@tagsysshsj I think various characters in the series certainly do have lingering issues that are simply left unsaid but are there if you’re looking. Edmund for instance is uncomfortable when talking to Ramandu’s daughter in Voyage of the Dawn Treader because while released from the burden of it by Aslan, he still carries the effect and memory of having been influenced by the White Witch and is now extra cautious about someone who may not be what they seem. C. S. Lewis probably just didn’t want to delve into these things in a children’s series, and likely didn’t think it needed to be touched on, similar to the fact that the ongoing war in the 1940s is barely addressed because at the time it was published everyone reading would have understood everything they needed to understand just from the bare bones explanation of the kids being sent to the countryside. Things like that that we might see as a big deal now are simply left for the reader to infer, because Lewis trusted that they would. I think just because the impact of things like witnessing death or partaking in battle isn’t talked about doesn’t mean it’s not going on quietly under the surface. Kids in the 40s would probably also be a lot less likely to talk about such things than we are now anyway.

That's a really interesting question, and definitely not a stupid one! It's actually something that could make for a really rich character study, especially in a more grounded adaptation or reimagining of the story.

One thing to consider is that the Pevensies didn’t just witness traumatic events like war or Aslan’s death, they lived in Narnia for years. They grew up there. By the time they returned through the wardrobe in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, they were no longer children in terms of experience; they were kings and queens who had ruled a kingdom, made decisions, fought battles, and matured emotionally and psychologically in that world.

So perhaps part of the reason they don’t seem traumatized in the traditional sense is because their understanding of those events is filtered through the mindset of people who had already processed them as adults. When they return to England, their bodies are those of children again, but their inner lives might still retain the clarity and resilience of their years in Narnia.

But that raises even more questions, doesn't it? What would it mean to live as an adult and then suddenly be placed back in a child’s body, expected to go to school and live under adult authority again? That has its own psychological weight. As @karisa dived into, Lewis probably didn’t dwell on trauma in the books because of the reasons stated but also because they're written as myth or fairy tale rather than psychological realism, but there's plenty of room to imagine that this return wasn’t easy. We see hints of this in Prince Caspian, where the Pevensies seem almost melancholy when they return, and Peter especially carries a weight that’s not really named. And then later, in The Last Battle, Susan’s disconnection from Narnia could also be interpreted (depending on how one reads it) as a sort of coping mechanism or psychological distancing.

So while the books don’t explicitly explore trauma, there's actually a lot of room to imagine that these experiences did affect the Pevensies, just in subtle or different ways than we might expect from a more modern psychological lens. It would be fascinating to see an adaptation or story that leans into that complexity.

Why don't the Pevensies have psychological trauma?

Now that is a good question, when their experiences in Narnia, over the series, were sometimes downright terrifying. But even before they got to Narnia in LWW, it seems to me the Pevensies were already traumatised in some way, not only by the looming events of WW2, like the German bombing of London, an obvious WW2 target. The older three children had already been sent to boarding school, something not nearly so common, today. Lucy, the youngest was the only one who had remained at home, until the beginning of Prince Caspian, when she was due to start at the same school as Susan was sent to. Somewhere I saw quite recently, someone had said that Peter's response to challenges was to fight his way out of them. Susan, alone at boarding school, just conformed to whatever was expected of her, "going with the flow". Whilst Edmund, on the other hand, felt resentful that Peter was off with his own mates, and not at all taking time out to be supportive of a younger brother, struggling to "fit in". The Walden films did underline that aspect of LWW & PC. 

As with Eustace, their cousin, & therefore a Pevensie relative, not to mention Jill Pole, Polly Plummer and Digory Kirke, they learn in Narnia how to cope with their predicaments, to think for themselves, and to distinguish between right and wrong. Yes, they all went back to being children after their experiences, which took no time at all in this world.

The only one I would consider could have been traumatised unduly is Susan, who after their games of exchanging pictures of suitable prospective "suitors," surely would have been upset by the attentions of Rabadash, whose motives in doing so weren't what one would call "pure". All he was after was conquest & to extend his future Calormene realm, and no sort of relative-in-law one would like to have had. 

