Category: Great Authors

C.S. Lewis & Ethnic Ancestry

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Education, Great Authors, Literature, Modern Life24 Comments

Most American think C.S. Lewis was English. But that’s not quite right, is it? After all, he was born in Belfast, which is in Northern Ireland. And that makes him Irish, doesn’t it? Well, yes but not exactly.

The most accurate description is that C.S. Lewis was Anglo-Irish, with an identity linked to both English and Irish identities. Unfortunately, even that designation is subject to potential confusion, since it holds more than one definition. It is sometimes used for persons of English descent living in Ireland, Irish folks living in England, or those of mixed Irish and English ancestry. 

The classical definition, directly applicable to C.S. Lewis, is: “of English descent but born or resident in Ireland, or a member of such a family, and associated particularly with the Protestant Ascendancy” (Oxford Reference).

The Emerald Isle is particularly confusing to most Americans. Only a minority possess any awareness of the history which led to the division of Ireland into today’s Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, which is part of the United Kingdom. (Read to the end and discover a little known aspect about America’s dominant ethnicities.)

If Ireland is a mystery to those in the United States, so too are other identifications. The “United Kingdom” itself is perplexing to many on “this side of the pond” (i.e. the Atlantic). 

People find it baffling that a nation consists of three one-time kingdoms (England, Wales and Scotland) and the northeast counties on the island of Ireland. Add to that the fact that the initial three also comprise “Great Britain,” and eyes can glaze over.

Why does it matter? Because a person’s background and heritage often influences many aspects of their personality and values. And the outcome of this blending is particularly manifest in the unique combination of the Irish and English cultures. The Hiberno-English dialect provides a colorful example, with words like the adjective “cats” (awful), “amn’t” (am not), plámás (flattery), and “the jacks” (bathroom), plus phrases such as “acting the maggot” (misbehaving). 

Like all other tongues, Hiberno-English continues to evolve.

Anglo-Irish Writers

Anglo-Irish literature constitutes a distinct category of poetry and prose. Ironically, it is the essential Irishness of the style in “Anglo-Irish literature [which] registers itself [as] the most difficult . . . and the most important” element to be identified.

Few non-Europeans recognize there are many prominent Anglo-Irish writers.* Many, including C.S. Lewis who studied and taught in England, celebrated their Irish heritage. An example taken from a letter written in 1917 to his friend Arthur Greeves provides an illustration of this pride. Describing a day spent walking with a classmate while debating the merits of various authors, he wrote:

Like all Irish people who meet in England we ended by criticisms on the invincible flippancy and dulness of the Anglo-Saxon race. After all, there is no doubt, ami, that the Irish are the only people: with all their faults I would not gladly live or die among another folk.

While this tongue in cheek remark reflects Lewis’ youthful humor, you can read a more brilliant study of the subject in “C.S. Lewis: An Irish Writer.”

It discusses, among other matters, why “Lewis, a proud Irishman, [chose] not to promote himself as an Irish writer or write more regularly about Irish themes.”

American Geographical Eccentricities

Sadly, geography is quite undervalued in the American educational system. The common ignorance about the makeup of other continents is nothing less than embarrassing. Of course, Americans aren’t the only people ignorant about such matters, as GeoCurrents notes.

But if geographical ignorance is pronounced in the United States . . . the problem does seem to be even more extreme in some other parts of the world.

The United States as it exists today, is the product of constant immigration. During the early years of the colonies and Republic, most arrivals were Europeans, with nearly eleven million Africans brought involuntarily to North America, most during the rule of the British (Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History).

As a result of this influx of foreigners, each state possesses its own unique identity (or, more accurately, identities). The following map shows the largest single ancestral ethnicity of the residents of each state. It contains a few surprises.

The fact that Irish descendants represent a plurality in five states raises the question of just how many talented Irish-American writer may have shared the intercultural experiences of C.S. Lewis.

* A list of noteworthy Anglo-Irish writers would include, in addition to C.S. Lewis:

Jonathan Swift (1667 – 1745)
Oliver Goldsmith (c. 1730 – 1774)
Maria Edgeworth (1768 – 1849)
Joseph Sheridan LeFanu (1814 – 1873)
Dionysius Boucicault (1820 – 1890)
Lady Augusta Gregory (1852 – 1932)
Oscar Wilde (1854 – 1900)
George Bernard Shaw (1856 – 1950)
John Bagnell Bury (1861 – 1927)
William Butler Yeats (1865 – 1939)
James Owen Hannay (aka George A. Birmingham) (1865 – 1950)
John M. Synge (1871 – 1909)
Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett (aka Lord Dunsany) (1878 – 1957)
Lady Clodagh Beresford (1879 – 1957)
Emily Lorimer (1881 – 1911)
James Joyce (1882 – 1941)
Terence James Stannus Gray (aka Wei Wu Wei) (1895 – 1986)
Elizabeth Bowen (1899 – 1973)
Cecil Day-Lewis (1904 – 1972)
Samuel Beckett (1906 – 1989)
Louis MacNeice (1907 – 1963)
Mitch Teemley

C.S. Lewis, the Brothers Grimm & Snow White

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, Cartoons with a Message, Classics Worth Revisiting, Films, G.K. Chesterton, History, J.R.R. Tolkien, Likely Useless Trivia, Literature, Modern Life, Narnia8 Comments

You may blame the recent cinematic debacle that is Snow White on a declining Film Studio or the Brothers Grimm, but C.S. Lewis is innocent.

That’s not to say the Grimms didn’t have an influence on the great Oxbridge professor, a subject we’ll explore momentarily. But it was the German folk tales published by academics Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm who published the classic fairy tales that Walt Disney mined so effectively. 

They also popularized Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, The Princess and the Frog, and Rapunzel. Disney began the transformation of these tales into visual treasures as early as 1921 when he founded Laugh-O-Gram Studio in Kansas City, Missouri.

In addition to films, over the years Walt gleaned memorable Grimm stories for a multitude of cartoon shorts, including The Brave Little Tailor and The Four Musicians of Bremen.

Obviously, Walt Disney himself respected the source material for the stories and wielded his editorial prerogative in an appropriate manner. Tragically, the same cannot be said for his corporate heirs. Likewise, the Brothers Grimm bear no culpability in this area.

C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien & Snow White

The truth is, although Lewis and Tolkien appreciated literary fairy tales, neither of the preeminent Inklings were enamored with Disney’s animated treatment of the stories. Curiously, the two distinguished dons actually attended the theater together to view the trailblazing novelty that was Snow White.

They were particularly disappointed with the dwarves, seeing just how different they were from the genuine legends about them. Lewis even wrote “Dwarfs ought to be ugly of course, but not in that way.” Atlas Obscura has an entertaining article about their “movie date” and notes some of the elements they also enjoyed in the feature.

In his lectures published as A preface to Paradise lost, C.S. Lewis elaborates on his response to the Disney version of the tale.

That strange blend of genius and vulgarity, the film of Snow-White, will illustrate the point. There was good unorginality in the drawing of the Queen. She was the very archetype of all beautiful, cruel queens: the thing one expected to see, save that it was truer to type than one dared to hope for.

There was bad originality in the bloated, drunken, low-comedy faces of the dwarfs. Neither the earthiness, the avarice, nor the wisdom of true dwarfs was there, but an imbecility of arbitrary invention.

But in the scene where Snow-White wakes in the woods both the right originality and the right unoriginality were used together. The good unoriginality lay in the use of small, delicate animals as comforters, in the true Märchen [fairy tale] style. The good originality lay in letting us at first mistake their eyes for the eyes of monsters.

