Me: "I'm way behind and tomorrow I'll probably not have time to do any extra chapters, so I should keep my drawings for today nice and small.
My hand: "Cool-cool. So we'll make the picture for chapter five take up a whOLE PAGE."

I do have a couple of other comments from chapter six, though.
~ To start off, it's interesting that we all chuckle at Uncle Andrew thinking that Jadis would fall in love with him and just stop there; let's not forget that Jadis's own first assumption was that Polly and Digory had been sent to fetch her because Uncle Andrew had fallen in love with her.
~ Also, "He took his eye-glass, with the thick black ribbon, and screwed it into his eye;"
I was absolutely horrified by this sentence for the longest time because I thought he literally screwed it into his eye.
~ (And "a dem fine woman"? I didn't realize what he was actually saying here until a couple of years ago.)

Wow, the sketch of Jadis.... Wow! And Uncle Andrew’s shock. 😆
😮 Good point about Jadis’ assumption! I tend to forget about said assumption by the time Uncle Andrew is preening!

Thanks for sharing your title screen, Daughter of Eve. Reading too fast is nothing to apologise about if you're enjoying it and feel free to share any of your thoughts, even on HHB, in here or in the HHB section of the forum.

Here's my reflection for Day 3, taken mostly from Chapter 6 and stealing a little into Chapter 7:

A Magician’s Journal
Being The Record of Achievements of the Less Estimable Andrew Ketterley [title no longer likely to be conferred]

Entry 3 (part 1)
I cannot believe that I ever trusted that boy with my sacred life’s work. That disobedient little fool! And his girl friend! After all my toils, those confounded children turned all my experiments into a complete disaster and now none of my life’s dreams will ever see fruition.

The whole affair was so uncomfortable and my nerves are completely shot. But I shall try as best I can to relate what happened:

It all began when those meddling children did the most reckless thing imaginable. I had expressly commanded Digory to take the green rings, find the girl, and bring them both back. I had explained to him that I wanted information about the Other World, the one to which the rings could draw one. But the unthinking fool took it into his head that simply observing and taking note of the characteristics of the world was not sufficient. No, instead he decided to bring back a woman – the most frightening creature of a woman one has ever seen – along with him a from that other world.

I had explained to the child in painstaking detail that a man doing research of the sort I was engaged in, could not take risks to his own self. Like a general in an army, I lay the groundwork, do the research and record information. Those of lesser value, who are honoured enough to aid me, must bear the danger on my behalf. But, like a typical boy, he was clearly not paying any attention to my lessons. Instead, he blundered into this unknown world, grabbed the first person he could find – who happened to be this most terrible heartless witch – and brought her back with him into my very study.

I am frankly surprised that a man at my stage of life and in my state of health was even able to bear the ordeal. But the Ketterleys are an old Dorsetshire family and we have strong blood in our veins.

There was absolutely no warning. The woman appeared in my study, dwarfing the two children. At first, I had no idea how to respond or what to say. But I held my nerve and tried to be as polite as possible. The woman was tall and spirited. Some would say she was beautiful, and if I were a younger man, I may have been swayed by her beauty (perhaps that is what moved my nephew to bring her back to our world). But there was a harshness to her. And, as I later discovered, a madness in her eyes. She was quite remarkably dressed, as though for an evening out.

No sooner had the woman appeared in my midst, than she began barking orders as though she owned the place. I gather she considered herself a queen or empress in her world, but I doubt there is any truth in that and suspect she was delusional. (Why else would she leave a world where she had all the power for one where she had none?)

The way she treated me – the great magician who had contrived to bring her from one world to another – was the greatest insult. At first, she declined to recognise that I was a magician at all and then belittled me for not being of royal blood. Me, who comes from a great Dorsetshire family!? Then she demanded I provide her with a form of transport and clothes and jewellery, not for one moment thinking to inquire of my financial situation, which was in a dire position just then after the expenses all my research had cost me. That too was a sign that she was no real queen. If she had ben one, she would have made use of her own wealth and not tried to exhaust the little I had from a poor, hardworking man like me.

To appease her wrath, I offered to order her a cab. I hoped that if we could get away from the house and the children (into the public, but in the privacy of a hansom cab), I could talk to her reasonably, find out exactly who she was, and offer to return her to her own world. Perhaps it was the shock of finding herself whisked away into a new place that made her so angry and rude just then.

