The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

Though I've read The Chronicles of Narnia multiple times, it's been years since I last read them, and this is the first time I've read it to my children. We finished The Magician's Nephew earlier this year, and last night we read the last chapter of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Without a doubt, reading it with little people listening has reawakened me to the magic of C.S.Lewis' simple sounding tale, as well as to the layered depths within each. Indeed, reading the stories with my girls (ages 5 and 8) has shown me how the story plays for the target audience. These are stories written for children, and yet, it's often clear that Lewis, for all his efforts sometimes seems to forget who his audience is. But has he? Or is he, like show more a master teacher, layering multiple elements into his tale to allow each student to learn what he, or she, is ready to learn? Even as my girls lean forward eagerly as the Stone Table cracks and squeal in excitement as Aslan reappears, I see another lesson about Deeper Magic, the Emperor Beyond the Sea, the power of Aslan's breath on stone animals, and so many other plot points. They are only story--until they are not, until they are metaphor of something closer to home, closer to the transcendent.

So while my daughters hear story about an evil witch, an heroic lion, and an adventure to another world, I hear a parable about our journey here to Earth, a place where we learn and grow, face our fears and demons, and, ultimately, are redeemed by an act of sacrifice by one who is both innocent and does not merit the stripes he bears on our behalf. It's a multi-tiered story, one which unfolds only as look for the layers.

In short, I loved rereading what was only a straightforward adventure to me as a boy and finding, again, meaning that is not exactly hidden so much as in a language I had not yet learned to understand. Does nostalgia and resonance from my childhood experience play a part in this? Without a doubt--but I somehow wonder if this is exactly what Lewis was playing on as he wrote The Chronicles of Narnia. It is not a new story of his own invention; rather, it is a story as old as the Christianity that Lewis had discovered late in his own life and for which Lewis was an ardent apologist. His power was in finding ways to make the lessons of the gospel come alive to a world that no longer spoke the language of the Old and New Testaments, and yet needed them still.

I was surprised at the depths in The Magician's Nephew, and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe did not disappoint either. It was more than an added bonus that my littles enjoyed the story for its ability to excite their imaginations, and I look forward to reading The Horse and His Boy with them soon. show less

I was so busy reading comic books as a kid, I missed out on a lot of classic children's literature, such as this book about an annoying little drug addict teaming up with Elsa from Frozen to kill Mufasa from The Lion King. And they would have got away with it too if it weren't for those meddling kids!

I have managed to avoid all Narnia books and movies for fifty-eight years (except for one short story by Neil Gaiman about Susan Pevensie), but I had sort of formed a notion of what it was about. And the book pretty much starts out as I had imagined, but boy does it get bonkers by the end.

For one thing, I had often heard it was a Christian allegory, but I always assumed it was referring to the Jesus I had grown up with -- you know: turn the show more other cheek, love thy neighbor, render unto Caesar -- not the Crusades Jesus, colonial Jesus, or the Facebook Jesus who sees some Muslim terrorists and yells, "Not on my watch," as tears off his robes to reveal a WWE wrestler's body and tasks an angel to hold his beer. Are we sure C. S. Lewis isn't American? Because this book smacks of White Christian Nationalism as it puts little white outsiders in power over the indigenous people they encounter on the other side of that innocuous wardrobe, fulfilling their manifest destiny as they destroy anyone in their way.

I also wasn't prepared for the meta narrator and his weird asides. And that Very Special Guest Star in the middle of the book? Hoo boy!

I don't see any reason to read any more books in this series. show less

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If you need to know what this book is about, or anything about this series...seriously, just stop what you're doing and pick up this book. I don't mean to be a snob, or maybe I do, but something was missing from your childhood, and now is your time to fix it. I realize that there are many legitimate reasons for people not to have read this (more for some of the later books), and I'm not questioning the choices you or your parents made (actually, I guess I am). But I'm not going to try to talk about this book like I do most others.

If only because everything worth saying has been said by other, show more better, writers. Probably several times.

I've also read this too many times to count as a child—even through my college years, and at least once a decade since. I'll probably pick up the pace of re-reading them so I can talk to the grandcritters about them, too.

But I feel the need to say something now, so here are a few things that jumped out at me during this read:

* On the second page of the story, Susan is already trying to act older than she is (which is really the problem that will recur in The Last Battle, people getting worked up about the makeup really miss the boat). Yes, it's understandable—and maybe even necessary—at this point for her to do so. But it's a trait that will define her.
* I could use another 3 or so chapters about the Professor's house. Maybe even a book or two. As Lewis writes:

The house of the Professor's—which even he knew so little about—was so old and famous that people form all over England used to come and ask permission to see over it. It was the sort of house that is mentioned in guide books and even in histories; and well it might be, for all manner of stories were told about it, some of them even stranger than the one I am telling you now.

* There is something just so...right...about Baynes' illustrations. I can't imagine this series without them (one of the many reasons I've avoided picture book retellings).
* Lewis stays on-brand by having the Professor bring out a version of the trilemma suited for the question of Lucy's honesty.
* The way the children react just to the sound of Aslan's name the first time. That's a great touch.
*

This was bad grammar of course, but that is how beavers talk when they are excited; I mean, in Narnia—in our world they usually don't talk at all.

