Friends and rivals

When Tolkien's memorial is placed in the Poet's Corner of Westminster Abbey next year, it will be near that of C.S. Lewis. "[H]e and Lewis will be, in death, within pipe-lighting distance of each other – at least in spirit." Philip Womack in The Telegraph:

.... Lewis and Tolkien bore many similarities: Lewis was also conservative and deeply Christian.

.... Both fought, and were scarred by, the First World War. They also both enjoyed smoking a good pipe.

Their rivalry took many forms, as they sized each other up from opposing sides of a bitterly fought war in the Oxford English department. Tolkien sprang from the unfashionable school of philology, and thought anything after Chaucer was too miminy-piminy to be the proper subject of a degree. This rankled with Lewis, whose works of literary criticism on Renaissance writings still stand strong today.

Tolkien saw his work as an act of “sub-creation”, inspired directly by God. His Middle Earth was built up from language itself, extrapolated into a unified whole. Its purpose was to resonate as mythic history for the English, filled with Anglo-Saxon echoes. Surprisingly, Middle Earth’s spiritual aspect is pre-Christian: no Christ figure walks alongside the hobbits, breathing strength into their steps.

Lewis, on the other hand, adopted a hodge-podge approach which, on the whole, Tolkien disliked. How, for example, can Father Christmas exist in Lewis’ Narnia, a mythical world of talking animals, when Christ did not visit it? Aslan the lion is the Narnian version of the Son of God, with different functions to Jesus (he appears, for example, at the Creation of the World.)

There’s also the mixed bag of fauns, hags, dryads and so forth, drawn from numerous sources. Even Bacchus pops up. ....

Their most powerful link, though, was their shared faith, manifested in particular in the idea of joy. In his writings, Tolkien was interested in what he termed “eucatastrophe”, or a “sudden joyous turn”, demonstrating the existence of God’s Providence. Lewis explored a similar idea of “joy” in his memoir, Surprised by Joy. Whenever Aslan appears in Narnia, characters become overwhelmed with the emotion. .... (more)

Philip Womack, "Tolkien and CS Lewis were the best of frenemies," The Telegraph, Sept. 24, 2026.

Willy Wonka in Narnia

Those of us who value The Narnia Chronicles have already read enough to be dubious about Netflix's upcoming 2027 version of The Magician's Nephew. It is entirely unnecessary to be a Christian believer to entertain that doubt. The production appears to have made many bad decisions, quite apart from messing with Aslan's gender. From The Telegraph, by someone obviously familiar with the books:

Uncle Andrew and Jadis

As anyone who has read the book will know, the Edwardian setting is crucial to its tone – self-consciously setting it before the First World War at a time England is still innocent and the horrors of the Somme have yet to rise out of some great hellish pit.

That prelapsarian quality is key to the story, which is essentially the origin tale of Professor Digory Kirke, the eccentric owner of the wardrobe which grants access to Narnia in later books. The Magician’s Nephew is in its essence a book set Before The Fall. At the start of the story, the wicked Jadis is trapped in suspended animation in a post-apocalyptic alternative dimension, Narnia has yet to be created by Aslan and Britain is looking forward to a century of peace. But then two children – Digory and his friend Polly – muddle around and everything changes utterly. Jadis is unleashed, evil is free and tranquility is shattered – literally so, when the future ruler of Narnia runs amok in London in scenes that have the quality of a steampunk Grand Theft Auto.

That is in contrast to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, which unfolds against the background of the Blitz and where readers can infer that the children are quietly traumatised by the horror of war – one reason why they leap so readily into the great unknown of the wardrobe. But if you shunt The Magician’s Nephew forward to the post-war austerity of the 1950s, then that dynamic is changed utterly: the calm-before-the-storm aspect of the Edwardian period is missing.

If Jadis is the monster in this story, then the part of pathetic villain is played by Digory’s eccentric Uncle Andrew, a self-involved boffin who tricks Polly into disappearing into another dimension by having her touch a magic ring – then blackmails Digory into setting off to rescue her. The “Magician” in The Magician’s Nephew, as written by Lewis, has few redeeming features. Yet in Gerwig’s film he’s played by the charming Daniel Craig; judging by new images, he will be a lovable boffin, a sort of Willy Wonka of the Lewis-verse. .... (more)

Ed Power, "Netflix’s $280m ‘rock opera’ Narnia film is even madder than it sounds," The Telegraph, Sept. 20, 2026.

Aslan

I've been reading and enjoying The Narnia Chronicles for a very long time. They are great children's books and, like all good children's literature, are enjoyed by adults. C.S. Lewis, who authored the Narnia books, once 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.” There is, of course, Christian allegory in the books, but I once suggested that to a class of 9^th graders, many of whom had grown up with the books, and was greeted with shocked denial. The books are enjoyed by kids whether or not the underlying Christian sensibility is recognized.

I have enjoyed some television and film adaptations of these books. I had been looking forward to the upcoming Netflix adaptations, but am increasingly skeptical. First, a minor objection is that they have chosen the wrong book to adapt first. The first story should be from the first book published, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. That is because reading (or watching) The Magician's Nephew first destroys the magic of LWW by, among other revelations, telling the reader who Aslan is. Nevertheless...

A more serious objection for me arose this week when I learned that Meryl Streep will voice Aslan. Aslan is male. He has a mane. Female lions do not, and I am very doubtful that the film will portray a lioness. Aslan has a mane:

"Are you ill, dear Aslan ?" asked Susan.

"No," said Aslan. "I am sad and lonely. Lay your hands on my mane so that I can feel you are there and let us walk like that." ....

“Stop!” said the Witch. “Let him first be shaved.”

