Have you ever had a homework assignment that looked simple, but the more you worked on it the harder it got?
Joseph Campbell has been like that for me. I’ve been bothering my wife with periodic exclamations of “F**king Joseph Campbell. Jesus F**king Christ,” for the last few weeks, and by now I’m sure she’s almost as eager as I am to get past this book.
This is not to imply that Campbell’s work is worthless – far from it. But as I’ve mentioned previously it’s agonizing to try to wrest the value from him, and I’m looking forward to my post on the flaws of The Hero with a Thousand Faces with the mixed terror and relief of a patient about to lance a particularly nasty boil.
Fortunately, it’s close to coming to a head. Let’s get into The Return.
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The Return is the final stage of the hero’s journey. After completing their quest and gaining the Ultimate Boon, the hero returns to the normal world and shares what they gained with the community they left behind.
I’m not entirely sure how to approach The Return, because it seems to me that only a few modern stories include this part of the hero’s journey. The more recent stories I’ve observed tend to have the first stages of the supernatural world transform into a sort of ‘neo-ordinary’ world via the defeat of the Big Bad.
For example, Harry Potter does not leave the wizarding world in the end of The Deathly Hallows. Instead, because Voldemort is defeated (spoiler alert), the wizarding world becomes Harry’s new home and takes on the mantle of the ordinary. This is similar to what Campbell describes, but not exactly the same.
Let’s start by looking at how Campbell describes The Return. As we’ve seen in previous chapters, he begins by breaking The Return into six parts, and like The Initiation they do not all have to be included in a given story. They stages of The Return are:
- Refusal of the return
- The magic flight
- Rescue from without
- The crossing of the return threshold
- Master of the 2 worlds
- Freedom to live
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1) Refusal of the Return
The hero may refuse to go back to the ordinary world, instead preferring to stay in the land of adventure.
And who can blame them, right? This always nagged at me when reading myths and fairy tales – after a hero finally escapes their banal life, why do so many storytellers compel them to give it all up at the end of the story? This comic from Oglaf perfectly lays out my objection:
(A side note on Oglaf – the comic is both terrifically funny and unbelievably NSFW. I recommend it, but click at your own risk.)
Campbell doesn’t come out and say this, but the implication I got is that the Refusal of the Return is a test of selfishness. There’s an axiomatic assumption that any moral hero will return home and share the benefits of their adventure, so a hero who does not may be seen as greedy, aloof, or antisocial. It’s a bit like bringing a box of donuts to work; refusing to share doesn’t harm your coworkers, but it will get you talked about.
I also suspect that refusing to leave the land of adventure makes a hero appear immature. It’s all well and good to go on adventures when you’re young, but continuing for too long may be a sign that the hero is socially maladjusted or trying to escape from something. This is exemplified in the story of Peter Pan and his refusal to leave Neverland.
So while it may be in the character’s best interest to stay in the supernatural, to be a true hero they must accept the responsibility of sharing the ultimate boon with the ordinary world. This sparks . . .
2) The Magic Flight
The hero must flee from the land of adventure.
Campbell says that there are two ways the hero can leave the supernatural world. If the hero was sent on their quest by a god or other great supernatural force, their patron will make the return fairly simple. For example, Gandalf helps Bilbo Baggins return to the Shire after his adventures, and the journey across Middle-Earth which initially took hundreds of pages is completed in just seven.
If the hero was opposed by the great forces of the supernatural world, it’s time for them to take their winnings and get the hell out of Dodge. This section of The Hero with a Thousand Faces has several great examples of heroes fleeing from an enraged supernatural world, and on that basis alone I’m keeping it around for future reference.
Finally, Campbell made a great point when he said that the Magic Flight is often caused by a moment of all-too-human weakness. The hero may be told, “Don’t eat that apple,” or “don’t open your eyes.” Perhaps even, “For the love of all that is holy, don’t sleep with the demon-emperor’s daughter.” The hero, of course, violates this seemingly easy to obey rule, and thereby sets off the disaster that forces them to run like hell.
3) Rescue From Without
If the hero cannot escape the supernatural world themselves, forces from the ordinary world may come to collect them.
If the hero refuses to return of their own free will – or their magic flight ends in disaster – they may need a bit of help. This section was mostly just Campbell recounting myths, so there were only two points that stood out to me.
The first is that the nature of this intrusion has a large effect on how this event plays out. If the hero is in dire straits then the Rescue from Without saves them from a terrible fate. However, if the hero liked where they were and did not wish to be disturbed, the person who interrupts them may face a nasty end.
The second is that Campbell is very clear he believes this rescue must come from the ordinary world. Each of his examples has a clear divide between the two worlds, and the rescue always involves someone coming from the normal to save the hero from the supernatural.
While I see Campbell’s point, I’m not sure if this holds true for modern stories. For example, at the end of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, Harry is saved from Voldemort/Quirrell by Dumbledore and the other teachers. This section of the book is clearly a Rescue from Without, but the witches and wizards that do the rescuing are not part of the ordinary world Harry left behind when he boarded the Hogwarts Express.
