The third book of The Chronicles of Narnia, finds Edmund and Lucy living with their miserable little cousin Eustace, a thoroughly modern child who calls his parents by their first names and enjoys pestering his cousins. He especially enjoys tormenting them about a game of pretend (or so he supposes) that he has heard them playing about a place called Narnia. Then, all three children find themselves being sucked into a painting of a Narnian-looking boat, and rescued by the now grown King Caspian and the crew of the Narnian boat "The Dawn Treader".
Edmund and Lucy are thrilled to be back in the land (actually, seas) of Narnia, but Eustace is even more annoying than usual. He complains about the ship, his crewmates (especially the wonderful little mouse Reepicheep, who steals the book), the ports, and everything else he can find. It's not until he is temporarily turned into adragon that he learns how to be nice--and that he actually needs other people, even those he deems inferior.
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is an adventure story from start to finish, with one adventure following on the heals of the other. Likewise, the morals or lessons in this book are frequent, rather than one big or long one. Within each adventure, we (the adult readers) find Lewis skewering another of our pet vices, foibles or attitudes. As a result, as much as I enjoy this book (and I usually read it the quickest for it flows so smoothly), I still come away from it the least touched, for there is no big lesson.
Additional Notes:
Toward the end of the voyage, the children--especially Lucy--spot an under-sea society with roads, hunters, herdsmen and towns. Reepicheep, of course, wants to fight them, but Lucy is especially enamored with one sad-eyed child she makes eye contact with. As a reader, I have often wondered if Lewis had a volume of The Chronicles planned in which he would tell the story of these people for they seem to be to fully developed to have so little written about them. . . . While the children in the stories outgrow Narnia (a metaphor for outgrowing childhood), I am always thankful I don't have to outgrow Narnia. I can just read the books again (and again and again . . . ).