Another roar of mean laughter went up from her followers as an ogre with a pair of shears came forward and squatted down by Aslan’s head. Snip-snip-snip went the shears and masses of curling gold began to fall to the ground. Then the ogre stood back and the children, watching from their hiding-place, could see the face of Aslan looking all small and different without its mane. The enemies also saw the difference. ....

“We have a long journey to go. You must ride on me.”

And he crouched down, and the children climbed onto his warm, golden back, and Susan sat first holding on tightly to his mane, and Lucy sat behind holding on tightly to Susan. And with a great heave he rose underneath them and then shot off, faster than any horse could go, downhill and into the thick of the forest. .... (from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, emphasis added)

No doubt I will watch it when it comes, but I am increasingly apprehensive.

The picture is by Pauline Baynes, Narnia's original illustrator.

The most oppressive tyranny

When "omnipotent moral busybodies" control power:

Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience. They may be more likely to go to Heaven yet at the same time likelier to make a Hell of earth. This very kindness stings with intolerable insult. To be "cured" against one's will and cured of states which we may not regard as disease is to be put on a level of those who have not yet reached the age of reason or those who never will; to be classed with infants, imbeciles, and domestic animals.

C.S. Lewis, "The Humanitarian Theory of Punishment," God in the Dock, Eerdmans, 1970.

Alienation

Anyone who has visited my apartment would suspect that I am something of an Anglophile. They would be right. On the walls, they would find pictures of village scenes, a map of the London Underground, reproduction posters for RMS Aquitania and the Night Scotsman, a mirror from a pub, and more. Someone reading my bookshelves will find many mysteries and thrillers by British authors, from Buchan to Sayers, Allingham, P.D. James, Dick Francis, Conan Doyle, Frederick Forsyth, and John le Carré, among others. Other favorite authors include Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Bernard Cornwell, Churchill, George MacDonald Fraser (Flashman), P.G. Wodehouse, Richard Adams (Watership Down), A.A. Milne, Kenneth Grahame, Robert Louis Stevenson. I enjoy reading British history and watching documentaries about it. Much of my favorite music is British: Ralph Vaughan Williams, The Scottish Psalter, Anglican hymns, hymns written by Charles Wesley. I listen often to The Rolling Stones and Van Morrison. I like English-style beers, Scotch whisky, bangers and mash, fish and chips, etc. And that's not exhaustive. I am an Anglophile, but mostly, I think, of a Britain past rather than the one since, maybe, the 1990s, when I was last there. Carl Trueman, who grew up in England, writes "The England I Knew Is Gone":

Leslie Poles Hartley famously dubbed the past “a foreign country.” This summer, for the first time, I sensed that the present can be one too. My annual visit to the land of my childhood and youth exposed me to a culture very different from the one that nurtured me. Growing up as a grammar schoolboy in 1970s and ’80s England, I absorbed the importance of personal restraint; emotional self-control in public; privacy; acting with honesty and fairness, even to one’s own hurt; and respecting others regardless of their social status or opinions. At the level of society, such personal values promoted freedoms—of speech, of religion, of expression. All of that is gone, at least from the class that presumes to define the country’s mores and morals. ....

England exemplifies the political shape a country takes when expressive individualism grips the imagination of its ruling class. It is impossible for any culture to allow everyone to be who they want to be, from transgender activists to traditional Christians. Somebody therefore has to bring order to the potential chaos, and as expressive individualism tends strongly toward the transgressive, with its core notion that personal authenticity lies in breaking with the herd (that is, the social expectations of the past), the culture-makers will typically favor those who want to demolish received ideas and traditions deemed stumbling blocks to self-realization. This turns morality on its head. Yesterday’s virtues have become today’s oppressive vices, as the moral register has shifted in a psychological direction—most notably in the trivialization of trauma, which in some cases has come to mean little more than “somebody somewhere said something hurtful about me.” Sadly, the Church has often proved little different. ....

And this is not an English monopoly. It is a Western malaise. .... (more)

Carl R. Trueman, "The England I Knew Is Gone," First Things, August 27, 2026.

"Giving God his due"

From "Feeling Good Is Not the Point of Worship":

When does worship become more about the worshipers than the one being worshiped? If weekend worship is designed primarily to be a sort of emotional therapy, do we really need God for it?

No doubt, worship often leaves us feeling better. Sharing space with like-minded believers, opening God’s Word, singing hymns, partaking of Communion—how could such practices not yield beautiful byproducts? I hope my parishioners and I leave church better off than when we came in. Moreover, the emotional side of our lives is vital in worship (just read the Psalms). It seems to me that Christians too often forget we are embodied selves whose hearts are crucial to true worship, so emotional worship can be a welcome corrective.

Even so, there are dangers of emotional excess in worship—in emotion sought for its own sake. Or, perhaps, more precisely, there are dangers in myopic and clichéd pursuits of emotion in worship. ....

Is the church that makes us feel better making us be better? What is the long-term fruit of experience-driven worship? Are congregations becoming brighter lights and sturdier bastions of faith in an increasingly dark and hostile world? Do these worship habits help Christians become more like Christ? ....

Hyperfocus on feeling is a dangerous path to tread. Feelings ebb and flow. It is no knock on emotion to say it is not the foundation of faith, even if it often plays a significant role in our relationships with God and each other.

“Nobody can always have devout feelings: and even if we could, feelings are not what God principally cares about,” C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity. “He will give us feelings of love if He pleases. We cannot create them for ourselves, and we must not demand them as a right. But the great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go, His love for us does not.” ....

