Clive Staples Lewis, one of the best-known (if not THE best-known) theologians of the twentieth centurynow seems to be one of the most quoted and referenced writers of the twenty-first century, a full fortyyears after his death. While his writings such as Mere Christianity and The Problem of Pain (and hisvoluminous letters and essays) provide much of the fodder for those who would quote him today, boththose who agree with him and those who disagree, it was in the realm of fiction that many of us firstbecame aware of him.
Lewis's most famous works of fiction are The Chronicles of Narnia, a series of books for young readersabout a mythical land called Narnia where the animals speak and a lion named Aslan is over all. Theseven books of The Chronicles are favored by young and old alike.
The Screwtape Letters is another of Lewis's books which has delighted millions of readers since itsinception. Disguised as letters from a senior demon to his nephew--an apprentice tempter--Lewis givesrazor-sharp insights into the nature of sin, humanity, evil and righteousness.
The Space Trilogy was another triumph by Lewis, though if the reader goes in expecting a sequel (or prequel, these were written first) to TheChronicles of Narnia he will be disappointed. While Lewis's inimitable word-craft is still present, alongwith a heavier dose of his wit than was present in The Chronicles, The Space Trilogy was not writtenwith adolescents as the target audience. The sentences are harder, the themes darker, and the scopetighter.
It's hard to categorize The Great Divorce as either fiction or non-fiction, but since the bookstores rarelyhave a section labeled "allegory", we'll count it here as a work of fiction. Whatever one categorizes it, itis another soul-wrenching tome from a master of the word and the idea who, above all, thought andexpected his audience to do so as well.
Finally, there is Until We Have Faces. A dark, confusing, retelling of the myth of Psyche from the persepctive of an older sister, Faces is the sortof book one reads, enjoys, then gets to the end with a no clear idea of what just happened. Perhapsbecause one keeps expecting to find deep, hidden meanings such as Lewis so masterfully woveelsewhere but may have, in this case, just been telling a story, the reader (this reader, anyway) missedthe point. Try it again, though, as I hear it gets better with each reading.
