Tags
Aslan, baptism, C.S. Lewis, Episcopal Church, Mere Christianity, Narnia, The Great Divorce, The Horse and His Boy, The Last Battle, The Screwtape Letters, The Silver Chair, The Space Trilogy, The Weight of Glory
Today I’m grateful for C.S. Lewis. He died 50 years ago yesterday, the exact same day as JFK, so the anniversary of his death has not been as publicized. But it should be. His influence, both as a Christian apologist and a fantasy writer, is vast and runs deep. 
Fantasy writers for the last 70 years have noted his effect on their writing, either as inspiration or anathema.
But this post isn’t about his general influence – it’s about his influence on me. Of course it started with Narnia – I remember my mother reading the books to me, chapter by chapter, at bedtime when I was 8 years old. Everything about those books was beguiling to me – the perils of wartime, the idea of kids being brave, the rules of chivalry, the Talking Animals, the magical creatures out of familiar Greek myths. My favorite books were always The Silver Chair and The Horse and His Boy, probably because I hungered for amazing girl role models and Jill and Aravis certainly fit the bill.
And then there was Aslan. I loved him from the beginning. Coming from a non-Christian household, it never occurred to me as a kid that he was a Christ figure (that came later). But I always wished he would come out of the books and be there for me when I
was fearful or doubtful or hurting. At the end of The Last Battle, I cried and wished I could be with Aslan too.
Years later I recognized that wish – that ache – for what it was, reaching out for God. I read the Space Trilogy and realized it was less about science fiction and more about theology. I acknowledged my Christian leanings (at least to myself) and started to read Lewis’s non-fiction and more overtly Christian fiction. The Screwtape Letters, The Great Divorce, The Weight of Glory, and especially, Mere Christianity. And it made so much sense to me that I felt the need to start living it. I started attending a local church and got baptized, 9 years ago last month.
So thanks, Prof. Lewis. I’m where I am on my spiritual journey largely because of you.
A Harmless Vice 
One of my daughters has just finished reading The Last Battle to her eleven-year-old son, and she too wept buckets (though said grandson found it amusing that she was so upset — boys, eh?).
I was less convinced by it as an ending — I’ve said elsewhere that I think it’s a cheat, rather as Masefield made the adventures Kay Harker had in The Midnight Folk and The Box of Delights seem like a dream, and I know I’m not the only one to think that.
But I’ve made a promise to myself to give The Chronicles of Narnia a second chance soon, so I may well revise my opinion.
By the way, Aldous Huxley died on the same day as JFK and Lewis, and I also have it in mind to re-read Crome Yellow (a complete puzzle to me as a teenager) and Brave New World (rather more accessible to me then). But not because it’s a significant year!