Daily Book Excerpt: Children’s Bookshelf:
Next book on the shelf is The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
I mean, please.
This book was read out loud to our 4th grade class. Unforgettable. I still remember my first encounter with this book. The magic, the heartache, and … just the writing – the DETAIL! It was always the DETAILS that got me, sucked me in. The description of Mr. Tumnus’ cave … I mean, honestly. Who would not want to live in that cozy spot?? The terrifying first meeting between the White Witch and Edmund … who wasn’t fascinated by Turkish Delight? Who didn’t relate to Edmund in that scene? But the way that Witch appears, and the two line description of her made me go all goosebumpy when I was a kid and I still go all goosbumpy when I read it: “Her face was white – not merely pale, but white like snow or paper or icing sugar, except for her very red mouth. It was a beautiful face in other respects, but proud and cold and stern.” See? Goosebumps. Details. The smell and scratch of the fur coats in the wardrobe, and the sudden wintry chill. That damn lamppost. Etc. I could go on and on and on and on …
I’ll post what may be a rather innocuous excerpt except for the brief hint of things ominous to come at the very end – but it’s one of my favorite bits of writing in the entire book. It was when I was a kid, too. I remember my mouth almost watering when I heard this part read to me for the first time. The food smells, the coziness after the winter, the roaring fire, the melty butter …
CS Lewis made that world real.
From The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
Above the dam there was what ought to have been a deep pool but was now of course a level floor of dark green ice. And below the dam, much lower down, was more ice, but instead of being smooth this was all frozen into the foamy and wavy shapes in which the water had been rushing along at the very moment when the frost came. And where the water had been trickling over and spurting through the dam there was now a glittering wall of icicles, as if the side of the dam had been covered all over with flowers and wreaths and festoons of the purest sugar. And out in the middle, and partly on the top of the dam, was a funny little house shaped rather like an enormous bee-hive and from a hole in the roof smoke was going up, so that when you saw it (especially if you were hungry) you at once thought of cooking and became hungrier than you were before.
That was what the others chiefly noticed, but Edmund noticed something else. A little lower down the river there was another small river which came down another small valley to join it. And looking up that valley, Edmund could see two small hills, and he was almost sure they were the two hills which the White Witch had pointed out to him when he parted from her at the lamp-post that other day. And then between them, he thought, must be her palace, only a mile off or less. And he thought about Turkish Delight and about being a King (“And I wonder how Peter will like that?” he asked himself) and horrible ideas came into his head.
“Here we are,” said Mr. Beaver, “and it looks as if Mrs. Beaver is expecting us. I’ll lead the way. But be careful and don’t slip.”
The top of the dam was wide enough to walk on, though not (for humans) a very nice place to walk because it was covered with ice, and though the frozen pool was level with it on one side, there was a nasty drop to the lower river on the other. Along this route Mr. Beaver led them in single file right out to the middle where they could look a long way up the river and a long way down it. And when they had reached the middle they were at the door of the house.
“Here we are, Mrs. Beaver,” said Mr. Bever, “I’ve found them. Here are the Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve” — and they all went in/
The first thing Lucy noticed as she went in was a burring sound, and the first thing she saw was a kind-looking old she-beaver sitting in the corner with a thread in her mouth working busily at her sewing machine and it was from it that the sound came. She stopped her work and got up as soon as the children came in.
“So you’ve come at last!” she said, holding out both her wrinkled old paws. “At last! To think that ever I should live to see this day! The potatoes are on boiling and the kettle’s singing and I daresay, Mr. Beaver, you’ll get us some fish.”
“That I will,” said Mr. Beaver and he went out of the house (Peter went with him) and across the ice of the deep pool to where he had a little hole in the ice which he kept open every day with his hatchet. They took a pail with them, Mr. Beaver sat down quietly at the edge of the hole (he didn’t seem to mind it’s being so chilly) looked hard into it, then suddenly shot in his paw, and before you could say Jack Robinson had whisked out a beautiful trout. Then he did it all over again until they had a fine catch of fish.
