ch 1. Lucy Looks into a Wardrobe.
It's an interesting experience re-reading a story so familiar and looking back at where these characters begin. Lucy is the focus of this chapter and I like how we gradually learn more about her. She is the youngest. She is a little afraid of the professor and of the big house. She is excited about the woods and badgers. She is curious. She is brave. The other thing I chiefly noted was the strongly tangible sense of mystery and wonder. Exploring a big old house already has this flavour because it feels like you might find anything, and then she really does find the most amazing thing one can think of. It feels both very real and very extraordinary at the same time. I'm going to follow up on the second chapter later. Looking forward to reading along with you guys and seeing your reflections also!

I read the chapters for today (realizing how much I've missed reading Narnia!!), but I haven't had a chance to do my drawing yet. Hopefully I'll be able to do that tomorrow...
(@Swanwhite: Hooray for golden-haired Lucy!)

Day 1: Chapters 1&2

Descriptive Lewis

One of the things I enjoy about the Summer Challenges is that you are forced to read the books more slowly than you normally would. By having to stop every two chapters and think about them, you notice little things you would miss if you read the book right through. And one of the things that struck me starting out with LWW is how much detail Lewis goes into, sometimes about seemingly trivial things. They aren't essential parts of the story but they add to its beauty. One small example of this is that he tells us the names the servants (Ivy, Margaret and Betty) which gives them a special recognition and personality, even though "they don’t come into the story much". There were two passages in particular that I especially enjoyed.

The first descriptive passage that stood out to me is the description of the Professor's house. I always think of the room with the Wardrobe, but actually there are so many other exciting parts to the house. And, in fact, the room with the Wardrobe is seemingly the least interesting. Other rooms have a suit of armour and a harp, and then there's the fascinating library consisting of "a whole series of rooms that led into each other and were lined with books - most of them very old books and some bigger than a Bible in a church." The Wardrobe room, by contrast, is very boring (nothing in it except the wardrobe and a dead fly), which is why all the children but Lucy dismiss it so quickly. It also seems to be one of the most isolated rooms, considering all the staircases and passages and other rooms they passed before they reached it. I suppose the Professor intentionally put the wardrobe where only the most inquisitive and adventurous person would find it. And I suppose there's a lesson that sometimes the most important and meaningful things in life are discussed in the simplest, least interesting manner. The other thing that the description of the house had me thinking about was that after the children return from Narnia, it must take them a long time to adjust back to life in our world. But considering all the interesting things they discover in the house, especially the library, imagine they find much to excite their imagination and keep them busy after their return. And all those books to read!!

The second descriptive passage that I really enjoyed is the passage where Mr Tumnus tells Lucy "wonderful tales of life in the forest". We don't know very much about Narnia's first Golden Age (the time between the planting of the tree at the creation of Narnia to keep Jadis away and the tree's destruction leading to her return and overthrow of the land). The timing is a bit confusing here, because at least part of Tumnus' tales took place in summer. (Thich suggests that Mr Tumnus is over 100 years old - which is possible, as mythical creatures may be very long-lived, but there is no other indication in the books that Mr Tumnus is so very old, so Lewis may have slipped-up with his timing a little here). Regardless, it is lovely to hear tales of Narnia from before the Witch's reign. I referred to this passage during last year's Prince Caspian summer challenge because I think it is very important for understanding the sudden appearance of Bacchus and the maenads in Prince Caspian. I already addressed it there, but it is an interesting reminder of the way Lewis was deeply moved by "pagan" mythology and often saw it as being a corruption of something more pure and true. Here, as in Prince Caspian, Lewis seems to be trying to sanctify the mythology surrounding Bacchus, Silenus and fauns and transpose them into an expression of innocent wildness, celebration and joy. At the same time, Mr Tumnus is telling Lucy these stories as part of his plan to lull her into a false sense of security (and ultimately to make her fall asleep) so perhaps there is a sense in which the account points towards how these stories have been corrupted and can be used for less safe and pure motives (I'm probably reading too much into it at this point). But in all it is a rather beautiful account very beautifully painted.