Have you have seen the work of the Holy Spirit equated with sensation? Next time someone in a pulpit or worship band says, “The Spirit is really moving today,” ask yourself what, specifically, that person means.

Nothing in Scripture suggests you can tell you’re experiencing a movement of God’s Spirit if you feel positive affect and overpowering sensation. Rather, biblically speaking, the Spirit is the one who makes us more like the crucified Jesus, the one who leads us into sacrificial suffering, by whom we cry, “Abba, Father” (Rom 8:12–17). If we say, “The Spirit is really moving today,” we ought to be witnessing something closer to Good Friday than Woodstock.

Don’t hear me wrong: Experience and emotion matter. These are good gifts from God and have their place in worship. But what we do at church must be far more than emotion and experience. ....

Worship is fundamentally about giving God his due, the glory and honor he deserves. We worship because God is God, whether or not we get anything out of it. Recall the words of the prophet: “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior” (Hab. 3:17–18). .... (more, probably behind a paywall)

Matthew D. Love, "Feeling Good Is Not the Point of Worship," Christianity Today, August 27, 2026.

"He almost deserved it"

I am making slow but regular progress through The Chronicles of Narnia and have just begun reading The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Eustace Clarence Scrubb, a cousin of the Pevensies, is introduced in this book. I enjoyed Lewis's description in the first chapter:

THERE was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it. His parents called him Eustace Clarence and his schoolmasters called him Scrubb. I can't tell you how his friends spoke to him, for he had none. He didn't call his father and mother "Father" and "Mother," but Harold and Alberta. They were very up-to-date and advanced people. They were vegetarians, non-smokers and teetotalers and wore a special kind of underclothes. In their house there was very little furniture and very few clothes on the beds and the windows were always open.

Eustace Clarence liked animals, especially beetles, if they were dead and pinned on a card. He liked books if they were books of information and had pictures of grain elevators or of fat foreign children doing exercises in model schools.

Eustace Clarence disliked his cousins, the four Pevensies—Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. But he was quite glad when he heard that Edmund and Lucy were corning to stay. For deep down inside he liked bossing and bullying; and, though he was a puny little person who couldn't have stood up even to Lucy, let alone Edmund, in a fight, he knew that there are dozens of ways to give people a bad time if you are in your own home and they are only visitors. ....

C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 1952.

"At a particular time and in a specific place"

Yesterday I quoted from Paul Johnson's Modern Times. Johnson was an historian, a graduate of Oxford, a student of C.S. Lewis, and a Christian. The quotations below are from two of his essays I once posted here, neither of which I could find online when I searched today. If anyone does find the sources, please let me know where.

From "A Historian Looks at Jesus":

Christianity, like the Judaism from which it sprang, is a historical religion, or it is nothing. It does not deal in myths and metaphors and symbols, or in states of being and cycles. It deals in facts. It presupposes a linear flight in time, through a real universe of concrete events. It sees humanity as marching inexorably from an irrecoverable past into an unprecedented future. The march is not haphazard. It proceeds according to a divine plan, in part revealed to us. Christians believe that certain specific, historical events occurred, and that, in time, certain other specific historical events will occur, bringing humanity’s sojourn in this world to a climax. Then, to use Shakespeare’s phrase, “time must have a stop." There the Christian’s perception of the timeless world of eternity—the nonhistorical afterlife—is much less clear. But the Christian notion of historical time is very definite, and central to the faith.

Jesus, the Son of God, was born of a virgin, at a particular time and in a specific place. He was God and man. He was crucified for our sins, but rose again the third day. The incarnation and the resurrection are not metaphors but actual, historical events. A man or woman cannot reject their historicity and remain a Christian. To accept the message of Christ, the teaching, the ethics, the example, the human perfection of Christ, is not enough. It is necessary to accept the Godhead as well as the manhood, to believe that the incarnation and the resurrection actually occurred. Without them, Christianity is nothing; it becomes a mere fantasy, a delusion. .... (more)

And from one about Evelyn Waugh:

The truth is that all of us are Jekyll and Hyde creatures, part saint, part beast. The great strength of Christianity is that, while insisting that man is made in the image of God, it accepts that there is a radical flaw in the reproduction. From time to time, God's image is reflected in man's face as in a hideous distorting mirror. Theologians call this the doctrine of Original Sin. But this is merely to rationalize what we can all observe but cannot explain. Shakespeare, in his marvelous play Hamlet, in which he tried to pour everything he knew of man's ambivalent nature, has his hero say: 'What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action, how like an angel! In apprehension, how like a God!' And yet, he adds, man is the quintessence of dust. Man can be, and often is, the most destructive, cruel and malicious of creatures. When Dr. Samuel Johnson was touring the Scottish Highlands with James Boswell, Lady Macleod of Dunvegan Castle asked him if no man was naturally good. He replied: 'No madam, no more than a wolf!' Boswell: 'Nor no woman, Sir?' Johnson: 'No, Sir!'

Dr. Johnson's listeners were shocked by his rigor, but what he meant was obvious enough. We have a propensity to evil in our natures which cannot be entirely corrected from our own resources. We need external help to keep our dark side under control.... (more)

Paul Johnson's approach reminds me of Dorothy L. Sayers.

Something deeper

English vicars have noticed increasing numbers of young people in their congregations. The Church of England commissioned a report to discover "what was drawing 18 to 30-year-olds to it. .... It investigated those who had come to Christianity from lapsed or atheist English upbringings, and also from migrant backgrounds and other faiths." It was released with "a lack of fanfare," perhaps because it wasn't really what they wanted to hear. From The Telegraph yesterday:

.... It is clear that the spiritual needs of the young, as articulated in the report, are in severe tension with the Church’s own direction.