Meanwhile the girls were helping Mrs. Beaver to fill the kettle and lay the table and cut the bread and put the plates in the oven to heat and draw a huge jug of beer for Mr. Beaver from a barrel which stood in one corner of the house, and to put on the frying pan and get the dripping hot. Lucy thought the Beavers had a very snug little home though it was not at all like Mr. Tumnus’s cave. There were no books or pictures and instead of beds there were bunks, like on board ship, built into the wall. And there were hams and strings of onions hanging from the roof and against the walls were gum boots and oilskins and hatchets and pairs of shears and spades and trowels and things for carrying mortar in and fishing rods and fishing nets and sacks. And the cloth on the table tho’ very clean was very rough.
Just as the frying pan was nicely hissing Peter and Mr. Beaver came in with the fish which Mr. Beaver had already opened with his knife and cleaned out in the open air. You can think how good the new-caught fish smelled while they were frying and how the hungry children longed for them to be done and how very much hungrier still they had become before Mrs. Beaver said, “Now we’re nearly ready.” Susan drained the potatoes and then put them all back in the empty pot to dry on the side of the range while Lucy was helping Mrs. Beaver to dish up the trout, so that in a very few minutes everyone was drawing up stools (it was all three-legged stools in the Beavers’ house except for Mrs. Beaver’s own special rocking chair beside the fire) and preparing to enjoy themselves. There was a jug of creamy milk for the children (Mr. Beaver stuck to beer) and a great big lump of deep yellow butter in the middle of the table from which everyone took as much as he wanted to go with his potatoes and all the children thought – and I agree with them – that there’s nothing to beat good freshwater fish if you eat it when it has been alive half an hour ago and has come out of the pan half a minute ago. And when they had finished the fish Mrs. Beaver brought unexpectedly out of the oven a great and gloriously sticky marmalade roll, steaming hot, and at the same time moved the kettle on to the fire, so that when they had finished the marmalade roll the tea was made and ready to be poured out. And when each person had got his (or her) cup of tea, each person shoved back his (or her) stool so as to be able to lean against the wall and gave a long sigh of contentment.
“And now,” said Mr. Beaver pushing away his empty beer mug and pulling his cup of tea towards him, “if you’ll just wait till I’ve got my pipe lit up and going nicely – why, now we can get to business. It’s snowing again,” he added, cocking his eye at the window. “That’s all the better, because it means we shan’t have any visitors; and if anyone should have been trying to follow you, why he won’t find any tracks.”
I read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to my sons (7 and 3-1/2) at bedtime over the winter. We’re about halfway into Treasure Island now–between were The Hobbit and Farmer Giles of Ham. I’d like to get the Chronicles of Narnia in hardcover.
Turkish Delight? Who WOULDN’T be fascinated with opium candy!?!
I kid.
I liked every bit of that book except for the part where they meet Father Christmas. I always thought, even as a child, that that part was odd.
I know – and my British friends assure me that Turkish delight is horrendous – but the way it affected Edmund just made it seem like it must be sooooooo good! (For example: if the White Witch would have tempted me with candy corn at that age? Fuggedaboutit. I’d be running off to her side as well.)
Ken – Cashel loves Treasure Island! I tried to read Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe to him when he was …. 7? He got way too scared. The second I read that sentence about the Witch he got up and said, “Nope. Too scary.”
hahahaha I agree, Cash-man!
Some of my favorites parts of this excerpt:
/And he thought about Turkish Delight and about being a King (“And I wonder how Peter will like that?” he asked himself) and horrible ideas came into his head./
Chills.
/There was a jug of creamy milk for the children (Mr. Beaver stuck to beer) and a great big lump of deep yellow butter in the middle of the table from which everyone took as much as he wanted …/
I always wanted some of that creamy milk and some of that bread with a big lump of deep yellow butter. I just love how Lewis creates this cozy outpost smack in the middle of ominous winter — as if when they close the door, that just doesn’t exist, even if for the briefest of moments. You feel safe and loved and warm. I mean, please:
/And when they had finished the fish Mrs. Beaver brought unexpectedly out of the oven a great and gloriously sticky marmalade roll, steaming hot …/
Oh, JOY!
