Although I’ve always been a deft reader, watching television was the number-one way I wanted to spend my free time as a child. He-Man, Thundercats, Transformers, GI-Joe: Those marvelous shows held my attention and hypnotized me like nothing else. My dad had to use a crowbar to pull me away from the televised eye-candy. It was not until Greg Somebody, a classmate in sixth grade, loaned me a copy of C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe that books became at least as important as television. Indeed, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was the first brick in a cobblestone road to personal literary adventure and has had a profound influence in me to this day.
The moment Greg let me borrow The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was a turning point in my social development. I was not a popular kid in sixth grade; I was the immigrant with secondhand clothes, a dark complexion, good manners, and an accent so thick classmates needed an interpreter to translate my English. When Greg proved the depth of his friendship by letting me borrow such a great book, I began to understand how books connect the people who read them. There was no discussion of literary technique then, just “Man, that was sweet!” and “Aw, man, cool!” I liked it and he liked it. So there it was: a common ground, a place where two kids from different backgrounds could be of one mind, a place to lay the foundation for a friendship. Later entries in the Chronicles of Narnia prolonged that friendship and connect me with other readers today.
However, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe did more than help me build friendships. The characters and situations within the book stirred the core of my imagination. Yes, I loved TV, but my parents demanded I play outside -- where my brother and I made Liono, Prince Adam, Optimus Prime, Mum-Ra, Skeletor, and Megatron breathe the life of our imaginations. The same happened with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe but in the playground of my mind. The interplay of the siblings was familiar and realistic. I identified with Peter, the eldest brother and leader (for I always wanted to be the leader), and pictured my brother as Edmund, the troublemaker. It is in part a coming of age story, and I looked forward to that part of my life. As a child with childish hopes, Lewis spoke to the hero I always wanted to be. As a fan of fantasy, I got giddy every time a new type of enchanted creature was introduced. As an aspiring veterinarian, I was astounded at the idea of animals having human capacities. C.S. Lewis’s imagination fueled my own and pulled me forever into his world.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe’s themes addressed other important aspects of my developing psyche related to the Christian principles I learned both at home and school. From birth, the struggle between God’s forces of good and the Devil’s forces of evil was pressed into my consciousness. So the conflict between good and evil central to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe -- with Aslan representing good and the White Witch representing evil -- was obvious, commonplace, and intriguing. Moreover, Aslan is a strong example of the Messiah figure: the hero who gives up his life for the sake of others and then comes back to save his people. With my mind geared toward these spiritual matters on a daily basis, the symbolism in the book went beyond anything I could find in afternoon cartoons.
Indeed, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is where my love for reading began to blossom. It is where I began to realize the artistic, transcendental, and universal importance of literature. However, looking back on the book today from an English teacher’s perspective, there are several aspects I can find fault with. For example, the characterization of the Pevensie children is shallow and mostly one-sided; the royal names the children earn speak to this: Peter the Magnificent, Susan the Gentle, and Lucy the Valiant. I am also disappointed with the narrative style (because it tends to overuse parentheses). An important point to consider is how the whole book may be subversive in its barely-masked evangelism. Yet most of these criticisms are unfair as my critique is from an adult perspective and applies only if the book were aimed at an adult audience.
As it stands, Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe remains an excellent book for many children. It is one of the most beloved children’s books and for good reason. I am glad to have read it and might very likely be a different person -- or at least have a different career -- if I had not.
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