C.S. Lewis

The Chronicles of Narnia — (1950-1956) Ages 9-12. Boxed sets are available. Publisher: Journeys to the end of the world, fantastic creatures, and epic battles between good and evil — what more could any reader ask for? The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, written in 1949 by Clive Staples Lewis, had all this and more. But Lewis did not stop there. Six more books followed, and together they became known as The Chronicles of Narnia. For the past fifty years, The Chronicles of Narnia have transcended the fantasy genre to become part of the canon of classic literature. Each of the seven books is a masterpiece, drawing the reader into a land where magic meets reality, and the result is a fictional world whose scope has fascinated generations.

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The Magician's Nephew: "Come in by the Gold Gates or Not at All..."

The Magician's Nephew was the sixth book that C.S. Lewis wrote in the Chronicles of Narnia, although chronologically it is placed first in the series, as a prequel to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. This leads to many debates on when and where it is supposed to be read — but really, it doesn't make much of a difference considering that all seven of the books are complete stories within themselves. However, if you take my advice and are new to the world of Narnia, I suggest reading The Magician's Nephew after The Lion, as half the fun of reading it is to piece together the history of Narnia and how it fits into the rest of the books.

Digory Kirke is a young boy in London, living with his great aunt and uncle due to the fact that his father is abroad and his mother is deathly ill. Life is not treating him so well at the moment, but all that changes when he meets the next door neighbour Polly Plummer, who is rather curious about Digory and his somewhat mysterious household. The two come up with a plan to creep through the rafters in the attic and thereby reach an empty house at the end of the row of houses. But something goes wrong with their measurements, and they end up in the attic room of Digory's own Uncle Andrew, who is surprisingly pleased to see the children there. Offering Polly one of several rows of lovely yellow rings, she reaches out to touch one, and to Digory's horror completely disappears! Coaxed by the greedy Andrew to follow her, Digory dons his own yellow ring, along with two green ones that will transport him safely back home.

The adventures that follow take them to two different extremes: the dying world of Charn and the birth of the world of Narnia, both of which are filled with intrigue, suspense, and Lewis's wonderful way of mingling the magical with the miraculous. The origins of the White Witch, the lamp-post, the wardrobe and the realm of Narnia is all here to discover, and Lewis fits it all in very well with what he has previously established about his world in other books. The introduction to Queen Jadis is done particularly well, and remains one of his strongest characters, capable to leave us in awe of her strength and beauty, and in fear of her power and mercilessness. Uncle Andrew also is presented as a rather milder form of evil, a man whose morale understandings are utterly overshadowed by his desire for fame, glory and the continuation of his experiments.

As always, Lewis adds a sense of Biblical allegory into his work, not so much as to overwhelm the plot or to be too preachy, but clearly enough so that readers are pushed in the right direction concerning what they're actually reading. Here, Lewis deals with the themes of temptation, the apple, the fall and the redemption that follows. In the course of the story Digory gives into his curiosity and in doing so brings a great evil into the world — in order to rectify this mistake he is sent on a mission in order to redeem himself, and keep Narnia safe for generations to come.

My favourite parts of the books are the small moments of intrigue that are never really explained or explored, and don't need to be either — to do so would destroy the mystery of them. For instance, Jadis describes the fall of Charn due to the war between herself and her sister, and vividly describes the final days in which her sister leads her army to the castle gates and comes so close that they look each other in the eye. What this woman's name is, whether she was as evil as Jadis makes her out to be, and what the Deplorable Word that destroyed her was, we never learn — it remains elusive. Likewise, Andrew recounts the story of how he created the magic rings: with dust that came from the lost city of Atlantis, bequeathed to him by his aunt Lefay who was said to have fairy blood in her veins: another small pocket of fascinating detail and mystery that Lewis touches on and then leaves behind. His work is so full of ideas that there is enough material for many more books to be written.

