The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis

1950

Illustrated by Pauline Baynes

No one can dispute that the first half of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is marvelous. Four children land in the country manor of a Professor, sent by their parents from London during the war. While exploring, Lucy, the youngest, slips into a large wardrobe, pushes through the hanging fur coats, and finds herself in a snowy woods illuminated by a glowing lamp-post. She encounters a Faun scurrying along under an umbrella, joins him for tea in his cozy den, and learns of the evil White Witch whose magic has imprisoned the land in endless winter. Lucy’s brother, Edmund, prone to unpleasant teasing and general beastliness, is the next of the four to discover Narnia. The White Witch pulls up in her reindeer-drawn sleigh: he succumbs to the temptation of her enchanted Turkish Delight (a delightful touch) and becomes her minion.

So far, so good. The prose is effortless, the characterizations deft, the details imaginative, the adventure enthralling – a children’s book that approaches perfection. The problem comes with the first mention of the lion’s name. By now, all four children are in Narnia and the battle of good vs. evil has begun. “’They say Aslan is on the move,’” says the kind Mr. Beaver. Each of the four children experiences an ineffable feeling upon hearing the name (in the case of Edmund one of “mysterious horror”) and we sense a first false note. Our discomfort grows when we arrive at the bizarre sadistic sacrifice of the noble lion and the subsequent unrestrained joy of the girls when Aslan comes back to life. The weird mystical intensity seems out of place in a book that began with such good hearted and imaginative promise.

There is something insufferable about a reformed sinner. C.S. Lewis converted back to the Anglican Church at the age of 32 and he devoted his subsequent writing to Christian apologia. Although children are usually unaware of the Christian subtext in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (and the other six volumes of the Chronicles of Narnia), those who revisit these childhood favorites as adults often feel betrayed. There is something distasteful, even underhanded, about disguising Christian allegory as a fantasy adventure.

So it may be best to leave The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to children, who can enjoy the remarkable tale in a state of innocence. Paired with the natural prose are the perfect pen and ink drawings of Pauline Baynes. Her iconic illustrations capture the unforgettable imagery that defines the book in our memory – the lamp-post in the woods, the Faun with his umbrella, the White Witch in her sleigh.