I wouldn’t be so hung up on the point of Campbell’s examples weren’t so stark. It seems to me there’s a middle ground he doesn’t address, a ‘neo-ordinary’ world I referenced earlier in this post that’s established after the hero crosses the first threshold. If the old-ordinary world is abandoned entirely, I think that despite what Campbell says it’s appropriate for the intervening force at this stage to be friends, allies or mentors gained during the hero’s adventure.
4) The Crossing of the Return Threshold
The hero must go through a harrowing transition back to the ordinary world.
Campbell has a lot to say about how difficult this transition can be, and for many stories I see his point. A hero whose perspective has changed after his adventures may have a hard time relating to their old friends and neighbors. Bilbo Baggins is a great example – despite all the riches he gained during his journeys with the dwarves, he’s always thought of as strange and the respectable hobbits keep their distance.
If the hero has been touched by the supernatural, re-encountering the ordinary world may be dangerous or even lethal. Campbell tells the story of an Irish hero who, after living for many years in the Land of Youth, wishes to return home to discover what became of his family. He is permitted to go and given a horse to speed him on his way, but is warned that if he ever sets foot upon the ground all the years he spent in the Land of Youth will come back and afflict him at once. The hero, of course, eventually gets off the horse and is immediately transformed into a crippled old man. The supernatural world rarely plays nice with the ordinary, and without some kind of protection or insulation (in this case, the magic horse) forcing them to interact can have catastrophic consequences.
While Crossing of the Return Threshold can be difficult, I’m not convinced this is the only way it can play out. The great hero Luke Skywalker seems to have had no problem leaving the Death Stars and reuniting with his friends in Episodes IV and VI. In the first case he’s given a medal, and in the second there’s a huge party hosted by feral teddy bears.
This says to me that if the hero’s adventure only benefits themselves – either through material gain or spiritual enrichment – the ordinary world will not be very welcoming. However, if the hero’s adventure benefits the whole community they’re much more likely to be welcomed back.
The lesson is clear: if you bring donuts to work, make sure you bring enough to share.
5) Master of The Two Worlds
A hero that crosses the return threshold undamaged can move freely between the ordinary and supernatural worlds.
Once the hero becomes the Master of the Two Worlds, I suspect they’re no longer interesting as a character. They’re ‘done,’ so to speak. They’ve completed their adventure and gained the Ultimate Boon, and can now move freely between the ordinary world and the supernatural. There are no great challenges for flaws left for the hero to overcome, so it’s time for us to wrap up the story.
However, we can use a character that’s the Master of the Two Worlds to mentor our hero during their adventure. Obi-Wan Kenobi fits this concept to a T. He’s had his adventures, and can live as a hermit in the ordinary world of Tatooine just as easily as he can sneak around as a Jedi the Death Star.
In this section Campbell introduces the idea of ‘the cosmic man’ – a sort of cultural paragon that a society worships and aspires to. He notes that the cosmic man can vary in race, gender, religion, or any other factor to suit the society that created them. They don’t even have to be human – an animal or tree or anything else that’s especially important can also be used.
While this point is interesting as anthropology, it only further reinforced my conclusion that characters at this stage are too far beyond normal human experience to be the subject of good stories. If we find that a character has become a Master of the Two Worlds, it’s a sign that we should bring their tale to an end as soon as possible.
6) Freedom to Live
The story ends. Seriously, that’s all I’ve got.
To be frank, this section was useless. The most coherent idea I could pull out was that Campbell was a really big fan of transcendent religious ideas. That’s it.
To start with, the section is only five pages long. In the beginning Campbell asks, “What, now, is the result of the miraculous passage and return?” then proceeds to complete ignore the question. He tells the story of a mythological boy recounting platitudes, briefly references the Bible, and ends with a vague, ‘and they lived happily ever after’ vibe that utterly failed to impress me.
All stories must come to an end, but this felt like floundering. I suspect (though I haven’t done enough research to be sure) that the majority of great myths don’t end in a consistent way, and Campbell’s theory of a monomyth encountered an eleventh hour objection he simply bypassed.
Whether or not that’s the case, we’re going to need to do own research about how to end stories.
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The Return Conclusions:
I’m not sure what I can add to my remarks on the previous chapters. I accept most of Campbell’s structure, but almost none of his reasons for why it exists. This has led to some strange moments while listening to the audiobook – the opening and conclusion of a section usually needed detailed notes, but in the middle I was free to zone out and enjoy the weather during my walk.
Fortunately, things do pick up a bit in the second half of the book. Did you know that there a part 2 of The Hero with a Thousand Faces? I certainly didn’t, and was pleasantly surprised by Chapter 3, titled Transformations of the Hero. I think this section has gone criminally underappreciated, so I’m looking forward to discussing it in the next post.
I’ll be honest – even though I learned a lot from part 2, I’m not sure it entirely redeems the time I’ve sacrificed to Campbell. But it makes a hell of an attempt, and I got more out of this part of the book than any other.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. See you next time.
