A clue to this mystery was provided by my father, who expressed his antipathy for the books; it was clear that he really disliked me reading them. This was puzzling because in general he was a great reader and our house was full of books of all kinds. Although it didn't have the 'long corridors, empty sunlit rooms, upstair indoor silences, attics explored in solitude' that Lewis describes for his own solitary childhood, it did have the 'endless books' and like him, 'Nothing was forbidden me...I took volume after volume from the shelves'. Dad's answer was even more puzzling: he didn't like the religious allegory, he said. I didn't entirely understand this but I knew that it was something to do with the books being available in church and also the household tension about religion itself. My mother and I went, and so did my maternal grandparents, but Dad didn't. For most of my teens I was caught up in this tension and didn't know how to resolve it. I stopped going to church but I still knew strongly that I had a spiritual side and that the exploration into that was ongoing. Meanwhile I kept on reading the Narnia books and felt a deep trusting loyalty to them, whether despite of or because of Dad's antagonism to them.
As life has turned out I've ended up 'living in Narnia', or at least that part of Oxford where Lewis also lived and worshipped. These days it is possible to take something of a Lewis 'tourist trail'. He is said to have had a religious conversion experience travelling on a bus up Headington Hill. The local park has a 'StoryBook Tree', with carved figures from the Narnian chronicles, as well as one of Smaug, Tolkien's dragon. (Funnily enough my Dad could cope with Tolkien - no allegory there, then...) Nearby there is a plaque on a house once occupied by Lewis's wife, Joy Davidman. A seat at Holy Trinity Church in Headington Quarry has a brass plaque with his name, with a lovely 'Narnia' window nearby, and he is buried in the churchyard. Near to his former home, The Kilns, there is a C. S. Lewis nature reserve on land once owned by Lewis and now in the care of the local Wildlife Trust. Some say that this is the 'real' Narnia, although to my mind that's a bit of a stretch - there's an expansiveness about Lewis's description of terrain which surely owes more to his imagination and the landscape of his native Northern Ireland. Last time I looked there were no mountains or seascapes in suburban Oxfordshire, although I wish there were! At the same time, there are some lamp-posts in the local streets which might well be the prototype for the one under which Lucy meets Mr Tumnus, as beautifully illustrated by Pauline Baynes.
Locals who remember Lewis, especially those who attended the same church, say he was withdrawn and rather curmudgeonly, criticising aloud when he disagreed with the sermon. He is said to have left services early to avoid mingling with the rest of the congregation. I certainly don't agree with everything he wrote, either; under a critical eye the Narnian stories can be seen as misogynist, imperialist and militaristic, and Lewis's God can sometimes resemble a kind of benevolent-omnipotent public school headmaster. At the same time, the series as a whole remains for me one of the best expositions of the reality of the Christian faith journey, one that doesn't necessarily reflect the form of Christianity imposed on it by modern, mainly North American, adherents of Lewis. Lewis himself said that 'a children's story is the best art form for something you have to say' and his Narnia chronicles are a perfect example of this. Perhaps this is what my Dad disliked; knowing the power of story and feeling it to be a trick, a sleight of hand to get children hooked on religion. Despite his concerns, I was and continue to be a grateful recipient of Lewis's story-telling, and I am also grateful to be living in Narnia. You can take your own virtual tour round it on the link below.
|Living in Narnia|