The Magician's Nephew is an excellent addition to the Chronicles, and has within it all the magic, mystery and meaning that one expects from the Narnia books. Surprisingly, Narnia does not appear in the story till almost halfway through, but there is plenty to make up for it beforehand. Digory goes on to appear as Professor Kirke in other books, and both he and Polly are present in the final book The Last Battle. And of course, there's plenty of Aslan — how on earth could there not be? —Rebecca Fisher

The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe: "Once a King or Queen of Narnia, Always a King or Queen..."

How does one review this book? Everyone knows about it, everyone has an opinion on it and not everybody likes it. Any discussion on the matter seems somewhat redundant. Deemed controversial because of its religious connotations, adored by millions of readers young and old, the subject of hundreds of different interpretations and now the focus of a blockbuster movie (with sequels still to come), it doesn't seem the "Lion, Witch and Wardrobe" debate will end any time soon.

The four Pevensie siblings are evacuated to the country estate of Professor Kirke during World War II: responsible Peter, worrisome Susan, sullen Edmund and imaginative Lucy. During a game of hide-and-seek Lucy creeps into an old apple-wood wardrobe, pushing aside heavy fur coats, and "a moment later she was standing in the middle of a wood at night time with snow under her feet and snowflakes falling through the air." Befriending a faun named Mr Tumnus, Lucy learns of her new situation: she's in the land of Narnia, which has been ruled over for a hundred years by an evil White Witch who has made it eternal winter, but never Christmas. But Lucy's coming may portend a change in Narnia; it has long been prophesied that when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve (that is, humans) sit on the thrones of Cair Paravel it will herald an end to winter and the coming of the great "Aslan".

But first Lucy has to convince her siblings of the reality of Narnia, especially tricky considering the attitude of Edmund who is determined to ridicule his younger sister. His mind is instantly changed when he follows Lucy into the wardrobe for a second time — but meets up with the White Witch herself. Entranced by the taste of her magical Turkish Delight, Edmund is soon convinced that his best course of action is to lure all his siblings into her power so that he might be made her son and heir.

Once Peter and Susan discover the secret of the wardrobe, the story really starts to roll. Discovering that Mr Tumnus has been captured by agents of the White Witch, the siblings make the acquaintance of two talking beavers shortly before Edmund sneaks out in order to defect to the Witch's side. Desperate to get their brother back (as nasty as he is), Peter, Susan and Lucy agree to accompany the beavers to where Aslan is said to have set up an army to combat the Witch...

There is a lot of debate over the correct reading order of these books, whether they should be read in chronological or publishing order (in which The Lion comes either first or second). Technically, I don't think it really matters (heck, I read The Silver Chair first), but if you want to make the effort then I recommend that The Lion is read first, considering the nature and identity of Aslan is kept mysterious throughout the first half of the book in order to build suspense for those new to Narnia. What may not be known to the new reader (if there are any left that is), is that The Lion is surprisingly short. The story speeds by at a cracking pace, and so is accessible to a young audience, especially since Lewis himself is a heavy presence within the narrative, often addressing the reader directly to explain, elaborate or shift the scene.

As of late, The Chronicles of Narnia have been under some critical scrutiny, accused of sexism, racism and heavy religious propaganda. Yikes! That's heavy stuff for a children's book! Fellow British fantasy-writer Philip Pullman in particular has made stinging attacks on the Narnia books, but how bad are they really? Well, there's sure to be some frustration over the fact Susan and Lucy receive weapons as gifts before being instructed not to use them in battle since "battles are ugly when women fight"; never mind the fact that Peter and Edmund (both children) are perfectly able to hack their way through enemy ranks.

But that's not even opening the discussion of the religious content. Just how Christian is Narnia? In my opinion; as Christian as you want it to be. For me personally, it was several years before I realised the religious connotations at work within the novel and the book can certainly be enjoyed by readers who have no spiritual convictions whatsoever. That being said, it is undeniable that Lewis drew on his own belief system to establish certain story-points, most clearly seen in the sacrifice and resurrection scene that is the centrepiece of the novel. Yet one shouldn't consider Narnia as in any way allegorical; Lewis himself preferred to call it "suppositional". Aslan doesn't represent Christ; he is Christ as he might exist in another world where he is called upon to take a similar (but not identical) course of action as he was in this world. Other elements; such as Mr Tumnus or the Turkish Delight have no allegorical purpose at all — they serve the story and cater to Lewis's imagination — it's as simple as that.

Read into the content any way you want, since the way in which the story is told is beautifully done. Lewis was the master of unforgettable imagery; whether it be the contrasting colours of red lips, white skin and black hair of the witch, four children crowned as monarchs, a faun scurrying through the woods with an umbrella and scarf, and what is perhaps the most widely recognised scene in children's literature: a lamp-post glowing softly in the darkness of a snow-covered wood. Drawing on a range of mythological creatures (from Roman nymphs and fauns, Norwegian dwarfs, talking animals and even a cameo from Father Christmas), the land of Narnia doesn't come anywhere near the detail and workmanship of Tolkien's Middle-Earth, and yet has a charm and beauty all of its own. Lewis's vivid detail and wonderful invention of a land and its inhabitants are followed through in the sequels, and in my humble opinion it is one of the most beautifully-realised subworlds ever created.

Just read it. —Rebecca Fisher

The Horse and His Boy: "He Seems to be at the Back of All the Stories..."

In many ways The Horse and his Boy is the odd one out in the context of the Narnia series — unlike the other books, this one is set completely in the fantasy world rather than describing the movements of children from this world into that. Although two children are still used as the main protagonists, the entire tone, setting and atmosphere of this book is a little different — here we are simply meant to take this other-world for granted, rather than journey into it from hum-drum life.

Though written and published as the fifth book, chronologically it is third in the series (or if you want to get really technical second-and-a-bit) considering it takes place whilst Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy are kings and queens of Narnia — grownup, but before they return as children to their own world. C.S. Lewis once more brings a wonderful fantasy adventure to children's literature, adding in a touch of Christian allegory and teachings, some unique and beloved characters, and a rather controversial satire on Eastern customs and ideology.

Shasta is a young boy who lives with his father Arsheesh in the proud and cruel empire of Calormen. Despite his simple life as a fisherman, he is captivated with the idea of northern countries, even though his father and most of the rest of the country considers it a haunted and cursed place. One day however, a visiting Tarkaan (a Calorman lord) demands hospitality for the night and Shasta learns that he is not in fact Arsheesh's son — he was found by the old fisherman, and his colouring suggests he is from Narnia and the North!

Immensely excited by this news, he soon finds himself discussing the matters with the Tarkaan's own horse — a talking horse named Bree, who is also from Narnia, though captured as a foal and forced to work as a war-horse. Together they plot their escape, and are soon on the road northwards! On the way they must deal with deserts, lions, ominous tombs, approaching armies, the dangerous city of Tashbaan, and two fellow runaways, the Calorman maiden Aravis and the mare Hwin, who are also attempting to reach the freedom of Narnia. Perhaps the most exciting and interesting part of the book is when the two groups are separated in Tashbaan whilst in disguise, forcing both into finding different ways of escaping the city, with the valuable information that they've both learnt.

C.S. Lewis has often been accused of both sexism and racism, and The Horse and his Boy contains the strongest evidence for both sides of the argument. On the one hand, the dark-skinned Calormens that sprout long-winded proverbs and ruthlessly attack with curved blades are obvious parodies of the stereotypical Arab world and its inhabitants, whether it is the gluttonous Tisroc, the lustful Rabadash, or the simpering Vizier. Likewise, the character Lasaraleen, an empty-headed, aristocratic ditz is a portrayal of women that Lewis presents frequently in his works.

But both of these examples are somewhat diminished in light of the character Aravis: she is both Calorman and female, yet she is brave, true, intelligent, Amazonian, and improves for the better after her journey. Though she never uses her sword within the course of the story (except to shear the horses' tails), Queen Lucy joins the archers in the battle against Rabadash's troops (who is "as good as a man, or at any rate as good as a boy.") Complication piles upon complication — Corin's comment is obviously detrimental to Lucy's capabilities, but one must keep in mind that it is a young boy making this claim. Sometimes it's best to just accept that there are prickly issues to Lewis's writing and just get on with the story.

One thing that is consistent throughout the books is Lewis's inclusion of Christian meaning, in this case it deals with the reality that behind every occurrence, whether good or bad, is the will of God. In terms of the story, it means that Aslan appears to the characters several times — often in disguise — to guide and drive on the journey in order for it to reach a successful conclusion. It is a comforting presence throughout, and it's fun to look back over the book once it's read to see events that seemed somewhat random suddenly make a lot more sense in light of this truth.

The Horse and his Boy is a great adventure story, and although Shasta's true identity may make some eyes roll, the journey that he must make in order to get there is immensely rewarding. It is definitely the different book in the series, (many who don't like the others find this one to be the best, and visa versa) and the one that you could perhaps get away with not reading without loosing the overall structure and meaning of the entire series. However, despite all this The Horse and his Boy is the book that I personally have read the most in the series — not through any particular favouritism toward it, but just as an interesting, familiar, rewarding read. —Rebecca Fisher

Prince Caspian: "This is Magic at Work!"

Prince Caspian is the direct sequel to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. This novel was published second, but technically comes chronologically fourth in the Narnia series. In The Lion, the four Pevensie children become kings and queen of the magical Narnian realm and reign for many years, but when they return home they find themselves back in their child bodies, on the exact same day that they stepped into the wardrobe many years ago. A year later, the children are waiting at the station for their train to take them back to boarding school when they feel a strange pulling at them — and all of a sudden they are back in Narnia!

But something is different — their beautiful castle of Cair Paravel is in ruins, and the land seems ominous and empty. Realising that the time-difference between the two worlds means that a thousand years have passed in Narnia whilst only one has gone by in their own world, the children feel quite lonely and displaced: strangers in a familiar land that has gone on without them. When a mysterious boat carrying a dwarf prisoner pulls up on the nearby river, the children rescue the dwarf and learn the story of what has come to pass since they last ruled the land. After their disappearance life went on, but in recent years the Telmarine (ie human) Miraz the conqueror invaded Narnia and drove the "Old Narnians" into hiding. The Talking Beasts and the dwarfs have scurried underground, the nymphs and trees have gone into a deep slumber, and Aslan has seemingly abandoned them. But the Narnians have one hope: the Prince Caspian, who was raised on stories of their kind and now leads a revolt against his uncle Miraz for the country's independence. The dwarf's tale links up his story with the children's', realising that the moment of their departure coincided with Caspian blowing Queen Susan's horn — which would summon aid to whoever winded it. Now the group head off for Aslan's How, in order to join with Caspian and defeat Narnia's foes.

The story of Caspian is a somewhat patchy one as the viewpoints are continually switching and changing — first from the Pevensies', then from the narration of Trumpkin as he tells Caspian's story, and at one stage even from the point of view of two Telmarine generals. However, Lewis juggles all these narratives delicately, though possibly does a better job in the first half than the second. The trek of the four children to Aslan's How can get a little tedious, even with tantalising glances of Aslan on the way, and the one-on-one duel between Peter and Miraz is a little anti-climactic after some of the other vivid battle sequences that Lewis has described in other books.

However, almost as compensation, Lewis gives us several moments of startling beauty and goodness — most prominently the sequence when Aslan returns and leads any willing soul — either Telmarine or Narnian — in a joyous revel through the countryside. There are other little touches like this, such as when Doctor Cornelius describes Caspian's mother as "the only Telmarine who was ever kind to me," or Trufflehunter the badger quietly declares: "We don't forget. We hold on." Most of all is Caspian's reunion with his old nurse that was sent away from the castle when he was only a young boy — I was ten years old when I first read this book, and I still recall how immensely touched I was at their reunion.

More so than any other of the books, with the exception of The Last Battle, Prince Caspian is tinged with heavy doses of melancholy and loss. For the children to return so long after their reign in the Golden Age, to a world that regards them as little more than a fairytale brings home C. S. Lewis's themes of loss and the inexorable passage of time. Even though Cair Paravel is restored to its former glory by the end of the story, to find it overgrown and in ruins is as devastating to us as it is to the children. Likewise, the children's eventual departure is also touched with sadness — their reign has past and must be relinquished to Caspian; furthermore Peter and Susan are told that they are now too old to ever return to Narnia.

But of course, Aslan is always the same and this is in fact the Christian theme that Lewis injects into this book. Each one deals with a particular Christian allegory or way of life, and Prince Caspian is predominantly concerned with faith. Whether it is the afore mentioned Trufflehunter who holds fast to Aslan and the old stories, or Caspian who would desperately like to believe in the stories, or the skeptical Trumpkin, Lewis deals with the matter of faith from several different levels. Even the children themselves are "tested", with Aslan only appearing to those that are willing to believe that they are in fact following him — again this alludes to the children gradually growing up. It is easier to believe in something when we are younger than when we get older, and Peter voices the question: "why does he hide from us? He never did that last time." The fact of the matter is that he isn't a tame lion, and sometimes all we can do is simply have faith that he is there, even if we cannot see him. —Rebecca Fisher

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader: "Why Should We Not Come to the Very Eastern End of the World?"

The third book in The Chronicles of Narnia (or the fifth if you're reading them in chronological order), is a rather unusual book within the context of the series, considering the good-against-evil theme that permeates the other six books in the series is largely absent here. Of course there are dangers and trials, as well as personal conflict that need to be resolved, but because there is no central villain nor any fundamental evil that needs to be defeated, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is more thoughtful, more carefully paced, more obviously spiritual and more episodic than any of the other books.

Likewise is the role that the children from our world play within the story. Sadly, Peter and Susan are too old to return to Narnia, and so the adventure belongs to Edmund and Lucy, as well as their horrible cousin Eustace Scrubb who are sucked through a painting in a spare bedroom into Narnia. However, unlike in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and Prince Caspian, in which they had clear and important roles to play in the unfolding of Narnia's well-being, they are pulled aboard the ship the Dawn Treader in order to...well, just tag along really. Indeed, the children do not even set foot in Narnia throughout the course of the story — but crucially important words are spoken by Aslan at the conclusion of the tale that sheds a whole new light on the meaning behind the children's presence in Narnia: "In your world I have another name. This was the very reason you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little while, you may know me better there."

But I'm getting ahead of myself. After Lucy, Edmund and the odious Eustace are aboard the Dawn Treader they discover that their rescuer is Caspian, the boy crowned King at the conclusion of Prince Caspian. But because of the time difference that exists between Narnia our own world, several years have passed in which Caspian has grown into a young man, whereas Edmund and Lucy remain children. Caspian is on a sea voyage to discover the fates of seven lords who were banished by his evil uncle Miraz; and map the uncharted seas of the East. Also on board is the talking mouse Reepicheep (also introduced in Prince Caspian) who is on a quest of his own: to find Aslan's Country, said to exist at the eastern end of the world's oceans.

Edmund and Lucy (who are still considered monarchs in Narnia) quickly settle in to the routine of the ship, which is more than can be said for Eustace who seems only capable of making a nuisance of himself in his desire to return to more civilised lands. As the ship sets off into ever more dangerous waters and stopping at islands that become steadily stranger, Eustace eventually must come to find redemption in the discovery of the leonine Aslan — but I won't give away the details of his spiritual transformation, you'll have to read and find out for yourself! It is perhaps Eustace's development that makes up the main plot-thread of the book considering the book opens and closes on his character, though it is certainly not centered around him — Caspian, Edmund, Reepicheep and Lucy all get their chance to shine.

Furthermore, Lewis treats us an imaginative scope of adventure and mystery that is perhaps not matched by any other book in the series in regard to its variety and quantity. Since the fun of reading a book like this is in the discovery of each new marvel presented, it would be wrong of me to list them all — but of course it will come as no surprise to readers that Aslan's presence heavily surrounds the ship and its purpose. Some of Lewis's most overtly Christian connotations are found within The Voyage — yet as always, they are not so obtrusive that they become preachy or alienate readers who are not particularly interested in the subtext. Toward the end of the novel in particular, the christological references of the story are beautifully incorporated into the narrative of the story...and again, I have to resist temptation to go into detail!

As always, Lewis fills his books with little touches of intrigue and enigma, for example: the bracelet of a missing lord, which now hangs on a stone outcropping till the world ends, the unspoken sin of a star that was banished to earth, and the friendship that is formed between Lucy and a mermaid in the moment that they both meet and part. Lewis was a master at making small, thought-provoking events that didn't mean much to the overall continuation of the plot, but existed simply for their own sake in enriching and enlivening the story.

For many, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is the best book in the series; not to mention their favourite. To be honest, I'm not sure where I stand on such a question, but I do know that it is an unusual (in a good way!) inclusion in the Chronicles, and in many ways a turning point for the series. This is the last book in which Pevensie children play a major part in the action; as Eustace takes over in the next book The Silver Chair as protagonist. As such, there is a bittersweet quality to it, which is well in keeping to the nature and purpose of Narnia itself. —Rebecca Fisher

The Silver Chair: "By the Great Lion, By Aslan Himself I Charge You..."

I am always vaguely amused at the debate that goes on over the reading order of The Chronicles of Narnia and how worked up some people get over it. True, some books should be read before others and The Last Battle should definitely be read last; but in my own experience The Silver Chair (published fourth, written fifth*, and chronologically sixth in the series) was read first! Was my love and appreciation of Narnia ruined because of this? Of course not!

The Silver Chair is set about a year after the proceedings of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, in which Eustace Scrubb accompanied his cousins Lucy and Edmund Pevensie into Narnia and became a much better person for it. Returning to school as a reformed bully, he happens upon a fellow school-student Jill Pole crying behind the gym, and in an attempt to cheer her up, divulges the secret of Narnia and the great Aslan. Interrupted in their discussion, Eustace and Jill attempt to escape the teachers and bullies by trying out a door in the school wall — which magically opens out into Narnia.

Unfortunately, an act of pride from Jill separates the two of them, and she alone bears witness to Aslan and accepts from him the burden of a noble quest. She learns that Prince Rilian, the son of the famous King Caspian, has disappeared without a trace, and Aslan reveals he has brought both her and Eustace into Narnia in order to find him, giving her four specific instructions by which she can find him. Rejoining Eustace outside Cair Paravel, they soon hear the specifics of Rilian's disappearance and make plans for their search for him. They are soon allied with Puddleglum, a creature known as a Marsh-wiggle who agrees to act as their guide as they leave Narnia and travel into the dangerous northern lands in search of the lost prince. With only Aslan's mysterious signs to trust in (and with the first botched already), the three companions have a long road ahead of them.

The Silver Chair is the only Narnia story that has a clear narrative structure from the get-go; the search for the lost prince. It is only a few chapters before the trio of travelers are on their way, with a clear sense of their purpose and direction — quite different from the other books in which it can take most of the book for the child protagonists to get a sense of their goals and purposes. This has the clear advantage of speeding up the narrative, and The Silver Chair races along at a steady pace. For the first time we get to explore the lands that lie north of Narnia (though this is a little bittersweet, considering the appeal of Narnia — a short interlude at Cair Paravel only whets the appetite), and the dangers that lie therein.

This may be interesting, but it is a little bleak. Far from the valleys, rivers and meadowlands of Narnia, the northern reaches are grim moors, rocky gorges, underground caverns and wastelands. Populated with giants and gnomes; it does run the risk of being a little depressing. The Silver Chair certainly traverses the most inhospitable lands of Narnia, and several dangers that the children face (including giants, witches and claustrophobic undergrounds) can be quite harrowing for younger readers. In fact, it's tempting for me to attribute my own claustrophobia to Lewis's graphic accounts of the tight squeezes and tunnel crawls in the darkness of the undergrounds.

But in all this darkness there is moments of beauty and intrigue; an opening at Cair Paravel where Trumpkin still reigns as regent (though a little hard of hearing), the imaginative vibrancy of the land of Bism that Lewis portrays in glorious colour, and the Narnia snow-dance, which should really be read in order to properly appreciated. This is also the novel in which we are introduced to Puddleglum, surely one of C.S. Lewis's most original and beloved characters. Said to have been based on Lewis's gardener, Puddleglum is endlessly pessimistic about their chances for survival, and yet is patient, canny, stoic and wise. He gets his moment of glory, and in typical Lewis-fashion, it is a vindication of faith rather than any fancy sword maneuvers.

The Pevensie siblings are rather missed, as even though Eustace has improved drastically from his behaviour in "the Voyage", neither he nor Jill quite has the likeability of the Pevensies. But perhaps this is down to a sense of nostalgia considering the Pevensie family has been represented in all the books up till now, as well as the fact that the Pevensies were nothing less than kings and queens, possessing a nobility and romantic mystique about them that the more normal Eustace and Jill simply don't have. Yet perhaps this may appeal to some, since Eustace and Jill are certainly more realistic children. They do their fair share of bickering and squabbling, yet there is a poignant moment near the end in which they address each other by their first names (rather than "Scrubb" and "Pole"), and they reappear in The Last Battle as fully fledged heroes.

The Silver Chair is a solid addition to The Chronicles of Narnia, even though the chair of the title is surprisingly low-key in the context of the story. With a stirring adventure, heart-pounding dangers and a villain that is second only to the famous White Witch, Lewis presents an entertaining and re-readable adventure story. —Rebecca Fisher
*Lewis actually completed The Horse and His Boy before The Silver Chair, but its publication was delayed.

The Last Battle: "Further Up and Further In!"

Say what you will about the correct reading order of C.S. Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia, one thing is certain — The Last Battle needs to be read last. It is not simply because it was written and published last in the series, that it clears up all loose ends in the previous installments and leaves no possible room for any sequels, but because it will change your entire understanding and perception of the last six books. Do what you like with the other books' reading order, but trust me on this one: The Last Battle needs to be read last.

It has been over two hundred years in Narnia after the events in The Silver Chair, when Eustace Scrubb and Jill Pole saved Prince Rilian from imprisonment and restored him to his father and the throne. Now Rilian's descendant King Tirian enjoys the solitude of his hunting lodge with his best friend, Jewel the unicorn. But there is treachery in Narnia like nothing the country has ever faced before...

A dishonest ape named Shift has found a lion-skin and forced Puzzle the donkey to wear it. Now he lords over the Talking Beasts of the forest by pretending to be the mediator between them and the great Lord Aslan, who remains hidden in a stable and only emerges by the dim light of a campfire at night. Soon the game (which began as a way for Shift to obtain food without any effort) has gotten dangerously out of control. Convinced that Puzzle is the real Aslan, the Talking Animals are scared and confused at his changing attitudes toward them, and the Calormenes of the neighbouring empire have taken advantage of the situation by invading Narnia. Once Tirian is captured by his enemies, he remembers the great stories of the past in which children from another world appear to help Narnia in need, and appeals to the true Aslan for another such occurrence. Right on cue, Eustace and Jill appear to free the King and lend their aid to the free Narnians in fighting for their beloved homeland.

All of the books in The Chronicles of Narnia series contain Biblical allusions, but The Last Battle is easily the most allegorical considering it is best described as Narnia's Armageddon. To put it simply, this is the end of Narnia (and don't think that's a spoiler, as the very first sentence of this novel is: "In the last days of Narnia...") and as such, we have allegorical representations of the Antichrist, the false prophet, the fate of non-believers, Heaven, the Final Judgment, the Second Coming and the End of the World. It's a pretty hefty topic for a children's novel, and both the story and style of the book is weightier than any previous book in the series, with plenty of death, violence and tragedy. This creates an interesting paradox overall, considering The Last Battle is the most spiritual, the most controversial, the most disheartening and ultimately the most upbeat book in the series.

The Calormenes are called "darkies" throughout the story, and are indisputably the villains; what with their part to play in the destruction of Narnia and the worship of their pagan-god Tash, an element of one other books in the series (The Horse and His Boy) that has raised accusations of racism. Yet Lewis makes what is perhaps an attempt to compensate late in the novel by introducing a young Calormene named Emeth, who is permitted to enter Aslan's country based on his virtue, even though he never believed nor followed Aslan in his lifetime; a thought that may appeal to many, though it does not exactly fit into Christian teachings. As always, the author's dogma is a little muddled, for in all of his books Lewis plays by his own rules, by his own sense of right and wrong — this ranges from previous attacks on vegetarians and co-ed schools to his own opinions on who deserves salvation and who doesn't.

This leads into the second major point of controversy within the book: the fate of Susan Pevensie, the onetime Queen of Narnia. To put it bluntly, she's not here and her siblings dismiss her as someone who is no longer a friend of Narnia. Why? What could have possibly caused her abandonment from Narnia and Aslan? Surely something truly terrible! Well, no actually. Lewis pinpoints the cause as Susan's interest in "nylons and lipstick" and an interest in "grownup things". A beloved major character is excluded from the final installment of the series on the grounds of puberty? What?! Her fate becomes even more tragic when further information is revealed over the new "situation" of her siblings and parents (readers will know what I`m talking about, and what it must mean for poor Susan). I was very young when I first read The Last Battle, and I recall how upset I was at the treatment of Susan — it stands to reason that other children will feel the same.

Okay, those are my issues and now they're off my chest. On to better things. The Last Battle makes fantastic use of Lewis's poetical prose, and the book carries a sense of both bittersweetness and grandeur, particularly in the chapter "Night Falls on Narnia". Though Tirian is somewhat indistinguishable from Caspian and Rilian before him, his friendship with Jewel is immensely touching, as is his relationship with the children who come to his aid. Far from the squabbling duo in The Silver Chair, Jill and Eustace acquit themselves excellently throughout The Last Battle, reaching hero-status in their efforts to aid the falling Narnia.

The Last Battle is also Lewis at his most philosophical (perhaps it's no coincidence that Professor Kirke mentions Plato), as he explores metaphysics, the boundaries of belief, the relationship between the real and the unreal, the existence of life after death and the nature of God Himself; in some ways The Last Battle is more akin to Lewis's apologetic Christian writings, such as Surprised By Joy or Mere Christianity than any of the other Narnian books, in that Lewis uses it as a basis for many of his spiritual concepts and ideas. As mentioned, The Last Battle carries the most obvert Christian messages, particularly in a declaration Lucy makes toward the end of the novel. The stable door, which begins as a convenient holding-pen for the fake Aslan soon takes on new theological meaning, with a surprising symbolic connection to our own world.

Lewis makes excellent use of components introduced in his previous books, calling up the strange creatures and that Jill and Eustace discover in The Silver Chair, the Narnian concept of stars explored in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the magical transporting rings in The Magician's Nephew, even the use of the phrase Son of Adam and Daughter of Eve that was used so long ago in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It all culminates in a wonderful reunion at the conclusion of the book that may just brings tears to your eyes — especially when Lucy rediscovers her first and best Narnian friend.

Make no mistake, this is a fitting end for the trilogy and if the new movie franchise gets this far I'll be first in line for a ticket — but I'm removing a star in honour of Susan. —Rebecca Fisher