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 Englandwhich is filled with delights unnumbered. Originally two volumes, the books were published in the sixteenth century.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
We live in an age where our courage matters more than ever. With social, cultural and international relationships all in terrible disarray, facing the future is not for the timid.
Courage is essential for living a life of integrity. Without it, we bend and fold whenever the pressure grows too great. Some people even go so far as to compromise their conscience.
In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis described how it is only when courage is required, that a person’s true values come into focus.
Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point, which means, at the point of highest reality.
A chastity or honesty or mercy which yields to danger will be chaste or honest or merciful only on conditions. Pilate was merciful till it became risky.
Samuel Johnson, an eighteenth century English writer, was highly esteemed by C.S. Lewis. His words on this subject foreshadow Lewis’ own thoughts. “Courage,” according to Johnson, “is the greatest of all virtues, because if you haven’t courage, you may not have an opportunity to use any of the others.”
Two millennia earlier, an influential Greek philosopher described this same truth. Aristotle, who did not look to the Greek pantheon for inspiration, also deduced that courage is a necessary attribute for the virtuous.
You will never do anything in this world without courage. It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honor.
Examining Ourselves
As a boy, I used to imagine myself playing heroic roles. These often involved rescuing innocent people from barbarians or tyrants, often in ancient settings. As a man I shed those imaginations and pondered realities. In the military, I witnessed courage up close, and I became persuaded that Mark Twain was correct when he declared “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.”
True courage is not found in the cloying display of heroics, especially when arising from an ignorance of genuine danger. Neither is simple risk-taking an evidence of courage, since it may merely be the mark of an adrenaline junkie.
I haven’t personally been confronted with many situations which required physical courage, and when I have, I’ve been tempted to feel a little like I was “pretending.” But then I recall that truly courageous men and women also need to overcome their fear.
And, I honestly suspect that even those who have done the most selfless and courageous things possible, also recognized their limits. They ventured forth because they were truly courageous, not because they lacked fear. This is precisely what happened in a garden on Jerusalem’s Mount of Olives called Gethsemane.
Although encounters with physical dangers have been rare, my courage has been tested numerous times in the service of maintaining my integrity. I can recall a number of academic, professional, and personal occasions where standing for truth came at a very real cost. And, who knows how many times to which we are oblivious, that enemies have wished (and worked) us ill, because we did not surrender to their coercive manipulations.
Happy are those – I am sure Lewis, Johnson, Aristotle and Twain, would agree – who do not compromise their convictions. It appears that courage is a matter of character, not of the moment.
Two uplifting insights provide a fitting end to our meditation on this subject. While the courageous sometimes feel like they stand alone, Billy Graham reminds us of an encouraging fact.
Courage is contagious. When a brave man [or woman] takes a stand, the spines of others are often stiffened.
And, C.S. Lewis’ dear friend J.R.R. Tolkien provides us with another keen observation. In The Fellowship of the Rings, an elf named Gildor protects the hobbits at the outset of their journey, and observes, “courage is found in unlikely places.” Indeed, it is.
Today, on the sixtieth anniversary of C.S. Lewis’ passing, I offer you a special gift. Well, not a modest gift from my own pen, but a link to an insightful obituary, written by one of Lewis’ students.
The author of the obituary, John Wain, one of Britain’s “angry young men,” is critical of some aspects of Lewis’ work that are most appreciated by others. Yet his unique perspective is valuable.
The Inklings included in their number Charles Williams, a man C.S. Lewis deeply respected. They compiled for him a Festschrift, but since he passed before it was presented, it was published as a memorial collection. Lewis wrote the preface, in which he included this amazing passage.
So, at any rate, many of us felt it to be. No event has so corroborated my faith in the next world as Williams did simply by dying. When the idea of death and the idea of Williams thus met in my mind, it was the idea of death that was changed. (Essays presented to Charles Williams).
The legacy of C.S. Lewis himself, exerts a similar influence on many.
