Last week I came to the point (and it happens at least once every year) that I just couldn’t face reading another book. At least I couldn’t face reading another non-fiction book. Usually this means that I take a break from reading for a while—I just find something else to do to bide my time. But this year, to my surprise, I kind of felt like reading a novel. I barely ever read novels—maybe one every two or three years; less, even. And yet here I was, suddenly craving some fiction.

While I keep up with the world of non-fiction, and especially Christian non-fiction, I have not kept up at all with fiction. So I wondered what I should read. I ended up looking up the list of recent winners of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction and figured I’d read some of those. Though they may not be the most popular novels out there, they will at least be good, right? So I grabbed the winners for 2009, 2007 and 2005. And then I read ‘em. And now I want to offer just a short review of each, though as I write I find that I really do not even know how to review fiction. Nevertheless, let me give it a shot.

Olive Kitteredge

First up was 2009’s winner Olive Kitteredge by Elizabeth Strout. This is actually a collection of 13 short stories that read as if they exist in some nebulous space between short stories and a novel. What binds the stories together is the common setting of a small Maine town and the title character, Olive Kitteredge. Olive appears in each of the stories, sometimes as the protagonist and sometimes as a bit player. She is a complex and fascinating character—an elderly woman who is bitter, blunt and flawed. And yet she’s endearing in her own strange way. The stories follow her and her family and her town through the decades.

There is a bit of a soap opera quality to Olive Kitteredge, I suppose, something strangely voyeuristic. And yet Strout has created such complex and fascinating characters in Olive and the people around her that I could hardly look away. Even when the stories slow down, as they sometimes must, the writing is so good, the prose so wonderfully-written, that the book is a joy to read. “They had fun together these days, they really did. It was as if marriage had been a long, complicated meal, and now there was this lovely dessert.” That’s good stuff!

I suppose the morality of it all is just a little suspect at times. Strout’s characters are very human and yet perhaps just a little bit too complex for their own good. She continually explores love and the way it extends, or does not extend, to old age. She is gut-honest in doing so, sometimes for good and sometimes for ill. One thing she does not find is a character who truly loves and honors his or her spouse through all of life, from the beginning of marriage to the end. In almost every case, the characters have fallen in love and are now on the edge of falling out, or they are in love but each has a skeleton hidden from the other. So perhaps the book’s primary theme is the disappointment life brings. That sounds a little bit depressing and yet, for too many people, that is the reality—that as life passes, it becomes ever more disappointing.

Here is just a short quote that stood out to me:

During Debussy he fell asleep, his arms folded across his chest. Glancing at her husband, Jane felt her heart swell with the music, and with love for him, this man next to her, this old (!) man, who had been followed through life by his own childhood troubles--a mother always, always mad at him. In his face right now she felt she could see the little boy, furtive, forever scared; even as he slept here at this very moment there was a tautness of anxiety on his face. A gift, she thought again, placing her mittened hand lightly on his leg, a gift to be able to know someone for so many years.

The Road

The second book I read was The Road by Cormac McCarthy. This is a novel set in a post-apocalyptic world (and yes, the book was recently made into a movie). As such it is very dark and dreary in its writing and in its setting. In fact, McCarthy does a remarkable job of making the prose match the setting. And I mean that as a good thing. As you read you’ll find that the language wonderfully suits the subject matter. And when something is meant to stand out from the dreariness it does so through the vibrancy of its language (which reminded me of the girl in the read coat in the otherwise black-and-white Schindler’s List). Here is the kind of prose he writes:

He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.

We never do find out what happened to the world—just that some great woe befell it; the majority of humans were wiped out and those that remained were reduced to life without technology, without joy; they are battling one another and even eating one another. All the horror of humanity is revealed in this world, and yet one man is traveling with his son, trying desperately to keep him alive, trying to find some kind of peace and safety.

The book is deep and deeply stirring. There are a few swear words along the way and a few kind of gross but largely non-graphic scenes (mostly dealing with cannibalism). Though The Road is not for everyone, those who enjoy fiction that offers more than a light read will be drawn into it. I do not know much about McCarthy, about what he believes and why he believes it, but in this book he proves that he can look deep within humanity and see the ugliness that lurks there.

Gilead

The 2005 Pulitzer Prize winner was Marilynne Robinson for her novel Gilead. This one may be familiar to you since it deals with deeply spiritual themes. The central character in this book is John Ames, a preacher who has lived almost all of his life in Gilead, Iowa. Married late in life and now facing an imminent death, he writes letters to his seven-year-old son. He tells of his life, trying to tell his son all those things that he will not be able to explain before death comes and takes him away.

I'm trying to tell you things I might never have thought to tell you if I had brought you up myself, father and son, in the usual companionable way. When things are taking their ordinary course, it is hard to remember what matters. There are so many things you would never think to tell anyone. And I believe they may be the things that mean most to you, and that even your own child would have to know in order to know you well at all.