One notable finding is that many of the young were prompted to start their journey towards Christianity by its literary and intellectual heritage.

Respondents described encounters with C.S. Lewis, G.K. Chesterton, Dostoyevsky, and David Bentley Hart, the Orthodox theologian. One 28-year-old, who had not been to university, was engaged by his interest in J.R.R. Tolkien, when he came to understand the role that Christian thought played in The Lord of the Rings. ....

The report dismisses the idea that the young will be attracted simply by slick visuals and hollowed-out presentations of the faith. They are looking for a rigorous understanding of life and morality. Many are put off by the shallowness of modern secular culture and are looking for something deeper.

The beauty of the Church’s artistic heritage was for others the first hint of this deeper world. One 21-year-old spoke of visiting a church in York and finding the light “streaming through” the ancient stained glass windows “and casting rainbows everywhere” as being “the most beautiful thing” he had ever seen. The historic buildings, for the young, can be a powerful form of evangelism.

It is likewise for the centuries-old Book of Common Prayer. “You have a connection to something that…however many generations of your ancestors would recognise and understand, the same liturgy that you’re reading. [It’s] immensely powerful,” said one 25-year-old. ....

These findings are almost a complete catalogue of what the Church is moving away from. .... (more)

Bijan Omrani, "Gen Z craves full-fat religion while the Church acts like a secular NGO," The Telegraph, July 26, 2026.

Reading Narnia again

I have begun to re-read the Narnia books, beginning, of course with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, not, as the current collections begin, with The Magician's Nephew. Alister McGrath, in my opinion, argues persuasively for for the publication order, with LWW first:

.... The most significant difficulty concerns The Magician's Nephew, the last in the series to be written, which describes the early history of Narnia. To read this work first completely destroys the literary integrity of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, which emphasises the mysteriousness of Aslan. It introduces him slowly and carefully, building up a sense of expectation that is clearly based on the assumption that the readers know nothing of the name, identity, or significance of this magnificent creature. In his role as narrator within The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Lewis declares, "None of the children knew who Asian was any more than you do." But anyone who has read The Magician's Nephew already knows a lot about Asian. The gradual disclosure of the mysteries of Narnia—one of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe's most impressive literary features—is spoiled and subverted by a prior reading of The Magician's Nephew.

Equally important, the complex symbolic structure of the Chronicles of Narnia is best appreciated through a later reading of The Magician' Nephew. This is most helpful when it is placed (following the order of publication) as the sixth of the seven volumes, with The Last Battle as the conclusion. .... (Alister McGrath, C.S. Lewis - A Life: Eccentric Genius, Reluctant Prophet, 2013.)

The first set of the Chronicles I bought (I own several), published by Macmillan in 1966,  used the original order. At the bottom of the cover above, it reads "Book 6 in the Chronicles of Narnia." At some point, that changed. In the more recent collection I own, published by HarperCollins, the Narnian chronology is used, with Magician first.

"Miserable offenders"

In "Confessing Sin, Then and Now," an Anglican pastor dislikes some modern liturgical innovations. I think he's right. The "updates" are unnecessary, and the changes inferior.  On the "Confession of Sin":

For the General Confession of Sins at Morning and Evening Prayer [BCP, 1662], we are given this prayer:

Almighty and most merciful Father, We have erred, and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep, We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts, We have offended against thy holy laws, We have left undone those things which we ought to have done, And we have done those things which we ought not to have done, And there is no health in us: But thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us miserable offenders; Spare thou them, O God, which confess their faults, Restore thou them that are penitent, According to thy promises declared unto mankind in Christ Jesu our Lord: And grant, O most merciful Father, for his sake, That we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sober life, To the glory of thy holy Name. Amen.

This is an all-time classic, and parts of it are now being used by other denominations besides Anglicans. It is both theologically well-rounded and liturgically sonorous. .... At Morning and Evening Prayer, the 1979 BCP has this confession of sins:

Almighty and most merciful Father, we have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep, we have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts, we have offended against thy holy laws, we have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we ought not to have done. But thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us, spare thou those who confess their faults, restore thou those who are penitent, according to thy promises declared unto mankind in Christ Jesus our Lord; and grant, O most merciful Father, for his sake, that we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sober life, to the glory of thy holy Name. Amen.

The language here is largely unchanged. It’s got “thy” and “thou.” There’s even still the potentially tongue-tying alliteration of “spare thou those.” None of that was a problem. But what’s different? There’s nothing added. But there is something missing.

Miserable Offenders. That’s been cut. The older BCPs read, “Have mercy upon us miserable offenders.” Now it’s just “have mercy upon us.” We can only presume that the 1979 American liturgists read C.S. Lewis’ essay on this line and chose to do the opposite of what he recommended. Fearful of misunderstanding or perhaps simply because they no longer felt quite so miserable, that line had to go. It was a tragedy then, and it’s a tragedy that has stuck with Anglicans, even of the more conservative variety.

Another cut is the removal of the line “there is no health in us.” Lurking behind this is surely the same sort of combination of confusion about the meaning of the words and possibly also a disbelief in the full reality of sin. There’s gotta be “some health” in us, right? A full humiliation and abasement is simply off-putting to the modern American mindset. .... (more, and some of the other modifications are worse)

Steven Wedgeworth, "Confessing Sin, Then and Now," Mere Orthodoxy, June 17, 2026.

"Are Women Human?"

Ben Domenech, in "She Loved God, Booze, And Cigarettes — And She Thought...," notes that today is the birthday of Dorothy L. Sayers, the author of very good, "Golden Age," mysteries featuring Lord Peter Wimsey. But she was much more:

If you are a Christian, you may know Sayers as someone who, while not a member of the infamous men-only Inklings, was a close friend of some of its members, including C.S. Lewis and Charles Williams. ....

