A look at other such classics that have flying carpets, magical brooms and chairs that grew wings to give free rein to imaginations.Before René Goscinny referenced Arabian Nights in his 28th instalment of the adventures of the lovable Gaul Asterix (Asterix and the Magic Carpet, 1989), and most certainly before Harry Potter rode his Nimbus 2000 to spectacular Quidditch victories, the world of magic and enchantment was thrown open to young readers by Middle-eastern folktales that took readers on adrenaline-pumping adventures with quirky heroes such as Aladdin. But what stood out, perhaps, was the ability of these heroes to fly without wings — to new lands and newer adventures. A look at other such classics that have flying carpets, magical brooms and chairs that grew wings to give free rein to imaginations:
In an antique shop to buy a birthday gift for their mother, Mollie and Peter find themselves a magical chair quite by accident. The chair grows wings every few weeks and what follows are excursions to exciting new lands, where half the thrill lies in discovering if it will make for a pleasant experience or be fraught with dangers they will have to use their wits to avert. In her first full-length novel, The Adventures of the Wishing Chair (1937), Enid Blyton introduces readers to make-believe worlds as different as the Land of Dreams and the Village of Slipperies. Blyton, who wrote a second volume of Mollie and Peter’s escapades in The Wishing Chair Again (1950), would go on to bring some of these lands back in another of her magical series — The Enchanted Forest.
Before Blyton, however, Edith Nesbit, more popular as E Nesbit, had played on the theme of magical flying objects. In The Phoenix and the Carpet (1904), the second of her Five Children and It trilogy, Cyril, Anthea, Robert, Jane and the Lamb are given a new carpet in their nursery after an accidental fire destroys their old one. In the carpet is a mysterious egg that hatches into a talking Phoenix. It’s the phoenix who breaks the news to them — their carpet is magical and can transport them anywhere they wish, while the Phoenix, sort of a guardian angel, is capable of granting them three wishes every day. At the end of their many adventures, the Phoenix announces that it is time for him to call it a day — as is the nature of the mythical bird that can resurrect itself, he had reached the end of his current lifespan as his escapades with the children had left him spent. The carpet, too, he declares has outlived its utility and goes into retirement with the Phoenix’s eggs.
In Julia Donaldson’s world, magic does its thing early, what with the presence of creatures such as the Gruffalo and the Zog and anthropomorphised animals with wanderlust and other human desires and woes. Which also means that in her picture books, things are never what they appear to be. A witch is often a kindly creature, never hesitating to help others, and a ride on her magical broom can just be lessons in empathy and compassion. In Room on the Broom (2001), one such kindly witch is rewarded for her munificence when she is faced with danger — her formidable legion of beneficiaries, whom she has taken on for a ride on her magical broom, show remarkable alacrity and thwarts her evil opponent.
