Cthulu comes to Oz!

There is a formatting problem that has made all of the paragraphs run together and I can't seem to reformat it. Sorry about that! Some more fun with the Public Domain. This time we see H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulu "mythos" mix it up with Baum's Oz.

“Cthulu!” “Gesundheit.” By Kass Stone

The Woggle-Bug strode confidently into the massive library of Locasta, Good Witch of the North. The highly magnified insect had been granted permission by the sorceress to catalog her massive collection of rare books. Accompanying The Woggle-Bug was Tardy Dave, a tall Giliken student assistant of his from the College of Academic Perfection. Woggle-Bug is known as the “Highly Magnified One” because of his name: Professor H. M. Woggle-Bug T.E., which is short for Highly Magnified Woggle Bug Thoroughly Educated! This illustrious insect was not always so magnified. He was once only a common, tiny woggle-bug living in a school house, where the curious little bug absorbed all of the lessons the teacher taught his pupils. One day the teacher was using an overhead projector to demonstrate a concept to the class and the bright little bug leapt on to it and found himself projected hundreds of times over, to the size of a large man, on the class room screen. The Woggle-Bug leapt off and has been highly magnified ever since. Ozma created the University of Artistic and Athletic Perfection, of which he was made dean of, out of appreciation for the role Woggle-Bug played in restoring her to the throne of Oz. Since then he has been a favorite with the Oz royal court. This provides him access to places he would normally not be able to get into. Locasta’s library is one of those places. “Magnificent!” announced the bug. “What a splendid collection of esoteric tomes!” “Er, sure,” said Tardy Dave, examining a ball of wax he just pulled from out of his left ear. “It’s really something, Prof.” “Indeed, my young and perceptive student. Indeed,” announced the bug as he sprang into the air from the doorway and landed on the second floor of the library. Hoping to add even more flourish, Woggle-Bug reached out two of his four hands and blindly pulled a book from off of the shelf. “Here, young man is the first step in this, our grand endeavor,” said the bug, as he glanced at the book’s cover. The volume was bound in what The Woggle-Bug assumed was some kind of leather and held shut by a heavy, black iron clasp. Etched on its cover in a deep crimson was the title, “Necronomicon”. The insect held the heavy tome with all four of his hands. His three antennae twitched with anticipation of diving into a hither-to-unknown work of potentially significant scholarly importance. The student assistant paid no mind. He was busy watching his toes as he wiggled them in his well worn sandals. “Ah, and thus commences another leg of progress’ march ever onwards! Ignorance has received another mortal wound from which it shall never recover and in its place shall emerge a new, enlightened world in which the shadow of superstition and debased perceptions are driven from the land like vermin before a cleansing deluge,” intoned the professor, hugging the book to his chest. Once done with his speech, the Woggle-Bug sprang over the wrought iron railing, sailed down to the ground floor and alighted gracefully alongside Tardy Dave, who was busy chewing a hang nail from off of his right thumb. The bug tossed the heavy book onto a neighboring table with a large BANG that startled the student and caused him to give a surprised squawk. “Did you get that book from up there on the second level?” asked Tardy Dave, who received his name due to the fact that he was always a bit late. “Yes, my pupil, and now we shall peer onto pages that may have not been viewed in centuries!” said the bug in his most pompous voice. Tardy Dave scratched his head full of scraggly, ginger-colored dreadlocks that hung past his waist and shrugged. He liked The Woggle-Bug but could never really understand what he was talking about. He thought it would look best if he just put on an interested expression and put his hands deep into the pockets of his red corduroy pants. The Woggle-Bug looked at his assistant and smiled, with his big, green eyes glittering in the candlelight. The insect nodded his head conspiratorially at his blank faced assistant. He then undid the clasp and flung the book open, causing its pages to fan out and stop at whatever random page fate decreed. “Momentous! Yes, most momentous, my dear David! Oh, how I envy you. To be so young and to enter into such an inquiry on behalf of knowledge! This just may very well be the breeze that fills your sails and