Once again, the writing is beautifully crafted. It is a book to be savored. I began reading expecting that there would be a plot, a climax, narrative tension—all of those things that tend to advance a story from the first page to the last. But once I realized that Gilead is not that kind of book, I was able to stop looking for it. I was able to slow down and just savor the writing.

To me it seems rather Christlike to be as unadorned as this place is, as little regarded. I can't help imagining that you will leave sooner or later, and it's fine if you have done that, or you mean to do it. This whole town does look like whatever hope becomes after it begins to weary a little, then weary a little more. But hope deferred is still hope. I love this town. I think sometimes of going into the ground here as a last wild gesture of love-I too will smolder away the time until the great and general incandescence.

Of the three books here, this is probably the least exciting, but the one with the most to offer. It is a book that you may need to work at a little bit, but one that will reward a close reading.

*****

One quick thought before I close. An interesting benefit of reading books like these—the books that gain recognition—is that they provide a window into our culture, into what people believe, what they enjoy, what they want. But I have a question: I wonder, do we know more about culture from these books, largely written by intellectuals, or from the popular novels of Tom Clancy and Stephen King and the others who sell millions and millions of copies? Which one is the more accurate representation?

I wonder what Calvin would have said, what he would have thought, if he could have peered five centuries into the future and seen how he would be honored on the five hundredth anniversary of his birth. Several new biographies; a long list of conferences; books discussing every aspect, every facet of his theology; a bobblehead; and now The Betrayal, a novel that recounts his life as historical fiction.

Twilight is a phenomenon; or that is what I hear. I began to receive emails about it a short time ago and the requests for a review have increased as the release of the Twilight movie has approached. Strangely, I get more requests to review teenage fiction than any other genre. I usually reply with an apologetic email saying that I do not review such titles. But because of the popularity of this series I decided to make an exception. With great trepidation and with eyes fixed firmly on the floor, I went to a local store and purchased the whole series—four books. I read the first volume, which I will review today, and left it to Aileen (the fiction expert in our home) to read the rest of the series.

This is a short story I wrote a little over three years ago. It represents what may be the only time I’ve ever written fiction for this blog. While I’m quite sure I haven’t thought about this story since the day I posted it, that changed yesterday when it suddenly made its way into my brain. I re-read it and thought it would be fun to post it for you. It’s just a silly little parable with a rather obvious meaning. Enjoy!

*****

“Hey, Drew! What’s happening?” That’s Darryl talking. He’s the guy who does second-level technical support in the office. If his minions can’t get the job done, they call on him. He’s the big gun. But he’s known around the office primarily for being a hockey fan, and not just a guy who dabbles in the game either. This guy is hardcore. He has had season tickets for as long as he can remember, and those things aren’t cheap in Toronto. He spends thousands of dollars every year and goes to every home game. If the Leafs are on the road, he’s in his living room, watching the game. Sometimes he even travels to Buffalo or Ottawa to cheer on the team. Every year he buys a new team jersey. Not the imitations, mind you, but the genuine jersey endorsed by the team - the one with the draw strings and the little vents under the armpits. The ones that cost $350.

“Oh, hey man. Not much,” said Drew. Drew is in the sales team and has an office down the hall from Darryl.

“Doing anything exciting this weekend?”

“Not really. I was just going to hang around with the family. Maybe mow the lawn.”

“I’ve got an extra ticket to the game on Saturday. Do you want to go?”

Darryl is always giving away tickets to the game. Hockey is not nearly as enjoyable when a fan watches the game alone. And his wife had long since tired of going to the games with him.

“I don’t know. I’m not a big hockey fan.”

“Dude! These are eighty dollar tickets! People wait in line for hours for these things.”

Drew looked around the room. He looked everywhere but at Darryl. A bit sheepishly he replied, “Problem is, I don’t really understand the game. You know, it’s all good for you, but for me it’s kind of embarrassing sitting in a room with 20,000 people who all know what’s going on when I don’t have a clue.”

Drew had grown up in England and had just moved to Canada a few years earlier. Like all Brits he had a fascination with soccer (well, football, actually), and also enjoyed watching some rugby. He had never really caught on to cricket, though he had had to play it all the way through school.

Darryl lowered his voice a little bit. “This game will be perfect for you. There are so many people in the country that don’t understand the game anymore that the league has decided to make Saturday night games Inquirer Games.”

“What’s an Inquirer Game?”

“It’s a lot like the regular game, but it’s designed specifically for people who just aren’t comfortable stepping into an arena. Some people have had bad experiences with arenas in the past, and some just don’t understand what’s going on. So these games try to bridge that gap.”

“But I just wouldn’t enjoy it! I don’t know when to sit down, when to stand up, when to cheer, when to boo!”

