The Last Battle, C. S. Lewis

I have never read Narnia growing up, and so I have been trying to read what I can of the series whenever I can find it. Lewis is also a master of storytelling, and his narrator's voice is conversational, so I think if the books were read to me out loud, I would be alive to their magic. I often wonder where the appeal lies in these stories that have captured the imagination of so many children. Is it the thought that there is this wonderful world somewhere, that exists parallel to ours, only their time runs so much faster? Is it the funny talking animals? Or the fun of engaging in battle and of being indispensible in saving the world?

My imagination fails me here. Growing up, I loved the Wizard of Oz, especially the walled china city where figurines ran to and fro, and it thrilled me to imagine that this microscopic world existed alongside one of real-life humans. So I can see how absorbing imaginary worlds, these "heterotopias" are. But it goes back to the issue of a heroine I can grow with and identify with. I grew up (really grew up, became who I am heart body and soul) on Anne of Green Gables, and Anne is such an absorbing and real heroine, that her soul is knit with mine. I don't know who I can attach myself to in Narnia - Jill? I hardly know her. The only person I really love is Lucy Pevensie, but not every book stars her. And here is, again, where C. S. Lewis's comment that his characters are pawns for his plots instead of vice versa come into play: you like his characters, no doubt, but you never get to know them intimately.

Coming to Narnia as an adult, I cannot fail to see the Christian allegory so evident in the plot and all the symbols. It is very, very effective at explaining the Christian faith. These books make me believe. How much clearer can you get with the stable that is light within for those who believe in Aslan? How much more clearly can you convey that those who say life is crap will find life crappy because that's what they choose to see, than the story of the dwarves who think they are tasting donkey dung when they eat the feast Aslan spreads for them, whose reality is of their own making? Faced with a picture like this, I yearn to proclaim proudly that I believe in God. It seems that it is always better to believe - believe in anything.

Doesn't this show that it doesn't matter what religion you follow, so long as your intentions and works are good? I was brought up Catholic, and brought up to be compassionate and forgiving, and all my religious education (through class, discussions, and books) only affirms my conviction that Christian acts are more important than professing to be Christian. I never try to convert anyone - I don't believe in it. Let each live according to his or her convictions, and be true to his or herself, so long as their faith - in whatever they name their God - causes them to do good. Tenets to the contrary I struggle with, and I hate to say that I have a stone wall in my convictions, but this is it: One can be Christian - "truly Christian", without being so in name.

"Child, all the service thou hast done to Tash, I account as service done to me... Not because he and I are one, but because we are opposites, I take to me the services which thou has done to him. For I and he are of such different kinds that no service which is vile can be done to me, and none which is not vile can be done to him. Therefore if any man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath's sake, it is by me that he has truly sworn, though he know it not, and it is I who reward him. And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then, though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted.... Bloved, said the Glorious One, unless thy desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly. For all find what they truly seek."

The image of Aslan's judgement as all Narnian beasts came rushing through the portal is very powerful, and the joy I felt in seeing all our dear Narnian friends again was unsurpassed. I think there is no greater happiness than reuniting with beloved friends, and I agree that there is no better promise for heaven. That is the only idea of heaven I want. Lewis's heaven is lovely, though: a place that resembles those we love best, only better, since this is the true and perfect Platonic ideal. Where countries are connected by mountain ridges, and places that have ceased to be continue here. Where Narnia (or whatever fantasy-lands are dear to our hearts) can be found.

And then, I was shocked to hear that all the friends of Narnia had died in a railway accident. Died! When they are all so young! Without them there is no link from our world to Narnia, (even if Narnia is no more), and there will NEVER be. Unless someone finds the magic rings. Poor Susan, what will she do when she finds out she has lost her siblings and parents? Is THIS Lewis's test of our faith: after a long glimpse of heaven, to see if we would be satisfied with this ethereal place or our own attachment to earthly life? If so, I've failed the test, for I can't help but rebel and be aghast at the thought of Lucy and Edmund and Peter and Jill and Eustace's death. That revelation fast plummetted the book to one of my least favourites of the series.