As a young child, for only one offense was I repeatedly chastised for; that crime was "running away." I place "running away" in quotation marks because from my perspective, I was never running away from something; I running towards something. I happened to not know what that something was, and my lack of explanation was detrimental to parental diplomacy, but essentially I was questing. These quests were repeatedly prompted by two things. I either had encountered some mental or creative conundrum that required sorting or I had just finished reading Odyssey or Alice in Wonderland. (I admit I actually had the Odyssey on audio tape) I read or listened to these books impulsively, and after each 8-hour literary marathon, I felt the need to go somewhere. I was witnessing two cocky but lovable characters grow up or "gain self-knowledge," in the words of Thomas Foster, and I wanted to do the same. I encountered obstacles, strangers wondering where my parents were, kindly faces that I mistrusted, snakes hidden in tall grasses, and the burning heat of the ruthless Texas sun. Usually I found my holy grail as well, a hidden park, shiny rock, or abandoned doll thrown out onto the sidewalk. Thus, I was perfectly convinced no matter how unpleasant my punishment was or encounters were that my quest had been successful.
As a child, I could not have verbalized those obvious tropes, but that does not make them unimportant. The Odyssey is perhaps the more traditional example of the quest, maybe the most. The cocky young man unwillingly embarks on a search for gold, and then slowly every friend, comfort, and dignity is stripped away, due in part to his original arrogance. With everything gone, when Odysseus, the knight returns to Ithaca, the ultimate symbol of home and comfort, he is far wiser and ready to lead his city (as symbolized by the bow only he can string). Odysseus could not have gained such self-knowledge at home. All comfort had to be taken away, ultimately, he had to be alone, surrounded by the unknown to know himself. That is one reason quests are so often used in stories. Even though they are practically cumbersome to write about, because the familiar and relatable aspects of home are removed, they are an essential trope in literature, because they facilitate the greatest amount of character growth.
If I loved the Odyssey, I loved Alice In Wonderland better. To a young girl, Alice is perfectly relatable, even if the wacky world in which she is thrust is not. Even her peculiar troubles with being the wrong size are reminiscent of puberty and childhood. Alice's holy grail is simple, and quickly irrelevant as the best holy grails are. The knowledge she gains is essential; she learns that the world is governed by ones own expectations and nothing is as it seems, and some riddles have no answer. These are lessons that every young girl must eventually learn. However, Alice taught me that often such lessons can only be confronted on a quest.