“Drew! It’s an Inquirer Game! It doesn’t matter if you stand or sit. You can boo or cheer whenever you want. Heck, you can do the wave all on your own if you want.”

“Have you seen the rule book for hockey? It has to be 300 pages. At least! I’ll have no idea what’s going on!”

“You don’t need to know the rules to have a good time. Just go, be yourself and have fun. It’s going to be a great night!”

Drew sighed. He felt defeated. “Alright, I’ll go.”

*****

Saturday night rolled around and precisely two hours before game time, Darryl pulled up in front of Drew’s house. Drew was waiting anxiously inside the door. He gave his wife a quick kiss and walked out to the car.

“This is going to be great,” Darryl said. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

“I thought you’d be wearing your jersey.”

“I usually do, but not for the Inquirer Games. They ask us not to in case they make other people feel like there is some kind of dress code. It can also offend out-of-towners if they’re cheering for the other team.”

As they drove Darryl chatted, rambling on about the Maple Leafs - his favorite players, the strength of the organization and the growth in the popularity of the sport. Drew nodded politely when appropriate and answered questions when required. But mostly he sat in silence.

Finally they pulled into a lot near the stadium that was prominently marked with a sign emblazoned with the word “Inquirers.”

“Lots of parking,” Drew remarked as he watched a man in a blue vest cleaning up bits of paper and trash from the ground. Other men in blue blazers were directing traffic.

“Yup. A stadium can’t survive if there isn’t lots of parking, can it?” said Darryl cheerfully.

They walked towards the arena. As they approached the door, another man in a blue vest smiled warmly a took a step towards them. Plastered to his vest was a printed sticker that read, “Hello My Name Is STAN.” “Hi! My name’s Stan. Is this your first time here?” He seemed genuinely friendly.

Darryl replied for both of them. “Not for me, but it is for him. I’m Darryl and this is Drew.”

“Welcome! Welcome! We’re glad to have you here today. Tonight we’re hoping that everyone will wear name tags. Is it okay if I make one for you?”

Darryl nodded. Stan walked over to a table that had stacks of stickers and a few Sharpies lying on it. He returned a moment later with stickers for each of them. After putting the stickers on their chests and handing them a few pieces of paper they shook hands with Stan and walked into the stadium.

“You know,” Darryl said. “They usually call this the ‘Air Canada Centre.’ But for Inquirer Games they prefer to call it an activity centre.”

A table laden with coffee and donuts stood inside the front door. “Grab something to eat. They know that some people don’t have time to eat before they get here, so they always have lots of donuts and coffee at these Inquirer Games.” Drew mumbled something he thought sounded polite. But by this time his eyes were wide. He looked around the activity centre, taking in the thousands of seats, quickly filling with other people, most of whom were wearing name tags.

“24E and 24F. Here we are!”

They sat down. Their seats were red and padded. Quite comfortable, especially in comparison to the hard benches that pass for seating in the stadium back in London. Drew took the opportunity to look through the papers Stan had given him.

“What’s with the suggestion card?,” he asked Darryl.

“If you think of some things that would make the game better, jot them down and turn the card in at the end of the game. They’re always looking to make the game better.”

“But I don’t know anything about the game. I don’t even like the game!”

“But that’s what makes your input valuable. Just tell them what would make you like the game.”

Drew shook his head.

“Is that a band down there?” he asked, pointing to a group of guys hastily arranging their instruments just beyond the glass on the far side of the activity centre.

“Yup. They’re called The Forwards. They play during the Inquirer Games. There’s still an organ that plays during other games, but they know that it’s an old-school instrument and people don’t really relate to it anymore. So they brought in a band. These guys rock!”

A few minutes later the band began to play, “Take Me Out To The BallGame,” substituting a few words here and there to make it appropriate to hockey. The words flashed up on the video screens overhead and a few people joined in the music. Most just talked amongst themselves, biding their time. A few minutes later they launched into a rocking version of “The Good Old Hockey Game.” They bypassed the verses and chose instead to simply repeat the chorus.

Oh! The good old hockey game,
Is the best game you can name;
And the best game you can name,
Is the good old Hockey game!

Five minutes after the game was supposed to have started the announcer sounded over the loudspeakers. Drew glanced to Darryl and whispered, “Aren’t they going to sing the national anthem?”

Darryl smiled. “No, some people don’t like it. Especially Americans. So they don’t sing it at these games. I mean, come on! Nobody ever sings the anthem anymore excepting at sporting events, so they leave it out.”

The announcer spoke up. “Ladies and gentlemen. We’d like to welcome you to tonight’s game featuring the Toronto Maple Leafs at the Ottawa Senators.”

Drew quickly tuned him out. Or he did until the announcer began to introduce people.

“Tonight’s facilitator for the Toronto Maple Leafs is Roooonnnnnn Wilson!”

“What’s a facilitator?”