I’ll not say more, other than to extend a sincere “thank you” to Dr. Brenton Dickieson, who transcribed it from a twentieth century literary magazine. Dickieson consistently provides solid, and accessible, Inkling scholarship at A Pilgrim in Narnia.
Artificial intelligence is on the rise. It’s IQ is somewhere above 75, and presumably still climbing. And some very intelligent human beings, are issuing apocalypticwarnings.
“Mitigating the risk of extinction from A.I. should be a global priority alongside other societal-scale risks, such as pandemics and nuclear war,” reads a one-sentence statement released by the Center for AI Safety, a nonprofit organization. The open letter was signed by more than 350 executives, researchers and engineers working in A.I.
Presently, I’m more wary of Russia, China and Iran igniting an end of the world scenario.
But there is one particular aspect of artificial intelligence that intrigues me. And that is the creation of literary works by these programs, which are themselves creations of humankind.
Some people, such as copywriters, feel their livelihoods are being threatened. “My amusement turned to horror: it took ChatGPT 30 seconds to create, for free, an article that would have taken me hours to write.” (And that was clocked way back in January; no telling how quickly the AI could perform the feat today.)
Others – think teachers – are alarmed by how simply this new technology can seduce students to take self-crippling shortcuts. One article refers to this as “the elephant in the room.”
Perhaps all questions centered on AI are inherently questions of ethics, and at the forefront of many teachers’ minds is cheating and plagiarism.
Cheating and plagiarism are two separate concerns, of course. AI is capable of not only drawing together already existing material, and generating new word combinations that cannot be tracked back to any unique original source.
I feel confident that the Inklings would be extremely suspicious of computer-generated “literature.” Yet, at the same time, I think it is a subject they too would find intriguing.
Test-Driving AI
There are a myriad of free sites where a person can enter some basic parameters or directions and await the product of text generated by a synthetic “mind.” I share below some examples of the input—output results of my initial experiment.
I asked Open AI, creators of ChatGPT, to write two limericks, about the Oxford Inklings and C.S. Lewis, respectively.
In Oxford, the Inklings did meet, With words and with wisdom so sweet. Tolkien and Lewis, Their minds in a breeze, Inkling tales made our imaginations fleet.
⁂
C.S. Lewis, a writer so grand, In Narnia’s magical land. With Aslan the Lion, In tales that inspire, He showed us the way to understand.
Next I asked for an Inkling sonnet, followed by two haikus, addressing the Inklings as a fellowship and C.S. Lewis the individual.
In Oxford’s hallowed halls, they gathered ‘round, The Inklings, minds of genius, so profound. With ink-stained fingers, in their fellowship, They wove their tales, from wisdom’s well to sip.
Tolkien, the philologist of ancient lore, In Elvish tongues, his stories did explore. Lewis, the Christian apologist true, In Narnia’s world, he brought God’s message through.
Williams, Barfield, Dyson, and the rest, In literature and faith, they were blessed. Their words a beacon in a world so dark, Igniting minds with sparks from wisdom’s arc.
Oxford’s Inklings, their legacy remains, In timeless tales, where inspiration reigns.
⁂
Inklings’ minds aflame, Oxford’s thinkers left their mark, Words and wisdom’s claim.
⁂
C.S. Lewis penned grace, Faith and fantasy embraced, Words that still embrace.
And finally, I requested: “write a story about C.S. Lewis really traveling to Narnia.” The program has a “regenerate” button to address the same query with a fresh response. Due to their lengths, I’ve included them as “footnotes” below.
Shockingly, to me at least, it took less than 10 minutes to complete all of this. Each response, in fact, took mere seconds . . . not much longer than the time required to type the requests.
There are a growing number of companies offering AI services. Most offer free opportunities to test their wares. I decided to try one such vendor.
WriterHand declares “our tool is 100% free, allowing you to create limitless text and blog content with the assistance of artificial intelligence.” I requested of them a sonnet and haiku, as well. The first follows, with two other variants in the footnotes below.
The Oxford Inklings, a literary group Of J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis and more Created stories that still make us droop And have us seeking out their lore.
