I’m starting to think I can’t do magic. I realize there will always be an element of never-say-never; perhaps I’ve just yet to find the proverbial words. From an exchange between Hermione and Xenophilius Lovegood in The Deathly Hallows: “I mean, you could claim that anything’s real if the only basis for believing in is that nobody’s proved it doesn’t exist!” “Yes, you could. I am glad to see that you are opening your mind a little.” So while hope does spring eternal, I don’t want you walking away thinking I haven’t tried.
Around age five or six I opened our silverware drawer, removed all of the teaspoons, and systematically bent them one after the other. I was earnestly aware that magicians could bend spoons but acutely unaware the impressive portion was doing so without your hands. Like a dog set on scattering trash across the kitchen, amazement at my presumably telekinetically-enhanced strength gave way to terror and shame at the damage I wrought to the flatware. My parents were not thrilled. But I like to think we all learned a valuable lesson on metallurgy.
Even earlier than my Uri Geller-esque escapades (and I’m going to struggle to explain this) had to do with my hearing. If someone actually knows what’s going on, or if this is super common, let me know. But I’ve always been able to create a low rumbling sound in my own ears. My best guess is I’m moving a muscle nearby that either pulls on my eardrum or creates some pressure in my ear canal but regardless I was CONVINCED in was a manifestation of some sort of psychic phenomenon. I’d wander room to room, making the noise in my ears and staring down plants, furniture, household objects, and polite company waiting for something to happen. Otherwise my attempts were typical. Going purple-in-the-face on the playground urging my body to go Super Saiyan. Waiting for my Hogwarts letter when I turned 11 and picking up conveniently shaped sticks (or Roman candles) and yelling incantations. Contorting my hands into twisted shapes to try and will something into existence. But to-date, like Xenophilius’ crumple-horned snorkack, magic remains elusive and I therefore must content myself with exploration of magic’s applications and manifestations in fantasy stories.
How did we get here
I described in my previous post in this series my thoughts on the components I search for in a magic system. I won’t wholly repeat here but as quick summary: I want effort (some way for the magic user to differentiate herself or himself, either via dedication to study or creative application) and limitations (the magic must have clear boundaries, or an associated cost). At the conclusion of that same post I promised to give my thoughts on various magic systems. And I will! But not yet. In the fine tradition of fantasy writers I’ll reach my eventual resolution in book seven or eight of a planned trilogy. In the meanwhile though let’s return to everyone’s favorite subject: taxonomy.
The classification of magic systems
Like most people my profession (from what I can tell, making PowerPoints) has nothing to do with my actual interests. So, once again like most people, I’ve tried to find ways to explore those interests. Some are easier to action than others. This blog gave me an outlet to discuss books, games, and storytelling (with a light sprinkle of politics) and I’ve joined adult sports leagues to keep me somewhat mobile. Harder to engage altogether is a love of biology. Bio was my favorite core subject through school (maybe sparked by reading encyclopedias in those pre-Wikipedia days). My college major (biomedical engineering) kept some of that vibe alive but my time with the subject started to go by the wayside. So I’ll use this post as a way to keep that interest alive.
Having the right language is essential to the understanding of a subject. Taxonomy- the science of categorization and classification- gives us a basis to organize, describe, and compare without resorting to non-precise or relative descriptions. Taxonomy is far from unique to biology; everything from business to computer to anthropology relies on precise classification systems. But my first exposure to the concept came via 18th century Swedish botanist, zoologist, and physician Carl Linnaeus’ biological classification and his introduction of binomial nomenclature (genus and species). Linnaean taxonomy originally included a few other levels but has since expanded to a seven level categorization; Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species.
For humans this full descriptor (and I’m oversimplifying so actual biologists forgive me) reads Animalia (animals), Chordata (dorsal nerve cord/rudimentary spine), Mammalia (nursing young), Primates (usually larger brains, visual acuity, shoulder flexibility, and dexterous hands), Hominidae (great apes), Homo (which original include several other species like Neanderthals, but of which only we remain), Sapiens. The elegance in the system lies in that as we move a step back, all life in that grouping shares a common ancestor. All Homo species (erectus, floresiensis, ergaster, habilis, etc.) evolved from a common lineage. (Also, as a quick aside, there was a time period where multiple species of human lived at the same time. I love this concept. Communicating, warring, trading, loving a different species. Very elf/orc/dwarf fantasy races feel to it). A level up, all Hominidae (Homo, orangutans, chimps, gorillas, and some extinct species) all had a common ancestor. So on and so forth until we reach some sort of primordial sludge that most likely festered in shallow tidal waters or a deep sea vent.