@waggawerewolf27  , @karisa , @rilianix Yes,C.S.Lewis left plenty of room for thought.It seems that they really have some kind of psychological trauma,although of course the Narnia series is not psychological realism and was not written for that purpose.

By the way, what about Aslan?It became interesting to me, because Aslan knew 100% in advance that the events in which the children would be involved would affect them profoundly.Yes, thanks to the adventures in Narnia, children become better, braver, stronger.But I wonder if their new virtues and development are worth such a serious risk as psychological trauma?

And Aslan knew about all the consequences for them long before that.Was it right or wrong?He knew that they would deeply remember everything terrible they saw, didn't He?That is, did Aslan specifically send them, the children from 8 to 13,whom He loves, as well as all of us, to a place that traumatizes them?I think this is a particularly important question.

I honestly think the simple explanation is that Lewis was writing children's stories, and fantasy ones at that, in an era when children's literature wasn't expected to be dark and gritty or too psychologically deep. Even as it is, he got complaints from some parents that they felt the books were too violent and frightening for young readers!

And also, from his own comments, I get the impression that he didn't feel stories for children should be sugar-coated, but that they also shouldn't leave young readers feeling hopeless and helpless. Here's an interesting excerpt from his essay "On Three Ways of Writing for Children" (first published, I think, posthumously in 1966):

A far more serious attack on the fairy tale as children's literature comes from those who do not wish children to be frightened. I suffered too much from night-fears myself in childhood to undervalue this objection. I would not wish to heat the fires of that private hell for any child. On the other hand, none of my fears came from fairy tales. Giant insects were my specialty, with ghosts a bad second. I suppose the ghosts came directly or indirectly from stories, though certainly not from fairy stories, but I don't think the insects did. I don't know anything my parents could have done or left undone which would have saved me from the pincers, mandibles, and eyes of those many-legged abominations.

And that, as so many people have pointed out, is the difficulty. We do not know what will or will not frighten a child in this particular way. I say 'in this particular way' for we must here make a distinction. Those who say that children must not be frightened may mean two things. They may mean (1) that we must not do anything likely to give the child those haunting, disabling, pathological fears against which ordinary courage is helpless: in fact, phobias. His mind must, if possible, be kept clear of things he can't bear to think of. Or they may mean (2) that we must try to keep out of his mind the knowledge that he is born into a world of death, violence, wounds, adventure, heroism and cowardice, good and evil. If they mean the first I agree with them: but not if they mean the second. The second would indeed be to give children a false impression and feed them on escapism in the bad sense. There is something ludicrous in the idea of so educating a generation which is born to the Ogpu and the atomic bomb. Since it is so likely that they will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise you are making their destiny not brighter but darker. Nor do most of us find that violence and bloodshed, in a story, produce any haunting dread in the minds of children. As far as that goes, I side impenitently with the human race against the modern reformer. Let there be wicked kings and beheadings, battles and dungeons, giants and dragons, and let villains be soundly killed at the end of the book.

I would not wish to heat the fires of that private hell for any child. On the other hand, none of my fears came from fairy tales.

I'm not so sure about "no fears coming from fairy tales". Ever heard about the "Big Bad Wolf" and the Three Little Pigs? Or the " Wolf & the Seven Little Kids"? I'd hear what I later realised was the pounding of my own heart, fearing someone was trying to get at five- & six-year-olds, like myself, in our boarding school dormitory, & was pounding on the door. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! echoing in my 5-year-old ears. A year later, I'd still cry when wolf ate the duck, in Sergei Prokofiev's Peter & the Wolf. But that was long before psychology & trauma were understood as much as they are these days. 

In the Narnia stories Aslan often helps to comfort Lucy, and to encourage her three older siblings. Such as when in Voyage of the Dawn Treader they found themselves entrapped on the Dark Island, & even the grown men on board fell prey to nightmarish fears.  There were wolves in LWW, also. Maugrim or Fenris Ulf, however you call their chief, does come to mind. Odd that I ended up choosing that particular username.   