If you want to read more about the subject, you can do no better than read Joe Christopher’s article on the subject.

For an interesting argument that fellow Brit G.K. Chesterton would have loved Snow White for the very reason that moved the Inklings to criticize it, see “Tolkien and Lewis disliked Snow White. You know who wouldn’t have?”

C.S. Lewis & Grimm’s Fairy Tales

Like his friend, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis was a champion of classical fairy tales. Neither was apologetic for it, although Lewis admitted to being shy about it when he was young. In an essay titled “On Three Ways of Writing For Children,” he wrote,

When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.

In a great post called “Old Enough For Fairy Tales: C.S. Lewis’ “The Chronicles of Narnia” the writer describes this distinction to which Lewis alludes.

The Chronicles of Narnia are not children’s stories. They are fairy tales—but that is precisely why they are not children’s stories. If you can’t understand, you haven’t been listening. Go back and read the quote from Lewis’ essay again. Children are not the only audience for fairy tales.

In 1954, C.S. Lewis apologized to a German professor for being unable to understand the nuances of his volume on philosophy. In doing so, he referred to his youthful reading of the Brothers Grimm in their original German (available at Internet Archive).

I look forward to reading the book (when the translation arrives! My German is wretched, and what there is of it belongs chiefly to the libretto of the Ring and Grimm’s Märchen – works whose style and vocabulary you very possibly do not closely follow).

If you are in the mood for reading Grimm’s Fairy tales today, and your German is sadly lacking, Project Gutenberg has just the translation for you . . . as long as you can read English.

Addendum [added 10 April 2025]

The Brothers Grimm were far more than simply folklorists. They were respected professors at the University of Göttingen. They were devout Christians and worked with other prominent Germans. 

Goethe assisted them at a crucial moment in collecting their tales, and the philosopher Friedrich Schleiermacher provided copyediting assistance. Jacob’s work on German mythology had a pronounced influence on the composer Richard Wagner (World Magazine).

They also began compiling the Deutsches Wörterbuch (Germany dictionary) in 1838, with the first volumes published in 1854. It was the first dictionary to include historical usages of each word, preceding the Oxford English Dictionary, which was initiated in 1857 with its first edition published in 1884.

Bonus Trivia: The dwarves were unnamed until their debut on Broadway in 1912. And on that day they were christened Blick, Flick, Glick, Plick, Snick, Whick and Quee.

C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien & Naomi Mitchison

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, Books, C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Christianity, Classics Worth Revisiting, Great Authors, History, J.R.R. Tolkien, Literature, Marriage, Modern Life, Narnia, Publishing, Reading, Roman History, Writing2 Comments

Have your feelings about particular authors changed over time? C.S. Lewis’ attitude toward the work of prolific novelist Naomi Mitchison illustrates this type of progression.

Mitchison’s work possesses a direct link to another Oxford Inkling – J.R.R. Tolkien – whose Fellowship of the Ring she read in proof and favorably reviewed. Brenton Dickieson provides a priceless letter written by Tolkien to Mitchison in 1954.

Naomi Mary Margaret Mitchison was a Scottish novelist who lived more than a century (1897 – 1999). She penned more than ninety books, primarily historical fiction, and including science fiction.

With the outbreak of the First World War, Mitchison joined a Voluntary Air Detachment in a London hospital. (Other familiar women who served in a VAD included Agatha Christie and Amelia Earhart.)

Politically she identified as a Socialist. She was sufficiently leftist that George Orwell regarded her as unsuited for writing anti-Soviet materials for the United Kingdom during the Cold War.

Mitchison’s brother, J.B.S. Haldane, did not equivocate on his radical views, announcing his position as a Marxist. He was a scientist and his atheism brought him into serious disagreement with the Christian views of C.S. Lewis. (I will devote my next post to that interaction.)

Coincidentally, artist Pauline Baynes (who also worked with C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien), provided the illustrations for at least one of Mitchison’s children’s books, Graeme and the Dragon. This quick review offers a concise synopsis and discussion of “the charming illustrations [which] go a long way toward making this a fun read.”

An additional coincidence: the same year Lewis published The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Mitchison also published a fantasy novel for children. The Big House involves time travel and some occultic themes associated with Halloween, etc.

For a thorough synopsis of The Big House and comparison to Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, check out this essay from the University of Glasgow. (That reviewer’s preference is clearly for Mitchison’s more complex approach with its themes related to class struggle.)

C.S. Lewis’ Perspective on Naomi Mitchison

I cannot locate any mention of C.S. Lewis by Mitchison, but he did mention her in passing in several pieces of correspondence. In essence, he praised her skill, but was put off by her graphic use of violent imagery.

In a 1932 letter to Arthur Greeves, he writes:

I thought we had talked about Naomi Mitchison before. I have only read one (Black Sparta) and I certainly agree that it ‘holds’ one: indeed I don’t know any historical fiction that is so astonishingly vivid and, on the whole, so true.

I also thought it astonishing how, despite the grimness, she got such an air of beauty–almost dazzling beauty–into it. As to the cruelties, I think her obvious relish is morally wicked, but hardly an artistic fault for she could hardly get some of her effects without it.

But it is, in Black Sparta, a historical falsehood: not that the things she describes did not probably happen in Greece, but that they were not typical–the Greeks being, no doubt, cruel by modern standards, but, by the standards of that age, extremely humane.

She gives you the impression that the cruelty was essentially Greek, whereas it was precisely the opposite. That is, she is unfair as I should be unfair if I wrote a book about some man whose chief characteristic was that he was the tallest of the pigmies, and kept on reminding the reader that he was very short. I should be telling the truth (for of course he would be short by our standards) but missing the real point about the man–viz: that he was, by the standards of his own race, a giant. 

Still, she is a wonderful writer and I fully intend to read more of her when I have a chance.

C.S. Lewis echoed his concern in a 1942 letter to another of his regular correspondents, Sister Penelope. “I gave up Naomi Mitchison some time ago because of her dwelling on scenes of cruelty. But I recognise real imagination and a sort of beauty in the writing.”

In 1951, C.S. Lewis congratulated author Idrisyn Oliver Evans (1894–1977) on the publication of The Coming of a King; A Story of the Stone Age. Ironically, speculative fiction set in this ancient era, referred to as “Prehistoric SF,” was also the setting of works such as H.G. Wells’ Story of the Stone Age series, which you can read here. Naomi Mitchison also dabbled in the prehistoric field. Lewis wrote to Evans: 

I congratulate you. And I think it is a great thing to put that idea of the Stone Age – which is at least as likely to be the true one – into boys’ heads instead of Well’s or Naomi Mitchison’s. It’s all good. The marriage customs are amusing . . . I hope it will be a great success. 

In 1959, C.S. Lewis provided some wise counsel to a young, aspiring author. The American student was contemplating a volume about the Roman subjugation of Gaul, which Lewis encouraged.

A story about Caesar in Gaul sounds very promising. Have you read Naomi Mitchison’s The Conquered? And if not, I wonder should you? It might be too strong an influence if you did (at any rate until your own book is nearly finished). On the other hand, you may need to read it in order to avoid being at any point too like it without knowing you are doing so.

I don’t know what one should read on Gaul. Apart from archaeological finds (Torques and all that) I suppose Caesar himself is our chief evidence? He will be great fun and I hope you will enjoy yourself thoroughly.

Which side will you be on? I’m all for the Gauls myself and I hate all conquerors. But I never knew a woman who was not all for Caesar – just as they were in his life-time.

C.S. Lewis’ most significant mention of Naomi Mitchison occurs in his brief 1943 essay, “Equality.”