Their works of fantasy and myth Fill our imaginations with delight We all search for the answers they lit To the depths of our inner sight.
They wrote of worlds we can explore Of knights, dragons and magical things We follow their tales and come back for more And find joy in their musings.
The Oxford Inklings have a special charm Their words bring us together in song And we are forever in their warm Enchanting arms of wonder and long.
⁂
Inklings of Oxford Stories of fantasy told Enchantment forever
As with ChatGPT, I ended by requesting a brief, fictional story. My request was for a story about:
C.S. Lewis Meeting an Actual Talking Marsupial
On a recent summer day, C.S. Lewis, the famed author of the Chronicles of Narnia series, had a very extraordinary encounter. He had the chance to meet an actual talking marsupial.
The marsupial was a small wallaby, and it was found on the grounds of Lewis’ estate. It was not long before the wallaby began speaking to Lewis in a highly sophisticated manner. The wallaby spoke in a dialect that sounded similar to English, and was even able to converse with Lewis about the various topics he enjoyed discussing.
The wallaby was quite curious about Lewis and seemed to be quite eager to learn more about him and his works. It asked numerous questions about the Narnia series and the world that Lewis had created. It seemed to be quite fascinated by the various creatures and wonders that he had described.
The wallaby seemed to be quite intelligent and even asked for Lewis’ advice on certain topics. Lewis found the wallaby’s interest in the Narnia series quite amusing and was quite impressed by its intelligence and wit.
This meeting between Lewis and the talking marsupial was one that Lewis would never forget. It was an experience that he found both fascinating and enlightening. He was amazed by the marsupial’s intelligence and ability to converse on a level that exceeded many humans.
Lewis was quite taken aback by the talking marsupial’s presence and the conversation that ensued. He was quite intrigued by the creature’s intelligence and the fact that it could understand complex topics. This experience would later serve to further inspire Lewis’ writing and help him create some of the most beloved characters in literature.
This experience between Lewis and the talking marsupial was truly extraordinary and one that will never be forgotten. It was a meeting that allowed Lewis to learn more about the creatures that inhabit his beloved Narnia and to gain a better understanding of the power of imagination and creativity.
A Final Thought from C.S. Lewis
One of C.S. Lewis’ countless correspondents was the famous British author Arthur C. Clarke. In 1954, they exchanged letters discussing the human element of literature. I suppose it’s a subject for philosophers to explore, but one wonders how clearly the “humanity” element is communicated through a nonhuman mechanism. Sadly, Lewis’ letter is not so prescient as to address our current question, but it was sufficient to raise the matter in my own thoughts.
Dear Clarke,
Human interest, yes. But that is inevitably present if the fears and hopes and wonders of the astronauts are vividly realised – e.g. as in Bedford & Cavor on the Moon [he refers here to H.G. Wells’ The First Men in the Moon] or even Crusoe on the island. And an author who can’t do that won’t mend matters by dragging in Crooks, Crutches, or Conspiracies: for the sort of story he drags in will be just as lacking in Human interest as his space story.
About ‘escapism,’ never let that flea stick in your ear. I was liberated from it once & for all when a friend said ‘These critics are v. sensitive to the least hint of Escape. Now what class of men would one expect to be thus worked-up about Escape? – Jailers.’ Turn-key critics: people who want to keep the world in some ideological prison because a glimpse at any remote prospect would make their stuff seem less exclusively important.
Fantasy & S-F. is by miles the best. Some of the most serious satire of our age appears in it. What is called ‘serious’ literature now – Dylan Thomas & Pound and all that – is really the most frivolous. All the best. Yours C.S. Lewis
The two brief stories below were generated by ChatGPT in response to the request for a story about Lewis actually visiting Narnia.
In the quiet confines of his cozy Oxford study, C.S. Lewis sat by his flickering fireplace, a manuscript of his latest book on theology resting on his desk. The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, marking the time as late evening gave way to the inky embrace of night. Lewis’s eyes grew heavy, and he decided it was time to retire to bed.