Posted by: @tagsysshsj

Yes, thanks to the adventures in Narnia, children become better, braver, stronger.But I wonder if their new virtues and development are worth such a serious risk as psychological trauma?

And Aslan knew about all the consequences for them long before that.Was it right or wrong?He knew that they would deeply remember everything terrible they saw, didn't He?That is, did Aslan specifically send them, the children from 8 to 13,whom He loves, as well as all of us, to a place that traumatizes them?I think this is a particularly important question.

You raise some interesting questions and topics there @tagsysshsj.  I think that others in this thread have well covered well the topic of the emotional and psychological trauma.  I also think too, Lewis did raise it to a degree in such times as in PC and LB when characters consider the possibility of their own deaths in Narnia.  Peter for instance in PC, briefly appears to consider it, he appears to show the common and very British idea of the time the "stiff upper lip" - he knew there was the possibility of dying, but he was the King and the Narnians were looking to him - he stepped up and did what he had to do, when he had to do it.  The other occasion in LB when Eustace and Jill are discussing the possibility of dying in Narnia, and also exploring the desire to not have to face all the trials and trauma, I feel Lewis touches acknowledges more clearly perhaps than in the other books the reality of the emotional and psychological trauma the events these characters have been through can cause someone.

Now, regarding your second post - the question of was Aslan right or wrong knowing that these characters were going to experience these things.  Firstly I come to this topic considering it as a father myself and thinking how I would love to protect my kids from trauma, but being aware that in the end I can't - that's beyond me, what's the best thing I can do?  Try to train and instill in them good character and principles, so that when hardship and challenges do come they will hopefully fall back on these and it will strengthen them to pull through.

Secondly I consider yes the children of the era in which LWW was set did experience much trauma as you pointed out - and in a way the characters would have experienced it doubly, both in Narnia and in our world.  But reality is children in all ages experience trials, trauma, hardship and challenges and have done for millennia - basically, since the fall of man.  Which leads me to the third thing I consider - the topic of was it wrong of Aslan, knowing all the challenges, trials and traumas they were going to experience to send these characters to the places that traumatize them.  I would ask - what other option does He have?  He could bubble-wrap them and protect them from all harm and danger - by keeping them in a Garden of Eden or the real/new Narnia (beyond the shadowlands).  Then I come back to the fact that who is Aslan clearly supposed to be in our world - Jesus.  Because you have exactly the same dilemma with God - he knows all things loves us and yet why doesn't He keep us from the places that traumatize us?  And for me, what it comes back to is, to do that he would have to take away the free will that was demonstrated in the Garden of Eden, or in a Narnia sense - the free will to ring that bell in Charn, or take of the Turkish Delight.  He could take away the choices and protect us from all psychological trauma, but to do that now he would have to undermine the free-will choice to not choose the Garden of Eden path or to resist ringing the bell and eating the Turkish Delight.  So now we are left with the consequences of the free-will choice - the trials, the trauma, the death etc... how does He resolve this - He does what is necessary so that "Death itself would start working backwards."  Or as it says in the Bible:

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.    Romans 8:28

The end result being - a hope and promise of a future with no more pain, no more trauma and every tear shall be wiped away.  A promise we can choose to receive of our own free will.  And a promise that resonates with each passing generation no matter what the trials and traumas they face in this life.

So... basically in my opinion - was Aslan right or wrong to allow and send these characters through what they experienced, IMO he is right to do so.

Could there be a connection between Eustace's fear of heights and the whole dragon episode?

For the most part though I think that the trauma is somewhat muted, outside Narnia at least, by the effect world traveling has on memories. The younger children clearly didn't retain their adult muscle memories since they had to relearn swimming in England, and I'm pretty sure that they didn't remember many of the finer details of the Golden Age until they returned to Narnia.

