lions and house elves

In staying with my typical routine, I have been listening to books on tape/CD every morning as I drive to work (often with a Caribou Coffee in my hands)—in the afternoons on the way home, I call my folks and then listen to conservative political talk radio. Innocent child in the morning, fat traditionalist angry preacher in the afternoon. Works well.
A while ago, I purchased the entire set of The Chronicles of Narnia on CD, each book read by a different celebrity—most of whom I have never heard of. Although one of them was read by the guy who played Prince Humperdink on “The Princess Bride”—that one was hard to take serious, but it was fun. Reading that series of books was an event that had remained a nearly sacred segment from my childhood. I remember being severely depressed when I had finished them because there weren’t any more.
Going back through them has been a mixture of pleasure, bittersweetness, and bizarre. Things are so completely different from an adult perspective. Parts that I remember being terrified of as a child seem almost silly and obvious now. Other parts that were boring before are now beautiful and somewhat awe-inspiring. I am now on the fourth one, The Silver Chair, which I loved as a kid. Although, the third one, Voyage of the Dawn Treader, is still my favorite. And, yes, I listen to them in the old fashioned order, not this new mixed up chronology. I don’t care if Lewis approved of the new way. He was wrong.
At any rate, in The Silver Chair, the main female lead is named Jill. That is the name of my best friend’s wife. As such, for the entire book, I have pictured her as a small child going through these adventures. Her character is nothing like the personality of the Jill in the book (which is good, as the little girl can be rather annoying at times), but it has made the experience more enjoyable.
In this morning’s passage (in pure dated style), there was a whole section of Puddleglum deciding that he and the children needed to act gay in order to escape the home of the giants (before they were the main course at the feast—even though he and the children hadn’t yet figured that out, somehow). Of course, gay meaning happy and lighthearted. However, after a whole paragraph talking about how to be gay, including frolicking about and pasting a hideous grin on one’s face, the whole section became rather ironic and hysterical. I received much more enjoyment out of that passage than I am sure I did a child, even though I knew I liked boys at the time I read it, I had no idea what gay was. Which was probably a good thing, as I would have been devastated to read about being gay and the series would have been ruined forever.
One of the reasons I had been so excited to return to these seven books (interesting that there were seven) was that I wanted to compare them to the seven Harry Potter, better than Sonic cheeseburger, books. There have been so many fundamentalists (not all by any stretch, just the stupid ones) who have been so adamantly against Harry Potter yet in favor of the Narnia books, that I had to see for myself. With a few exceptions where C. S. Lewis is nearly sickeningly preaching, the similarities are blaring in a vast assortment of ways. Not really in plot or story lines, but most defiantly in setting, magics, themes, and supporting characters. Their blindness and hypocrisy in their view of these two series is blindingly ridiculous. And, from a literary standpoint, I must say that I feel Rowling’s writing is vastly superior.
As far as the religious implications of Narnia, I will say this, Lewis nailed the ungraspability of God in his characterization of the lion. Half the time, I am so frustrated with the vagueness and mixed messages of untainted warmth and love and opposing silence and distance. Very much echoing many of my experiences with God. He also was able to nail some of my frustrations with the Bible through the lion. So often, Aslan sends the children on missions with vague clues when he could have handled things himself in a matter of moments, or at least been explicit so that he wouldn’t be so perturbed when the children act like the humans they are.
I am anxious to finish the other three books and see how my feelings continue to grow or shift, as, if memory holds true, the last ones have more religious overtones. Either way, these books really have remained, for the most part, timeless and ones that every child (or adult) should read.
Until the next installment of Literature Review from the Fag’s Point of View, I wish you happy reading, and, as always, happy eating.