I made my escape, had the cab ordered, and dressed in smart outdoor clothes. Seeing me like that might encourage her to show some respect for me, my work, and my great family lineage.

I knew I would have to borrow money from my dear sister Letitia. My own sister, whose business matters I had managed for many years, had taken it upon herself that she had no need to assist her own brother in times of financial strain. I hated begging from her, though I knew she owed me, because it always became a row and she got angry and more often than not refused to help.

While we were talking, the frightful woman from the other world herself stormed into the room. I had rather hoped that Letitia would not have to see the woman at all, and she stood gaping at her as she entered. She turned her look to me in the most accusing manner and I realised just what an impossible situation my nephew had put me in. I started to explain that she was a distinguished foreign guest, but Letitia would have none of it.

Then the woman began to shout at my sister, as though she were her subject and I knew I then had no chance of her lending me anything. I really hoped the visitor would have money of her own when it came to paying for the cab. Letitia was most unimpressed by the woman and would not submit to her in the least. At that moment, the witch appeared to utter a spell in an unknown tongue and Letitia assumed she was drunk. The spell had no obvious immediate effect and so the woman picked my sister up, as though she weighed nothing, and threw her across the room. If it were not for the mattress she had just been mending when I came in, Letitia would have been most sorely hurt (if not worse) and I would have had two sick sisters to care for (or one dead and another soon to be).

I had little time to think about this or even properly check on Letitia, when it was announced that the hansom-cab had arrived and the strange woman was leading me out the door.

While I had hoped things would change and the woman would control her behaviour once were in public, I was sorely mistaken. At this point, things got even worse and I was subjected to the most horrifying experience of my life; one I am never likely to live down.

It's a little late to start sharing reflections, but I haven't been to the internet since the challenge started until today. Also, even though I do have more reflections written, they are only in my pen and paper notebook, so I just have the one for the first two chapters typed up right now. I will try to type the other (much shorter) entries soon, but this is it for today.

Chapters 1 and 2:

It has been a few years since I last read The Magician’s Nephew, and since then, I have been to college where one of the classes I took went through Beowulf and a little bit of the culture and history of that time. I also discovered during that class that Tolkien was a scholar of Beowulf and there are many comparisons in Lord of the Rings and in the culture and story of Beowulf. I never expected this to influence my reading of The Magician’s Nephew, but while reading, I began noticing specifically the way Uncle Andrew is portrayed. I do not mean how he is the person who causes Polly and Digory to travel to the Wood Between the Worlds, but how he is an example of a really bad authority figure. This occurred to me in the last few pages of chapter one. I always assumed that C.S. Lewis chose rings as the method of transport because: 1. they are easily portable, and 2. if you wear one, it is not likely to fall off. I am not trying to speculate, but Uncle Andrew giving Polly, and later Digory, the rings reminded me of one of the roles of a lord in the Anglo-Saxon culture, where a good king acted as a giver of rings.

“Nor did he renege, but doled out rings
and torques at the table.”
Beowulf, lines 80-81

Here, however, Uncle Andrew may be in the role of a caregiver (to Digory) and quite literally a giver of rings, but his rings are given as a manipulation to get what he wants, not to care for his people.

“Wouldn’t you like a ring, my dear?” said Uncle Andrew to Polly.
“Do you mean one of those yellow or green ones?” said Polly. “How lovely!”
“Not a green one,” said Uncle Andrew. “I’m afraid I can’t give the green ones away. But I’d be happy to give you any of the yellow ones: with my love. Come and try one on.”
The Magician’s Nephew, pages 16-17

Polly accepts because she does not know what is happening. Digory accepts because he has an idea of what is happening and wants to be better than his uncle. Later, he acts as a ring-giver to Polly when he gives her the green ring, but he does so to try to help her.

A second point that stood out was Uncle Andrew’s opinions on promises.

“Oh, I see. You mean that little boys ought to keep their promises. Very true. Most right and proper, I’m sure, and I’m very glad you have been taught to do it. But of course you must understand that rules of that sort, however excellent they may be for little boys—and servants—and women—and even people in general, can’t possibly be expected to apply to profound students and great thinkers and sages. No, Digory. Men like me, who possess hidden wisdom, are freed from common rules just as we are cut off from common pleasures. Ours, my boy, is a high and lonely destiny.”
The Magician’s Nephew, p. 21, Uncle Andrew

A few weeks ago, some people I know were talking about a situation where another person got them to do a lot of work for them on the implication that they would be compensated. The other person then backed out of that understanding. Recently, they asked for more help. The people I know were understandably wary. Uncle Andrew’s comment reminded me of how many people actually do act like he does, trying to get others to keep promises to do things for them but refusing to keep their own promises because they think they can do better for themselves by breaking them. It also reminded me of part of The Return of the King, namely, Theoden riding into battle to help Gondor even though he could have stayed in Rohan and focused on protecting and rebuilding his own land following their recent battles.