@tagsysshsj  By the way, what about Aslan?It became interesting to me, because Aslan knew 100% in advance that the events in which the children would be involved would affect them profoundly.Yes, thanks to the adventures in Narnia, children become better, braver, stronger. But I wonder if their new virtues and development are worth such a serious risk as psychological trauma?

There is such a thing as consequences, and much of world history happens that way. There is an argument that WW2 was a direct result of WW1, because of the Treaty of Versailles. I've read about the British or Australian soldier, too decent to finish off a certain wounded soldier on the battlefield at Fromelles, and later regretting that decision, when the wounded soldier turned out to be Adolf Hitler, the German Führer in WW2. But would the absence of Hitler really have stopped WW2 from happening? One could argue either way until the cows came home, but nobody really knows what would have happened, when he had plenty of Henchmen to do his bidding. 

What happens to people is as much to do with their choices, how they made them, what motivates them to make such choices & whether or not they stop to reason out what they should do. We see this sort of thing in Magician's Nephew when Digory and Polly reach the Hall of Statues in Charn. There is a bell & hammer, and somehow, they can read the inscription accompanying it: 

Make your choice, adventurous stranger;

Strike the bell and bide the danger,

Or wonder, until it drives you mad, 

What would have happened if you had.

Again and again, throughout the series, Aslan reminds travellers to Narnia, nobody really knows what would have happened if they hadn't given into temptations such as this notice. And whilst Digory tries to excuse himself by saying he must have been enchanted, the fact of the story was, that he was too wild with curiosity to think maybe it might not have been a good idea to risk the danger mentioned on the notice. He couldn't say, for instance, that the sign demanded that he had to obey it. It wasn't like, for instance, the regular notice on train carriage doors warning passengers DO NOT RIDE IN PASSAGE BETWEEN CARRIAGES, defied a month or so ago, by four Sydney schoolboys. The disapproval directed at them by rule-keeping passengers (including me ) & passers-by, was one consequence, & when there were CCTV cameras within train carriages, there could have been other consequences, but nothing so grim as what else could have happened if their prying fingers reached outside of the train, as the voice on the intercom informed them. After all, the burned hand teaches soonest. 

Yes, Aslan, as the hypothetical Narnia equivalent of our Redeemer, might well have known 100% in advance what would happen. But as Einstein has also said, For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  Much is also dependent on each child's choices. If Edmund chooses to lie about his encounter with the White Witch, being content to blame Lucy's alleged make believe, his lies will be found out eventually, when all of them finally go to Narnia, together. And when he chooses to betray his siblings, he forfeits his life, according to the rules of the Deep Magic, hence Aslan's sacrifice to save him, thus invoking the Deeper Magic, which always says, "Choose life". 

Personal trauma can happen, because people make the wrong choices, in their relationships with others, even if they are children, & especially without understanding the rules. 

Posted by: @waggawerewolf27

But even before they got to Narnia in LWW, it seems to me the Pevensies were already traumatised in some way...by the looming events of WW2

Posted by: @courtenay

I honestly think the simple explanation is that Lewis was writing children's stories, and fantasy ones at that, in an era when children's literature wasn't expected to be dark and gritty or too psychologically deep.

I can't find the source for it, but I once read that Lewis started writing the Narnia stories for the children who were evacuated and staying with him, in which case, I think it would make sense to think of the stories as self-inserts meant to empower children who were scared, lonely, and very aware of the real possibility that the people they love most were was far away and might die. In that case, the point of Lewis' work turns to using escapism and make-believe as psychological tools to help children see themselves as heroes (saving a magical world) instead of victims--and then urge them to bring that new-found confidence, coping mechanisms, and even a relationship with Aslan back to our world. Of course, the final books weren't published until after the war, but I think the purpose stayed the same, particularly with LWW.

Posted by: @courtenay

I get the impression that he didn't feel stories for children should be sugar-coated, but that they also shouldn't leave young readers feeling hopeless and helpless.