sends you forth on an academic odyssey,” said the Woggle-Bug solemnly. Tardy Dave glanced at the book. He did not recognize the language it was written in. No longer interested, the student began stroking his bushy beard and staring out into space over Woggle-Bug’s head. The young scholar did not care much for books. His preferred academic exercises were learning more about his female classmates and organizing parties. This did not worry either the Woggle-Bug or Tardy Dave’s parents, since he was only in his 12th year of college. Most students at the College of Artistic and Athletic Perfection did not even declare a major until their 16th year. Yes, Tardy Dave felt that he was right on track academically. In another 20 years or so he might just be ready to really knuckle down and take his studies seriously. The professor leaned into the book until the antenna on the tip of his nose was bent against its pages. His big eyes shimmered with excitement. “I believe I can translate this script,” said the bug to nobody in particular. “Soon, this grimoire will reveal all of its secrets!” Woggle-Bug cleared his throat before chanting the strange words written in blood red on the brittle pages. Tardy Dave looked over his professor’s shoulder and noticed that one of the pages appeared to have a tattoo on it and the other one had what could be freckles. This reminded the Tardy One that he was due to get a tattoo with his team mates on the college’s hacky-sack team that week. They were all going to get the team’s mascot, an octopus with eight legs kicking a hacky-sack, on the back of their necks. It was going to be awesome. “That will be so awesome,” said a smiling Tardy Dave, but the Woggle-Bug was too caught up in chanting the ancient text to pay his assistant any attention. The words were guttural and strange. They caused Tardy Dave to come out of his tattoo induced reverie and pay attention once more to what his professor was doing. Goose bumps danced over his flesh. Hairs stood up on the back of his neck with each new syllable uttered by The Woggle-Bug. Even his dreadlocks seemed to tremble under their own power as the Magnified One’s chanting grew more passionate and powerful. It reminded Tardy Dave of the time he accompanied the Woggle-Bug to visit Glinda the Good Witch of the South. He mistook a bottle of shrinking potion for the bottle of fizzy radish beer he brought with him for lunch. The very same strange sensation spread across his body as he shrunk down to the size of a common field mouse. To make matters worse, Princess Dorothy Gale was also there visiting with her pink cat. The mean spirited feline chased Tardy Dave throughout Glinda’s palace for over two hours before the good witch was able to find him and restore him to full size. “You know, now that I think about it, I don’t think I like magic all that much,” said Tardy Dave offhandedly. A strange howling sound filled the library. The candles in the chandeliers over head and the sconces on the walls began to flicker, sending long shadows careening across the room. From the center of the library came what sounded like a million sinister voices chuckling and hissing at an obscene joke. Tardy stepped back to avoid the swarm of many limbed flies that were circling the chanting Woggle-Bug. His feet slipped as he stepped into a puddle of green slime that bubbled up from beneath the marble tiles of the floor. The young scholar almost crashed onto the ground but was able to catch himself on the edge of a table covered in maggots the size of an infant munchkin. Lightening flashed from a cloud that had formed overhead and, instead of rain; small squid with beaks full of razor sharp teeth began to bounce off of the furniture and floor. A suit of armor standing next to the stairwell leading up to the other four levels of the library began to scream with wild laughter and then exploded, sending pieces of its self everywhere. This is when it dawned on Tardy Dave that something was wrong! “I don’t think those big maggot things should be in the library, prof,” said Tardy Dave, as he watched a fly brandishing a scorpion’s tail harass a three-headed beetle with tentacles instead of legs. Tardy-Dave let out a yelp. One of the malevolent squid that were raining down on them had sunk its teeth into the student’s right big toe. He hopped about on his left foot, while slapping at the squid. The cephalopod only bit harder and wrapped its tentacles around Dave’s corduroy clad leg. He hopped over to book shelf and pulled down a heavy tome titled “Great Munchkin Poets: The Pastoria Years” and began slamming it down on the vicious squid. After a couple of hard blows, the squid exploded like a