It delivers a brilliant discussion of the subject, one that merits full reading. He commends one of Mitchison’s insights into inequality – although, ironically, she relates it to eroticism.* (You must read it in full context to understand how it supports his independent argument.)

This last point needs a little plain speaking. Men have so horribly abused their power over women in the past that to wives, of all people, equality is in danger of appearing as an ideal. But Mrs. Naomi Mitchison has laid her finger on the real point. Have as much equality as you please – the more the better – in our marriage laws, but at some level consent to inequality, nay, delight in inequality, is an erotic necessity.

Mrs. Mitchison [in The Home and a Changing Civilization] speaks of women so fostered on a defiant idea of equality that the mere sensation of the male embrace rouses an undercurrent of resentment. Marriages are thus shipwrecked.

A final reference to Mitchison brings us back around to my early note that she reviewed Fellowship of the Ring. C.S. Lewis refers to her review in his own, suggesting that she has not gone quite far enough in her praise.

Nothing quite like it was ever done before. ‘One takes it,’ says Naomi Mitchison, ‘as seriously as Malory.’ But then the ineluctable sense of reality which we feel in the Morte d’Arthur comes largely from the great weight of other men’s work built up century by century, which has gone into it.

The utterly new achievement of Professor Tolkien is that he carries a comparable sense of reality unaided. Probably no book yet written in the world is quite such a radical instance of what its author has elsewhere called ‘sub-creation.’

Sadly, Naomi Mitchison was less enamored with the subsequent volumes in The Lord of the Rings . . . but this post has already condensed more than enough information.

* An article in Michigan Feminist Studies notes how Naomi Mitchison’s recurrent references to sexual themes distracted from broader matters throughout her literary career.

Despite Mitichison’s attempts to move the discussion of her body of work from the salacious, it is the frank and open inclusion of sexuality that continues to intrigue her critics and reviewers. Racy, heated passages of Mitchison’s historical novels inspired comment from poet W.H. Auden in the 1930s (“Monstrous Sex: The Erotic in Naomi Mitchison’s Science Fiction”).

The essay’s thesis is what one might expect in a journal devoted to contemporary feminism.

I intend to demonstrate that the ribald sexuality of Mitchison’s work registers as more than merely provocative. Sexual encounters between female characters and aliens, as well as those between women, threaten an imperialising capitalism that dictates who may be loved in a gendered, racialised order.

Damnable Typos & the Bible

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, C.S. Lewis, Church History, Great Authors, Literature, Publishing, The Bible, Theological Matters10 Comments

While the title of this post will be shocking to some, it’s far less scandalous than the typographical error discussed below. Due to two misprints appearing in a 1641 edition of the King James Bible (KJV), the publication has been labeled the “Wicked Bible.”

Translating the Scriptures is a necessary, and demanding, task. The early editions of the KJV (which was preceded by the Wycliffe Bible) reveal how vulnerable the words themselves were to being altered during the typesetting process.

I’ve written about this subject a number of times during the past decade, and even devoted a column to “C.S. Lewis’ School of Translation,” which is about something even more important than merely translating words. There I quote one of the great author’s deepest hopes.

What I want is to be the founder of a school of ‘translation . . .’ Where are my successors? (correspondence, 7 October 1945).

Returning to the seventeenth century book with its unfortunate errors, we witness an example of how even a solid translation can be derailed by careless (or malevolent) typesetters.

The magnitude of the mistake discovered in this particular edition caused its suppression, and most copies were destroyed. While some still exist in private hands, only fifteen remain in public collections. One of these made its way to New Zealand before being identified in 2018.

A Truly Scandalous Misprint

It would be one thing if a printer accidently dropped the final “e” from “breathe,” leaving the word “breath.” Even substituting an errant “w” for the “b,” would create an alternate word that would greatly muddle a passage . . . but still not appear remotely “wicked.” 

However, a 1631 mistake in an English Bible literally turned a passage – one of the Ten Commandments, no less – on its head. Rather than reading “Thou shalt not commit adultery,” this edition declares, “Thou shalt commit adultery” (Exodus 20:14).

The consequences of this disaster were significant, particularly for His Majesty’s official printers. In Cyprianus Anglicanus by royalist priest Peter Heylyn (1599-1662), we learn the details. (You can download a free facsimile of the volume which includes many other fascinating facts.) The passage related to the misbegotten tome reads as follows:

His Majesties Printers, at or about this time [1632], had committed a scandalous mistake in our English Bibles, by leaving out the word Not in the Seventh Commandment.

His Majesty being made acquainted with it by the Bishop of London, Order was given for calling the Printers into the High-Commission where upon the Evidence of the Fact, the whole Impression was called in, and the Printers deeply fined, as they justly merited.

Reports of Cases in the Courts of Star Chamber and High Commission, penned by Samuel Rawson Gardiner in 1886, includes a detailed account of the court’s findings. (Due to their uniqueness, I have transposed the full account, as found in two sections, as a footnote below.) One passage describes a second “gross error.”

. . . showed the two grossest errors, vizt. “Shalt commit adultery” and “great asse:” for “shalt not commit adultery” and “greatnesse…”

The second of these blunders occurs in Deuteronomy 5:24, which properly reads “Behold, the Lord our God hath shewed us his glory and his greatness.” (It should be noted that the word asse would most commonly be associated with donkeys.)

The magnitude of these mistakes can only be understood when one recognizes how reverentially the Scriptures were regarded at this time. C.S. Lewis would suggest that during an age when the Bible has been relegated to historic literature, it is difficult for us to comprehend the seriousness of this matter.

It is very generally implied that those who have rejected its theological pretensions nevertheless continue to enjoy it as a treasure house of English prose. It may be so. There may be people who, not having been forced upon familiarity with it by believing parents, have yet been drawn to it by its literary charms and remained as constant readers.

But I never happen to meet them. Perhaps it is because I live in the provinces. But I cannot help suspecting, if I may make an Irish bull, that those who read the Bible as literature do not read the Bible. (“The Literary Impact of the Authorised Version”).

In “Challenges in Printing Early English Bibles,” you can read about other Bibles featuring noteworthy mistakes. In two, “peacemakers” become “placemakers,” and “murmurers” are transformed into “murderers.” Another example, in the very first edition of the KJV, finds Jesus’ ancestor Ruth referred to by the male pronoun, due to the accidental dropping of an “s.”

More troubling is another early KJV Bible where “the text of Psalm 14 [reads], “The fool hath said in his heart there is a God,” rather than “The fool hath said in his heart there is no God.”

Worst of all, in terms of blasphemous connotations, would likely be the so-called “Judas Bible.”

In the 1609 Geneva Bible, the typesetters mistakenly replaced Jesus’s name with that of Judas. John 6:67 reads: “From that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him. Then said Judas unto the twelve, Will ye also go away?”

Fortunately, modern editions of the Jewish and Christian Scriptures undergo thorough proofreading, so this sort of error is rare today. Still, typos will persist as long as the remotest possibility of error exists.

Those among us who have sought to have our writing published by traditional publishers may relate to the example with which we end. C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien and even Mark Twain faced challenges working with some of their editors and publishers.

With all of the printing mishaps in the early English Bible, it is only appropriate that one of the editions was called “The Printers Bible.”

This text, published in about 1702, takes its name from a typesetting error found in Psalm 119, which should have read “Princes have per­secuted me without a cause” but was mistakenly printed as “Printers have persecuted me.”

Full references from Reports of Cases in the Courts of Star Chamber and High Commission by Samuel Rawson Gardiner (1886).