If anything, I think the case can be made that Lewis is providing psychological support, but in a more idealist way: he is letting the reader start sorting out issues before they can articulate the trauma (or, for the time period, when there wasn't going to be any real professional assistance in processing). It is sugar coated a bit, in that the story is a "happily ever after", but it also isn't, as he is confronting very real problems head on.

In a way, I'm remind of Giles' speech in "Lie to Me"--be forewarned, Buffy does kill a vampire in the linked clip--but it is incidentally a wonderful episode of Buffy about dealing with trauma, very similar to the discussion here. Buffy asks about growing up and why things are more messy, and Giles points out that while we want to believe "The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everyone lives happily ever after." that's not the case--life is much more messy, but it is easier to process if everything is clearly good or bad. Children, who are still learning to process what makes good, good and bad, bad, need that extra clarity.

Lewis tends to give his young readers that clarity, but also begins introducing the idea that not all things are as they seem--for instance, you get the feeling that Edmund knows the White Witch is bad, but he lets cold and hunger override his internal warnings, while Jill and Eustace have a similar situation that leads them to the giants' castle, except with Puddleglum playing the part of Jiminy Cricket. In other times, when they are older, the situations are more difficult to discern, but those situations are pushed to the background--here I'm thinking of Susan's intuition about Rabadash and that whole storyline that's going on in the background of HHB. It is like he is starting out with a strict, black-and-white, good-and-bad, and then slowly introducing shades of grey, assuming the children are growing and understanding things. I think the idea of dealing with long-term trauma of things like committing acts of war is far beyond the lessons he was focusing on. 

Incidentally, circling back to the thought of Lewis being a bit of an idealist in his representations of war, I think it is important to note that this is all against the backdrop of Lewis having fought in WWI, meaning he had first hand experience in dealing with that sort of trauma. He also likely had experience in the solution to trauma being to shove it down, and saw many of his comrades self-medicate to manage their PTSD--something that extended far past his generation, as that is what my own grandfather did post WWII. The idea that there are lasting repercussions to fighting battles--and that admitting those things does not make you a weak person--is relatively new, and not fully accepted, even today. 

@courtenay And also, from his own comments, I get the impression that he didn't feel stories for children should be sugar-coated, but that they also shouldn't leave young readers feeling hopeless and helpless

We were discussing on Improving the first two Walden films, what could have been done better, when I started wondering how differently PC might have been filmed, especially for Susan, had HHB been filmed prior to PC? PC's Susan, remember, was filmed kissing Caspian, hinting of an unlikely romance that appalled some viewers, even though I'd agree with @Narnian78 that "at the time the Prince Caspian movie was made some people exaggerated it, but I think it was pretty mild compared to most of today’s films". Susan didn't kiss Prince Caspian in the book, and the short time the Pevensies were in Narnia was lengthened somewhat, to include more battle scenes, in Walden's PC film. 

Posted by: @tagsysshsj

thanks to the adventures in Narnia, children become better, braver, stronger. But I wonder if their new virtues and development are worth such a serious risk as psychological trauma?

When at the end of LWW (book), C.S. Lewis has Susan & Lucy (possibly like the children he hosted in WW2) playing at the sorts of princes they might marry, whilst they were in Narnia for something like 15 years, I'd imagine that after Susan's HHB experiences with Rabadash, romance of any sort might terrify her, having returned to her 13-year- old self, and her reluctance to return to Narnia, also shows at several points in that book. By the end of the series, Eustace quotes Susan as saying "What wonderful memories you have! Fancy you still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children"!  It sounds like she was trying to forget whatever she learned about her ill-fated experience with Rabadash as suitor.

@Lady Arwen In other times, when they are older, the situations are more difficult to discern, but those situations are pushed to the background--here I'm thinking of Susan's intuition about Rabadash and that whole storyline that's going on in the background of HHB.