balloon filled with custard. Tardy-Dave’s lower half was covered in yellow slime and pink squid bits. It dawned on him that he probably should not have worn sandals on this trip. “This isn’t cool, right, prof? I’ve never seen anything like this before, have you? Does Locasta usually have these kinds of pest problems? I mean, if so, she might want to get it cleared up. I don’t think this is sanitary, man,” said Tardy Dave, but it fell on deaf ears. The words written down in the book by its author, “The Mad Arab” Abdul Alhazred, put the most intelligent insect in Oz into a spell that made it impossible for him to stop chanting the vile language of the Necronomicon. As he chanted, the Woggle-Bug’s antennae on his head and nose twitched with each syllable, as if they were broadcasting the meaning of the book’s dark text. A fetid yellow light pulsed in his eyes and a greasy film coated the bug’s usually gleaming exoskeleton. “Ph’nglwi mgla nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn!” the insect screamed as he came to the end of the passage that had possessed him. The yellow light dimmed from Woggle-Bug’s eyes and their usual emerald glint was restored. His exoskeleton regained its reflective shine and his antennae ceased twitching. The magnified one looked around confused and stammered wordlessly for several seconds. Just as he was about to speak, a sound like a gash being torn in the flesh of a gigantic animal filled the library. “Zounds! I was rendered little more than a marionette from some indecent puppeteer working from the stygian depths of an accursed realm!” wailed Woggle-Bug over the wet, tearing sound. The disgusting sound indicated the formation of a great gaping hole in space in the center of the room. Escaping from the hole was a stench unlike any the two had ever experienced in their lives. The odious fumes brought tears to their eyes and gags to their throats. “Egad!” shouted The Woggle-Bug. “That is the essence of putrescent!” “Yeah, do you see that hole there?” asked Tardy Dave. “I really think something ain’t right!” An awful groaning emerged from the hole, followed by a sea of glistening, cruel eyes. An army of beings with bodies like large apes, but covered in green, flabby flesh unlike any ever seen in Oz, were walking menacingly towards Tardy and The Woggle-Bug from out of the hole. The creatures’ thick limbs ended in webbed hands and feet that were accented by fierce, curling claws. Around their drooling maws were bunches of writhing tentacles that whipped about below their red, globular eyes. On the monsters’ backs hung large, bat-like wings that stretched and preened with every step as they chanted “Cthulhu” over and over in thick, slimy voices. “Oh, those must be the cthulhi,” said the Woggle-Bug, matter-of-factly. “The what?” asked Tardy Dave. “Dear lad, were you not paying attention? I was summoning the dark lord Cthulhu to Oz. Though, why I would do such a thing, I have not the foggiest notion,” lectured the bug. “Likewise, I have no clue how I have come to posses such knowledge!” “Oh, yeah, man! You were reading that book!” exclaimed Tardy Dave, as if he had just deduced the answer to a great riddle. “That accursed grimoire must have compelled me to act in such a traitorous manner! Oh, what have I wrought?” bellowed the insect. Tardy Dave was about to ask him what a cthulhi was, when he was yanked by the arm and suspended in the air by one of the creatures. Tardy stared into the strange, malevolent eyes and winced. “Ugh, your breath is awful!” moaned Tardy Dave. “Dude, that is so rank! You have to eat a mint or something!” The scholar then gave a surprised yelp as he fell and hit the floor. The Woggle-Bug had punched the monster in the head, sending the beast flying across the room and into a book shelf, resulting in the creature dropping Tardy Dave in the process. “Up, lad, we must find Locasta and let her know what a monumental SNAFU has been committed in furthering Ozian scholarship,” said The Woggle-Bug as he grabbed Tardy Dave by the arm and drug him towards the exit. “That monster thing was really strong,” said Tardy-Dave as he was whisked off by his teacher. “Yes, he commands an impressive brute strength, but he was no match for my pugilistic proficiency,” bragged the bug. Tardy’s attention was not with his professor or the throng of tentacle-faced monsters. His eyes were focused on the ever widening portal and the gigantic shape form ancient evil that was Cthulhu being revealed on the other side. The master of the cthulhi looked exactly like his minions but standing hundreds of feet tall and thus hundreds of times more frightening. “That’s a big guy,” noted Tardy Dave. “These