Mr Barker the printer. There is a cause begunne against him for false printeing of the Bible in divers places of it, in the Edition of 1631, vizt., in the 20 of Exod[us], “Thou shalt committ adultery”; and in the fifte of Deut[eronomy] “The Lord has shewed his glory, and his great asse”; and for divers other faults; and that they had printed it in very bad paper. And the Bishop of London showed that this would undoe the trade, and was a most dishonorable thing; that they of the church of Rome are soe carefull, that not a word or letter is to be found amisse in their Ladie’s Psalter and other superstitious books; and that we should not be soe carefull in printinge the sacred Scriptures; and that they in Holland, at Amsterdam, had gott up an English presse, and had printed the Bible in better paper, and with a better letter, and can undersell us 18d. in a Bible. Mr Barker and his partners endeavored in partt to excuse themselves, and had advocates to speake for them, and were willing to submitt, and promised to amend their faults; but the Court would not remitt their offense, but the cause was ordered to goe on.

The Printers having answered move the Court to passe by their oversight being the fault of the workmen but the King’s Advocate desired they might make their defense legally and the cause to go onto hearing: and that he might have liberty to put in additional articles against them. The Bishop of London would have the Church sett upright in her reputacion, that we are as carefull in printeing the Bible as they are of their Jesus’ psalter : and whereas the Printers say this is stirred up by the malice of one man against them; The Bishop saith he stirred not till the Bible was sould into his house, bought by his footman: and he saith the printinge is soe bbad and the paper too that, if it be not mended shortlie, they wilbe put downe by those of Amsterdam and their trade spoyled, and showed for the two grossest errors, vizt. “Shalt commit adultery” and “great asse:” for “shalt not commit adultery” and “greatnesse…” The Arch Bishop of Canterbury saith, that the Printers that print for his Matie have a very profitable place, and therefore should be more carefull. I knew the tyme when greater care was had about printeing, the Bibles especiallie, good compositors and the best correctors were gotten being grave and learned men, and the paper and letter rare and faire every way of the best; but now the paper is naught, the composers boyes, and the correctors unlearned: There is a farmer and he makes the benefit, and careth for nothing about it. They heretofore spent their whole time in printeing, but these looke to gaine, gaine, gaine, then they are not to be commended: Well, let them looke to it: and let the cause proceed, saith the ArchBishop. London. “There was a great deale of doo between you of this Citty and those of Cambridge heretofore about the priviledge of printeing the Bible and psalms which they of Cambridge claymed; then the Bible was exactlie printed, now you have forced the Cambridg printer to an agreement, now noe bible is right printed.

[It appears this volume itself would have benefited from having more diligent “correctors.” Perhaps most curiously, two spellings of the word printing – “printinge” and “printeing” – appear in this publication.]

Blackout Writing

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, C.S. Lewis, G.K. Chesterton, Literature, My Writing Projects, Narnia, Poetry, Words, Writing4 Comments

Do you have trouble coming up with ideas for your poems or stories? How about starting with an interesting collection of words and winnowing them down to a creation of your own? Read on to learn more about a simple process.

A few years ago a fellow pastor told me he could write, even short articles like blog posts. Since he had successfully completed a challenging graduate program, I was a bit shocked at this disclosure. “The problem,” he said, “is that I just can’t come up with any ideas for what to write.”

I had two reactions. First, I was amazed, since I can’t get through a day without encountering at least a handful of observations that beg to be explored. Second, I wondered just what sort of sermons his congregation was exposed to, if creative imagery and fresh ways of expressing God’s timeless truths were not coming from their pulpit.

One of the ways I attempt to improve my own writing is by stretching. In my personal shorthand, this refers to engaging in new forms of writing. Principally that means voluntarily jumping into sometimes ominous literary waters. I stretch myself by humbly engaging in genres which I may, in all honesty, find intimidating.

For example, occasionally, when bored with outlining books that may never get written, I’ll just scribble out some “impromptu verse.” Some of it turns out rather decent. (You’ll notice I didn’t say “excellent.”)

Blacking Out Words to Compose New Literature

I had heard of Blackout Poetry before, but never attempted to “write” any. Actually, it seems to me that “decompose” might be a more accurate word for this type of creating. Although most commonly used to create brief works, such as poetry, the concept can be used for narratives as well.

If you are unfamiliar with the process, you may enjoy the following, introductory articles.

“Teach Kids Art” explains the basic process and then adds some visual artistry to the mix.

Blackout Poetry is a form of “found poetry” where you select words that catch your interest from a newspaper, book, or other printed text – along with a few additional words to make it flow. Then you “redact” all the words you don’t want. This is often (but not always) done with a black marker, hence the name “blackout poetry.” Your chosen words will form a new message, giving the text a whole new meaning.

Take your Blackout Poetry a step further by adding patterns, designs, or a drawing to the areas you’re “redacting.” For example, instead of just filling in around your chosen words with solid black, you could create a drawing or design that relates to your poem. Just as with any illustration, your art should support the remaining text and add to its meaning.

“Looking Beyond the Comfort Zone” discusses a reservation many will have about pursuing blackout writing.

I really wanted to give it a try. There were however a few obstacles to overcome. First was my ingrained prohibition of defacing books. Although I owned a highlighter in college I rarely used it. It seemed wrong. . . .

Secondly the blackout poetry requires making the page unreadable for the original words. I felt a lot of good old-fashioned guilt in the prospect of destroying someone’s story. Lastly, I didn’t have any books that I felt so little regard for that I could take a sharpie marker to the pages.

I, personally, have eliminated the second reservation by scanning an image of each experimental page and blacking words out digitally. It would be just as simple to print out such an image, or simply use a copier with a physical book, if you prefer to create your work manually. My method eliminates another potential problem for bibliophiles, the damage often caused to a book’s spine when attempting to flatten the page for copying.

“5 Tips for Creating Blackout Poetry” claims the genre is “the best cure for writer’s block.” To enhance miscellany, they suggest “when picking an article to use, it’s best not to read it too closely.”

That way, you aren’t overly influenced by the author’s original work and you can create something uniquely your own.

This suggestion will certainly be beneficial in liberating the creativity of many writers. For my own purposes, I disregarded this advice, since I intentionally desired to use words by or about particular authors. I honestly want the original context to be in my mind during the metamorphosis.

A final source, “A blackout poem on the Trinity,” reveals how a writer in Europe found inspiration in the writings of C.S. Lewis for her own poem about the Trinity. Check out Christine’s verse at the link above.

This is the first time I’ve tried a blackout poem. They work by taking a page of text and then blacking it out until only the remaining words give you the poem.

In the end, I chose “It all began with a picture . . .” published in the Junior Section of The Radio Times on 15 July 1960. It’s a short and sweet description of how Lewis was inspired to write the Narnia stories.

My Initial Attempts

As I mentioned above, I scanned printed pages that you can easily find at Internet Archives, Google Books, Project Gutenberg and various other sites.

I did not attempt to write poetry. Rather, I used each page to write a brief, new narrative. Of my first three efforts, I was most pleased with “Savage Editing,” displayed above. Below, I will place it beside the original page, from The Collected Poems Of  G.K. Chesterton.

I’ll close by passing on to you the experience of the author who composed an ode on the Trinity, using an article about C.S. Lewis. My guess is that you too – should you be so bold as to attempt writing your own blackout works – will experience a similar satisfaction.

It’s hard being constrained by the page of text in front of you. The more you black out, the less you say; but the less you black out, the less impact each word has. It’s a game of compromise, striking the balance between being artistic and understandable.

