is one of the reasons why she is proof against the corrupting influence of power.

“‘That is why great power must never reside in only one person. It must be shared.’ Her rough voice was rougher than before. ‘It must be spread, among as many good women and men as can be found; not because it is kind or polite or fair, but because it is the only way to beat back against horror.’”

Naravirala, the oldest and wisest of the sphinxes, explains why power must be wielded collectively. She suggests that diluting power is the only way to render its wielders less susceptible to the corrupting influence of power. She also shows her wisdom in acknowledging the complex nature of humanity, and this insight allows her to take care of humans like Christopher rather than devouring them. In this, she understands more than Sforza. As she nurses Christopher back to health, Naravirala therefore embodies the capacity of the natural world to serve as a haven for humanity.