winged mollusk-men and their master will destroy all of Oz. We must do something posthaste!” shouted Woggle-Bug, over the roars issuing from Cthulhu and the chanting of his demonic minions. “Halt!” announced a woman’s voice that cut through the grotesque, maddening babble. Standing in the doorway of the library was Locasta. Her white hair blew wildly around her head in the putrid wind pouring in from Cthulhu’s world. She gripped a wand in one hand and held a small, white rabbit to her chest with the other. The sorceress’ blue dress billowed about her, sparkling as if beads of ice were woven into the fabric. She stood in stark contrast to corruption and unwholesomeness of Cthulhu’s world. “Oh, Locasta!” stammered the bug. “We were just enroute to inform you of this most distressing situation.” The witch paid no attention to the Magnified One. She looked past him and through the throng of chthuli into the entrance into their world, where their titanic master waited. The sound of evil laughter rolled through from the world of the monsters like thunder. It was the sound of pure corruption and made Tardy Dave and Woggle-Bug sick to their stomachs. Locasta did not flinch. “Cthulhu, I cannot let your vile presence taint Oz!” shouted the good witch. “Just as I defeated you before, I shall do so again!” The witch tossed the rabbit into the air and it landed in the midst of the throng of cthulhi, transformed into an elephant-sized beast-that attacked the creatures with its gigantic teeth and razor sharp claws. “We must rally to the defense of our fair land!” cried the Magnified One. The Woggle-Bug grabbed a pair of broken chairs in both pairs of his arms and began beating back the retreating beasts. Together, the professor and rabbit’s onslaught herded the cthulhi into the center of the room. “Battle onward, my stout hearted lupine crusader! We are stymieing this demonic host!” called out the Woggle-Bug to the rabbit. Once the cthulhi were localized, the pair began forcing them into the hole from which they emerged. While the bug and rabbit were taking care of the minons, Locasta set to work chanting a spell to defeat their master. Beads of sweat formed on the witch’s grandmotherly face as she matched her powers against those of the dreadful dark god. Locasta fell to one knee and clenched her face in agony. Cthulhu’s nausea inducing laugh filled the room, causing Tardy Dave to retch and grow dizzy behind the large wall tapestry he hid behind. The benign countenance that Locasta typically wore fell away. She appeared now as a sunken cheeked, feeble old woman. She felt rivulets of fire snaking through her bones. Locasta’s vision blurred and her hearing diminished. Every pore on her flesh felt as though steam were rising from out of it. She could feel the dark god’s clawed hands clenching her mind and filling her thoughts with images of misery. Starving children and dead soldiers! Disease covered animals bleating as they died in mass graves! Ozma and the heroes of Oz mutilated! Locasta saw things so disgusting and evil that tears came to her eyes. The beastly creature chuckled as he felt her spirits weaken. Realizing that the horror she was battling gained a greater edge with every ounce of sorrow she felt, Locasta reached deep inside herself to find the strength to silence Cthulhu’s voice. The demon was shocked momentarily by Locasta’s strength of will. His attack slowed and this bought the witch the time for one last gambit to prevent the unspeakable evil and decay represented by Cthulhu from entering Oz. She endeavored to tap into the very faerie enchantment that made Oz the mystical and beautiful place it is. Locasta focused on the uncanny energies flowing through the land that was the basis of the country’s enchanted nature, all the while creating ever weakening defenses to hold Cthulhu at bay. While Glinda the Good Witch of the South is renowned across the world, the Good Witch of the North is a much less discussed figure. Many people just assume that she is the magical inferior to Glinda and stayed out of the limelight in deference to a more superior witch. This is far from the truth. Locasta is a much older sorceress with an incredibly deep knowledge of magic, dating back to the very creation of Oz by Lurline, the Faerie Queen. She just preferred to pursue her work out of the public eye. Proof of this lies in the fact that in spite of the punishing deluge of evil, corrupted magic Cthulhu pummeled her with, the Good Witch of the North remained focused in her effort to tap Oz’s ancient enchantment. Cthulhu pushed back with all of his might to tear down the witch’s magical barricades. Her mind searched deep into the physical