But I think the end result is a celebration of both Lewis’ work and the Trinity.

The illustration below shows my blackout, which I entitled “Savage Editing,” beside the original page, which includes a portion of “The Scouring of the Horse,” from The Collected Poems Of  G.K. Chesterton. “The Scouring” is the final book in Chesterton’s Ballad of the White Horse.

Tinker Bell, the Inklings, and Disney

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Classics Worth Revisiting, Films, Great Authors, Humor, J.R.R. Tolkien, Likely Useless Trivia, Literature, Middle Earth, Modern Life, Mythology, Narnia, Nature, Publishing, The Future, Writing4 Comments

Poor Tinker Bell. The political prejudices of our day have caught up with the sparkling fairy, and relegated her to a significantly reduced presence in the Disney universe.

Inside the Magic reported “Tinker Bell seems to have left Walt Disney World and is now on her way back to Neverland following a recent change at Walt Disney World Resort.” You can read the tragic tale on their site.

. . . once more, Disney’s animated classic, Peter Pan (1953), is under scrutiny, with Disney issuing a statement regarding Captain Hook and Tinker Bell as characters with potential concerns.

Linking poor Tink to a murderous pirate seems a bit of a stretch, and she has not been fully banished, but she has definitely been demoted. According to TMZ, Disney alleges the company’s “own people felt she wasn’t a good role model for girls in the 21st century.”

Well, eventually she too will be in the public domain, like Mickey Mouse. Actually, her literary portrait as introduced in the play, coincidentally just entered the public domain this year (2024)!

However, should you reside in the United Kingdom, beware that in 1988, the copyright holder, Great Ormond Street Hospital, was granted the rights to Peter Pan “in perpetuity.”

The Creator of Tinker Bell & Peter Pan

Tinker Bell is one of the most memorable characters in Neverland, the creation of James Matthew Barrie (1860-1937). He was a prolific Scottish writer and is best known for his 1911 novel, Peter and Wendy – which initially debuted in the form of a stage play in 1904, as Peter Pan; or, the Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up.

Peter Pan was actually introduced to the world as a baby in The Little White Bird. Tinker Bell does not appear in the novel, but the following description of J.M. Barrie’s fairy mythology is quite fanciful.

One of the great differences between the fairies and us is that they never do anything useful. When the first baby laughed for the first time, his laugh broke into a million pieces, and they all went skipping about. That was the beginning of fairies.

They look tremendously busy, you know, as if they had not a moment to spare, but if you were to ask them what they are doing, they could not tell you in the least. They are frightfully ignorant, and everything they do is make-believe.

They have a postman, but he never calls except at Christmas with his little box, and though they have beautiful schools, nothing is taught in them; the youngest child being chief person is always elected mistress, and when she has called the roll, they all go out for a walk and never come back.

It is a very noticeable thing that, in fairy families, the youngest is always chief person, and usually becomes a prince or princess; and children remember this, and think it must be so among humans also, and that is why they are often made uneasy when they come upon their mother furtively putting new frills on the basinette.

Barrie continues, describing how infants are simply following fairy “ways” when they misbehave, and they naturally experience “exasperation, because we don’t understand [them], though [they are] talking an intelligible language . . . fairy.”

Returning to the person of Tinker Bell herself, she outgrew her supporting role as, in the words of her creator, “a common fairy.” She was literally a tinker, who died following the departure of Wendy and her brothers from Neverland. 

Presumably, some of the gatekeepers at Disney would have preferred that the affection of the crowds had not restored her to life. 

The Inklings

The Imaginative Conservative offers an interesting take on C.S. Lewis’ view of fairies. I quote a portion related to our present subject.

Lewis treats the subject of fairies in . . . The Discarded Image. . . . After explaining the medieval understanding of the heavens and planetary systems, Lewis turns to what he calls the Longaevi. He avoids the term “fairies” because it is “tarnished by pantomime and bad children’s books with worse illustrations.” (Probably referring to Barrie’s popular play and Princess Mary’s Gift Book – the book from which Elsie and Frances clipped the pictures they used in their fake photos.)

Jane Douglass, an American actress and playwright, contributed a fascinating essay to C.S. Lewis at the Breakfast Table, and Other Reminiscences. One wonderful portion of “An Enduring Friendship” describes Lewis’ thoughts about the possible dramatization of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. 

C.S. Lewis deemed the prospect absurd on its face, saying “I believe plays should be plays, poems, poems, novels, novels, stories, stories, and certainly the book you mention is pure narrative.” So much for a partially surviving 1967 series, the 1979 animation, the 1988 BBC television series, and the cinematic version(s) which began in 2005. Oh, and there is the matter of the impending Netflix telling which remains a closely guarded secret. Douglass continued with a reference to Disney.

He repeated his dread of such things as radio and television apparatus and expressed his dislike of talking films. I said I quite understood this, and that nothing would distress me more than that he should think that I had in mind anything like the Walt Disney shows; I hoped nobody had suggested the book to Mr. Disney.

This seemed to relieve Mr. Lewis to such an extent that I thought perhaps Mr. Disney had been after the book, but of course I did not ask. And in his usual generous way, Mr. Lewis said, “Too bad we didn’t know Walt Disney before he was spoiled, isn’t it?”

Author Jim Denney has a nice article on “What C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien Thought of Walt Disney” in which he describes parallels between the live of Lewis and Disney and concludes, “you might think that, with all that C.S. Lewis and Walt Disney had in common, they might have been mutual admirers – but that was not the case.”

Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs debuted in the United States in 1937 and in the United Kingdom in 1938. . . . A few months later, Lewis went to see it again, this time with his good friend (and fellow Oxford professor) J.R.R. Tolkien.

Coincidentally, Tolkien’s first novel The Hobbit had been published in September 1937, just three months before the American debut of Snow White.

Their greatest disappointment was in Disney’s utterly comical take on dwarves and the absence of the slightest air of “the mythic nobility of the dwarves from Germanic folklore.”

Although Snow White is itself a fairy tale, fairy characters are not to be found in the film. In the same way, J.R.R. Tolkien referred to the Lord of the Rings as a “fairy story” for adults, yet they do not appear to dwell in Middle Earth.

In fact, according to The Encyclopedia of Arda, “the name ‘Faerie’ belongs to an early period of Tolkien’s writings, and is never seen in The Lord of the Rings, but it does survive in a single usage in the earlier book The Hobbit.” And even in that case, it refers not to a population, but to a place.

On the Effect of Tinker Bell

Tinker Bell’s significance in the world is not confined to literature, or the interests of children. There is a brilliant application of her legend which has been transposed into the psychological realm. 

It’s call the “Tinker Bell Effect,” and “Be(lie)ve It or Not,” from Psychology Today, offers the following description.

One theory manifesting connections among belief, psychology, and mythology is the Tinkerbell effect named for the fairy Tinker Bell of Peter Pan whose resuscitation depends upon the audience expressing their belief in fairies through clapping . . .

The Tinkerbell effect refers to those things that exist only through imaginative acts and because people believe in them. The Reverse Tinkerbell effect maintains that, somewhat paradoxically, the more people believe in something the more likely it is to disappear. 

In their article, the psychologists parenthetically offer an additional application of Tinker Bell’s nature to their area of study. (It actually appears in the paragraph above, where I replaced it with an ellipsis.)

(because she is so small that she can only hold one feeling at a time, Tinkerbell is also a model for mood disorders and difficulties with emotional self-regulation)

Fascinating. It seems to me this insight opens the door to further literary exploration of the Tinker Bell Phenomenon that would be of interest to writers and literary critics alike. I close with my proposal for a new label for an ancient plague afflicting fictional works. If it interests any scholars among you, I invite you to develop it further and claim it as your own.