That is my word for this book.
I know!! the jug of creamy milk and that BUTTER. It just is so scrumptious sounding.
I also enjoy the “dark green ice” part.
And after they finish dinner – Edmund has disappeared, right? I mean, you can see how he has disappeared at the end of this excerpt – while Peter is fishing and the girls are cooking where is Edmund?
You just love the Beavers. They are totally people (uhm – people?) you would want around in the middle of an emergency.
It has been so long since I’ve read the Narnia books. I loved them SO MUCH when I was a kid. I need to crack them open again. (I avoided the movie because I want to experience the books again first.)
I love that Cashel quote. Rock on, little dude.
Erik – I was pleasantly surprised by the movie- although, for me, they didn’t have the magic of the book. Oh well. I’m a book snob.
I thought Tilda Swinton as the witch, though, was aweeeeeeeesome. Truly terrifying. Not human. Not at ALL my picture of the Witch – but amazing.
And the little girl playing Lucy was spectacular – one of those child actors who doesn’t seem like an actor at all. She was lovely.
Red-Excellent excerpt. I read all of the Chronicles of Narnia books as a kid, older than Cashel at the time, and the so descriptive writing just pulled me in. It was so easy to imagine that world, what great writing, imho.
Ken-When the movie was coming out, I mentioned in a conversation with my family that I used to have all the paperbacks but I had lent them to someone and never got them back. That Christmas, one of the presents I received was a new hardbound version of all the books. It’s beautiful, a keepsake.
I read The Hobbit to my daughter when she was 4, followed by The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It’s that book that caused her to be an early reader. I remember reading to her one night until my voice cut out and I croaked, “I’m sorry, I have to stop now.” “Oh, no, Mommy, I have to find out what happened to Edmund and the White Witch!” she said, and she took the book from me and tried to force the printed words to talk to her. (We read The Magician’s Nephew next, because she wanted to know about Narnia’s beginnings, and then we skipped to the Little House books, some Ramona and Beezus, and The Door in the Wall, and I don’t remember what else. I still read to her occasionally.)
Father Christmas was the first sign to the Narnians that Aslan was on the way, along with the ice starting to melt. Remember that the Witch made it always winter and never Christmas. It was significant that Edmund missed out on getting a gift because he’d gone off to betray his sibs. Even though he repented and was forgiven, he still missed out on that. A good life-lesson.
Narnia is great, great stuff. I still can’t believe I missed LWW in theaters. I only see about four movies a year and that was one I had planned on – I can’t even remember why I had to skip our group outing on debut night.
It helps to have memorized large swaths of the books, of course.
Tilda Swinton as the witch, though, was aweeeeeeeesome.
Again, I’ll have to see for myself, but the actress in that role in the BBC’s live production gave possibly the worst performance ever on film in any genre in the history of our arm of the galaxy. It was so bad three Vogons walked out of the building in disgust. The goofy-beyond-compare animal costumes didn’t help much, either – but I do remember that the young actress in the role of Lucy was quite good.
(Quirk Alert – the actress who played Susan was also named Sophie, and is less than one year older than her on-screen sister, even though the characters are far enough apart in age to have a whole other sibling between them.)
I don’t know how, but I never read these books as a child. I’m embarassed to say it, but my first actual encounter with them was an abridged (and very good) children’s version someone gave us, followed quickly by the recent movie. My husband continues to be mortified by this gaping hole in my literary education and maybe doesn’t want to be married to me anymore because of it (I kind of can’t blame him). He’s taking no chances over here, though, and is reading the entire series to our older daughter (4 1/2), who is eating them up.
Tilda Swinton was amazing as the White Witch, I thought — a crazy, scary lady, but weirdly beautiful too. The battle scenes where she’s got that huge ponytail thing and kind of looks like a lion herself? Oooh, so frightening. I also loved all of the child actors. They all seemed great choices to me, especially Lucy, who as you say was just incredibly natural and unaffected and perfect.