and metaphysical aspects of Oz. All of its history unfurled behind her eyes while she pushed herself to maintain her defenses against the evil incarnate she was engaged in combat with. Then, like a shooting star falling from a pitch black sky, the current of magical energies that maintained Oz as a faerie country reached out to her. Locasta felt her mind stretch out to touch the current. Upon contact, they become one. Locasta received a burst of magical energy that caused her brain to burn with white flame. Images of all of the great wizards and witches of Oz’s past, present and future filled her being. Little shards of all of their magic combined with her own abilities. Her eyes flashed a brilliant blue and her old, creased face became livid with color. “You shall not have Oz!” announced the good witch, causing a great fresh wind to sweep through the library, which triggered Cthulhu’s gateway to close. Cthulhu roared with surprise and anger. He had just been defeated by an old woman from a faerie tale world. Never had the ancient, evil entity known such a humiliating defeat. Locasta had once managed to defeat his minions when she was much younger and had an entire magical army supporting her. This time she managed to better Cthulhu himself with only the assistance of an overgrown insect and rabbit. The being of un-nameable evil roared once again in petulant anger as his gateway closed and the things of his world were forced back from where they came. “Huzzah! The plans of Cthulu have proven vainglorious and futile! Oz is saved!” cheered the bug over the noise of the maelstrom forming about the doorway between the two worlds. The wind rushed into the closing portal as if a tornado was let loose in the library. It created a swirling vortex of cthulhi, giant maggots, bizarre insects and slime. Tardy Dave was lifted off of his feet and sent flying towards the whirl of unwholesomeness leading to Cthulhu’s twisted reality. Seeing his student assistant flying past, Woggle-Bug quickly reached out with two of his arms and caught Tardy Dave by the dreadlocks. The student flapped in the wind like a flag, while his professor used his legs and remaining arms to cling onto a pillar that lead to the library’s magnificent domed ceiling. The giant rabbit dug its claws deep into the marble tile to prevent being drawn into the vortex. The power of the maelstrom was so strong that it dragged the rabbit several feet towards it. The heroic lupine left deep claw marks in the marble floor as it fought being drawn into the nightmare universe of Cthulhu. The thundering, gurgling protestations of mighty Cthulhu echoed through the room, sending a greasy, metallic taste across everyone’s tongues. The protests grew in intensity the more the doorway into his world shut. When the hole in space became no bigger than the head of a pencil, the cries and howling wind stopped, sending Tardy Dave slamming into the floor, which in turn pulled the Woggle-Bug, still grasping Tardy’s dreadlocks, on top of him. The Woggle-Bug quickly leapt off Tardy Dave and began to inspect the scholar for any injuries. “My word, young David, what a heroic figure you cut in this conflict between the forces of good and the forces of evil,” said the Woggle-Bug admiringly. “Oh, wow,” said Tardy Dave, as he rolled to his back and rubbed his nose. “Did you see how big that rabbit got?” “Woggle-Bug,” called Locasta, in a very frustrated tone. “What in the name of all that is good in Oz did you do? Why did you think tampering with such a book was a good idea? I told you to stay away from the second floor.” “My dear madam, it was all in the name of academic pursuit and expanding the boundaries of what we know about both the physical and metaphysical worlds . . .,” began the bug, but he was cut off by a stern glance from the witch. An awkward silence fell over the now completely disorganized library. Locasta tapped her foot in disappointment with the Magnified One. The Woggle-Bug twitched his antennae as he thought of some way to put a positive spin on what just happened. The silence had Tardy Dave entranced. He watched the witch and professor with his mouth hanging open, unsure of what exactly was happening. The silence may have lasted days if it were not for the sound of someone crying. A muffled sobbing came from behind one of the book shelves. Locasta, carrying the once again tiny rabbit, led Tardy Dave and the Woggle-Bug to the source of the mournful noise. The party was shocked to discover a cthulhi weeping into his slimy, flabby hands. “Are you injured?” inquired Locasta. The hulking thing just shook its head. “Urk! Hyunk jiapxil. . . Uyioloont-ilx-opuqiz . . . ,” said the