“They used to call them coaches, but people associate that with hierarchy. So at these games, instead of telling the players what to do, they facilitate a game plan where all of the players contribute. Quinn’s job tonight is to help all of the players understand how they can be better players and better people.”

Players began to file onto the ice.

“Hey Darryl, why aren’t they wearing uniforms?”

“It’s an Inquirer Game. If they wore uniforms they wouldn’t fit in, would they?”

“So how do we tell them apart? They’re all wearing jeans and t-shirts.”

“That’s the point, man. We’re here for them as much as they’re here for us. We don’t need to be able to tell them apart.”

“Aren’t there usually lines on the ice? A red one and two blues?”

“You’d see them if you came back next week, but they take them off for these games. They confuse people too much.”

“Gotcha!”

The game began with a bang. The Leafs won the faceoff and their forwards sped down the ice. It was then that Drew noticed the net was undefended. “What happened to the tender?”

“You call him a goalie in hockey. We don’t need ‘em. This is a celebration! No goalies means more goals and that means more celebrating!” Darryl stood up and did a spontaneous, solo wave. No one seemed to disapprove.

The puck found its way into the opposing team’s net and the crowd went wild. The band struck up a rousing chorus repeating the words, “Go Leafs Go” just a few times too many.

The referee waved his semaphore (whistles being far too obnoxious, outdated and difficult to understand) and the action began again.

Drew was beginning to enjoy himself. This wasn’t so bad, was it? No one cared if he knew the game or not. No one cared if he didn’t know when to cheer or boo or even if he despise the game itself. They were just glad that he was here to celebrate with them.

Two hours later the game wrapped up with the home team winning 86 to 73. Drew’s face was positively glowing. His eyes were bright and his hands were red from clapping.

“So did you have a good time,” asked Darryl as he headed towards the parking lot, his voice hoarse from shouting and cheering.

“I did! It was great.”

For a moment Drew looked pensive. A little quieter he said, “But it wasn’t really hockey was it? I mean…I still don’t know anything about the game.”

Darryl smirked. “Not if you mean hockey the way your grandpa played it. And not if you mean hockey the way the rule book tells you to play it. But you had a good time, right?”

“Yeah, it was great!”

“Then that’s what matters, right? You had a good time.”

“I guess so. Do you have an extra ticket for next Saturday?”

Almost eight months after my review of The Shack I continue to get daily emails about it. This is proof, I suppose, of the book’s continued success. I do not know if the novel’s popularity has peaked yet but can see that it is still at the top of its category on many of the bestseller lists. The emails I receive typically fit into one of two categories: the “thanks for the review” category or the “how dare you?” category. Today I want to address just two of the more common critiques of my critique of the book.

Here is how one reader expressed herself: “Hello Tim. I read your review after I had already read The Shack and I think your review is ridiculous. Your review reminds me of exactly why ‘stodgy old religion’ is so unappealing to masses of people.William Young wrote a novel - a story that inspired me and thousands of others to want to have a closer, more intimate relationship with God. All your theological arguments can’t erase that.” Another concerned reader told me of a professor in a conservative seminary who was untroubled by much of the book’s poor theology. “I was surprised that he seemed not as concerned due to the fact that it is a novel and so some leeway should be allowed for ‘poetic license.’ He acknowledged my concerns and said he shared them as well but said the novel did not ‘intend to do theology.’” I have received these comments, or ones like them, time and time again.

There are two broad arguments used here.

The first is pure pragmatism, implying that the book should be judged not on theological arguments, not on the basis of comparing it to Scripture, but on the basis of how people have reacted to it. Because so many people are responding positively to this book in opposition to “stodgy old religion,” we must believe that it is good. “William Young wrote a novel - a story that inspired me and thousands of others to want to have a closer, more intimate relationship with God. All your theological arguments can’t erase that.” The danger of such an argument is that it effectively places us over the Bible and over God. No longer do we judge right and wrong by what God says, but we judge right and wrong by how we feel. If the book inspires people to be intimate with God, we must judge it to be good. If it stirs emotions we like, we judge it to be good.

There are profound implications here. Pragmatism necessarily causes us to lose our focus on the absolute standard God has given us in His Word to determine right from wrong. When we lose that focus the church is placed on the slippery slope to becoming like the world. When we discard God’s standards we must depend on our own deeply flawed standards. We begin to trust in ourselves and lose our trust in God. We lose our reliance on His Word as the tool for discernment.

The second argument is that The Shack is not a work of theology and, therefore, must not be treated as such. An article at Christianity Today makes this argument. “It’s tricky to speak definitively of The Shack’s theology. Young could have written a theological treatise, a spiritual memoir, or even a long poem. Instead, he wrote what he calls a “parable” (not an allegory). That should give readers pause about confidently reading off a systematic theology from the book.” And in their review of the book they say, “Readers are talking about The Shack for its theology and its storyline, not for its faulty mechanics. Reviewers have criticized the book for hinting at universalism, as well as for feminism and a lack of hierarchy in the Trinity. Rather than slicing and dicing the novel, looking for proof of theological missteps, a better approach might be to look at significant passages as springboards for deeper discussion. The Shack is a novel, after all, not a systematic theology.”