And yet, Jill's remarks about nylons, lipsticks & invitations, & the hard logic of The Last Battle, that left fictional Susan alive, having not caught a fatal train journey, which killed all of her family, including her parents, has set off an almighty literary kerfuffle. It seems Susan's not being on that particular train, allowed critics like Philip Pullman, among others, to align C.S. Lewis' Narnia books with repressive 19th century Puritan-style values, & a 2004 Neil Gaiman short story called "The Problem of Susan", in which she was depicted as an elderly woman, a never married Children's Literature professor, being interviewed by a journalist, who brashly wanted to discuss why Susan didn't go to Narnia Heaven. As well as a whole heap of fan fictions. 

Would anyone agree that her Narnian experiences, could and did traumatise Susan Pevensie? And would anyone consider Courtenay's contention in one of her posts that Susan's disenchantment with Narnia was entirely predictable from the beginning? Or that there were good lessons for her to heed, in not taking a would-be suitor at face value?

Posted by: @waggawerewolf27

And would anyone consider Courtenay's contention in one of her posts that Susan's disenchantment with Narnia was entirely predictable from the beginning?

I think you're slightly misapprehending (or misremembering) what I wrote, Wagga. It's taken me a while — the search function on these forums doesn't always seem to come up with what one expects — but here's the post I'm guessing you're referring to, from a few years ago, in the thread "Is anyone else tired of the 'problem with Susan'?"

I didn't actually claim (and never have) that Susan's disenchantment with Narnia was "entirely predictable from the beginning" — simply that even in the first book (LWW), there are signs that she's the least adventurous of the four siblings, as she "comes across as the most inclined to lose heart and back off at the first sign of danger." But none of that is a direct foreshadowing of what happens to her by the end of the series, just a slight hint that she may not become as attached to Narnia as her siblings do.

There are much stronger hints of her eventual rejection of Narnia in Prince Caspian. I went into that in detail in the post I've linked to, so I won't repeat it all here and drag this discussion off topic.

I know various commentators and fan-fic writers have theorised that Susan's experiences in Narnia may have given her pysychological problems that led to her dismissing Narnia as not real, and possibly messed up her future life in other ways. And once again, I really do not think that was what C.S. Lewis was meaning to imply in the books. Her siblings, and her cousin and his school friend, and indeed Digory and Polly as children, have all been to Narnia too, and in some cases have experienced arguably more terrifying or painful things than Susan did. And yet none of them end up claiming that Narnia was just a lot of "funny games we used to play when we were children", as Susan eventually does.

(And even if witnessing Aslan's death is to be taken as one of the most traumatic episodes in the series, Lucy experienced it too — at a younger age than Susan — and she certainly isn't left scarred by it. Of course it helps that the overwhelming grief and horror of that night are wiped away the next morning when Aslan comes back to life, which is why I've never been surprised that the girls don't have any lingering pain from it, and I can't quite understand why anyone would claim that they should.)

We're not told exactly what made Susan reject Narnia, but the clear implication is that her desire to be "grown up" (or what she thinks of as grown up) has a lot to do with it. There could be a range of reasons behind that, which Lewis doesn't go into. But I really don't think it's meant to be taken that her experiences in Narnia are the cause of that rejection. If anything, it seems she's allowed Narnia to make less of an impression on her than the other main characters did; she certainly seems less "invested" in it, less deeply attached to Narnia — and to Aslan — than her siblings are. And, as I was saying in that earlier thread, I think that's the underlying issue with her.

@courtenay I think you're slightly misapprehending (or misremembering) what I wrote, Wagga.

Yes, likely I was, and thank you for a link to the thread, where you pointed out Susan's lack of moral courage. Without looking at your well-argued post from 2020, I had only my memory of it to rely on. I tended to think of Susan as feeling safer if she was "going with the flow", without wanting to think too deeply about what was going on. For instance, in LWW it was Susan who was most convinced that Lucy was going mad, & I don't think she was entirely convinced even by the Professor's arguments that there was nothing wrong with the usually truthful Lucy, or about what she said about being in Narnia. As you pointed out in your reply on "Is anyone else tired of the 'problem with Susan'?"  it seems that Susan didn't like facing difficulties and wanted to just go home, in various places. Even at the end, Susan said something about Lucy not discussing with Edmund about his conversation with Aslan, because it would be "just too awful" for Edmund. In other words, she didn't want to discuss any ramifications she might not want to cope with.