Tinker Bell (var. Tinkerbell) Crippling Character Creation Complete Content Complexity Phenomenon: The invention of fictional characters who lack depth and bear no resemblance to real people. Literary tropes that are often referred to as one-dimensional or “flat” characters. (See nearly all Marvel supervillains.)

P.S. – Feel free to abbr. the admittedly verbose proposed title; keeping in mind most readers prefer brief reads.

Tortured Writing & the Inklings

On By robstroudIn Books, C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, Classics Worth Revisiting, Great Authors, Humor, J.R.R. Tolkien, Likely Useless Trivia, Literature, Poetry, Words, Writing12 Comments

Amanda McKittrick Ros (1860-1939) was an Irish poet and novelist beloved by the Oxford Inklings. “Beloved” here is used in the sense of treasured for its distinctiveness, rather than admired for its artistry.

An article about Ros in Smithsonian Magazine is subtitled: “Amanda McKittrick Ros predicted she would achieve lasting fame as a novelist. Unfortunately, she did.”

So how is it that a writer described by the Oxford Companion to Irish Literature (OCIL) as authoring “unconscious comedy of a very high order” came to occupy a special place within the company of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien and their literary fellows? Why did they begin reading her works as a sort of contest, with the challenge of neither laughing nor smiling as they did so?

It was not because her mother (or she herself) christened her after a character in The Children of the Abbey, published in 1796. (Her initial name was “Anna.”)

No, it was due to an intrinsic element of her frequently alliterative artistry, described by OCIL in the following manner.

She published two sentimental romances, Irene Iddlesleigh (1897) and Delina Delany (1898), both in an idiosyncratic manner that provides unconscious comedy of a very high order. . . .

Most of her published writings appeared posthumously as a result of literary curiosity.

Many writers would agree that writing comedy is quite challenging. Comedy Crowd is devoted to helping writers gain some skill in this arena, and if you take a moment to check out their video about failed puns – after you finish reading this post – you won’t be disappointed. 

As one commenter on SleuthSayers puts it, “. . . writing humor isn’t easy. It’s even dangerous: trying to be funny and failing would be almost as bad as being funny when you’re trying to be serious.” Sadly, the worst of these options proved to be the fortune of poor Amanda.

Even her native Northern Ireland Library Authority confesses that her “writing style can only be described as elaborate, melodramatic, using startling descriptions with mixed metaphors and inappropriate alliteration with the result being unintentionally hilarious.”

In her collection “Poems of Puncture,” I came across a piece titled “Reverend Goliath Ginbottle.” Being a reverend myself, I eagerly listened to a LibriVox recording of the poem (which you can download for free from Internet Archive), and I was not disappointed. Her description of this “viper of vanity” and her joy at his ultimate judgment was delightfully colorful. Or, should you prefer to hear a diatribe against a corrupt lawyer, listen to Mickey Monkeyface McBlear, who bore “a mouth like a moneybox.”

TV Tropes has an article about Ros which attributes a dozen tropes to her pen.

In the Style of: Aldous Huxley noted that Ros wrote in the 16th century style of Euphuism. Susan Sontag decades later stated that Euphuism was the progenitor of camp, which would explain why literary greats found her writing so hilarious.

Those curious about euphuism can read John Lyly’s Euphues: the Anatomy of Wit; Euphues and His England which is filled with delights unnumbered. Originally two volumes, the books were published in the sixteenth century.

C.S. Lewis was a serious enough “fan” of Ros’ writings to share his affection for them with Cambridge Classicist Nan Dunbar. C.S. Lewis scholar Joel Heck has written a worthwhile article about the ongoing friendship between the two professors.

For a detailed study of the literary relationship between Amanda McKittrick Ros and the Inklings, I highly recommend the article by Anita Gorman and Leslie R. Mateer which appeared in Mythlore.

As they describe, even before the Inklings added occasional readings of her work to their gatherings, as early as 1907 there was in Oxford a society devoted to weekly readings of her works. The authors pose, and then proceed to answer, the following question.

What . . . impelled C.S. Lewis and his mates to read aloud Ros’s work? Yes, the improbable plots, silly characters, and nonexistent themes may have played a role, but were those enough to captivate the Inklings and to give rise to Delina Delaney dinners and Amanda Ros societies?

After all, many writers have written improbable plots about improbable people, and these writers have enjoyed short-lived reputations, if any reputations at all. Yet Amanda lives on.

For Those with Stout Constitutions

Mere Inkling offers one final look back at the transcendent poetry of Amanda McKittrick Ros. This infamous selection can be found at the aptly named Pity the Readers: Horribly Excellent Writing website.

“Visiting Westminster Abbey”
(from Fumes of Formation)

Holy Moses! Have a look!
Flesh decayed in every nook!
Some rare bits of brain lie here,
Mortal loads of beef and beer,

Some of whom are turned to dust,
Every one bids lost to lust;
Royal flesh so tinged with ‘blue’
Undergoes the same as you.

These morose words bring to mind another verse, composed in the form of a song by the artists of Monty Python. It appeared on Monty Python’s Contractual Obligation Album as “Decomposing Composers.”

They’re decomposing composers.
There’s nothing much anyone can do.
You can still hear Beethoven,
But Beethoven cannot hear you. . . .

Verdi and Wagner delighted the crowds
With their highly original sound.
The pianos they played are still working,
But they’re both six feet underground.

They’re decomposing composers.
There’s less of them every year.
You can say what you like to Debussy,
But there’s not much of him left to hear.

Yes, similarly morbid verse, but offered here to provide a sharp contrast between types of humor. Monty Python is the epitome of Camp, which according to Susan Sontag,

sees everything in quotation marks. It’s not a lamp, but a “lamp;” not a woman, but a “woman.” To perceive Camp in objects and persons is to understand Being-as-Playing-a-Role. It is the farthest extension, in sensibility, of the metaphor of life as theater.

Although Sontag notes “one must distinguish between naïve and deliberate Camp,” she argues the “pure examples of Camp are unintentional.” She considers self-conscious efforts, such as Noel Coward (and presumably Monty Python as well) as “usually less satisfying.”

Another perspective offers a helpful dichotomy to distinguish between “intentionality: whether camp deliberately cultivated (‘high’ camp) is the same to that of the unintentional kind (‘low’ camp).”

Personally, I often enjoy high (nonvulgar) camp humor – witty silliness that scoffs at life’s peculiarities. As for unintentional, “low” camp such as we find in Ros, I typically feel a flash of guilt at hurting (even posthumously) the feelings of a writer. Most of us writers are, after all, a sensitive and vulnerable breed.

The enlightening illustrations accompanying this article are from Amanda McKittrick Ros Society Promotional Memes, ably captained by Dan Morgan.

George MacDonald’s Poetry

On By robstroudIn Books, C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, Christianity, G.K. Chesterton, Great Authors, Humor, J.R.R. Tolkien, Literature, Poetry, Reading, Words11 Comments

George MacDonald (1824-1905) was a prolific Scot writer. His legacy was amplified due to his influence on G.K. Chesterton and C.S. Lewis. (He was also a friend of Mark Twain.) An essay, originally presented as a speech by G.K. Chesterton, is available online.

Chesterton goes so far as to say, “if to be a great man is to hold the universe in one’s head or heart, Dr. MacDonald is great. No man has carried about with him so naturally heroic an atmosphere.” Listen to his description of that special type of literature that inspired many Inklings, chiefly C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.