This is a convenient argument but one we need to guard against. It creates a false, unrealistic division between works that are theological and works that are not. Surely we will admit that there are works that call for great theological precision (such as a Systematic Theology) and works that call for a more general precision, but we cannot neatly divide areas that require correct theology and areas that do not. The Shack is, by the author’s own admission, a work that seeks to change the reader’s perception of God. It is deeply theological! Read the reviews of this book and you will find readers saying how much this book impacted their understanding of God’s person and nature.

Tom Neven, writing for Boundless Line, covers this well in an article titled “But It’s Only Fiction.”

If you’re going to ground your fiction in the real world, then it must conform to the rules of the real world we live in. No unicorns or magic squirrels allowed. Even one of my favorite literary genres, Magical Realism, adheres to certain basic rules.

So if you’re going to have God as a character in your real-world fiction, then you must deal with God as he has revealed himself in Scripture. By using the Trinity as characters in this story set in the real world, The Shack author William P. Young is clearly indicating that he’s supposedly talking about the God of Christianity. But God has said certain things about himself in Scripture, and much of what Young does in this novel contradicts that. I don’t care if he’s trying to make God more “accessible.” He’s violated the rules of fiction.

More important, why does Young feel the need to change the character of God in this story? In a way, he’s saying that the God who reveals himself to us in the Bible is insufficient. Young needs to “improve” the image to make it more palatable. But as I said in the original post, God never changes himself so that we can understand Him better. He changes us so that we can see Him as he truly is. If God changed his nature, He would cease to be God.

The Shack is theological fiction. If it talks about God, it must be so! While it may not require the kind of precision we would expect from a work of formal theology, we cannot deny that the author seeks to teach what he believes to be true about God. And we cannot then deny that it teaches theology that is, in a word, false. It is not an issue of precision but of right and wrong! Fiction is a powerful medium for communicating truth and the evidence of this is in every positive review of the book; the evidence is in the fact that Jesus Himself often communicated using fiction.

The reader who complained about “stodgy old religion” exhorted me to “try to re-read the Shack with a more open mind.” But from her email and the others like it, I can see that in this case an open mind would require a closed Bible. We cannot set aside Scripture even when we read fiction. There is no such thing as only fiction.

Anne Rice has undergone a radical transformation. A bestselling author, whose novels have sold over 100 million copies, she recently returned to the Roman Catholic faith of her youth, and in so doing abandoned her former subject matter (vampires) and turned instead to a series of books dramatizing the life of Jesus Christ. The first book in Rice's series, Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt (released in the fall of 2005) was critically acclaimed and sold well. The movie rights for the book and its sequels were recently purchased by L.A.-based Good News Holdings which is run by Christian pollster George Barna. He will attempt to bring them to the big screen. Where the first book covered Jesus' childhood, the second volume seeks to find a story in the "lost years" that fall between His birth and the beginning of His public ministry.

Yesterday I posted the first portion of an interview with Devin Brown, author of Inside Prince Caspian and Inside Narnia. Today we continue with the second and final piece, and look at mistakes people make when reading the Narnia books and the film adaptations of Lewis’s works.

TC: What are some of the most common mistakes people make when reading and interpreting the Narnia books?

In my opinion, the two biggest mistakes people make about the Narnia books are 1) reading them in the wrong order and 2) labeling them as Christian allegory.

During Lewis's life, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was always the first book and The Magician's Nephew was always sixth. A number of years after Lewis passed away, the series was renumbered by the publisher and put in chronological order with The Magician's Nephew first. While this reordering may seem to have a certain common sense appropriateness, I think the stories are best enjoyed in their original order.

If we read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe first, we know only what the children do, and this allows us to journey with them. In addition, if we read The Magician's Nephew later, it is much more satisfying. We get to say, "Oh, so that's where the lamp-post came from!"

When the film Susan steps into Narnia, she is filled with awe and stammers, "Impossible." If we know only what she knows, we share her wonder. But if we already know about Narnia, we say, "Oh no, Susan, it's not impossible."

I used to think the renumbering issue was just something Lewis scholars worried about--among Lewis experts there is a strong preference for the original order. But recently I have been talking to young people who say they had a hard time getting into the Narnia stories. I couldn't understand the problem until I realized that because of the new numbering, they had started with The Magician's Nephew. It is interesting to note that the filmmakers have decided to go back to the original order.

An allegory is a story whose surface elements have a clear one-to-one relationship with a second deeper story. In an allegory it is this second story, not the first, which is the real focus. A good example of an allegory is Pharaoh's dream of the seven fat and seven thin cattle.