“Forth rode the king, fear behind him,
fate before him. Fealty kept he;
oaths he had taken, all fulfilled them.”
The Return of the King, “The Muster of Rohan,” lines 9-11 of the song (p.786)

This is a beautiful piece of poetry about how Theoden held to his promises, even when it was difficult and dangerous to do so.

But more than the other two observations, what I noticed the most was Uncle Andrew’s opinions on putting himself in danger.

“No great wisdom can be reached without sacrifice. But the idea of my going myself is ridiculous. It’s like asking a general to fight as a common soldier. Supposing I got killed, what would become of my life’s work?”
The Magician’s Nephew, p. 26, Uncle Andrew

This is a horrible attribute in a leader, as Uncle Andrew fancies himself. The traditional good king is recognized as leading his men, despite danger to himself, like what King Lune says in The Horse and His Boy.

“For this is what it means to be a king: to be first in every desperate attack and last in every desperate retreat…”
The Horse and His Boy, “Rabadash the Ridiculous,” p. 223, King Lune

This is also shown in The Lord of the Rings, such as in the contrast between Denethor and Theoden. Denethor, though still capable of acting as a warrior and leading his men, chose to send others in his stead, knowing that it would cost lives.

“He will not come save only to triumph over me when all is won. He uses others as his weapons. So do all great lords, if they are wise, Master Halfling. Or why should I sit here in my tower and think, and watch, and wait, spending even my sons? For I can still wield a brand.”
“…However that may be, the Captain of Despair does not press forward, yet. He rules rather according to the wisdom that you have just spoken, from the rear, driving his slaves in madness on before.”
The Return of the King, “The Siege of Gondor,” p. 800 and 801, Denethor and Gandalf (not consecutive quotes, but same conversation)

In contrast, Theoden led his men into battle (p. 820, “The Ride of the Rohirrim), and even though he died in that battle, he considered it worth the sacrifice in the end.

“I go to my fathers. And in their might company I shall not now be ashamed. I felled the black serpent. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset.”
The Return of the King, “The Battle of the Pelennor Fields,” p. 825, Theoden

Again, this is also a theme in Beowulf. The traditional idea is of good kings, and good men in general, going into battle and not turning away because of the danger. They are to protect their land and their people, and the results of not doing so are dire, as explained by one of Beowulf’s loyal men to the men who ran away from the fight where Beowulf died.

“So it is goodbye now to all you know and love
on your home ground, the open-handedness,
the giving of war-swords. Every one of you
with free holds of land, our whole nation,
will be dispossessed, once princes from beyond
get tidings of how you turned and fled
and disgraced yourselves. A warrior will sooner
die than live a life of shame.”
Beowulf, lines 2884-2891, Wiglaf

But going back to Narnia, the overall representation of Uncle Andrew is not just that he is wicked magician. His entire character in these two chapters goes against the traditional ideas of what it means to be a good man and a leader, even though Uncle Andrew considers himself to be both.
Perhaps that is a lot of quotes for a simple reflection on two chapters, and perhaps I over-analyzed the passage, but no one was ever meant to mistake Uncle Andrew for a positive role model.

What splendid reflections, Luthien! I'm so glad you've joined us 😀

Yes, Baba Yetu does seem to have the energy of the creation scene. I've listened to several covers of that song recently; I just wonder what Peter Hollens voicing Aslan would sound like. 😆
Though I must say I loved John Campbell's score for this portion of the FOTF Audio Drama.

It's interesting to see how ignoring hard truths prevents one in some measure from enjoying the pleasanter aspects of reality, especially the wonders of Creation. (In Andrew's case, this includes the literal ACT of creation.) Charles Darwin once remarked that he felt he had lost his sensitivity to beauty and wonder, even admitting that he thought it had something to do with his disbelief in God. Try to make yourself even stupider than you already are, and you will probably succeed.

