Dear Mr. C. S. Lewis,
Although, if what you imagined is true of Paradise, your continuing fame here is of little consequence to you now, I have to hope that what I am about to relate to you will be of some importance, even there. For, what I have to say speaks not only to life here in mortality, but also to the whole “further up and further in” eternal scenario.
It’s this: they’ve taken your beautiful Chronicles of Narnia and turned them into an event. In so doing, all that was pure and simple has been trampled on, left on the cutting room floor - no, not even having reached that far, never having been considered at all.
There I sat, still willing to allow for poetic license, still open, though with a growing sense of undernourishment, waiting. There was killing, Mr. Lewis - not chivalric warfare, where the protagonist respects his opponent, but bone-crunching, muscle-quelling, lung-thumping murder. And spectacle! Not royal processions and solemn ceremony, but sheer shameful spectacle, for its own sake: a phantasmic host in uniform, just for the show.
Because bigger must be better, you see. We denizens of modernity are far too sophisticated for stories plain and simply told, and standing on their own merit. No! We must have spectacle.
I thought to myself, There are small children here, come to see a children’s story! Would not Mr. Lewis forbid such a thing - that tender hearts and innocent eyes be assaulted in such a manner as to cause subtle wounds and long-lived nightmares? Is this the purpose for which The Chronicles of Narnia were written?
So I got up and left. Right as the swollen armies of the usurper Miraz were marching upon Aslan’s How, with its querulous occupants. What good, I asked myself, will this do? I had to do it, because of what I know. I know the Chronicles are simply child’s tales, direct and honest while engaging and enthralling, in their retelling of the greatest Story of all time. They need no garnishment, no special effects to fit “today’s sophisticated audience.” Today’s audience is jaded. They cry out, though they know it not, for simple, wholesome fare, for that which edifies because it is true.
If you have the wherewithal in Paradise, Mr. Lewis, if it is allowed, could you not whisper in the ear of some yet-mortal artist, one with integrity, to try again?
Ever your devoted fan, Linda Hyde
I'm so glad you started this blog! I'd love to hear more of your thoughts on Mr. Lewis' work. I especially love his depiction of Paradise. He so effectively conveys how limited our understanding really is. Delicious food for thought!
ReplyDeleteLoooove The Great Divorce! Lewis was truly the possessor of some great truths, which he cannot have come by only through study of the works availabe to him. I find myself wondering if even he knew how much he really knew.
ReplyDeleteAs you mentioned in a comment to me, I had a more favorable impression of the movie. But that, I think, is because I was looking at it as a movie, and not expecting it to fully capture the magic of the book. No one should ever take their child to a movie and expect it to do what the book did. Movies are just the Shadowlands, the dim suggestion of the story in its True form. I agree, no child belongs in that theater. If want them to experience Narnia, read them the stories! I imagine Mr. Lewis would say the same thing.
ReplyDelete