People often say that the Narnia books are allegorical, but technically they are not. Aslan, for example is a Christ-figure but not the same as Jesus in our world. Here's one way they don't line up. People sometimes say that in the same way that Jesus died for our sins, so too Aslan dies for Edmund's sins. But in our world, we have to accept Christ's sacrifice for our sins. In the story, Edmund is reconciled with Aslan before the death occurs. In fact, in the first book Edmund is never told that Aslan died in his place, so there is no way he could accept it.

If we try to say that Peter Pevensie is Peter the apostle, not only are we going have problems finding parallels, we do an injustice to the story. If Lewis had wanted to write a Christian allegory, he certainly could have. His earlier work The Pilgrim's Regress is one, and was modeled after The Pilgrim's Progress--the most famous allegory in English literature. I usually talk about the Biblical parallels that can be found in the Narnia stories, rather than allegories.

By the way, some people approach the Narnia books as if they were sermons. Again, if Lewis had wanted to write a sermon, he certainly could have done so. His sermon "The Weight of Glory," which he preached at St. Mary's in Oxford, is one of his most famous works. Lewis himself tells us that he wrote a fairy tale because "sometimes fairy stories may say best what's to be said."

TC: In your books you often compare and contrast the worlds or characters of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. How valuable is it to consider the works of these men in relation to each other?

I think it is very helpful to compare elements in the Narnia stories with similar elements found elsewhere--in one of the other Chronicles, somewhere else in Lewis's writings, or in another author's work. Putting a scene, a character, an event, or a theme from Narnia side-by-side with a similar aspect from another book allows us to see things we might not have seen before.

A number of scholars have emphasized the differences between Lewis and Tolkien and the fact that Tolkien did not like the way Lewis mixed mythologies in Narnia. But I see these two authors as far more alike than different and sharing a deep common ground. Knowing and studying one author helps us better understand the work of the other.

TC: Did you find that the film adaptation of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe helped or hindered people's understanding of Lewis's story and world?

I really think Walden Media's film of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe did a great job of capturing the magic, the message, and the spirit of Lewis's original.

Everyone who loves these books was worried before the film came out because this was the one and only chance for our generation to see this story translated to the big screen. (I am thinking that, as with other great works such as Hamlet or Pride and Prejudice, each generation will produce a new version.) With the first film it became clear that not only does Andrew Adamson understand these stories, he also has a profound and genuine love for them.

Besides providing the world with an inspiring and lovingly-made movie, Walden has also encouraged many theater-goers, young and old, to go back and read or reread Lewis's original.

TC: What was your single biggest disappointment with the film adaptation of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?

For me, the film did not quite reach either the highs or the lows that the book does, and I think this is a significant loss. In addition, I found the film Aslan to lack the awe that was always present in Lewis's original. When the children finally meet Aslan in chapter twelve, Lewis's narrator says, "People who have not been in Narnia sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at the same time." The movie Aslan was good enough, but his terrible side was not as present as it needed to be.

When the children and Trumpkin meet Aslan in Prince Caspian, we are told, "They felt as glad as anyone can who feels afraid, and as afraid as anyone can who feels glad." This will be a high mark for the second film to aim for.

If Aslan is a Christ-figure, what are we to make of this? I think Lewis was suggesting that our proper response to an encounter with Christ will be a mixture of great gladness and great awe. Some Christians may be too fearful of Jesus and so need more gladness added to their feelings. Others may have too familiar an image of Christ and may need a bit more awe.

TC: What was the one element that you felt best translated to the screen in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?

There were a number of elements that, for me, worked perfectly in the film adaptation. I thought the bombing scenes in London added greatly to the story. The Professor's house was just the right blend of homey and spooky. Narnia in winter was as enchanted as I had hoped. And Mr. Tumnus was even better than expected. In addition, I thought that the casting was nearly perfect--especially the four children.

TC: What do you anticipate being your single biggest disappointment with Price Caspian and what is the one thing you are most looking forward to seeing on the screen?

I don't really like to go into a film thinking I am going to be disappointed, but I wonder if the second film will get Lewis's ending right. Lewis ends the book with the children having a newfound sense of what I call "the sacramental ordinary." They begin the story on a "flat and dreary" train platform, but in the end they find it "unexpectedly nice is its own way."

Lewis does not want the four children or his readers to despise their own world because they have been to Narnia. He wants them and us to better see the enchantment that has always been there. He wants our rereading of the Narnia stories to help re-enchant our lives and the world around us.

I am really looking forward to the scene in Prince Caspian where laughter and merriment returns to Narnia after having been banished or driven underground for years by Miraz. If Narnia in the first book is always winter and never Christmas, in the second book it is summertime but never the Fourth of July.