And in PC, as you point out, she seemed to be afraid to believe in Aslan's being around, being the last to see him, & only admitting to being a bit braver. And yes, she did try to act grownup, & to play mother to her three siblings, so that Edmund, in particular, noticed, and chivvied her along. But, do you think perhaps, that more than Peter, once they were evacuated, Susan might have been expected to some extent to look out for her younger siblings, and wasn't really up to the task, when she was content to stay at home and read? Something that often happens to older children, in particular. 

In VDT, she went to USA, when her parents thought she'd get the most out of such a trip, and we were told that though she liked reading, her schoolwork was clearly not up to par. Yet adults still noticed how mature for her age she otherwise seemed. When those adults also considered Susan was so good-looking, I can't blame Lucy for feeling a bit jealous in VDT, and for being tempted to recite the spell in Coriakin's book. How different was Susan, trying to live up to what she had been trying to live up to adult expectations on the one hand, and on the other hand, from Lucy's friend, afraid to stand up for her against another girl's opinion, when Lucy tried the eavesdropping spell. 

But what a contrast between Susan's VDT description to Polly's Last Battle statement:

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

But in HHB, we see just how out of her depth as an adult, Susan really was, when we see her in Tashbaan, dithering about whether she should marry Rabadash or not. I daresay he sounded nice enough in Cair Paravel when he came to visit, even though her brothers were more sceptical of Susan's guest. But how much did Susan know about him? Very little, until Susan & Edmund got to Tashbaan. Their acquaintance was every bit as brief as Susan & Caspian's kiss in Walden's PC film. Yet Edmund and their Narnian friends had some difficulty persuading her to get out in time, before they all became prisoners to the Tisroc, & it didn't help that they hadn't been able to locate the missing Corin, when they picked up Shasta. 

As @king_erlian said on page 2 of the 2020 thread, If there's an out-of-universe reason for Lewis' decision to write Susan out, I think it may have been more to do with Lewis criticising the emerging Fifties' youth culture and the rise of the teenager who was neither child nor adult.

And I have good reason to know, looking back through the years on my 54th wedding anniversary, exactly what Coracle meant when she said:

There are Susans everywhere, and the complaint that Lewis excluded her is invalid, since he gave her up to another 70 more years to refind Aslan (under his Other Name) in our world.

When Susan was alone at a girls' school, before Lucy was sent there, too, a school where by 1948, they'd likely gossip about fashion, lipstick & nylons in those days, when the rule was that girls would leave school at about junior high school level to go to fill-in jobs before finding someone to marry, & when education to Senior high school level was clearly not Susan's priority, my interpretation was, that the key word in Jill's comment was "Invitations". Nylons & lipstick, after all, are just means to an end. Invitations provide chances to meet people, & to get involved in social groups. It was also the rule in those days of the 1940's & 1950's UK for middle- & upper-class girls of 17 in England, to make their debut to launch them socially, though I doubt that such rites of passage wouldn't have been suspended during WW2. Of course, making one's debut died out well before the 1980's, in favour of yearly garden parties, or did they? How old was Susan by The Last Battle? Definitely old enough to be a debutante.

I said, myself, on page 2 of that 2020 thread: Yesterday's fashion never wanted the likes of Susan, to know just how transient it still is, while Susan, herself, still had a life to live. One of the trickiest decisions in life is whether or not to marry, and if people "go with the flow" to conform to social expectations, or just because they anticipated a lovely big wedding, or because it somehow seems such a grown up and mature thing to do. Unfortunately, if that is the case, they could end up in truly disastrous situations they really can't cope with. And yes, marrying Rabadash would be every bit as dangerous a thing to do, or even more so, than some of the other sticky situations Susan might have wanted to avoid.