I love the way Lewis describes the stars' voices as cold, silvery and tingling, and Aslan's voice as making one want to rush at someone and either hug them or fight them. I knew immediately what he meant! Again, he describes the way a scene makes one feel, not just describing what it is- I suspect this had something to do with his beliefs expressed in The Abolition of Man. Lewis loathed the popular teaching that statements about feelings were merely subjective and without concrete value. He reached out to the sense of Joy and Wonder which all people can relate to.
One more reason why C.S. Lewis was a great author.

Forgot to say, Hobbit, I love these drawings especially! Jadis is magnificent, and Uncle Andrew with the brandy and his face is hilarious! Also very funny, is your confusion about the monocle 😆

Lewis loathed the popular teaching that statements about feelings were merely subjective and without concrete value. He reached out to the sense of Joy and Wonder which all people can relate to.

Hear hear!

Chapter 9. The Founding of Narnia

Chapter 10. The First Joke and Other Matters

@Ajjie: "Title no longer likely to be conferred" just made my day. 😆

@Luthien: It's a long analysis, but you've got some great stuff in there. I hadn't really considered Uncle Andrew as being an example of a bad authority figure. I mean, yeah, I knew that he was, but I hadn't thought about it in those exact words and comparing him to good authority figures.

@cleander: Haha, I would not want Peter Hollens voicing Aslan. His voice is too high for the character. 😀 Also, didn't know that bit about Darwin. Thanks for sharing some real-world insight to Uncle Andrew.

Getting to my reading and reflection late because I had to drive to and from work and then went to see The Lion King afterward, but here we go.

I find it kind of amazing that Uncle Andrew's anger enabled him to lecture Jadis like that. He's been such a spineless shrimp this whole time, but wow! She'd pulled the last straw and he just snaps. Kind of impressive, really. Even if he deserves everything he got (though I do feel a little bad for him).
And then there's Frank just telling everyone to zip it. 😀

I wonder what Uncle Andrew had initially hoped to get out of his experiment. "I thought you wanted to know about other worlds. Don't you like it now that you're here?" Like... what, was he just going to content himself with reports from other people? Was he just going to send more and more people to make it a safe place for him before he showed up (though that would majorly cut into the credit he can take for its discovery)? Exactly how was he going to be recognized for any of this with just interview transcripts to back him up? If he's such a scientist, a pioneer, a magician for crying out loud, wouldn't his own encounter with another world mean huge things for him, nerves and lions and all?

... Well, whatever his original plans and his current misgivings, he knows what to get out of it now: personal gain. Here he is, in a brand-spanking-new world that is still in the process of creation, preparing to invade and make it his personal cash-grab opportunity. He assumes it's all his for the taking to do with as he pleases (particularly in the arena of getting rich and living a long, healthy life).
Actually, now that Luthien has me thinking about the good man/bad man contrasts, I'm finding myself contrasting Uncle Andrew with Frank. Uncle Andrew is talking about railroad-trees and making bank and scoring a sweet retirement. Frank, on the other hand, responds in the affirmative when Aslan asks if he'll work the land and care for its inhabitants and deal fairly. In other words, Uncle Andrew sees this world and takes it for himself (or would have, given the chance) while Frank recognizes that the land is not his own and thus treats it accordingly. One is a good steward, the other is not.

"I give you myself." Among the many things Aslan gives to the Narnians, he gives himself. He's under no obligation to do so. He runs a risk in doing so. And yet he still does. It's just four words, but they're powerful. It's stuff like this that makes me fall harder in love with Narnia on each read-through, because God Himself has done the same for us. He made us, He owes us nothing, He commands the praise that He deserves, and yet He still gives us Himself knowing full well that we cannot give back so wholly in kind.

@Ariel: Thanks! And actually I only noticed the parallel between Jadis's and Uncle Andrew's assumptions this readthrough.....

@Luthien: Whoa....those are some cool parallels!

@Cleander: I wonder if Lewis's own time as an atheist gave him the insight into how different the world seems from that point of view?
And about Peter Hollens voicing Aslan...I mean, the guy is amazing but now I have this mental image of Aslan greeting all the animals he chose to be talking animals by waving and saying cheerfully, "Hey Narnia-family!"

@Swanwhite: Aww, thank you! 😀 Also I love the variety between your two pieces of artwork here.

I have drawn my pictures for today, but I haven't had a chance to scan them onto my laptop yet.

Ariel, I liked your comments on how Uncle Andrew expected to claim credit for discovering a new world hen he never wanted to go himself.

Swan, I liked your clay image of Aslan creating Narnia. It must have taken a while to get all the little patches of color just right.

Here are three more reflection entries that I only now finished typing.

Chapters 3 & 4

Something that’s meant to stand out is the faces of the previous rulers of Charn. They start as kind, but gradually become cruel and despairing, just like the noise of the bell begins as sweet but gradually becomes overwhelming and (possibly) destructive. In a way, this sort of relates to the contrast between Digory and Uncle Andrew. In my previous reflection, I mentioned Digory being a much kinder person than his uncle, going into an unknown place to help a friend, and even though I wrote that knowing what was coming with the scene of the bell, it was especially sad to read Digory’s actions in the Hall of Figures. Polly even compares Digory to Uncle Andrew, saying their expressions looked alike (p. 55). It was almost like these chapters had a theme of kindness being replaced with cruelty.

A second theme was one of magic. In chapter three, it says

Uncle Andrew, you see, was working with things he did not really understand; most magicians are.
p. 42, “The Wood Between the Worlds”

In chapter four, another magician’s work is described. In the Hall of Figures, the images and their clothes are perfectly preserved. It must have been an enchantment made long before Jadis and her sister were ever born—back in the days when the faces were kind, though who knows whether Jadis’ ancestors approved the enchantment before it was cast or simply made use of it afterwards. Charn was certainly a very vast empire when the room was first constructed, for it to be built that large, and the people who put the seats in it either expected their descendants would continue on far longer than they actually did or that the room would be used for more than just the royal family. Maybe it was used for other people in the beginning, but as time continued and their descendants were more proud than kind, those other images were removed to make more room.

One last note. There is a picture of the images on page 51 in my book. When I was little, I liked looking at that picture and wondering what the fourth, seventh, and eighth people (from left to right) were like.

Chapters 5 & 6

When reading The Magician’s Nephew, the contrast between Uncle Andrew and Jadis is specifically pointed out. At one point, Digory realizes that he will never be afraid of Uncle Andrew again after seeing Jadis stand next to him. Jadis herself dismisses Uncle Andrew as someone who would be destroyed in her own world because he only has a small knowledge of magic instead of an innate one. Still, they are both wicked magicians who use other people to further their own goals and believe that rules should not apply to them.

One similarity that I did not think much about until reading it this time was their roles as oath breakers. Uncle Andrew’s stands out because he and Digory have a specific conversation about it.

“She gave it to me and made me promise that as soon as she was dead I would burn it, unopened, with certain ceremonies. That promise I did not keep.”
Uncle Andrew, p. 20, “Digory and His Uncle”

But Jadis’ admission of breaking a family oath, though clearly stated, never really stuck out to me in the same way.

“But the ancient kings were weak and soft-hearted and bound themselves and all who should come after them with great oaths never to seek after the knowledge of that word. But I learned it in a secret place and paid a terrible price to learn it.”
Jadis, p. 66, “The Deplorable Word"

Perhaps it did not stick out because she did not swear it personally, but it shows that even while she has a deep pride in her royalty and the role her family played in her world, even though she has a great contempt for people she thinks are outside the greatness of her family, she simultaneously despises even her ancestors who established what she is proud of.

On a different note, I found a sentence at the beginning of Chapter 6 to be rather thought –provoking.

I think that, if they had been given the chance, they would have forgotten who they were and where they came from and would have lain down and enjoyed themselves, half asleep, listening to the growing of the trees.
p. 72, “The Beginning of Uncle Andrew’s Troubles”

Waking Jadis up, bringing her to London, and then taking her to Narnia were all bad things, but I wonder a little about this quote. For Polly and Digory, it’s hard to think that staying in the Wood Between the Worlds would be bad in and of itself, but it would take them away from their families. Perhaps they would have eventually recognized each other once again and gone home, but since it was the change of Dogory showing up after Polly that made them try to figure out what was happening the first time, who knows?

Chapters 7 & 8

Ever since they heard Jadis’ story, Digory and Polly feared the power that Jadis had to destroy her entire world—the power of the Deplorable Word. And yet here Aslan sings indo life a whole new world, and it was a song without, or beyond, words. In the Wood Between the Worlds, Jadis lost her strength but still used words to get the children to hesitate when she called for mercy. In London, Jadis lost her power of words—Uncle Andrew is the only person in London who seems to think of her as someone who is great, even though she encounters many, many others—but kept her strength. She was unable to turn people and things into dust, yet she pulled the bar off the lamp-post. And then in Narnia, both her physical strength and her magic are completely overcome by Aslan, singing a new world into life and unaffected when she throws the iron bar at him (in the next chapter).

Ever since the song began she had felt that this whole world was filled with a Magic different from hers and stronger. She hated it. She would have smashed that whole world, or all worlds, to pieces, if only it would stop the singing.
p. 109, “The Fight at the Lamp-post”

And yet, despite all the power Jadis once had, she could not recognize the most beautiful song she would ever hear as having any beauty.

The cabbie, King Frank as he is later, is perhaps the one who best understands the music. He sings the hymn even before he hears Aslan’s song (other people might not think of music when suddenly in a situation they don’t understand), and even after Jadis and Uncle Andrew start arguing with Digory and Polly over the rings and trying to go to another world, the cabbie dismisses it all so he can hear the music uninterrupted. He wants to hear Aslan even if it means ignoring a conversation that could well relate to his entire future. Later, when his wife comes, she responds directly to music and Aslan’s voice. It is sweet to imagine them singing together as the king and queen that Aslan chose them to be. But that’s more of a thought for future chapters.

As a completely ridiculous end note, please consider:

First came the hansom. There was no one in the driver’s seat. On the roof—not sitting, but standing on the roof—swaying with superb balance as it came at full speed round the corner with one wheel in the air—was Jadis the Queen of Queens and the Terror of Charn.
p. 93, “What Happened at the Front Door”

She thought the Witch must be someone out od a circus and she did not approve of bare arms.
p. 86, “What Happened at the Front Door”

We already know the royal house of Charn took pride in its magic, but what else did they do in their spare time? Perhaps Aunt Lettie was closer to the truth than she knew.

I've been keeping up with the readings but, alas, haven't had a chance to write more journal. Instead, some comments on other people's posts going back to Day 3:

Swan: Missed your poem about the wax figures the first time - so thought provoking. "Handy Brandy Dandy Andy" made me smile. I also noticed the fact that Jadis could turn things to dust in her world with a word but needed a wand to do so in Narnia and could only turn them to stone. It strikes me that Charn was a world where words were especially powerful in a way that they aren't in others. But it's also a somewhat encouraging thought that Jadis' power was still diminished in Narnia, even in the 100 year winter when it seemed she had it under her sway - her power was still limited and less than what it had been. It's as though Aslan allowed her a degree of power (for reasons we don't understand), but limited it both in degree and time till he would come back and intervene. (Reminds me a bit of when God gives the devil some control over Job's life but sets a limit on that).

Cleander: I love your Charn poem!! It reminds me of something Tolkien-ish.

Hobbit: Your pictures are amazing, as usual. The winged monster is probably my favourite, but I like all of them. Jadis is great (look at those bare arms that drive Aunt Lettie mad!). I also like how your pictures have an anime-ish feel to them while still recognisably drawing on the Baynes images. Polly, in particular, gives me a mixed feeling of traditional and modern.

Ariel: Yes! Is Frank not a dear!? His telling them all to shush when he's trying to hear the music is just great. And the scene in today's chapter just shows why he's the best choice to be King.

Luthien: Great to have you joining us and I love your points. The comparisons to Beowulf and Rings are really good. The use of rings is an interesting choice. There's always the obvious suggestion that he was inspired by Tolkien but it does make sense that they were both drawing from Anglo-Saxon imagery. Of course, you get the whole idea of a great lord seeming to gift rings but having ulterior motives in the Lord of the Rings back-story. But what Lewis does here is distill that rich imagery down into a more domestic setting of an amateur magician with delusions of greatness gifting his rings to two children whom he believes will serve his purpose. Your point about a great leader being the first into battle gets made even more strongly in today's reading (and really contrasts Andrew with Frank)

"...would you be the first in the charge and the last in retreat?"
"Well, sir," said the Cabby very slowly, "a chap don't exactly know until he's been tried...I'd try - that is, I 'ope I'd try - to do my bit."

------

Some general comments by me on today's readings and a few early things:

I meant to say on Day 2, when we were reading the WbtW chapter, how much it reminded me of the descriptions of Aslan's country. It's as though Lewis were already playing with ideas of a perfect, untouched world (reminiscent Plato's Ideal Forms) which he perfects in the Last Battle.