cthulhi, looking at the Ozites with as much of a pleading look as its kind could muster. “Hey, that monster thing is crying!” exclaimed Tardy Dave. “. . . Urk! Um . . . Urkel . . . Zaphod . . . Um . . . Hello,” managed the cthulhi in a very pleasant, masculine voice. “I’m sorry. It takes me a few seconds to learn a new language. Please do not be afraid of me. I am not like the others! Please don’t send me back home with the rest of them! If you do, I will be killed and fed to my brothers and sisters. They would say I’m a coward and traitor for staying behind! I do not want to be fed to my brothers and sisters!” “Why should we trust you?” asked the Woggle-Bug. “You are the servant of a Lord of Darkness . . . not to demonize you!” The Woggle-Bug looked at Locasta for recognition of his pun. All he got in return was the witch rolling her eyes. “What is your name,” asked Locasta gently. “You would not be able to pronounce it. It would sort of sound like, ‘Floid-aphla-lox-to-motox-plig . . .,” “Oh, that’s alright,” said Locasta. “I will call you Floyd.” “Yes, Madam,” said Floyd. “That is a very good name.” “Indeed, a most apt moniker for one such as you. The name Floyd is of Welsh derivation, meaning “one with gray hair”, if I remember my Welsh, which I’m quite sure I do. Gray-hair indicates a wizened, respected person on whom the . . .,” began the Woggle-Bug before being cut off by the sound of Locasta clearing her throat “Tell me, Floyd, how can I trust you not to cause any harm here in Oz?” asked the good witch in a very grandmotherly tone. Floyd ran his fingers through his mouth tentacles and sighed. “The truth is that I hid from the rest of my family as soon as we arrived. Don’t you see? I stayed behind on purpose. Home is a terrible place! It’s always about eating a brother or sister and then preparing to attack another world in the name of our master. It’s not a lifestyle for me! I spy on other worlds and dream of living in a place not devoted to pestilence and corruption. It’s the sound of birds chirping in the morning I want, not the screams of the tortured and the awful shriek of the damned. I want a pet cat and to have friends over for tea. I dream of being able to have a nice vegetable garden and not have to survive on the spoils of conquest. You can’t even get vegetables where I come from! All we ever get is our rent apart siblings or the crushed remains of our master’s enemies. I want to be a vegetarian! I dream of tasting an avocado or peeling a banana! I hate being the blood thirsty minion of evil personified. Please, let me stay!” beseeched Floyd. “Well, that is entirely up to Princess Ozma. She is the one that has final say on which outsiders can call Oz home. However, if you are honest about your desires and intentions, I’m sure Ozma will let you stay as long as you will be of some benefit to the rest of Oz’s citizens. I can help you with that since I can provide a job for you here in my palace,” said the witch. “I have need of a gardener’s assistant, but first you have to clean this mess you and your family made in my library.” “Oh, thank you, Madam! Thank you!” said Floyd as he fell to his knees and grabbed Locasta’s hand, which he covered in tentacle filled kisses. An obviously uncomfortable Locasta, gently took her hand back, thanked Floyd and helped him to his big webbed feet. “Whoa, that green guy can speak our language!” announced a truly amazed Tardy Dave. “How, very benevolent of you,” said Woggle-Bug to Locasta, choosing to ignore his assistant. “I will retire to my quarters now in order to record today’s most bizarre events in my journal for posterity.” “Oh, I think that can wait,” said Locasta. “You need to clean up your mess as well, bug. You and young Tardy Dave will assist Floyd in putting my library back in order.” With a snap of her finger, three sets of brooms, mops and other cleaning supplies appeared before Floyd, Tardy Dave and Woggle-Bug. Without glancing back at her new cleaning crew, Locasta strode out the library, slammingthe doors behind her. “What a wonderful woman,” sighed Floyd. “I never thought I’d be so lucky as to have the chance to dust and mop. It’s going to be a joy being able to tidy up! No more slime filled grottos for me!” “Ha! What audacity! Me, the most magnified intelligence in all of Oz reduced to a mere custodian! Oh, the shame!” moaned Woggle-Bug. “This is an outrage. If it were not for my respect for all Locasta has done for Oz, I would walk off of this lowly assignment as quick as Mercury chasing a comet!” Tardy Dave turned around and smiled into the big, goggle-like eyes of his professor. “You know,” said Tardy Dave. “I think she wants us to clean this place up.”