If you’re a true nerd, you may even know Sayers as a founding member of the renowned Detection Club, whose first members included Agatha Christie and whose first president was G.K. Chesterton. She famously authored the oath to be sworn over a skull by its invite-only members: “Do you promise that your detectives shall well and truly detect the crimes presented to them using those wits which it may please you to bestow upon them and not placing reliance on nor making use of Divine Revelation, Feminine Intuition, Mumbo Jumbo, Jiggery-Pokery, Coincidence or Act of God?” She would go on to curate great collections of detective fiction published by some of the top writers in the field. ....

The daughter of a vicar, she behaved like nothing of the sort, despite her Christian faith. She loved to smoke and drink and ride her motorcycle, and as an advertising writer in the 1930s, she created the famed Guinness toucan, the ads for which you’ll still find hanging around your Irish local pub.

What certainly deserves to be known and appreciated more about her is that Sayers’ unique life and experience gave her an understanding of human nature that proved prescient for our day and age, and particularly for the fractious relationship between modern men and women. .... (more)

Domenech proceeds to quote from Sayers' "Are Women Human?" It can be found online here. A few excerpts:

...[W]e have, I think, allowed ourselves to drift into asserting that “a woman is as good as a man,” without always pausing to think what exactly we mean by that. What, I feel, we ought to mean is something so obvious that it is apt to escape attention altogether, viz: not that every woman is, in virtue of her sex, as strong, clever, artistic, level-headed, industrious and so forth as any man that can be mentioned; but, that a woman is just as much an ordinary human being as a man, with the same individual preferences, and with just as much right to the tastes and preferences of an individual. What is repugnant to every human being is to be reckoned always as a member of a class and not as an individual person. A certain amount of classification is, of course, necessary for practical purposes: there is no harm in saying that women, as a class, have smaller bones than men, wear lighter clothing, have more hair on their heads and less on their faces, go more pertinaciously to church or the cinema, or have more patience with small and noisy babies. In the same way, we may say that stout people of both sexes are commonly better-tempered than thin ones, or that university dons of both sexes are more pedantic in their speech than agricultural labourers, or that Communists of both sexes are more ferocious than Fascists — or the other way round. What is unreasonable and irritating is to assume that all one’s tastes and preferences have to be conditioned by the class to which one belongs. That has been the very common error into which men have frequently fallen about women — and it is the error into which feminist women are, perhaps, a little inclined to fall into about themselves. ....

We are much too much inclined in these days to divide people into permanent categories, forgetting that a category only exists for its special purpose and must be forgotten as soon as that purpose is served. There is a fundamental difference between men and women, but it is not the only fundamental difference in the world. There is a sense in which my charwoman and I have more in common than either of us has with, say, Mr. Bernard Shaw; on the other hand, in a discussion about art and literature, Mr. Shaw and I should probably find we had more fundamental interests in common than either of us had with my charwoman. I grant that, even so, he and I should disagree ferociously about the eating of meat — but that is not a difference between the sexes — on that point, the late Mr. G.K. Chesterton would have sided with me against the representative of his own sex. Then there are points on which I, and many of my own generation of both sexes, should find ourselves heartily in agreement; but on which the rising generation of young men and women would find us too incomprehensibly stupid for words. A difference of age is as fundamental as a difference of sex; and so is a difference of nationality. All categories, if they are insisted upon beyond the immediate purpose which they serve, breed class antagonism and disruption in the state, and that is why they are dangerous. ....

Indeed, it is my experience that both men and women are fundamentally human, and that there is very little mystery about either sex, except the exasperating mysteriousness of human beings in general. And though for certain purposes it may still be necessary, as it undoubtedly was in the immediate past, for women to band themselves together, as women, to secure recognition of their requirements as a sex, I am sure that the time has now come to insist more strongly on each woman’s — and indeed each man’s — requirements as an individual person. It used to be said that women had no esprit de corps; we have proved that we have — do not let us run into the opposite error of insisting that there is an aggressively feminist “point of view” about everything. To oppose one class perpetually to another — young against old, manual labour against brain-worker, rich against poor, woman against man — is to split the foundations of the State; and if the cleavage runs too deep, there remains no remedy but force and dictatorship. If you wish to preserve a free democracy, you must base it — not on classes and categories, for this will land you in the totalitarian State, where no one may act or think except as the member of a category. You must base it upon the individual Tom, Dick and Harry, on the individual Jack and Jill — in fact, upon you and me. (more, the entire essay)

Ben Domenech, "She Loved God, Booze, And Cigarettes — And She Thought," DailyWire, June13, 2026.

"The sword glitters"

I only possess a few of Chesterton's thirty-some books: Heretics and Orthodoxy, of course, his Autobiography, a collection of Father Brown stories, and The Man Who was Thursday. I also have a couple of collections of quotations. He was eminently quotable. He was admired by C.S. Lewis, and that was what first brought me to him. In a very good essay, "Chesterton's Radical Sanity," Rachel Lu on his great strength and some of his weaknesses:

The only possible excuse for this book,” wrote G.K. Chesterton at the outset of his 1908 book Orthodoxy, “is that it is an answer to a challenge. Even a bad shot is dignified when he accepts a duel.”

This is vintage Chesterton: witty, memorable, charmingly self-deprecating. Just two lines into the book, he already has readers fully engaged, hungry for further explanation. It’s a great lead-in to Orthodoxy, but also to Chesterton’s work more broadly.

