C.S. Lewis didn't want to write a "Christian book." That sounds weird, right? Given how every Sunday school teacher in the world has used Aslan as a stand-in for Jesus, you'd think the guy sat down with a Bible and a checklist. He didn't. In fact, he famously said the whole thing started with a single image that had been stuck in his head since he was sixteen: a faun carrying an umbrella and some parcels in a snowy wood.
That’s it. No grand plan. No hidden code. Just a faun.
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe wasn't born out of a desire to preach, but out of a specific kind of 1940s loneliness and the strange atmosphere of wartime England. When the Pevensie children were sent away from London during the Blitz to stay with an eccentric professor, Lewis was actually drawing from his own experience of hosting evacuees. He saw these bored kids in a big, drafty house and started wondering what they might find in the rooms he hadn't explored yet.
What actually makes the wardrobe work?
Most people think the wardrobe is just a doorway. It's not. It’s a transition of the soul. If you look at the physical description Lewis gives—the smell of mothballs, the soft crunch of fur coats, the sudden prickle of pine needles—he’s grounding the magic in the mundane. That’s the trick. You can’t have the "sublime" without the "ordinary."
Narnia works because it feels cold. Honestly, the most underrated character in the book isn't the lion or the witch; it's the Turkish Delight. Think about it. Edmund doesn't betray his siblings for power or a throne, at least not at first. He does it because he’s a hungry, grumpy kid who wants a snack. Lewis understood that true temptation isn't usually some grand, operatic choice. It’s small. It’s sticky. It’s a little bit pathetic.
Some critics, like Philip Pullman, have absolutely hated this. Pullman famously called the Narnia books "propaganda" and "racist." He hated the way Lewis handled Susan later in the series. But even if you disagree with Lewis’s theology or his 1950s sensibilities, you can’t deny the raw power of the White Witch. Jadis isn't just "evil." She’s a void. She represents the "Always winter, never Christmas" state of mind—a stagnation that felt very real to a post-war Britain still living under rationing and grey skies.
The Aslan problem and the "Supposal"
Let’s talk about the lion.
If you call Narnia an allegory, you’re technically wrong. Lewis was a scholar of Medieval and Renaissance literature; he knew what a real allegory looked like (The Pilgrim’s Progress, for example). He called Narnia a "supposal."
His logic went like this: "Suppose there were a world like Narnia and suppose the Son of God became a Lion there as He became a Man here, and then imagine what would happen."
It’s a subtle distinction but a huge one. An allegory is a one-to-one code. A "supposal" is an incarnation. This is why Aslan is often scary. He isn't a "tame lion." He growls. He bites. He flings kids around. Lewis wanted to strip away the "stained-glass window" feeling of religion and replace it with something wild and dangerous.
Why the 1950s critics hated it
When Lewis first showed the manuscript to his friend J.R.R. Tolkien, the reaction was brutal. Tolkien hated it. He thought the mix of mythologies was a mess. You’ve got a Greek faun, Father Christmas, a Norse-style witch, and talking beavers? To Tolkien, who spent decades building the internal linguistic consistency of Middle-earth, Narnia felt slapped together.
But that "messiness" is exactly why it sticks. It feels like a dream. Dreams don't have consistent internal logic; they have emotional resonance.
The stuff nobody talks about: The Stone Table
The sacrifice at the Stone Table is the heart of the book, but we often gloss over how violent it actually is. In the original text, the White Witch and her creatures humiliate Aslan. They shave him. They muzzle him. It’s a scene of pure, concentrated bullying.
Lewis was writing for children, but he didn't believe in "writing down" to them. He knew kids understood cruelty better than adults did. He knew that the "Deep Magic from the Dawn of Time" had to be answered by a "Deeper Magic from before the Dawn of Time." It’s an exploration of legalism versus grace. The Witch represents the Law—the "right" to the blood of the traitor. Aslan represents the subversion of that law through voluntary suffering.
The real-world legacy of Narnia
Since its publication in 1950, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe has sold over 100 million copies. It has been translated into 47 languages. It’s not just a book; it’s a cultural blueprint.
- The Portal Fantasy: Without the wardrobe, do we get Harry Potter and Platform 9¾? Maybe, but Lewis perfected the "threshold" mechanic.
- Environmentalism: Lewis was a "green" writer before it was cool. Narnia’s health is directly tied to its ecology. When the Witch rules, the trees are silent. When Aslan returns, the river gods wake up.
- The "Inklings" Effect: The book solidified the Oxford literary circle (The Inklings) as the epicenter of modern fantasy.
Finding Narnia today
If you’re revisiting the book as an adult, ignore the movies for a second. The 2005 Disney film was fine, but it turned Narnia into a generic epic battle movie. The book is much more intimate. It’s a story about four kids who are kind of jerks to each other finding out that their choices actually matter.
It’s about the fact that you can live a whole lifetime as a King or Queen in another world and then stumble back through a wardrobe to find that no time has passed at all. That’s the ultimate wish fulfillment: the idea that our "real" lives are just the cover of the book, and the real story starts on page one.
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Actionable Steps for the Modern Reader:
- Read the Dedication: Look at the note Lewis wrote to his goddaughter, Lucy Barfield. It’s one of the most beautiful pieces of prose about growing up and "becoming old enough to start reading fairy tales again."
- Track the "Small" Sensory Details: Next time you read, look for the food. The sardines and toast with Mr. Tumnus, the heavy marmalade roll at the Beavers' house. Lewis uses food to signal safety and community.
- Compare the Versions: There are slight differences between the original British and American editions (like the description of the Witch’s platform). It’s a nerd-level rabbit hole worth diving into.
- Look Beyond the Wardrobe: If you liked the tone, read The Silver Chair. It’s darker, weirder, and deals with the psychology of belief in a way that feels incredibly modern.
Narnia isn't a place you go to escape the world. It’s a place you go to learn how to live in this one. That’s why, seventy-five years later, we’re still looking for the back of the wardrobe.