People warned me not to reread, "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe".  Oh, it's way too simplistic!  Oh, it's way too didactic!  Oh, it's way too.... you get the picture.  Admittedly, I hadn't picked up the book since my mother first read it to me (with the exceedingly beautiful illustrations of Michael Hague) when I was five or six.  Doing so now, I was astounded to find that not only is the book an exercise in writing a perfect little children's tale but that the religious elements, while present, are there if you need them and not there if you don't.  In and of itself, this is the quintessential children's fantasy novel.  It has villains that can be redeemed, evil that cannot, a hero that is frightening and furry all at once, brave kids, and lovable characters.  The writing is brilliant, the descriptions delightful, and the book accessible to all kinds of kids, regardless of age or belief system.  A class act from a particularly classy writer.

It's World War II and the children of London are being shipped out to the countryside to escape potential bombings.  To their delight, they find themselves arriving at a large mysterious mansion of a home.  A kindly professor rules the roost and the kids have fun exploring the place.  That's when Lucy, the youngest, decides to explore an old wardrobe sitting alone in one of the abandoned rooms.  Inside its door, Lucy discovers the land of Narnia and meets up with a faun by the name of Mr. Tummus.  When the other kids eventually discover Narnia as well (including the beastly Edmund) they discover its curse, its self-proclaimed queen, and a lion named Aslan who will save them all.

Here's what I love about this story.  First of all, it's undoubtedly the most English children's book ever written.  I know that "Harry Potter" has a fair share of Britishisms, but there's nothing to compare to English children saying things like, "Sharp's the word!".  I wonder to myself how many hundreds of thousands of people alive today can remember how much they wanted to try Turkish Delight after reading this tale (and how many, once they did, were disappointed).  Narnia is a perfect little paradise of mannerisms.  People have tea all the time and giants speak with comfortable cockney accents (complete with calling Aslan, "your honor".  Another thing I loved about the book was the number of details I hadn't noticed as a child.  How many papers have been written regarding the White Witch's striking similarity to Hans Christian Anderson's, "Snow Queen"?  Also, I had no idea that the Witch was supposed to be a descendent of Lilith and not Eve.  Finally, I enjoyed discovering on this latest reading that perhaps Edmund's personality could (in part) be blamed on the old British boarding school system.

Is this book perfect?  Goodness me, no.  It's dated in all sorts of ways.  Perhaps the most striking problem comes in the form of Father Christmas himself.  The appearance of Santa Claus in the middle of the book brilliantly ties an otherwise incongruous element of Christmas to the original myth.  The problem comes with Saint Nicholas goes about handing presents to the four children.  He hands Peter a sword and shield (ooooh... aaaah) then gives weapons to the girls as well with careful instructions to never use them.  Say what?  Father Christmas (and, by extension, Mr. Lewis himself) justifies their lack of use by saying, "battles are ugly when women fight".  I suppose they're downright civilized otherwise, right?  And how are we to deal with the fact that the Witch fights?  Little jarring elements like this crop up occasionally throughout the story.  Fortunately, they're few and far between.  Nothing so large as to detract from the otherwise remarkable nature of the storytelling.

J.R.R. Tolkien once complained that his friend Lewis didn't put enough work into creating an alternate fantasyland.  After all, Narnia hasn't its own written language or culture or highly specialized geography.  For all of Tolkien's sneers, the book has worked itself deeply within the public consciousness.  Even to this day, elements of this tale remain with me.  I remember always being deeply disturbed by the fact that the children grow up in Narnia, become old, then stumble through the wardrobe and become kids again.  Wouldn't that do something to your head?  Sounds more like a Charlie Kaufman conceit than an element in a children's book.  But it's hard not to love Narnia.  No matter what version you read, no matter who has done the illustrations or how large or small the book is, this is truly a story for everyone.  A must-read for every speaker of the English language.
People warned me not to reread, "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe". Oh, it's way too simplistic! Oh, it's way too didactic! Oh, it's way too.... you get the picture. Admittedly, I hadn't picked up the book since my mother first read it to me (with the exceedingly beautiful illustrations of Michael Hague) when I was five or six. Doing so now, I was astounded to find that not only is the book an exercise in writing a perfect little children's tale but that the religious elements, while present, are there if you need them and not there if you don't. In and of itself, this is the quintessential children's fantasy novel. It has villains that can be redeemed, evil that cannot, a hero that is frightening and furry all at once, brave kids, and lovable characters. The writing is brilliant, the descriptions delightful, and the book accessible to all kinds of kids, regardless of age or belief system. A class act from a particularly classy writer. It's World War II and the children of London are being shipped out to the countryside to escape potential bombings. To their delight, they find themselves arriving at a large mysterious mansion of a home. A kindly professor rules the roost and the kids have fun exploring the place. That's when Lucy, the youngest, decides to explore an old wardrobe sitting alone in one of the abandoned rooms. Inside its door, Lucy discovers the land of Narnia and meets up with a faun by the name of Mr. Tummus. When the other kids eventually discover Narnia as well (including the beastly Edmund) they discover its curse, its self-proclaimed queen, and a lion named Aslan who will save them all. Here's what I love about this story. First of all, it's undoubtedly the most English children's book ever written. I know that "Harry Potter" has a fair share of Britishisms, but there's nothing to compare to English children saying things like, "Sharp's the word! ". I wonder to myself how many hundreds of thousands of people alive today can remember how much they wanted to try Turkish Delight after reading this tale (and how many, once they did, were disappointed). Narnia is a perfect little paradise of mannerisms. People have tea all the time and giants speak with comfortable cockney accents (complete with calling Aslan, "your honor". Another thing I loved about the book was the number of details I hadn't noticed as a child. How many papers have been written regarding the White Witch's striking similarity to Hans Christian Anderson's, "Snow Queen"? Also, I had no idea that the Witch was supposed to be a descendent of Lilith and not Eve. Finally, I enjoyed discovering on this latest reading that perhaps Edmund's personality could (in part) be blamed on the old British boarding school system. Is this book perfect? Goodness me, no. It's dated in all sorts of ways. Perhaps the most striking problem comes in the form of Father Christmas himself. The appearance of Santa Claus in the middle of the book brilliantly ties an otherwise incongruous element of Christmas to the original myth. The problem comes with Saint Nicholas goes about handing presents to the four children. He hands Peter a sword and shield (ooooh... aaaah) then gives weapons to the girls as well with careful instructions to never use them. Say what? Father Christmas (and, by extension, Mr. Lewis himself) justifies their lack of use by saying, "battles are ugly when women fight". I suppose they're downright civilized otherwise, right? And how are we to deal with the fact that the Witch fights? Little jarring elements like this crop up occasionally throughout the story. Fortunately, they're few and far between. Nothing so large as to detract from the otherwise remarkable nature of the storytelling. J. R.R. Tolkien once complained that his friend Lewis didn't put enough work into creating an alternate fantasyland. After all, Narnia hasn't its own written language or culture or highly specialized geography. For all of Tolkien's sneers, the book has worked itself deeply within the public consciousness. Even to this day, elements of this tale remain with me. I remember always being deeply disturbed by the fact that the children grow up in Narnia, become old, then stumble through the wardrobe and become kids again. Wouldn't that do something to your head? Sounds more like a Charlie Kaufman conceit than an element in a children's book. But it's hard not to love Narnia. No matter what version you read, no matter who has done the illustrations or how large or small the book is, this is truly a story for everyone. A must-read for every speaker of the English language.