Building on his intriguing start, Chesterton relates how the reviewers of his previous 1905 work, Heretics, had complained that it was unreasonable for him to engage in armchair criticism of their philosophies when he had yet to explain his own. “It was perhaps an incautious suggestion to make,” he notes, “to a person only too ready to write books on the feeblest provocation.” But though Orthodoxy is pitched as an answer to this challenge, Chesterton offers an important qualification. “I will not call it my philosophy; for I did not make it,” he explains. “God and humanity made it; and it made me.”

With a vast corpus and a wide range of interlocutors, Chesterton did a lot of shooting in his lifetime, hitting some targets and missing others by wide margins. He was winsome, whimsical, profound but also preposterous, maddeningly unsystematic, and often in error. Somehow even his bad shots feel dignified. And he himself reveals the reason here in the first lines of Orthodoxy. Chesterton understood his entire public career as a kind of answer to a challenge: the challenge of reductive, rationalist, soul-destroying pathologies of modernity. ....

...[H]e provides a wonderful conceptual framework to explain how tradition can help us cope with reality’s paralyzing complexity. If the world is large and chaotic, what is needed is an anchor, or perhaps a root, to attach human society to something firmer and more permanent than the whims and fantasies of a given moment. Tradition can be that root. A firm grounding in the wisdom of the past can enable the living to hold seemingly-conflicting truths in a dynamic tension, drawing stability and nourishment from the root in order to engage the world with confidence. More than just explaining this theory, Chesterton lived it, delineating a space much like what the humanist Lee Oser calls “the radical middle,” in which the strong root of Christian tradition and orthodoxy enables believers to hold a “center of sanity” that looks radical to observers from many different angles mainly because it reveals a reality that is in fact wonderfully strange. .... (more)

Rachel Lu, "Chesterton's Radical Sanity," Law & Liberty, April 1, 2026.

A prophetic novel?

In the third book of his science fiction trilogy, C.S, Lewis converted his thesis from The Abolition of Man into a novel:

In 1945, C.S. Lewis published a strange, unsettling novel called That Hideous Strength. It was marketed as fiction, but it read like prophecy. ....

That Hideous Strength isn’t really about technology. In truth, it is about the objects of our obedience. It’s about what happens when humanity stops kneeling before God and starts bowing to its own tools. Lewis understood something many clever people miss: rejecting divine truth doesn’t make people more rational. If anything, it leaves them exposed, more vulnerable, more easily led.

The novel centers on an institution called the N.I.C.E., which stands for the National Institute of Co-ordinated Experiments. It presents itself as scientific, humane, and forward-looking. It promises efficiency. Improvement. A better future, scrubbed clean of superstition and sentiment.

Behind the glass walls and polite language, however, darker intentions take hold. The organization seeks to “recondition” humanity. To reshape desire. To erase conscience. To replace moral limits with technical control. ....

In That Hideous Strength, the villains aren’t crude tyrants. They are administrators. Experts. Committees. They speak eloquently. They promise safety. They insist they are beyond good and evil because they operate on a higher plane.

Lewis recognized this tone. It is the voice of people who believe themselves absolved by intelligence. People who think cleverness is a moral category. People who confuse capability with permission.

Lewis warned of the abolition of man, not as a sudden catastrophe, but as a slow diminishment. Not destruction by force, but erosion by pride. When basic decency is discarded, those who hold authority no longer judge human behavior; they redefine what it means to be human — reshaping instincts, limits, and desires according to their own designs. .... (more)

John Mac Ghlionn, "How C. S. Lewis’s Prophetic Warning Has Come True 80 Years Later," Religion Unplugged, Feb 25, 2026.

Read books!

National Review's March edition recognizes the 250^th anniversary of America's Independence with some pretty good essays. From Mary Katharine Ham in "Reading Makes Us Better Citizens":

In a video I stumbled on recently, a man in a hoodie reads to the camera, somewhat haltingly telling the story of Aslan and the Pevensie children. He’s been working his way, one chapter a day, through The Chronicles of Narnia. The text over the video reads, “37 years old, fifth-grade reading level, no one taught me, but I’m not giving up.” ....

The truth is that a lot of Americans, for more than a generation, haven’t been learning very much. They don’t learn because they don’t read. They don’t read because they’re not asked to, and if they are, it’s in small excerpts. If they were asked to read, many couldn’t because trendy pedagogy took precedence over phonics and didn’t begin to lose its hold until 2022, when journalist Emily Hanford revealed that there is a science to reading that research shows works but that schools ignored. ....

Even an elite college like Columbia University, with its great-books curriculum, is cutting the number of required books because students are “overwhelmed by the reading,” a situation recounted by professors to The Atlantic. The share of nine-year-olds who read for fun every day is at the lowest level since the Nation’s Report Card began studying the trend in 1984. And the percentage of adults who read for pleasure daily dropped from 28 percent to 16 percent over 20 years. ....

Despite the research showing that newer methods of teaching reading didn’t work, the education establishment wouldn’t let go of debunked practices. Yet some states, like Mississippi, had figured things out. When the Magnolia State launched a new approach to literacy in 2013, it started on a trajectory that took it from 49th to ninth in the Nation’s Report Card rankings. The poorest state in the country, with large numbers of low-income and minority students, began outperforming everyone, showing gains across all income and achievement levels for half what California spends per student.

The state’s approach was to screen young kids several times per year for literacy, attempting to close the kind of cracks that Oliver James had fallen through 30 years ago. Mississippi added a policy to hold back third-graders who were not proficient. This caused controversy, as many assumed that large numbers of students would be held back. What actually happened is that accountability and a new approach got adults in gear to help students succeed by third grade. Setting higher expectations, not hiding failure with lower ones, worked. The state invested in training to get teachers bought in on new curricula and used tried-and-true phonics instruction in line with the science of reading.