One of the things I liked most when thinking about these descriptive passages is that we know Lewis had a wonderful way with words but I often think of him as being very good at using language in his apologetics to argue important points. But he is just as skilful in painting word pictures for purely artistic purpose. I guess that is why he is such a loved and enduring writer.

Looking forward to it, Hobbit 🙂

So true Ajjie! I love the details about the house. The room all hung in green with the harp feels as if I've been there in my childhood. 🙂

ch 2. What Lucy Found There

The myth is real.
Do you feel it too?
The mirth is alive in the jovial tune.
Christmas is coming,
and winter will end.
Silenus and summer are coming again.

YAY!! It's been a while since I've read the books, and since I've connected on here and on NarniaMuck. My passion for Narnia has been rekindled and I'm so excited for this journey.

Now for my reflections. To start, I am reading from my set of British edition books, with fun things like "torhes" and the like. Anyway, as those of you who have known me for a while might remember, my favourite character, or one of them at least, is Edmund. I guess it's partly because, apoart from Jesus, my favourite Bible character is Peter, and there are plenty of parallels between the two(which I might touch on in my reflections.) So, after reading the first two chapters, a few thoughts on Ed.

The first time he is mentioned is when the meet the Professor. After Lucy is described as being "a little afraid of him" Ed is described as wanting to laugh but he "had to keep on pretending to blow his nose to hide it" Though it doesn't seem like a huge thing, he's a young boy, sort of normal, but from what we know of him later, it sets the scene for who he is, or who he starts out to be. As I read I'm using some reference books, especially "The Companion to Narnia" by Paul Ford. It makes the point that we later learn that Ed went to "the wrong sort of school" this along with being the middle child, as well as being a young child displaced from his home by war make Ed a bit disagreeable to say the least, but, *spoilers* these things that now make him a bit of a brat and disagreeable will become the very things that make him our beloved King Edmund the Just. So, the rest of Ed's part in the chapters consists of him bristling at Susan's trying to "mother" him, telling Lucy she's "being silly" and grumbling about the rain. Oh and one other thing, though seemingly tiny, when the children were talking about the animals they were looking forward to seeing, Peter says hawks, very powerful and majestic, Lucy says badgers, very faithful, Susan says rabbits, but Ed, well he says foxes, sly foxes"? Hmmm...

*hugtackles Niff* I'm glad you're here 🙂

I do love that bit where Edmund is pretending not to laugh.

Another thing occurred to me from when Lucy and Tumnus meet. Tumnus says '"I've never seen a Daughter of Eve or a Son of Adam before. I am delighted. That is to say-" and then it stopped as if it had been going to say something it had not intended but had remembered in time"'
What do you think he had been going to say? I suppose this is to indicate that he's not necessarily to be trusted, but I've often wondered what it was.

Ajjie, I love the descriptions, noticed them more, probably because I read your post first. Hey, should I watch the BBC LWW now or after reading the book. Any opinions? I know they're cheesy, but I do love them. Especially Silver Chair(wish I had been around or involved when you guys read that one, it's my favorite of all the books, PC is my second. Give you three guesses first two don't count, and yes it has to do with a certain dwarf! 🙂

@Niffum (about the animals): I read the American version for years before I found out that it wasn't the original. In that one it's Susan who says "Foxes!", while Ed says "Snakes!"

@Swanwhite: I always assumed he was going to say that the Witch would be delighted, but now that I think about that, that doesn't really make sense. The Witch would probably be horrified. 😆 😆

Ohhh.. @hobbit, That's even more interesting now isn't it. I mean foxes, sly and all that, but snakes, very interesting.

I took my book with me to work and discovered that my lunch break is just right for two chapters 🙂

So my first reflection is Innocence.

Starting a childhood favorite right away really brought me back to a time when life was simpler. Not just the memories of being 11 and reading Narnia for the first time (Though I admittedly listened to the radio theater of MN first...and SC was the first that I actually read. My ordering was weird.) but of being a child who wants to explore a big house on a rainy day. It's inspiring me to keep on following the encouragement of my boss to explore the old church that I work in on my breaks, maybe I'll find something as magical as a wardrobe (Like the music directors secret stash of books or something!)