Sorry to go off on a movie tangent. I have a complex about not having read the book! : ) But I’m thoroughly enjoying the nightly reads around here. Better late than never!
One of my favorite book-series.
I remember loving Mr. Tumnus’ cave and also the Beavers’ house – Lewis was always very good in the series about writing that kind of “comforts of home” sort of thing. (I also remember the attics from Magician’s Nephew as being sort of a magical place, maybe not cozy like the Beavers’ house, but a place where ADULTS could not get at the children.)
I have a whole hardback set – one of the older (maybe 1960s) printings. One of my relatives (he was…ummm…a cousin once removed? The son of one of my great aunts). He was a lot older than I was (he was like in his 40s or 50s when I was a child) and I guess he decided he was done with the books, because he gave them to me, one by one, each with a letter from him (I still have some of the letters) that sort of talked about (without giving spoilers) what was going to happen in the book.
I don’t know if his intention was for me to pass them on to someone else after I became an adult, but I still have them. And I still read them from time to time.
I know in some circles it’s fashionable to run the books down because of Lewis’ strong (some say, “muscular”) Christianity, or because some of the attitides in the book come off as sexist, or because (I’ve seen some people claim this but I just do NOT see it) “the writing isn’t very good” (huh?). But I love the books and I think that style of writing to a certain extent affected how I write and speak now. (And it expanded my vocabulary – I remember looking up a lot of words. I was about 7 or 8 when I first read the books).
I have no idea how anyone could think that that writing is not good!! ???? Sorry, I know I’m biased, but I think he’s just a WONDERFUL writer. Maybe those people are just pissed that the Christian allegory is there at all so they don’t want to compliment the book – fearing it will somehow work its crazy Christian voodoo on the unknowing populace.
Uhm, right. And how would that work?
Sigh. It’s really too bad!
On the flip side, I find the Christians who feel like they “own” this book to be pretty obnoxious – and their obnoxiousness reached new heights when the movie was coming out. Like – wow, can I enjoy the film on MY terms? Or do I have to submit to your dogma in order to earn the right to say I liked it?
But like I said back then – the book works as an allegory, certainly – but it works even better as just a damn good story. This is my opinion and there are plenty of folks who disagree with me – but those are usually the folks who feel like they “own” the book and want to tell me what the proper response to it should be. When I read it as a kid, it was just a fantasy book – a fantasy world, etc. etc. So you can certainly “get” the book without picking up on the Biblical allegory.
Eh, piffle to the owners – and to the scoffers. So many people had your reaction as a kid, Sheila, reading them without saying, Oh, Aslan must be the Lion of Judah based on these seven Scriptural passages and a quote from Bunyan.
To me that’s what proves Lewis’ genius as a writer and storyteller – he works for kids, he works for adults, and everything is enjoyable and engrossing. Narnia is real, and Lewis is just describing it.
And his narration is so perfect: there’s the great bit in the fifth book, “The Horse and His Boy,” where he describes the heroes’ journey across the desert. The sounds, the pitiless sun, even the smells all come to life. You enter right into the experience and the feelings of the characters – nothing to do except keep riding, keep enduring… “The mountains refused to seem any closer. The city refused to get any farther away. You felt like it was like this forever… the thudding of hooves, the sound of the harness, jingle-jingle, squeak-squeak, smell of hot horse, smell of hot self.” (I hope my memory isn’t too off on this because it’s brilliant.)
And he knows when, as the narrator, to directly address the audience AS an audience, such as in “Voyage of the Dawn Treader” where Lucy reads the spell in the Magician’s book – “Nothing will induce me to tell you the words,” he says in the middle of the description – you can HEAR him poke his head up from the book, talk to us, and then duck back down to keep reading to us.
He rules my world. =D
I’m thoroughly enjoying the nightly reads around here.
I’m thoroughly enjoying adding an “f” to the word “nightly.” Heheheheheh.