This success has already been replicated in Alabama, Tennessee, and Louisiana, which all rose substantially in NAEP rankings in 2024 as other states continued to fight pandemic losses. ....

At the risk of simplifying complex problems, the answer is books. They’re not just practical, but as the “Mississippi miracle” moniker suggests, downright astounding in their delivery of public good. In the 2019 book The Enchanted Hour, which inspired me to start regular read-alouds with my children, author Meghan Cox Gurdon calls it a “dazzlingly transformative and even countercultural act” in an age of increased technology and decreased connection. “Reading out loud is probably the least expensive and most effective intervention we can make for the good of our families, and for the wider culture.” .... (more)

I was taught before phonics went out of style. I also had a father who read to me, and there were many, many books available. I didn't always read what was assigned, but I always read. I was very fortunate.

Mary Katharine Ham, "Reading Makes Us Better Citizens," National Review, March, 2026.

Ayn Rand on C.S. Lewis

Today I reviewed the posts on this site that I had tagged "Ayn Rand." Among them, I found "Ayn Rand Really, Really Hated C.S. Lewis," a 2013 article at First Things by Matthew Schmitz (it now seems to have moved behind a paywall):

Ayn Rand was no fan of C.S. Lewis. She called the famous apologist an "abysmal bastard," a "monstrosity," a "cheap, awful, miserable, touchy, social-metaphysical mediocrity," a "pickpocket of concepts," and a "God-damn, beaten mystic." (I suspect Lewis would have particularly relished the last of these.)

These insults and more can be found in her marginal notes on a copy of Lewis' Abolition of Man, as printed in Ayn Rand's Marginalia: Her critical comments on the writings of over 20 authors, edited by Robert Mayhew. Excerpts appear below, with Lewis' writing (complete with Rand's highlighting and underlining) on the left and Rand's notes on the right.

Two examples:

Either we are rational spirit obliged for ever to obey the absolute values of the Tao, or else we are mere nature to be kneaded and cut into new shapes for the pleasures of masters who must, by hypothesis, have no motive but their own ‘natural’ impulses. Only the Tao provides a common human law of action which can over-arch rulers and ruled alike. A dogmatic belief in objective value is necessary to the very idea of a rule which is not tyranny or an obedience which is not slavery.

The lousy bastard who is a pickpocket of concepts, not a thief, which is too big a word for him. Either we are mystics of spirit or mystics of muscle – reason? who ever heard of it?– such as in the Middle Ages?

You cannot go on ‘explaining away’ for ever: you will find that you have explained explanation itself away. You cannot go on ‘seeing through’ things for ever. The whole point of seeing through something is to see some­thing through it. It is good that the window should be transparent, because the street or garden beyond it is opaque. How if you saw through the garden too? It is no use trying to ‘see through’ first principles. If you see through everything, then everything is transparent. But a wholly transparent world is an invisible world. To ‘see through’ all things is the same as not to see.

The abysmal caricature who postures as a “gentle­man and a scholar” treats sub­jects like these by means of a corner lout’s equivocation on “seeing through.”! By “seeing through,” he means “rational understanding”! Oh,BS! – and total BS!

Ayn Rand, avatar of Reason!

C.S. Lewis and T.S. Eliot

At Prufrock this morning, there was a link to an article about the eventual friendship between T.S. Eliot and C.S. Lewis. Lewis detested Eliot's poetry and literary criticism but they did, finally, become good friends. From "C.S. Lewis and T.S. Eliot: A Tale of Two Critics."

The opening greeting, “My Dear Eliot,” from the pen of C.S. Lewis may not seem particularly notable, but that simple yet warm greeting from Lewis to Eliot in several letters from 1959 to 1960 was an achievement that took decades. Since the beginning of their respective careers there had been an entrenched coolness. But as they gathered in 1959, summoned by Geoffrey Fisher, Archbishop of Canterbury, to serve on the Committee to Revise the Psalter, impressions changed, and old prejudices evaporated as both men found that they held much in common. It appears that while they worked on the committee to preserve much of the Coverdale translation, which they both loved deeply, the personal gulf between the men was bridged. Soon the men were meeting together with their wives over lunch. Lewis, ever the accumulator of friends that differed from him greatly, made his peace with Eliot, remarking to Walter Hooper, “You know that I never cared for Eliot’s poetry and criticism, but when we met I loved him at once.” There is no noted change in Lewis’s attitude toward Eliot’s work, but he did find the man behind the words and counted him in the end as a friend. ....

Suspicions faded and Lewis met the man not the critic. Lunches with wives took place, letters were sent with warm and kind greetings—gone were the days of aiming at the officers in an attack. Soon an opportunity would appear for Eliot to aid his friend. While serving as editor at Faber and Faber, Eliot received a manuscript under a pseudonym. Knowing his friend and the death of Lewis’s wife, Joy, Eliot easily guessed the author. He was deeply moved by the manuscript that would become A Grief Observed (1961). Eliot not only published it but offered suggestions for a different pseudonym to honor the author’s wish to remain anonymous. ....

Lewis, ever the charitable dissenter, seemed to collect friends for the art of debate and disagreement, but he took a long time to come around to Eliot. .... (more)

Jackson Greer, "C.S. Lewis and T.S. Eliot: A Tale of Two Critics," Front Porch Republic, Jan 7, 2026.

