I love Narnia. Or rather, like millions of others, I loved reading about the places and characters and the entire enchanting world created by C.S. Lewis in his Chronicles of Narnia.
It wasn’t just because
heroic adventures were played out on the backdrop of archetypal stories of good
versus evil. Or the fact that the pre-adolescent heroes and heroines were quite
ordinary children, and being so were exceptional because they were so relatable
to child readers like me. Or even the fact that there were just about as many
heroines as there were heroes and that the girls could ride and shoot and fight
as well as any boy in the stories.
No, it was the fact that
everything in Narnia is alive. The
animals speak and the trees dance. The
water rises up to break its chains and the stars sing silvery songs to the
rising sun. Creatures that never lived in our world still live in theirs, like
unicorns and dragons who could be enemies or friends or both.
In Narnia, animals and
people walk together as friends, hand in hand, or rather hand in paw or hoof or
wing. Both look out for each other and for their shared world. And the especial
magic was that to be a part of this wonderful place called Narnia all we humans
had to do was to listen quietly and follow our hearts.
My entry into the world of
Narnia was a bit backwards. The first
book I read was The Silver Chair which I had received as a gift when I
was about nine years old. As this was
the sixth chronicle in a seven-book series, I was thrown headlong into Narnia
without any warning. No The Lion, The
Witch and The Wardrobe to start me off, never mind The Magician’s Nephew
where it all began.
I met Jill and Eustace as
two reluctant heroes and had to wrap my head around Puddleglum the Marshwiggle
and why he was part of the story at all.
But after reading The Silver Chair I was irrevocably changed. My
heart swelled with the thought that a place like Narnia could even be thought
of. I wanted to know oh so much more about this place.
Once I realized that there
were six other books in the series, I rushed to our small school library in our
overseas community and devoured each in turn. I couldn’t believe that so few
fellow students had checked the books out. Didn’t they know that the gateway to
another, more wonderful world was right there for them, within the pages of
these small books?
When the library closed as
our expatriate community returned to Canada, students and parents alike were
welcome to take any books we wanted. I was then grateful there had been so
little interest in the Narnia books since I had no competition to own them. I
gathered them all up, library card-filled pockets and all, to be permanent
members of my childhood treasure trove.
Back in Canada, my new
world was noticeably lacking in magic. During many long and sometimes lonely
wanderings through the forest I would follow ephemeral deer paths and pretend
to lose my way. I would try to convince myself that when the trails disappeared
and I was standing alone in the middle of the woods Mr. Tumnus would appear, the
birds singing above me would greet me by name, and the boughs of the spruce
trees moving in the breeze would take my hand and we would dance, just like
Lucy did.
Other times sitting on my
favourite rock on the shore of Lake Huron, I would stare hard into the light
dancing on the water, willing a magic portal to appear on the deep blue horizon
that I could walk through to greet old friends in Narnia.
I was a few years older by
then and of course I didn’t actually believe Narnia existed. But oh! the
tiniest voice in my heart would whisper, wouldn’t it be wonderful if maybe,
just maybe, the magic was real and there was a chance, if I tried hard enough,
that I could really get to Narnia?
To a place where the animals speak and the trees dance, and the water
and stars are friends? Where everything
is not quite as it seems but turns out to be even better?
I have been an adult for
many years now, long enough that another generation or two of children have
been introduced to the Chronicles of Narnia. And long enough to have a
mature, intellectual understanding of the stories’ narratives and their
context. Despite this adult perspective, the magic of C.S. Lewis’ world still
warms the deepest parts of my heart, which now swells for that child standing alone
in the woods or sitting by the sweet sea, searching for Narnia.
***
Natalie
Feisthauer has
spent much of her career writing scientifically, where flights of fancy are
certainly not encouraged. She lets the other side of her brain loose in her
spare time searching for magic writing prose and poetry. Natalie’s creativity is
inspired by nature in all its forms, large and small, gentle and fierce. She
loves being outdoors during all seasons, even allergy season. She is also an
avid backyard birder and apprentice wildlife gardener at her home in
Flamborough, Ontario.
Note: Quick Brown Fox welcomes essays about a favourite
book or about your experience of reading or writing. To get a taste of what
other writers have done, see here and scroll down).
Submit to: brianhenry@sympatico.ca Include a short bio at the end of your piece and attach a photo of yourself if you have one that’s okay.
For information about our in-Person Writing for Children and for Young Adults, with Kids Can Press senior editor Patricia Ocampo, on Saturday, July 16, see here.
See all of Brian’s upcoming weekly
writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.
