Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Through The Wardrobe

In the past week, I've started reading The Chronicles of Narnia for the first time in almost 20 years.

I remember as a boy thinking that The Magician's Nephew, The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe and Prince Caspian were all brilliant, but becoming progressively more bored as the series progressed.

I'm not sure what has made me decide to start reading the books again. I bought one massive compendium of all seven whilst in Australia four years ago, and carted it around the world back to Scotland, unread in the eight months that journey took.

Maybe it's because the strange workings of my mind associate Narnia (snow, White Witch, fir trees) with Xmas. Whatever the reason, I'm now approaching the end of The Magician's Nephew, and I'm finding the experience of re-reading the Narnia books a bit strange.

Firstly, the language used by CS Lewis is occasionally archaic, as one would expect from a series of books written 50 years ago, a world before the mass arrival of the motor car, before every house in the world had at least one telephone, and before everyone in the world had a television.

And what has also struck me is the blatantly obvious Christian references, which weren't so readily apparent to an eight-year-old devouring these imaginative tales for the first time.

By the time he wrote The Magician's Nephew, Lewis had already penned five of the Narnia novels, and must have had a clear view of how the series would end. The comparisons with the New Testament, as seen through the eyes of a cynical 27-year-old cynical journalist, are inescapable.

But perhaps the strangest thing is that I can't really remember how the story unfolds. Although almost 20 years have passed, I thought I'd remembered the story pretty well. But each chapter so far has been like I've been reading it for the first time. Cinematic and television versions of the Chronicles have kept certain aspects fresh in my mind, but now I'm having doubts about how accurately I've remembered the rest of the books.

Which has set me to wondering - have I forgotten what happens in some of my favourite literature?

There's only one way to find out - by re-reading Treasure Island, the complete works of Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton's Enchanted Wood tales.

I may be quiet for some time.

2 comments:

Ralphd00d said...

Just last year I, too, had re-read that series. Just prior to the movie coming out. Definitely different than when I read them as a kid as well.

Slutty McWho? said...

Oh, I love the Narnia Chronicles, although I don't think I have the guts to read them as an adult, as I have such magical memories of them, and I don't want to read them again and find out they weren't as good as I thought. Also, I'm doing (or trying to do a Master's in Literature)now, so I can never read without a pen in hand, waiting to underline some "significant" moment. I'd like to remember the Narnia stuff as it is without being too fucking analytical.

My other favourite book is "Love in the Time of Cholera" which I must have read about 15 years ago. I can barely remember it (except for a scene about geriatric sex, which was surprisingly moving) but, once again, I'm afraid to read it in case the memory is tarnished.