* Mr. Beaver's comment about not trusting things that look human but aren't is an odd bit of prejudice. It's nice to see it quickly shown to be false by the giant Rumblebuffin, unless by size alone, giants don't look human. Still, I want to make a point to watch out for that idea later on in the series.
* I don't care how many times I've read it, Aslan's walk to the Stone Table is hard to read.
* The de-statued lion's reaction to Aslan including him in the "us lions" group has brought a smile to my face every time I encounter it. Probably for different reasons, but it always works.
* I find it interesting that no one other than the adult Pevensies talk in that stuffy, faux-Medieval way throughout the series (maybe A Horse and His Boy will prove me wrong).
* The closing paragraphs suggest that the Pevensies are possibly going to encounter many other children who've been in Narnia. I wish we'd gotten more evidence of that throughout the books—especially in The Last Battle.

This isn't a perfect novel—nor a perfect Christian allegory. But I can't be critical about it, not even a little. I just love this book. (and it's not even my favorite in the series!) show less

Classic with good reason. I had forgotten that the whole thing gets started with the kids being sent to the countryside during WW2 and the bombing of London. It's probably the first great fantasy book. I can't believe that 70 years later, it reads like it could have been written yesterday. That's a sign of a masterpiece. This book will always be fresh and relevant. I love the talking animals, especially the faun and the beavers putting their lives on the line for the children. I love the the image of snow-covered Narnia in all its deceptive beauty. I love Edmund and how easily he moves to the dark side in search of power and of course Turkish Delights. I have no idea what those are, but I'm feeling a strong desire to taste one. So show more easily led astray! I love the professor with his small, but critical role. I'm happy that the children pass back to the real world and that the professor has the last word.

If you haven't read this book, get on it right away! show less

Hard to know what to say about this one, because it is so heavily colored with nostalgia for me, I can’t think of it critically or see it how an adult would for the first time. It’s a beloved series from my childhood, and this was the first book that introduced me to Narnia, that magical other land ruled by a benevolent speaking lion. The story starts with four children, siblings who have been sent out to the countryside to be safe from the bombings in London (WWII). They’re staying in a big old house and one day the youngest, Lucy, steps into a large wardrobe to hide. She’s completely surprised to find that it leads into another land entirely, where she meets a faun and talking beasts. She’s excited to tell her brothers and show more sister about this place, but at first they don’t believe her (and Edmund is particularly mean about it). But eventually all the children go through the wardrobe, and their adventures begin. Narnia is under a curse from a witch, who set herself up as ruler and makes it always winter (but never Christmas). There are rumors that the lion Aslan is returning to set things right, so the animals the children meet are hopeful for a change. But Edmund is beguiled by the witch, and temporarily turns traitor. With his life at stake, the children are drawn intricately into the battle between good and evil. (Honestly, the battle scenes tired me just as much this time around as in any reading of my youth). The rest of it was as delightful (and solemn by turns) as I recall. Aslan (the lion) makes what looks like the ultimate sacrifice for Edmund, but instead of this allowing the witch to gain full power as she desires, it turns everything around with renewal. Really heavy on the Christian symbolism, no surprise.

I find myself running out of words, here. I just enjoyed it all over again- the hush and cold of winter, the loveliness of sudden spring, the children’s joy in their beloved lion, their little petty squabbles and making up again. The only part that really struck me as odd, was how formally the children spoke near the end of the book, when they had grown into adults in the magical land. Future books set in Narnia don’t have the characters talking in that overly formal way, if I recall. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough, because I’m going to continue, re-read the whole series. show less

I used to hate Edmund. Now I realize I am Edmund. (And I mean that at the same time as both a witty one-liner and a deep theological statement.)

I’m reading through The Chronicles of Narnia this December in a desperate attempt to increase my number of books read for 2023. (And also because I’m feeling Christmasy, whimsical, philosophical, and nostalgic all at the same time, and this series checks all of those boxes.) My goal is to eventually read through all of C.S. Lewis’ works, but I’m starting here. And I’m already having the time of my life.

These books are so easy to read, and so much fun to experience. Lewis’ writing pulls you into the story in such a rich way, yet the whole book reads like your dad telling you a show more bedtime story. It’s witty, epic, and sweet. And I can’t wait to read more.

I’ve was homeschooled all my life, so I’m well aware that these books (this one in particular) contain strong religious overtones. Being incredibly “religious” myself, I have no problem with this. In fact, it made the book that much more enjoyable because, being the theology nerd that I am, I realized this time that the parallels go deeper than I was aware of before. For me, that made this 1000x more fun to read. For those who aren’t religious/don’t want religious allegories in their books, it wasn’t overbearing (or in most cases, even noticeable enough) to affect your experience, I promise.

Great book, Charlie. 8/10 just because I’m feeling stingy today. Sorry not sorry. Better luck next time. I love you tho, my late brother. RIP✌ show less

Yet another book that I never read as a child and suddenly I felt compelled to pick this up at the Cambridge Public Library. Now I want to read the whole Chronicles of Narnia. Odd thing is that when I was a child, we had these books and something about them, about the odd seventies’ day-glow images on the covers, just creeped me out. Even as I was looking for these books in the CPL children’s room that feeling revisited me. The book is enjoyable, adventure, moral lessons, religious undertones, all wrapped up in one nice narrative. Like Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, this book excels in its lack of description leaving a lot of what the readers see in these magical lands to the mind’s eye. I particularly like the Beavers show more in their heroic domesticity. And it is Mr. Beaver who has my favorite quote, responding to Lucy’s request about whether Aslan is safe. “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.” (p. 80) It made me think that if Aslan is akin to God, it is true that while God is good, He isn’t safe. You have to take risks to love and worship God, and accept the unexpectedness of life. On a broader level, it applies to the current political administrations to emphasize security over what is right, and end up doing neither what is safe nor what is good. show less