If I had to pick the greatest contribution that Lewis has made to my life, it would be his constant reminder that the Christian life should be full and overflowing with joy, laughter, celebration, and good times--not just during vacations or holidays and not just when we get to Heaven, but every day right now.

TC: Assuming that there is a movie made for each of the books, which are you most eagerly anticipating? And are you planning on writing an "Inside" book for each of the seven books and movies?

In a way this first question is really asking if I have a favorite among the Chronicles. I do, but it keeps changing--maybe this is true for everyone. While there is not a book among the seven that I don't like, my current favorite is The Horse and His Boy, a book which I know many readers often list as their least favorite. (I wonder what this says about my taste.)

I plan to continue to write "Inside" books as long as I feel I have something to say, and so far that has not been a problem. I am currently working on Inside the Voyage of the Dawn Treader which will come out in January 2010 in advance of the third film.

Devin Brown is a Lilly Scholar and a Professor of English at Asbury College. This summer he is teaching a week-long seminar at The Kilns, where participants will get to eat, sleep, and take classes in Lewis's home in Oxford.

Last week I posted a review of Inside Prince Caspian, a new book by Devin Brown and a follow-up to his earlier work Inside Narnia. These books provide literary analysis of the Narnia books and have greatly enhanced my understanding of and enjoyment of C.S. Lewis’s imaginary world. I thought it would be interesting to follow the reviews with an interview and Brown was kind enough to spare some time. I asked him not only about his books, but about C.S. Lewis, the Narnia series, Harry Potter, J.R.R. Tolkien, and a variety of other subjects. I hope you find the interview as interesting as I did!

TC: Why C.S. Lewis? Why do you have such a fascination with the man and his work?

I suppose most people have their own special set of writers, musicians, or artists that are an important part of their life. As I get older, it is remarkable to see how much richer the work of my particular set has made my life.

While I have a number of favorite authors whose lives and thinking interest me, C.S. Lewis has been at the top of the list since I was around 16. I think his overall appeal for me lies in the fact that he was such a man of letters in the old fashioned sense. He was a poet, philosopher, literary scholar, college professor, Christian apologist, and fiction writer all in one, and his profound faith permeated all of these roles.

TC: The Narnia books are among the select few that children and adults seem to equally enjoy. Why do you think this is? Why the wide appeal?

It is only relatively recently in terms of human history, that myths and fairy tales have become viewed as something to be relegated to children's bookshelves. From the times of the ancient Greeks to as recently as the collections by the Brothers Grimm, there has been a certain kind of story that tells us who we are and why we are here. Lewis, in his Chronicles of Narnia, provides us--young and old--with this special kind of story.

Lewis himself spoke about this special story that appeals to all ages. He wrote, "I am almost inclined to set it up as a canon that a children's story which is enjoyed only by children is a bad children's story." He claimed that "the good ones last," meaning that their appeal lasts far beyond our childhood and that they continue to speak to us as we grow and develop.

Of course, in using a simple story as a vehicle for deepest truth, Lewis was following Christ's example. When Jesus wanted to tell his disciples about God's love, he did not write them a long, philosophical essay. He gathered them around them and began like this: "Once there was a man who had two sons, and the youngest said to his father, 'Father, give me my share of the inheritance.'" He went on to tell the story of the Prodigal son.

TC: Have you read the Harry Potter books? If so, do you think they will have the lasting popularity of the Narnia books? Why or why not? How are they similar to the Chronicles of Narnia and how do they differ?

I have read the first two Harry Potter books, and enjoyed them--though not as much as the Narnia stories (and obviously not enough to finish all seven).

I see two ways to read these books. On one hand, they can be seen as simply a modern day version of what Lewis called the "Boys' Book," our culture's story of "the immensely popular and successful schoolboy who discovers the spy's plot or rides the horse that none of the cowboys can manage." The previous generation had the Hardy Boys, before that there was Tom Swift.

According to Lewis, the problem with this kind of story is that it is "all flattery to the ego." We identify with the protagonist and so picture ourselves as the "object of admiration." Lewis argues that we run to this kind of book to escape the "disappointments and humiliations of the real world," but in the end, we return to our own world and our own lives "undivinely discontented."

But the Harry Potter stories are more than this. In his very last speech in Sorcerer's Stone, Dumbledore states, "There are all kinds of courage." And thus Rowling's deeper message is that there are all kinds of heroes--Harry is one kind, Ron is another, so is Hermione, and so is Neville Longbottom. These stories remind us that each of us is a wizard, though we may not realize it. When read this way, the Harry Potter books are like the Narnia stories, in that they don't make us look down on real woods because we have read of enchanted ones. As Lewis notes, reading this special kind of book "makes all real woods a little enchanted."

Having said this, I predict that fifty years from now, we will find that the Chronicles of Narnia are still being bought and read by young and old. I am not as confident about the Harry Potter books.

TC: How can the literary analysis you provide enhance the reader's understanding of the books?