And Lucy. Dear Lucy, her innocence in just following a random stranger home is the kind that would scare any modern day parent. But in this reading, I don't actually see her following Mr. Tumnus home as being as dangerously naive as climbing into a van claiming free candy. Instead it's almost like letting your imagination run wild. If there's a whole wood in the back of your wardrobe (Which you are sensible enough not to close), then why should the rules of everyday life matter? They don't. Then go ahead and follow that weird faun home. And I suppose in a way, it's a challenge to me as an adult. Now that I'm grown up, the rules about strangers are different, just like they are in Narnia. I'm not stupid enough to follow someone home, but maybe I should take a page out of Lucy's book and go out of my way to talk to some people.

Oh. And rereading some good Golden Age lit is the best for my current increased involvement in NarniaMUCK 😉

Okay, so first things first: The following reflection is a cheating two-fer. Namely, I wrote (most of) this as an example for the current writing contest, "Always Winter, Never Christmas" ( http://www.thelionscall.com/2017/07/17/always-winter-never-christmas-writing-contest-90/ ); and I reeeeeeeally encourage entries to the contest if one of your reflections happens to fit or if you have an idea for the contest that also doubles as a reflection!

Chapter 1:
Something I noticed this time around are all the little details that may or may not mean anything at any given time. The maids' names, the first few rooms being nothing more than spare bedrooms, the dead fly on the windowsill. Also kind of thought it curious to to think about the things in these (at least seemingly) unused rooms, like the massive books (does the professor read them?), the suit of armour (personally, I'd want to see that thing every day!), and a wardrobe full of fur coats (why not have them stashed somewhere more accessible?). I imagine they're great furnishings during those tours and perhaps there are even little tidbits about how the suit of armour is historically related to the room it's in or such-like, but one has to wonder.... 😉
Anyway, to my main reflection. So the thing that sparked this (not particularly stellar example of writing) was the question: What is in Tumnus' packages and where did he get them from? And then it snowballed into something different, as my writing tends to do.

Mother was not doing well. Fifteen years of straight winter had taken its toll on her: she was near-bedridden most days and half-delirious more often than not. Tumnus worried for her. She was not gone, not yet, and he had to take care of her as best as he knew how. What recourse did he have? Even if Father — no. It was no good thinking about Father now. What was done was done. Mother could not live on hours of knitting and dozens of flute-songs. She needed these precious packages of food.
Tumnus shivered in the cold. Father was not here. Mother need not know. Mother may not even notice. Much as he wanted her to recover, this much worked in his favour: Mother would not suffer a broken heart over his broken promises.
At last, he reached home and thawed his fingers over the crackling fire. “It’s cold out there today, Mother,” he said with forced cheerfulness. She didn’t respond, but he hadn’t expected her to: she hadn’t spoken in such a long time. Keeping up a stream of chatter for the both of them, Tumnus prepared lunch: tea, bread and butter, a slice of ham, and, from the new provisions, a handful of dried cranberries. “Here we are, Mother,” he announced as he approached her bed with the tray.
Mother turned her eyes from the fire to smile at him. Her hands pushed something — a package — toward him. On top, in neat and careful letters, were written the words “Merry Christmas”. Tumnus’ heart froze. Ill as she was, Mother had remembered Christmas. And after what he had done — what was he to do? He fought the urge to check over his shoulder for the Secret Police as if he expected them to pounce on them right that instant. Instead, he set down the tray and unwrapped the paper. The scarf inside was long and bright red, redder than holly. “It’s lovely, Mother. Thank you.” He wrapped it around his neck. “And it’s warm too!”
Mother smiled again and they tucked into their lunch. Tumnus relaxed when Mother did not question the new fare. However, when they had finished and he began to clear the dishes, he noticed that she had not touched the cranberries. He bit his lip without meaning to. So she knew after all. She knew of his betrayal. She knew he had gone to the White Witch. Tears sprang to his eyes and shame filled his heart. Mother’s hand cupped his cheek and wiped at one of his tears. When he finally met her gaze, he saw unshed tears in her own eyes. But behind those tears, beyond the spark of rebellion in the face of endless winter, he saw the one truth he had always known: “I love you.”
Years after Mother had passed on, Tumnus still made his fortnightly excursions to collect his pay. He still felt a twinge of guilt every time he went, but he took comfort in that he had not actually performed any service. Surely that much warranted the reward of the little of Mother's loving embrace that lived on in the red muffler. He was still thinking of her when, all of a sudden, he jumped and dropped his packages. "Good gracious me!" he exclaimed, for there, standing before him, was what appeared to be the beginnings of his first assignment: a Human. Mother, Father, forgive me.