Something that never struck me before, is the age difference Uncle Andrew and Jadis. I've always thought of them both as adults contrasted with the kids. But for some reason Uncle A being quite a bit older than her (in appearance) has struck me more this time. (No wonder Lettie was scandalised!) I say "in appearance", of course, because Jadis' story suggests she has already lived a very long time and seems to age slowly (either because of her race or by magic).

Chapter 11 is really one of the greatest chapters (though they're all great). It starts with the hilarious scene of the animals trying to work out what Andrew is and ends with that beautiful scene between Aslan and the Cabby. The Andrew-scene might be comic relief, but has some really powerful messages. I really like the the way Lewis works-in warnings about how easy it is to delude ourselves that something is (or is not) true until we start to believe our own lies. (A very poignant message in today's "post-truth" age). Also, Andrew here belongs very much to the same category as "the dwarfs who refuse to be taken in" in LB.

I also really like the idea of the animals not being able to understand what Andrew is because of their unfamiliarity with certain concepts and how their lack of knowledge leads to them not knowing how to interpret what is hair or a face or clothes. Or even whether the is animal or plant and which way up he goes. I feel that there's a strong message about misunderstandings and misinterpretations here.

Also, from today's readings, I love the three conversations with Aslan: Aslan and Frank I've already mentioned and makes me smile so much. I love that Frank's first thought is to his wife and that Aslan doesn't even take a moment's hesitation or pause to make a comment before he grants him his request to have her by his side. Aslan and Digory's conversation is a powerful confession/repentance scene where Aslan makes Digory confess all he has done wrong, but does not reprimand him harshly but with kindness and mercy. (It's also notable that Aslan forgives Digory but requires him to do what he can to right his wrongs. I'm not suggesting that he has to work for his for his salvation/forgiveness but I think it is an important lesson that once we are forgiven we should do what there is in our power to do to right the wrongs - like Jesus requested of Zacchaeus). And then I love how Aslan' asks Fledge if he wants to be a winged horse before making him one. Even though the should of already known the answer, I really like that token of him asking his permission first.

Also Rooiman ("Redman")'s name is now Vleuel ("Fledge")! (You pronounce it something like "Flew-el")

And that ended up being longer than a journal entry

It's funny how Aslan gets the truth out of Digory. He knows everything already, but rather than openly contradict Digory, he lets Digory do the talking. An interesting reminder that we know most of the truth about ourselves already; God simply wants us to come to terms with it and/or deal with it, and leads us to do so.

I'm not sure if a crowd of wild animals swarming around me would be a very comfortable experience, so Andrew has my understanding, if not my sympathy.
The scene where Alsan cries is perhaps my favorite Aslan moments in the series. Not unlike Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus. He's not just some faceless, all-knowing guru-overlord; he feels for Digory and wants to help him, but at the same time reveals that his duty (and Digory's duty of healing the wrong) is more important than feelings. For some reason I hear Iain Glen's voice for Alsan when I read this passage, IDK why. 😕

@Ajjie: Aww, thank you! I've never heard anyone describe my art style as "anime-ish", but when you said that I looked back and yeah, I guess that occasionally some of that style does slip in...
Also I absolutely agree on the misunderstanding thing, with the animals! It's humorous but thought-provoking at the same time.

@Cleander: Being surrounded by a crowd of animals would be a dream come true for me. 😆

As for my own thoughts, as usual I had a lot but they're a bit piddling except one: I noticed how one of the first things we hear from Uncle Andrew is scorn at little boys obeying rules and whatnot. There is a great deal of him calling Digory "naughty", "wicked", and the like for not coming back when Uncle Andrew himself calls him. What a glaring double standard. 😆

I have my drawings for chapter 7, 8, 9, and 10. I managed to keep most of them smaller this time, so that I didn't fall even more behind today...




(I drew the Aslan one right after getting back from seeing Lion King; it was perfect timing because I really felt like drawing lions that evening.
Also the naiads?? *shivers* Those were......let's just say this: I hope I never have to draw one again with just pencils. Digital art would probably be way easier, but with pencil their "hair-waterfall dresses" I had to half give up on midway through the drawing because they were much more difficult than I'd anticipated.)

Chapter 11.