The Magic Cloak of Oz - Part 1

Another Baum produced silen Oz movie.
Maybe one day A Zen Master In Oz will become a movie. The only way to make that happen is to get a ton of books sold. So, why don't you do your part for culture and buy a copy?

Why Oz Is Much Cooler Than Narnia.

On the surface, L. Frank Baum's Oz and C.S. Lewis' Narnia series appear to be rather similiar. Both deal with young, earth dwelling children being transported to magical realms where they have exciting adventures with the natives. If you take a closer look you will discover that the Narnia books are rather creepy. They are full of anti-modern, close minded, religious propaganda. Baum's 14 Oz books on the other hand, are stories about the importance of acceptance, diversity camraderie. Here are some reasons why Lewis' Narnia books are genuinely loathesome, along with why Oz is much more wholesome in comparison.
1. Sexism: C.S. Lewis, at least when he was writing his Narnia series, had a pretty dim view of what women were capable of. This sexist, though not uncommon view for a man of his era, is made more disturbing by his very obvious discomfort with female sexuality. Grown women are not to be trusted in the universe of the Narnia saga. Little Lucy Penvensie is the ideal "Christian" in the series but that's because she has not yet developed sexually. When her sister, Susan discovers her sexuality and begins wearing makeup and going out with boys, she is deemed not capable of coming to Aslan's world. She is banned from paradise for following her natural and essential biological urges! Let me add!!!! Likewise, look the grown women that are present in Narnia. The two most prominent are Jadis - The White Witch and The Lady of the Green Kirtle, both of them are evil witches representing Satan, the ultimate evil. So, when we meet grown women in Narnia they are all unworthy of Aslan's grace.
In Oz, on the otherhand, Baum provides us with a huge list of capable, independent and powerful female characters. In fact, Oz is almost entirely operated and protected by powerful, strong women. This list includes Dorothy, Glinda, The Goood Witch of the South and Ozma.
2. Racism: Lewis' Narnia books are racist and imply a racial hierarchy. To begin with, Narnia is very much an idealized England in which there are not racial minorities. It is a white country for white people and thier magical friends who also either appear to be white or at least act like proper white English folk. This is also very similiar to Lewis' close pal and fellow inkling, J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle Earth (for more on this check out Michael Moorcock's excellent essay Epic Pooh). The races living outside of Narnia are depicted as brutal, thuggish and ethnic. The Telmarines are obviously meant to be a sea-faring, Medittereanean people. Much to swarthy for Mr. Lewis' taste. They are brutal and cruel, but are capable of being redeemed by the much more enlightened White-British Narnians. The Calormen are depicted as dark skinned, Arabic people who worship a demon, participate in human sacrifices and are in constant warfare with the rest of the world. They are described in the worst kind of stereotypical terms for an Arab person and are even less capable of being "saved". They are obviously well below the swarthy Telmarines, who in turn are quite a few steps down the ladder from the very English and White Narnia.
Oz is depicted as a land of great racial diversity. While these races do not directly correspond to real world racial groups, Baum's depiction of diversity and the need to accept it is a far cry from Lewis' racial hierarchy. All of the race's in Oz are valued for what they can offer and are worthy of respect from the rest of the land's citizens. Even people and creatures from other lands are welcomed and treated with respect. Oz accepts everyone and does not require you to convert to its religion, unlike another magical land we know.