"Children tend not to enjoy hectoring"

From "Kids Deserve Beautiful Books":

By now perhaps you’ve heard that America’s children aren’t interested in reading and aren’t capable of digesting books befitting their grade levels. A litany of articles and national report cards testify to the crisis. But the fight for young minds is being lost even earlier than most appreciate and long before a child sets foot in a school.

The first frontier is children’s literature: chapter, picture and even board books. There are thousands of children’s books that train the ear in language and form the moral imagination, narratives that help children place themselves in the larger human story. But many are now hard to find, and most of the latest titles can be fairly described as awful. ....

American families do still read some good books to young children. But it’s typical now in bookstores to find children’s books browbeating kids about why Ruth Bader Ginsburg was a girlboss or how all the animals will soon be extinct because of human rapaciousness. One title I encountered recently at a store was about an ocelot separated from another cat by an evil wall on the southern border.

The nation’s most prestigious honor for children’s literature, the Randolph Caldecott Medal, once went to powerhouse titles like The Little House and Chanticleer and the Fox, the latter a spin on the Canterbury Tales. In 2024, the winner was an “emotional exploration of being big in a world that prizes small.” In 2021, the Caldecott went to a tale about how “water is the first medicine.” ....

The books aren’t compelling. They teach through lectures about self-confidence or managing emotions, instead of rich stories that stir a heart to ponder characters and lessons. Children tend not to enjoy hectoring, and who can blame them? ....

Alas, most public libraries have abandoned their role in providing equitable access to excellent books. My local library features staff book lists for children, and what’s on offer? Books on “divorce and separation”; books on “mindfulness for kids”; “Feelings: Shelf-Help for Littles”; “funny picture books to make you LOL.” There’s also a list dedicated to gender issues and identities for “younger readers,” including a book about a kid who “has always been a boy, even if the world sees him as a girl.” ....

This Christmas, I’m reading aloud to my family perhaps the best story for children ever written, published 75 years ago this fall: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. I figured the falling snow outside was an evocative moment to invite the children to imagine a world where it’s “always winter but never Christmas.”

Wardrobe is a masterpiece precisely because it doesn’t hammer readers with a simple lesson or obsess over the inner emotional monologues of the four protagonist children, even as they encounter a sometimes frightening world. There’s more to absorb in that short story about emotional courage, justice and a healthy sense of identity than you’ll ever find in today’s hackneyed books for children. (more, but likely behind a paywall)

Kate B. Odell, "Kids Deserve Beautiful Books," The Wall Street Journal, Dec. 22, 2025.

A journey to faith

From another review of Charles Murray's Taking Religion Seriously:

At the heart of Murray’s argument are two points that I find particularly compelling. Like Cardinal Newman and C.S. Lewis (from whom Murray draws abundantly), Murray believes that there is a nonarbitrary “Moral Law” manifest in human conscience that reveals the nature of good and evil and encourages us to “do the right thing.” With Lewis’s help, Murray sees through facile moral and cultural relativism. Even in the midst of genuine diversity of mores and practices, what Lewis called “the Tao” can still be seen. Where on earth have an entire people or culture esteemed in principle faithlessness over loyalty, murder over the obligation not to kill, falsehood over truth, cowardice over courage, rank selfishness over the common good? No, all human cultures at their core see themselves as morally bound and morally guided. ....

Murray has therefore arrived at a position that is not merely theistic but genuinely Christian. With due modesty, he has come to believe that we live in an “intentional universe” and have access to a binding “moral bedrock” amid the chaos of “tumultuous changes in the secular received wisdom about what is right and wrong, good and evil.” He has also come to believe in the reality of sin, as well as in the life-transforming “forgiveness of sins” through the offices of a just and merciful God as proclaimed and made manifest by Jesus Christ. Given Murray’s personal starting point and scientific credentials, the witness of his journey to faith is all the more winsome. One could see him as the antitype and antidote to those, like Richard Dawkins, who speak of a “universe of ‘no design, no purpose, no evil, no good, nothing but pitiless indifference.’” (more)

Daniel J. Mahoney, "Charles Murray, in Good Faith," National Review, Dec. 18, 2025.

"In memory, it’s all in black and white."

Many of us who were alive on November 22, 1963, had experiences similar to Patrick Kurp's:

No public event has shaken me so lastingly as the assassination of President Kennedy. I’m not speaking sentimentally, mourning the glory that was Camelot. JFK was a mediocre president, at best, and not a good man.

I had turned eleven a month before his murder. The killing taught me that everyone was vulnerable, even the most powerful and protected man in the world. I don’t mean that in the personal sense. I haven’t spent the last sixty-two years trembling with paranoia. I’m talking about history. No one is immune to its machinations. Few things last.

The way I learned of the assassination seems significant. Ron Ornsby and I were in the same sixth-grade class and had walked to our Safety Patrol post, carrying our flags and wearing Sam Browne belts. A driver stopped to tell us the president had been shot. ....

When I walked in the back door at home, I could see the silhouette of my mother crying in front of the television. For the next three days, we were forbidden to play outside and spent most of the time watching the news from Dallas and Washington, D.C. In memory, it’s all in black and white. ....

I was a high school senior that year. I was home because that was the day of my grandmother's funeral. We learned of the assassination from a television broadcast just before leaving to go to the church. We didn't know the President was dead until after my grandmother's interment. The lady who drove us to the cemetery stayed in the car, listening to the radio. When we got home, I called the school. I learned later that there had been crying in the halls and classrooms. The band from my high school had marched in JFK's inaugural parade.

Some time later, I learned that C.S. Lewis had also died on that day.

Patrick Kurp, "'But O the Heavy Change, Now Thou Art Gone'," Anecdotal Evidence, Nov. 22, 2025.