I love the crowning of the cabbie. I’m particularly struck this reading by how much disdain both Jadis and Uncle Andrew have for common people, and I think the raising of Frank to kingship is the perfect answer to their attitude. Frank is a sort of Sam Gamgee. He’s the honest, hard-working everyman who doesn’t think too highly of his own merits.

I think Cleander’s brother is probably right in considering him to have been a Christian, (though his line “A chap has nothing to worry about if he’s led a decent life” makes me think he has something still to learn about grace.) His impulse is to sing thanks to God when he finds himself in a dark hole, and he is immediately enraptured by the goodness and glory of God displayed through creation.

Frank and Helen’s story is an excellent example of the “Last will be first” principle. They were considered unimportant people in England, but now they are the founders of a dynasty and legacy that will shape the world of Narnia.

Chapter 12.

The newborn strawberry foal is getting his legs under him, learning how to walk, breaking into a prance, an awkward dance, tumbling into straw. All the world is bright and new and splendid. The first day out to pasture he sees a sparrow taking off from a fence post, and is captivated by its wings. The dream of flight takes root.

I'm doing yesterday's reading now as I was busy all day yesterday. So here we are, chapters eleven and twelve.

(Completely unimportant, but I just have to say that the little exchange between the Elephant and the Bulldog about noses always makes me smile.)

I think there ought to be something said about Digory's boldness. He doesn't know a thing about Aslan apart from His name, His majesty, and His role as creator, and yet, even two out of the three should have maybe informed Digory that his request was perhaps a bit out there. It's not like he's just marching up to Aslan to ask for magic fruit. It's not even like he fully expects to get it (though he hopes for it "desperately"). He even stammers trying to address Aslan properly and politely. He knows he's approached Someone great. And yet, he still boldly (but with humility) makes his request. It reminds me of Hebrews 4:16: "Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." Combine that with Mark 10:14-15: "... 'Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein.'" Digory, whether or not he realizes it, is acting on faith that his request may be met. He's not arrogant in his boldness and not ignorant in his innocence. He hopes to get a "yes", fears the chance of a "no", and has no way of guessing which he'll get, but he still asks anyway. That's an encouraging reminder that we can do the very same.
Speaking of faith and boldness, Helen seems to have a measure of her own. She answers Aslan's call (we don't know how, only that she did), and, whatever it sounded like in our world, she went for it anyway. In Narnia, she probably has a lot of questions, but simply accepts it. When Aslan states that she'll be queen, she blushes (I imagine, like Caspian, over how insufficient she is for the role) but makes no argument. And then, with even less information than Digory, asks Aslan about Polly wanting to journey with Digory.

It's already been mentioned how Aslan draws the truth out of Digory, so I'll be brief: it reminds me of how sometimes we lie to ourselves and God in hopes of not having to come clean about everything. Of course God knows. And usually we do too. But sometimes He has to nudge us with, "How did that happen in the first place?", and, "Is that really how that went down?", and, "Do you really think that's what was going on?", just to prompt us to be honest to Him and ourselves.

"Up till then he had been looking at the Lion's great feet and the huge claws upon them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face." This line has chosen to stand out to me this reading. It's just so beautiful. "... in his despair, he looked up at its face. I don't even want to comment on it. Just let it sink in.

"I'm not a very clever horse." This is Strawberry's self-assessment. Even Frank says something to the same effect when he mentions that he hadn't much "eddycation". And yet, Aslan elevates Fledge and crowns Frank. Reminds me of I Corinthians 1:25-29: "Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men. For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called: But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: That no flesh should glory in his presence." Aslan could have created a winged horse separate from Fledge and He could have chosen a more qualified ruler (from an earthly perspective) to be king. But He didn't. Just like God doesn't always choose the "logical" candidates to do His will: He often chooses the least of the world and glorifies Himself through His work in them.

That bit about how Aslan knows but still likes to be asked always gets me. Even in a children's story that's not at all meant to be allegorical, here's a reminder that prayer isn't pointless.

Interesting that Digory, Polly, and Fledge all know the "signs" of their journey and destination, and that they recite them to each other. Contrast that to Jill, Eustace, and Puddleglum. Digory and Jill received their instructions equally personally, but they went about it differently: Digory shared it and Jill didn't. Or, since Puddleglum seems to know at least something of the signs, it's Digory's and Jill's companions that treat the signs differently: Polly and Fledge know them just as well as Digory, while Eustace and Puddleglum didn't pay such close attention.