I remember that part of Horse and His Boy – although it’s been years since I read it! You’re so right – that made a huge impression on me, you enter into that world.
Maybe I should re-read all of them on my vacation this summer!
Oh – and I have no idea if this is true or not – but the opening scene of Shadowlands (a movie I really loved) has Lewis hanging out with all his Oxford don friends – who are all reading into the message of Narnia, trying to find subtext, the seriousness, what have you – and Lewis jumps up and says, “No, no, don’t you understand – it is what it is. A little girl goes into a wardrobe … and finds a magical world! That’s the story!” The Oxford dons pooh-pooh the simplicity – there must be more to it than that! And of course there is more to it than that, which is why the book resonates so deeply with people – and made a FAR greater impression on me than the Lord of the Rings. I read all those books – but for me they didn’t hold even a quarter of the magic the Narnia books held.
But Lewis wrote it and lost himself in the fantasy world – the allegory is fun for the scholars to pore over, but the text doesn’t depend on it.
IIRC, Lewis didn’t really want the books (especially LWW) to be seen as straight allegory: where x in the book corresponds to y in the “real world,” but rather that he preferred them to be like “a fragment of a melody that reminds you of something else.”
I love that line. And I, too, get tired of the people who want to comb through the books and parse them to death or who claim that the books are “their very own” and if you don’t believe exactly as you do, you can’t really EXPERIENCE them in the same way.
Sometimes, as I said to my English major friend, you just want to READ A STORY. And these are cracking good stories.
ricki – Yeah, it’s too literal a response – I think he and Tolkien both were not too big on allegory.
Another example of this kind of thinking – I was in a traveling production of The Diary of Anne Frank – and we would do talk-backs after some of the shows (which means we the actors would come out after the show and take questions from the audience). Because it was Anne Frank, it was obviously very intense – lots of tormented questions from little kids – etc. They were always really moving. And we performed it once in a synogogue, I believe – I can’t remember – it was so long ago – and during the talk-back I said something about having grown up reading Anne Frank’s diary – and the woman who was running the talk-back (a representative from the synogogue) just didn’t like that, I could feel it – it was a sharp suddenly angry energy from her – and she said to me – with a not-so-subtle “back off” tone: “Just remember – Anne Frank is ours.”
I’ll never forget that. I so wanted to get into it with that lady – but I figured it wasn’t the time and place. I get why she feels that way and I honestly don’t have a problem with it – but to dis me, the stupid Christian, so openly, for enjoying that book – for getting all proprietary over Anne Frank – who not only has something to say about the Holocaust and its horrors – but about the triumph of the human spirit – … It just was really rude and I resented her proprietary attitude.
I had to bite my tongue. heh heh Not easy, as you can imagine. I felt like I was 8 years old. Wanted to say, “You don’t OWN Anne Frank! I can like her too, you know!!!!”
Too bad you couldn’t have come back with something like, “That kind of thinking led to the Holocaust, lady!” Because it did.
Did she not want non-Jews to care about what happens to Jews?
I’m just guessing but I think she really just meant what she said: Anne Frank belonged to THEM. And it was okay if I liked the book – but “just remember” … There was a warning there, a “back off”. There was a nervousness in it, too – I don’t know I’m just analyzing her behavior – as I remember it. She didn’t like that I spoke about the book so warmly and in such a familiar tone. She balked at the fact that I obviously felt that I understood the book, and she wanted to bitch-slap me back into the proper state of non-understanding.
If that makes sense.
It was her synagogue and we were guests there – so I just let her stay in her fantasy world where she gets to think that she owns the legacy of Anne Frank.
Again: not that Anne Frank doesn’t have special meaning for Jews. Obviously she does. There was just no need to be such a snot about it.
Poor woman – too defensive. If Anne Frank was theirs and no-one else’s, she would have been forgotten. Treasure hoarded is treasure lost. But in giving her to the world, the whole world keeps her memory and her words alive.
It’s as if we chased off newcomers to the site by saying “Diary Friday is ours!” Why would we want to do that to Sheila?