Sometimes a memory that sticks with you is not a major event in your life, and perhaps it isn't even a very important memory. Still, it is a memory that lasts you forever. I have such a memory in connection to you, Mr. Lewis. Actually, I would like to correct that and say I have several such memories in connection to you, dearest Mr. C. S. Lewis. For it is a very sad childhood that doesn't contain many such memories of venturing through the wardrobe into the land of Narnia. (on that topic, do you know what an impression that made on me, Mr. Lewis? As long as I can remember I have been opening all wardrobes I come across with a quickened heart, only to stare dismally at rows of coats or to bang upon the wooden backing.)
My first memory of one of your books however, was The Magician's Nephew. It was a (relatively) hot summer day, and I had created for myself a nest of pillows on the front porch. I was about ten (for all the best memories happen when one is ten. Ten is such a delightful age. My favorite birthday was the year I turned ten, and I have bunches of favorite memories from the year I was ten. Ten is a year of exploration, of imaginings and days that seemed to last years in and of themselves.) Do you ever have those memories where you close your eyes and it is as if you can feel it all again? When I close my eyes and think of The Magician's Nephew, it is as if I can feel the warm sun shining down, hear a crow call (I'm not quite sure why a crow call always reminds me of this particular memory, but it has a very prominent place in it for some reason) and I'm sitting on a bench with my back propped up on at least two pillows. The book is a huge one. It was a collection of the entire series of Narnia books, and I was reading the first.
I suppose, really, what I'm trying to say in a round about way is what a prominent place Narnia had in my childhood. So prominent that a memory of reading one of your books is one of my clearest, it is as if you can step back in time to the day and place I was reading that book. I'm not even quite certain that was the first time I had read it, but it is my first strong memory of it.
As with any really well written book though, the Narnia books only grew to be better with each read. Suddenly they weren't just stories about a magical land with snow and a lamppost as they were when I was first reading them, but something beautiful, filled with symbolism and beauty.
My favorite of them is The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I used to be rather scared of parts, but after the fright left, love came in it's place. The ending is so beautiful, with that scene where the albatross leads them out of the hopeless dark, and then when the children step to shore on the island and it is a lamb who they first see. A lamb that changes into Aslan. That just gives me pleasurable shivers.
I just want to say thank you, Mr. Lewis. Thank you for opening the wardrobe door and leading us into Narnia. Such a safe good place for us, filled with the good true and beautiful. A place that became only more lovely as the years went by.
(my only quarrel with you is how you finished off Susan's story. I'm sorry to say my childhood self has never quite forgiven you for that.)
Your stories will always have a place on my bookshelf.
Love,
Emily