I am not sure people need convincing that the literary analysis I provide in my books will enhance their understanding of the Narnia stories. Sometimes they may doubt that studying these stories in a serious way will increase their enjoyment of them.

Certainly the Narnia books can be read and enjoyed on a number of levels. But just as knowing more about a piece of music or a painting makes our appreciation and enjoyment of them richer, I believe that careful reading and careful thinking about these books will also add to our delight.

Taking a different tack, I am a firm believer that God wants us all to use our divinely-given intellect more than we typically do, that we are all called to think more deeply and more carefully about all sorts of things. I hope the ideas I present in my books will help, in a small way, to encourage the life of the mind. Perhaps talking and thinking about the Narnia books, for some, may be the start of talking and thinking about other topics.

Check back tomorrow for the conclusion to the interview

Devin Brown is a Lilly Scholar and a Professor of English at Asbury College. This summer he is teaching a week-long seminar at The Kilns, where participants will get to eat, sleep, and take classes in Lewis's home in Oxford.

Inside Narnia was one of the many books published in advance of the most recent movie adaptation of C.S. Lewis's The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. The book has proved a success, going through six printings since its release in 2005. In the book Devin Brown, a Lewis scholar and aficionado, offered a detailed look into the world of Narnia, digging far beyond the surface, and exploring this magical world. As I had just read The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe with my children, I decided to read this as a commentary of sorts, to see what I had missed and what I would want to look for the next time I read the book. I learned more than I would have thought possible. Reading Inside Narnia greatly enhanced my understanding of C.S. Lewis, of the stories he wrote, and of the worlds he created.

I have no memory of reading (or having read to me) C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia (though I’ve been assured that my parents did read them to me at least once). On the other hand, I remember reading Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit many times. I read Tolkien for the joy of reading his stories. I love the world he created and I love the epic scope of the adventures. But for some reason Narnia has never appealed to me in the same way. Over the past months I’ve been reading the Chronicles with my children and have been experiencing them for the first time. I’ve enjoyed them and have enjoyed drawing comparisons and contrasts with The Lord of the Rings.

It may be unfair to compare the two series but really comparisons are inevitable. After all, the books were written by close friends and were written near the same time. The authors often compared notes and there are quite a few shared elements between them. After recently completing Prince Caspian, and in anticipation of the forthcoming film, I have been reading Devin Brown’s new book Inside Prince Caspian. I previously read Inside Narnia and found that it greatly enhanced my enjoyment of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Brown is a C.S. Lewis enthusiast (or scholar, perhaps) and uses these books to provide literary analysis of the Chronicles. He often refers to Tolkien and I found this short passage helpful as I’ve considered why I prefer Middle-earth to Narnia.

Tolkien more frequently not only gives the impression of depth but also provides actual depth. For example, if Tolkien had placed a Stone Table with letters in Middle-earth, he might very well have included a rendition of the letters themselves, a history of the language they were written in, and not only the names of the people who had originally carved them but also the names of their parents and grandparents. When we come to an open door on the backdrop of Tolkien’s stage, he will often open it for us. In contrast, as Doris Myers rightly asserts, the doors in Narnia typically “do not open unless the story requires that someone go through them.”

This observation about Lewis’s technique of suggesting more than is stated and not answering every question extends beyond historic details. Thus, as Myers points out, with Lewis there is no point in asking questions like, “Since there were no other humans, who ruled Narnia after the Pevensies returned to our world?” or “Since Caspian the First gained Narnia through conquest and unjustly destroyed Nature, under what law is Prince Caspian the rightful king?” Myers’s answer to closed doors like these is that Lewis’s stories are “sufficiently powerful” so that we do not question or perhaps even notice any lack of of more adequate explanations.

And I think this explains why I prefer Middle-earth. Middle-earth, as a world, and The Lord of the Rings as a story, are far more developed than Narnia and The Chronicles. I haven’t ever bothered to read Tolkien’s long, dense and boring histories of his world, evolutions of the language, and so on. But his attention to the smallest detail of his world is obvious through his stories. But with Lewis there are many unanswered questions and many doors that seem to lead nowhere. The world does not seem to have the internal consistency of Tolkien’s. The stories are good, but the world is not so immersive.

Yet I think the simplicity of Lewis’s world may be part of its appeal to some people, and to younger people in particular. Never are there long, dry explanations of fictitious history. Lewis tends to stay closer to the narrative without having to dedicate so much time to the back story. Also, Lewis provides interesting moral lessons and life lessons that are easier to find and more naturally read out of the story than what is found in Tolkien. These lessons are easily found and easily applicable, even to young readers.

But still I prefer Middle-earth. It has been good to read The Chronicles but even while I do so, I look forward to eventually reading through The Lord of the Rings with the family. It will be a long haul, but it is a challenge I am eager to take on.

Which of the worlds or the stories do you prefer (and why)?