Many religious writers have written allegories and fairy tales, which have gone to creating the universal conviction that there is nothing that shows so little spirituality as an allegory, and nothing that contains so little imagination as a fairy tale. But from all these Dr. MacDonald is separated by an abyss of profound originality of intention.

The difference is that the ordinary moral fairy tale is an allegory of real life. Dr. MacDonald’s tales of real life are allegories, or disguised versions, of his fairy tales.

It is not that he dresses up men and movements as knights and dragons, but that he thinks that knights and dragons, really existing in the eternal world, are dressed up here as men and movements.

C.S. Lewis, for his part, praised MacDonald as instrumental in tilling the soil for his eventual conversion to Christianity. He was on the defensive, since the writers which most inspired him shared a common flaw – they were Christians.

All the books were beginning to turn against me. Indeed, I must have been as blind as a bat not to have seen, long before, the ludicrous contradiction between my theory of life and my actual experiences as a reader.

George MacDonald had done more to me than any other writer; of course it was a pity he had that bee in his bonnet about Christianity. He was good in spite of it.

Chesterton had more sense than all the other moderns put together; bating, of course, his Christianity. Johnson was one of the few authors whom I felt I could trust utterly; curiously enough, he had the same kink. Spenser and Milton by a strange coincidence had it too (Surprised by Joy).

Lewis would actually come to edit a selection of MacDonald’s passages for an edifying anthology. This post includes a link for downloading a copy of George MacDonald: An Anthology.

This week I was reading one of MacDonald’s excellent essays, which appears in The Imagination and Other Essays. I intend to discuss some of his thoughts on age and writing soon. Although I am not an aficionado of poetry – despite having composed poetry from time to time, including quintains, I turned to another of MacDonald’s books.

On to His Poetry

I decided to follow up MacDonald’s brilliant essay with a dip into his poetry. Fortunately, Internet Archive allows you to freely download a complete copy of MacDonald’s Scotch Songs and Ballads, published in 1893. My conscience forces me, however, to provide a single caveat. Be forewarned that the tome is not suited for those intimidated by pronounced dialects.

Before looking at one of his poems in its entirety, allow me to share with you a passage from “The Waesome Carl” which I particularly enjoyed (due to its portrait of a preacher). 

The minister wasna fit to pray
And lat alane to preach;
He nowther had the gift o’ grace
Nor yet the gift o’ speech!
He mind’t him o’ Balaäm’s ass,
Wi’ a differ we micht ken:
The Lord he opened the ass’s mou,
The minister opened’s ain!
He was a’ wrang, and a’ wrang,
And a’thegither a’ wrang;
There wasna a man aboot the toon
But was a’thegither a’ wrang!
The puir precentor couldna sing,
He gruntit like a swine . . .

Not that I claim able to decipher it all, but my impression is that it’s not especially flattering. It is definitely entertaining. And I humbly think I interpret it significantly more accurately than Google’s online translator, which provided the following version.

The minister was not fit to pray
And lat alane to preach;
He nowther had the gift o’ grace
Nor yet the gift o’ speech!
He mind’t him o’ Balaam’s ass,
Wi’ a differ we micht ken:
The Lord he opened the ass’s mou,
The minister opened his eyes!
He was a’ wrang, and a’ wrang,
And a’thegither a’wrang;
There was a man aboot the toon
But thegither was wrong!
The puir precentor couldna sing,
He grunted like a swine. . .

Using the Dictionars o the Scots Leid, you can make perfect sense of the words about which you may be uncertain. (Thank you, Scotland.)

Dialects are interesting things indeed. I will close with another of MacDonald’s poems. I submit it for (1) those who comprehend the dialect, (2) those who deem precious their Scottish ancestry, (3) those with an affinity for Connor MacLeod, and (4) those who simply enjoy a challenge.

“Nannie Braw”

I like ye weel upo Sundays, Nannie,
I’ yer goon and yer ribbons and a’;
But I like ye better on Mondays, Nannie,
Whan ye’re no sae buskit and braw.

For whan we’re sittin sae douce, Nannie,
Wi’ the lave o’ the worshippin fowk,
That aneth the haly hoose, Nannie,
Ye micht hear a moudiwarp howk,

It will come into my heid, Nannie,
O’ yer braws ye are thinkin a wee;
No alane o’ the Bible-seed, Nannie,
Nor the minister nor me!

Syne hame athort the green, Nannie,
Ye gang wi’ a toss o’ yer chin;
And there walks a shadow atween ‘s, Nannie,
A dark ane though it be thin!

But noo, whan I see ye gang, Nannie,
Eident at what’s to be dune,
Liltin a haiveless sang, Nannie,
I wud kiss yer verra shune!

Wi’ yer silken net on yer hair, Nannie,
I’ yer bonnie blue petticoat,
Wi’ yer kin’ly arms a’ bare, Nannie,
On yer ilka motion I doat.

For, oh, but ye’re canty and free, Nannie,
Airy o’ hert and o’ fit!
A star-beam glents frae yer ee, Nannie–
O’ yersel ye’re no thinkin a bit!

Fillin the cogue frae the coo, Nannie,
Skimmin the yallow ream,
Pourin awa the het broo, Nannie,
Lichtin the lampie’s leme,

Turnin or steppin alang, Nannie,
Liftin and layin doon,
Settin richt what’s aye gaein wrang, Nannie,
Yer motion’s baith dance and tune!

I’ the hoose ye’re a licht and a law, Nannie,
A servan like him ‘at’s abune:
Oh, a woman’s bonniest o’ a’, Nannie,
Doin what maun be dune!

Cled i’ yer Sunday claes, Nannie,
Fair kythe ye to mony an ee;
But cled i’ yer ilka-day’s, Nannie,
Ye draw the hert frae me!

Addendum:

For those interested in pursuing this linguistic subject, I just came across a delightful 1896 collection of works you can download for free. Legends of the Saints: in the Scottish Dialect of the Fourteenth Century is “edited from the unique manuscript in the University Library, Cambridge.”

The cartoon above comes from Mr. Punch in the Highlands which was published “with 140 illustrations” more than a century ago. You can download your personal copy of humorous work at Internet Archive.

Books Enjoyed by C.S. Lewis

On By robstroudIn Books, C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, Classics Worth Revisiting, Great Authors, Great Authors, J.R.R. Tolkien, Literature, Reading, Writing17 Comments

Reading is not only one of life’s pleasures, the content and ethos of what we read, subtly influences the shape of our very lives.

C.S. Lewis loved books with genuine passion. While many people only perceive books as compilations of information or as sources of fleeting entertainment, he knew them as far more. Only someone sharing Lewis’ affection and wisdom will identify with the following passage from his essay “An Experiment in Criticism.”

The man who is contented to be only himself, and therefore less a self, is in prison. My own eyes are not enough for me, I will see through those of others. Reality, even seen through the eyes of many, is not enough. I will see what others have invented. . . .

Literary experience heals the wound, without undermining the privilege, of individuality. There are mass emotions which heal the wound; but they destroy the privilege. In them our separate selves are pooled and we sink back into sub-individuality.

But in reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad eyes, but it is still I who see. Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do.

Lewis scholar and emeritus professor of English, Dale J. Nelson, has been providing a wonderful service in recent years as he explores the books which found a place in C.S. Lewis’ personal library. “Jack and the Bookshelf” is a continuing series which appears in CSL, journal of the New York C.S. Lewis Society. Founded in 1969, the organization “is the oldest society for the ​appreciation and discussion of C.S. Lewis in the world.”