3.Holy War: In the Narnia Chronicles, C.S. Lewis makes it clear that war in the name of God/Jesus/Aslan is not only acceptible but essential. In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the Penvensie children are brought to Narnia in order to lead a holy war against the anti-Aslan (A.K.A. evil) forces of the White Witch. Santa Claus even shows up and hands out weapons for the children to kill with! Father Christmas is their arms supplier. The message to young readers is very clear - in order to preserve the faith it is sometimes neccessary to kill and even wage war. Very creepy. Creepier yet is the jihad-like aspect Lewis gives the war between the Narnians and the Telmarines in Prince Caspian. In a letter Lewis wrote a young fan, he stated that the book was about restoring the true faith. The method through which this is accomplished is war. Sounds a lot like some terrorist leader urging his followers on.
In Baum's Oz there is no organized religion. We learn that a faerie queen created the enchantment that transformed Oz in a faerie land, but that's it. On top of it, the rulers of Oz often search for non-violent answers to their problems. This is quite different from Santa handing out swords meant to cleave a "non-believer's" head in two.
4. Anti-Modernism: C.S. Lewis hated modernity. He thought it was souless and destructive. It was like a plight across the Western World that was replacing God with science and dehumanizing mankind. His disdain for modernity is readily apparent throughout the Narnia books. Susan's sexuality is associated with "lip stick and nylons", very 20th Century kinds of things for a young woman to be wearing. Lewis' disdain for the modern is most viruently demonstrated in the finale of his "Space Trilogy" - That Hideous Strength, in which modern art, architecture, science etc. are depicted as tools of the Devil looking to break mankind's will and use reason to cause people to cease believing in God. This view is expressed by Lewis in his handling of modern women (ie. Susan) and education. In The Silver Chair, Lewis attacks modern education theories and techniques in the form of Experiment House, a modern school where the Pevensies' cousin Eustace and his pal, Jill, attend. Experiment House allows children to learn through exploration and, OMG!, there is no religious education. The school is depicted as a terrible place with ineffective teachers and horrible bullying students. Of course, Lewis meant education in the doctrines of the Church of England and not some kind of comparative relgion course.
In Oz the modern world is reflected in the roles women play, technology and general attitudes towards the world. Baum, a feminist and son-in-law of a major feminist figure, allowed his work to disply his progressive views on women's rights. Likewise, his approach to racial diversity is quite modern compared to Lewis' hierarchy of races. Technology also exists in Oz and is just as much a source of wonder as any kind of magic. The greatest example of this is Tik-Tok the clockwork robot. Technology is not a thing to fear but is something that is capable of making the world a much more interesting and exciting place. Reason and the scientific method are promoted often in Baum's Oz books. While he often took shots at academia, Baum also obviously valued the importance of critical thinking, reason and scientific inquiry. Again and again, the characters in the Oz books have to rely on empirical reasoning to find their way out of the troubles they always end up in. Lewis on the other hand promotes blind faith throughout the Narnia books. The Pevensie children and their Narnian allies are expected to constantly just have faith in Aslan and not to question. In fact, questioning is a bad thing. Just accept what your religion/authority figure tells you to do and shut up! Questions and reason are for those that don't get to cuddle up with Aslan for eternity.

The difference between the two series is that Baum was a man who embraced modernity and viewed the world through more egalitarian eyes than the patriarchial, fundamentalist Christian Lewis. One was presenting a modern faerie tale and the other was creating heavy handed religous propaganda designed to help make children good little Christian soldiers. One had a more universal view of the world and the other had a very narrow one in which his culture and religion were the only true ones and that everything else at best paled in comparison and at worst were false, empty and destructive. These personality traits shaped the fictional universes they are most famous for. Unfortunately, Lewis' Narnia is built solidly on its creators bigoted, fundamentalist hangups