At the top of this classification list lies Kingdom (of which American textbooks currently list six): the aforementioned Animalia, Fungi, Plantae, Protists (life with enclosed cellular nuclei that is not a plant, animal, or fungus), Eubacteria (true bacteria), and Archaebacteria. Theoretically these Kingdoms cover all heretofore discovered life on earth. Bearing in mind all this introduction, my goal today is to establish Kingdoms of Magic. Magical taxonomy is nothing new; Brandon Sanderson for instance finishes each of his books in his Cosmere universe with his Ars Arcanum, a listing of the different types of magic in his stories grouped by type of investiture or other related components. But I want to bring this up a level and make an attempt at developing a finite list of classifications that cover ALL magic in stories. I expect I’m going to fall woefully short. I would love to sit around and argue this with friends but instead I’m going to give it a first pass in front of a computer.
Kingdom 1: Transfiguration
My first Kingdom (and arguably the most straightforward) we’ll call transfiguration: turning something into something else. What distinguishes transfiguration from conjuration (more on that in a second) is that the raw materials must already exist; they can be altered or transformed, but not created. Alchemists in one of the earlier traditions of magic attempted just such an action with the transfiguration of lead into gold. Brent Weeks’ Lightbringer pentalogy employs transfiguration through magic wielders (called drafters) with the ability to transform different wavelengths of light into material called Luxin (with properties based on the type of light/drafter). The majority of Sanderson’s Cosmere magic falls under this category. Allomancy (Mistborn) transforms metals into forces. Awakeners with BioChromatic Breath (Warbreaker). Much can be said about the application of those powers (and the spren in Stormlight and Shadesmar as a whole definitely evoke elements of conjuration), but fundamentally all we see is metabolism at work. While we burn carbon to create energy, Sanderson’s characters do the same but with different materials and forces.
Kingdom 2: Channeling
In channeling, objects are neither conjured nor transformed. Instead the magic relies on the funneling or redirection of an ambient force or power. The Force (aptly named) employs this principle as Force-users reshape the power around them. Benders (Avatar) channel natural elemental power through movement and study. Wardings merely capture ambient energies to put them to use. Same goes for language-based magic like incantations, God Words (The Inheritance Trilogy), Shouts (Skyrim). Orogeny (The Broken Earth Trilogy) channels natural seismic forces, and the One Power (The Wheel of Time) is nearly identical to the Force but with Elemental components as well. I’ll contrast channeling with magic systems used in stories like Dragon Ball (which I’d call transfiguration) where the magicians transform their internal energy into an outward display.
Kingdom 3: Conjuration
Conjuration is the calling forth of something from elsewhere. Traditional religion-orientated fantasy stories rely on the summoning of demons or other creatures from various realms. Evocation mythological stories (shamanic traditions, Shintoism, Daoism) or anything else with a strong reliance on sentient spirits generally employ conjuration. Same goes for Grimoire-based stories, or the use of Hoodoo. Urban fantasy stories (as they do employee more traditional versions of the occult) use conjuration. The rituals in The Dresden Files and some of the more ill-advised spellcasting in The Magicians leans on this magic, along with most stories that rely on interactions with the fae.
Kingdom 4: Forging
My fourth and final Kingdom, and the one with which I most struggled is forging, or true creation magic. Unlike transfiguration which creates something from something else, channeling which redirects an existing force, and conjuration which calls something from elsewhere, forging instead creates something from nothing. I won’t use Dumbledore summoning a chair in Harry Potter as an example here. The books tell us vanished objects go into the Void, so I’ll assume the reverse is true. That whole category of pulling the rabbit from the hat, to me, is conjuration. Instead (and the reason I very deliberately chose the word ‘forge’ instead of ‘create’) this type of magic often involves forging bonds. Sympathy (The Kingkiller Chronicles) forges linkages between objects the mage can then manipulate. The ritual to create First Sisters among the Aiel in The Wheel of Time (one of my favorite parts of the whole series so I won’t spoil it here) is another example. The use of compellment through the laying of a gaes. The achievement of the Ideals in The Stormlight Archive. Forging may cost the user in terms of the struggle to achieve the enlightened state by which they can cast that magic, but the magic itself has no payment.
I would love to debate any of these, or add new kingdoms to my list. Let me know in the comment if you have any challenges or if you’ve started racing ahead to lower classifications of magic in these broader categories!
Twenty-five Hundred Stories 