Nelson’s task of editorially archiving C.S. Lewis’ library is complemented by the work of our mutual friend, Dr. Brenton Dickieson. In a “comment” praising Dickieson’s compilation of “C.S. Lewis’ Teenage Bookshelf,” Nelson offers a commendation with which I fully concur.

Thank you for assembling that list of books . . . I’d encourage Lewis’s admirers to take their appreciation of CSL to the next step and delve into the things he liked to read throughout his life.

Nelson’s contribution to the December 2023 issue is the fifty-ninth in his series, and discusses a fantasy work titled The Worm Ouroboros by E.R. Eddison. Eddison (1882-1945) was a Norse scholar, and his fascination with mountains combined with that, to resonate with Lewis’ passion for northernness.

Dr. Nelson, who has added an array of science fiction to his own academic work, possesses superb credentials for exploring the connection between Lewis and Eddison. 

Nelson relates that, at C.S. Lewis’ invitation, Eddison attended two gatherings of the Inklings. At the second, Eddison – who relished critiques of his works in progress, as do many serious writers – read from a project which would not be published due to his death the following year.

Eddison’s themes more closely resembled J.R.R. Tolkien’s than Lewis’ own. In Nelson’s words, both “Tolkien and Eddison wrote masterpieces of heroic fantasy whose values differed markedly.” 

Another distinction is that while Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings has maintained its mythic rigor, Eddison’s oeuvre feels rather anchored to the formative years of the genre, prior to the so-called Golden Age of science fiction (and fantasy).

If you would like to read this book, which was enjoyed by both Lewis and Tolkien, you can download a copy of it at Internet Archive. If you enjoy dwarves, goblins, manticores and hippogriffs, you are unlikely to be disappointed.

Improve Your Writing with a Brevity Exercise

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, C.S. Lewis, Great Authors, History, J.R.R. Tolkien, Literature, My Writing Projects, Narnia, Roman History, The Bible, Writing21 Comments

While we are unlikely to become another J.R.R. Tolkien or C.S. Lewis, it is quite possible to improve our literary skills.

There are numerous ways to strengthen our writing. One of my favorites is to “stretch” my abilities by engaging in exercises that push me far beyond my nonfiction comfort zone. More on the details in a moment.

C.S. Lewis prized brevity and clarity. Most readers do. I’ve written about this in “C.S. Lewis on brevity.” Before that, I had discussed brevity as a factor of “clear communication,” while focusing on the value of common semantics to avoid confusion.

I encourage you to read “In Defense of the Fairy Tale: C.S. Lewis’s Argument for the Value and Importance of the Fairy Tale.” The author cites Lewis’ reason for choosing the fairy tale as his genre for Narnia.

[Lewis] describes the invention process for the Chronicles of Narnia as first coming in mental images, “a faun carrying an umbrella, a queen on a sledge, a magnificent lion.” Next came the selection of a form in which to tell the story, one absent of a love interest or close psychology.

The form excluding these was the fairy tale. Lewis tells us that he fell in love with the form itself, “its brevity, its severe restraints on description, its flexible traditionalism, its inflexible hostility to all analysis, digression, reflections and ‘gas’” and the very limitations of the vocabulary.

He concludes, “I wrote fairy tales because the Fairy Tale seemed the ideal Form for the stuff I had to say,” not unlike the stone selected by the sculptor or the sonnet by the poet.

While I share the passage above at some length, my focus here is on Lewis’ observation that fairy tales are inherently “brief.” The fairy tale was, indeed, the “ideal Form” for C.S. Lewis’ classic stories from Narnia.

Even Briefer Genres

As a brevity-challenged individual (common for pastors), I like writing exercises able to make a dent in my innate verbosity. And what shorter option might one explore than a genre limited to a half dozen words?

Before embarking on my current challenge, let me give you a bit of background on the Six Word Story.

As Mark Twain famously wrote, “I didn’t have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a longer one instead.” Intense Minimalism provides similar inspiration from other earlier writers.

“Not that the story need be long, but it will take a long while to make it short.”
Henry David Thoreau,
“It is my ambition to say in ten sentences what others say in a whole book.”
Friedrich Nietzsche
“If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”
Marcus Tullius Cicero (a predecessor of Samuel Clemens)
And back again to Mark Twain:
“If you want me to give you a two-hour presentation, I am ready today.  If you want only a five-minute speech, it will take me two weeks to prepare.”

C.S. Lewis was capable of writing long personal tomes to family and intimate friends. His correspondence with casual friends – such as Americans who sometimes sent food gifts during Britain’s post-WWII rationing – tended to be warm, but short. This was particularly true when his brother Warnie was not available to assist with his correspondence, as the following letters attest.

20th. January 1948
Dear Mr. Howard, This is really very handsome of you, and you could hardly have sent a more welcome gift. I have only to call your attention to the so-called ‘Superfine’ paper on which I am replying to give you some idea of the luxury of writing on a decent paper at last. But I’m afraid there is something which even American generosity cannot supply me with: an article called TIME, which was the cause of my previous letter! (its brevity I mean)

25th August 1949
Dear Dr. Allen Yet once again hearty thanks for a fine parcel which has arrived in excellent condition to-day. I don’t know how we should get on without you. My brother who drives the typewriter is away and my hand is nearly dropping off from letter writing, so you’ll forgive brevity – and the horrible scrawl! I’m none the less grateful inside!

Six Word Stories were popularized in the United States through association with Ernest Hemingway. However, it is an urban legend to credit him with this poignant example: “For sale, Baby shoes, Never worn.”

MasterClass offers a helpful lesson at “How to Write an Unforgettable Six-Word Story.” They actually suggest that you can drop a few of these into your writing day to renew your energy.  

Like other forms of short stories or flash fiction, a six-word story allows a reader to consume an entire narrative in just a moment’s time. If you’re trying to get in some short, but challenging, bursts of writing practice throughout your day, try writing six-word stories. These bite-sized narratives are fast and fun.

As for telling any sort of satisfying “story” in six words, it’s a bit of an hyperbole. However, that hasn’t stopped a number of people from making a literal career of promoting the genre. At the forefront of the movement is Six Word Memoirs.

Christians have likewise joined the club. For example, Six-Word Lessons to Discover Missional Living: 100 Lessons to Align Every Believer with the Mission of Jesus is volume  forty-three in “The Six-Word Lessons Series.”

Prior to learning about these companies, I thought it be fun to suggest that one you compose Six Words about the Christian Life. Still, since an idea can’t be copyrighted, you’re still free to market your own works in this genre.

Some of My Modest “Attempts”

One subgenre of Six Word Stories is Six Word Biographies. One website applies this to biblical personages. Among them:

Mary
“Behold the handmaid of the Lord.”
Esther
“For such a time as this.”

To which I dare to add: 

Jephthah (Judges 11-12)
“Rash vows bring about terrible tragedies.”
Jehosheba (Exodus 1-2)
“Moses’ mother, eclipsed by her daughter.”
Abednego (Daniel 1-3)
“I survived the fiery furnace too.”

Now, allow me to apply the technique to several other people. 

Jeanne d’Arc
“Heroic innocent, visionary warrior, martyred saint.”

Walt Disney
“Gifted Kingdom maker, buried, rolling over”

Grigori Rasputin
“Poisoned, shot, drowned, and ultimately, damned.”

George Washington
“Soldier, statesman, who shunned the throne.”

Bozo
“Dated humor, creepy antics, Krusty cosmetics.”

And, I close now with my personal favorite.

Larry Norman
“He was only visiting this planet.”

A half century hasn’t diminished the power of Norman’s message. (The titular lyrics are in the “Reader’s Digest” track on the record linked here.)