Chapter 2:
Okay, so the first things I took note of were the bits and pieces of Lucy and Tumnus' first conversation that were retained - sometimes even word-for-word - by the 2005 film. Just made me happy, you know?
Has anyone else wondered about this title on Tumnus' shelf: Men, Monks, and Gamekeepers; a Study in Popular Legends? Specifically, the bit about monks? Nowhere in the books are monks mentioned. Except perhaps the Hermit of the Southern March? He seems kinda monk-like. Maybe Silenus too? The illustration of him looks similar to a monk; and a cursory look at Wikipedia mentions that he was a tutor of Bacchus (and yet also a follower of the latter).
The thing that stuck out to me the most, though, was Tumnus' reaction to Lucy saying that she ought to go home. Maybe it has to do with the little ficlet thingy I wrote above, but I think I empathized with his meltdown more than I ever had. (My lesser empathy in times past being, I think, due to his rather exaggerated crying. I'm just saying, I've shed a good many tears in a single sitting before, but never enough to form a puddle on the floor with the tears wrung out of a hanky.) Tumnus is the very picture of remorse and despair. Even after admitting that he's doing something terrible ("You are the child."), he seems to have no hope but to do the Witch's bidding ("And if I don't, [insert laundry list of the tortures and possible death that await him]." Thankfully, his heart is soft enough to help Lucy get back home anyway, despite the consequences.

Going on a more spiritual tack today. 😀

Chapter 3:
I may have thought of this before, I'm not sure, but Lucy's excitement to share Narnia with her siblings and their giving her a hard time of it actually reminds me of sharing Christ with people. Admittedly, I have not tried to do so anywhere near as much as I should, but the comparison still cropped up in my mind.
- Lucy has discovered something new and amazing and wonderful and she's simply bursting to show the others. This is like the joy we find in Christ and what He has done for us. It should gush out of us and inspire us to get others into the wonder of it.
- Peter, Susan, and Edmund are convinced enough (or annoyed enough) to check out her story, but are road-blocked by the disappearance of the magic. This won't always be the case for the people we witness to, but I think it is more common to find that people don't see what the fuss is about right away. Maybe they're just processing. Maybe they're resisting. Maybe there's something in their hearts that gives them pause even though they want to believe.
- Lucy is ostracized for her "made-up story" that she simply will not let go of. Again, not always the case, but it definitely happens a lot. Sometimes, people don't mean to hurt us because of the difference, like Peter and Susan. Other times, people will go out of their way to cause pain, like Edmund. And yet, just like Lucy, we know the truth and we have to stick by it, no matter how miserable our relationships may become.

Chapter 4:
"The greatest enemy of hunger for God is not poison but apple pie. It is not the banquet of the wicked that dulls our appetite for heaven, but endless nibbling at the table of the world." ~ Dr John Piper
I have no idea if John Piper was thinking about Narnia at all when he said that, but it's Edmund's situation exactly (and it even sounds like the bit later on about how nothing ruins the taste of good ordinary food like the memory of bad magic food). But that's irrelevant, haha. The point is, temptation doesn't come in the form of a red-skinned, pitchfork-wielding monster beckoning us with long, black nails toward a fiery doom. Temptation comes in the form of a beautiful angel of light (II Cor 11:14) offering the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life (I John 2:16) -- that is, all the shiny, pretty things that distract and lure and trap us. And just like Edmund's Turkish Delight, if we allow ourselves to eat and consume and gorge upon these things, we'll kill ourselves doing it, one way or another.

A little intro piece...

So these were kind of carelessly-done drawings; the first one I did at 1 in the morning last night. 😆 (They're a bit bigger on the computer than they were in my sketchbook.)
The idea was to pick a line that a character says in one of the two chapters for the day, and then draw the moment in which the line was being said. I don't know if I'll be keeping this idea up the whole time, but it worked for the first two days. 😛

Day 1:

Day 2: