Miracles Do Happen–and Here’s a Book about a Miracle

From March 12, 2012

I’ve just enjoyed a special screening, before its release in theaters, of Kirk Cameron’s new film, Monumental. If I hadn’t read a certain book not long ago, the amazing story told by the film would have been news to me.

I heartily recommend Monumental, although it’ll do just fine without me. But what I want to do here and now is recommend the book: The Governor’s Story, by Dorothy Robbins, available from Nordskog Publishing.

Yes, Dorothy is a friend of mine and a frequent visitor to this blog. But that’s not why I’m urging you to read her book.

This is the story of a miracle. No kidding. What else would you call it when a handful of men, women, and children transport themselves to an uncharted wilderness at the beginning of a harsh winter, and half of them die before the next spring comes–and before the last of the original settlers dies, the landscape features a full-sized modern city, several hundred towns and churches, and a brand-new university: all of which are still functioning 400 years later?

This is the miracle of the Pilgrims; and–I say this as someone who has closely studied history all his life–there is nothing else even a little bit like it.

Yeah, yeah, we already heard all about it in “school,” and we know about Thanksgiving, ho-hum…

When I read The Governor’s Story, I discovered, to my shock, that I really didn’t know that story at all–not a bit! The pap they shovel up in “school” falls so far short of doing justice to the true history, it rises almost to the level of crapola.

So forget everything (and I do mean everything!) you think you know about the Pilgrims, and read Dorothy’s book before you go see Monumental. Between the two of them, your whole outlook on a l0t of important things will be changed forever.

I think I can promise you that.

 

 

Book Review: The Narnia Code by Michael Ward

(Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, IL: 2010)

“The [Narnia] books are much more Christian than we’ve realized.”

-Michael Ward (p. 130)

“Lewis ate and drank from the table of pagan idolatry. He slurped it in and was so full of it, that this world of idols and sorcery came out through his books.”

-David Sorensen1

No author has ever succeeded at being correctly understood by all of his readers. C. S. Lewis is widely, but not universally, regarded as a great Christian thinker and apologist, best known for his seven books, The Chronicles of Narnia. These children’s books, also enjoyed by adults, are often held up as the best example of Christian fantasy literature.

Michael Ward, Chaplain of St. Peter’s College, Oxford, has studied Lewis exhaustively. He’d read everything Lewis ever wrote-including unpublished manuscripts and letters, poems, and childhood notebooks. If there is anything Mr. Ward doesn’t know about C. S. Lewis, chances are that nobody knows it.

Ward claims to have unraveled a secret code pertaining to all the Narnia books-something that Lewis put in on purpose, and which, very subtly, holds the whole series together while subconsciously working on the reader’s mind. No, it’s not like one of those “Bible codes” that tells you Leviticus 4:14 secretly predicts who will win an Oscar next year. It’s more in the nature of a hidden theme, deliberately concealed by C. S. Lewis, to heighten the impact of his art. So Ward’s title is a bit misleading.

Seven Heavens, Seven Books

“Lewis took the seven heavens that he so loved and used them as symbols of Christ … to present Christ in seven different ways,” Ward says (pp. 129-130). He is referring to the ancient cosmology which featured seven heavens circling the Earth, each ruled by its own “planet”-the Moon, Mercury, Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn-with each “planet” having certain influences on Earth and its inhabitants.

Each Narnia story is “ruled” by its own planet: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Jupiter; Prince Caspian, Mars; The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the Sun; The Silver Chair, the Moon; The Horse and His Boy, Mercury; The Magician’s Nephew, Venus; and The Last Battle, Saturn. The planets, says Ward, are “spiritual symbols speaking through stories” in which C. S. Lewis “translated the planets into plots” (p. 146).

It sounds complicated, but Ward does make a very strong case. Everything he says, he backs up with quotes from Lewis himself. He also does an amazingly good job of writing in a clear, simple prose style very similar to that employed by Lewis to tell his Narnia stories. Ward sounds like Lewis. He has written a book which an intelligent child would understand, but which won’t make an adult reader feel like he’s been kidnapped by Barney the Dinosaur.

Ward has convinced me that Lewis didn’t just “throw in everything” when he was writing a Narnia tale: “randomness and mishmash are not to be found” (p. 8) in these books, he says-even when it may look like mishmash. Thus there is a reason for Father Christmas appearing in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, even if it seems careless, even silly, to insert one of our own popular culture icons into the parallel universe of Narnia-an apparent anomaly which Ward says got him started in his search for C. S. Lewis’ cryptic messages. Superman wouldn’t belong there, but Father Christmas does.

It’s not necessary to go into the details of Ward’s reasoning. His book is easy to read and explains itself. It’s a clever piece of literary detective work, and those most interested in his argument should read the book.

But we cannot help asking, given that C. S. Lewis secretly followed a cosmological theme in composing his Narnia tales: Are we better off for knowing that? Mr. Ward finds his own pleasure and understanding greatly enhanced for knowing it. Then again, millions of children and adults, over more than half a century, have adored these books without ever suspecting there were any secret messages involved.

Is that because Lewis succeeded in speaking to the readers’ subconscious?

There’s no way to know; and meanwhile, there are other issues to consider.

A Five-Star Fantasy

Every now and then I get to read and review a book that makes my work a pleasure. S.D. Smith’s The Black Star of Kingston is such a book. It’s been a long time since I read a book that so deeply moved me.

Smith’s first book in what I hope will be a long series, The Green Ember, was very good–but this, a prequel, is even better. It’s a little book. You could read it in a sitting, but I stretched it out to two sittings because I didn’t want it to end.

It’s a simple story of rabbits–very human rabbits, with a government, industries, arts and crafts, etc.–trying to establish themselves in a new home, after being driven out of their old home by merciless enemies. Why rabbits instead of people? Well, why not? It’s a fantasy for children, and children like animal characters.

Smith is a good enough writer to make it look easy, a very good writer indeed. His suspense is masterful, and the action of the climax is intense. Maybe a little too intense for some young readers–but to write it off as a children’s book is to rob adult readers. This is, quite simply, the best book I’ve read in quite a while.

What’s it about? It’s about love, courage, and loyalty. Friendship and self-sacrifice. Hope and faith. Although it’s not overtly “Christian,” it certainly conforms to Christian values. Not that we have a monopoly on these: we don’t. But taken as a whole, I call it a thoroughly Christian book. And a visit to Mr. Smith’s website, http://www.sdsmith.net , will leave you in no doubt as to his religious sensibilities.

Don’t let this one slip past you. Read it!

Review This? You Gotta Be Kiddin’

I’m always getting emails from publicists inviting me to review their clients’ books. I have no idea why they pick on me. What would ever make them think I was interested? Like, they know enough to know that I do book reviews, but have no idea what kind of books I review.

The invitation I got today was for a horror called Remembrance of Blue Roses by one Yorker Keith, who learned how to write novels in college. It seems to be about a menage-a-trois among three goofs, a guy named Mark and a married couple named Hans and Yukari. Hans and Yukari? Oh, please.

They meet at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and go on to share first friendship, then sex and obsession, along with classical music, opera (oh please again), and art. They never go to wrestling matches. These shared passions are “illuminating the lives of these international civil servants at the United Nations headquarters…”

Who’s out there saying “Uncle! Uncle!”

Eventually Mark’s ex-wife and ex-fiancee show up and there’s a menage-a-cinq or something, and it ends in a tragedy, although the only tragedy I can see here is that the UN is still standing at the end of the book.

What in the world made the publicist think I would ever want to read such a thing? Why would anybody? A bunch of arty-farty citizens of the world experimenting with assorted fornications… oh, feh. And it’s almost lunchtime, too.

Preview of Coming Attractions

If I can possibly get around to it today, I’ve just got to share with you the latest invitation I’ve received to review a book. Some of these publicists have extremely funny ideas!

Meanwhile, like, where did everybody go? Are we all worn out from Christmas week? All right, I understand.

Again, I extend to all readers, not just regulars, the invitation to request hymns or other Christian music to be posted here. Just scroll down and “Leave a Comment.” Usually, but not always, I will not post secular music. I am not a DJ. I just think hymns are increasingly important in this evil age.

Anyhow, you won’t believe this book they think I should review.