As he settled into his comfortable bed, he couldn’t shake the feeling of restlessness that had gripped him that evening. He stared at the wardrobe across the room, the same wardrobe that had once belonged to his grandparents and had always fascinated him as a child. He closed his eyes and drifted into a dream, or so he thought.
To his astonishment, Lewis found himself standing before the wardrobe, which now seemed more magnificent than ever. It loomed like a gateway to another world, and he couldn’t resist the urge to open its creaking doors. With a sense of wonder and trepidation, he stepped inside.
Instead of feeling wood beneath his feet, Lewis’s toes sank into soft, cool earth. He looked around and found himself standing in a dense, snow-covered forest. The air was crisp and carried a scent of pine and adventure. He realized that he was in Narnia.
Before him stood a lamppost, its light casting a warm and inviting glow. Lewis recognized it from his own stories. He couldn’t help but smile, realizing that he had somehow stepped into the world he had created through his Chronicles of Narnia.
As he ventured deeper into the forest, Lewis encountered creatures of myth and magic—talking animals, fauns, and even a majestic lion named Aslan. They welcomed him with open arms, for they knew him as the one who had brought their world to life through his words.
Days turned into weeks, and Lewis explored Narnia with childlike wonder. He sailed on the Dawn Treader, encountered the White Witch, and witnessed the coronation of King Caspian. He marveled at the beauty of Narnia’s landscapes, the bravery of its inhabitants, and the profound wisdom of Aslan.
Throughout his journey, Lewis engaged in deep conversations with the creatures of Narnia, discussing matters of faith, morality, and the nature of storytelling. Each encounter enriched his understanding of the Christian faith he had embraced in the real world.
Eventually, Lewis knew that he had to return to his own world. With a heavy heart, he stood before the same lamppost where he had first arrived and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was back in his Oxford bedroom, the wardrobe standing silent and ordinary once more.
He sat at his desk, the manuscript still awaiting him, but now with a newfound sense of purpose and inspiration. The memories of Narnia, his journey, and the lessons he had learned would forever shape his writing and his faith.
C.S. Lewis had indeed traveled to Narnia, not in body, but in spirit and imagination, and his stories would continue to transport readers to that magical world for generations to come.
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Using the “regenerate” option with the same command: “write a story about C.S. Lewis really traveling to Narnia.”
Once upon a time in the quiet town of Oxford, C.S. Lewis, the renowned author and scholar, found himself embarking on a remarkable adventure. It was a crisp, autumn evening when he was invited to attend a secret gathering by a mysterious stranger who had slipped an enigmatic note under his door. The note simply read, “Come, Narnia awaits.”
Intrigued and a bit skeptical, Lewis decided to follow the call. He put on his overcoat, grabbed his umbrella, and stepped out into the cool night. The moon was a silvery crescent in the sky, casting an eerie glow on the cobblestone streets.
As he followed the directions given in the note, Lewis found himself walking through an old, secluded part of Oxford that he had never seen before. The air seemed to grow colder, and the world around him took on an otherworldly quality. Suddenly, he stumbled upon a large, ancient wardrobe tucked away in the corner of a park.
With a sense of déjà vu, Lewis remembered writing about such a wardrobe in one of his stories. He cautiously opened the wardrobe door, half-expecting it to be filled with coats and mothballs. To his astonishment, the wardrobe seemed to stretch and expand, and he found himself tumbling headfirst into a land covered in snow and surrounded by towering fir trees.
He had arrived in Narnia.
The moment his feet touched the snowy ground, Mr. Tumnus, the faun, rushed forward with a smile and exclaimed, “Welcome, dear friend! We’ve been waiting for you.”
Lewis was both bewildered and delighted. As he explored Narnia, he met talking animals, dwarves, and even the great lion, Aslan, whom he had created in his own stories. The world he had once imagined had come to life before his eyes.
Days turned into weeks, and Lewis became a beloved member of the Narnian community. He marveled at the beauty and wonder of this magical land. He listened to the tales of its inhabitants, learned from their wisdom, and shared stories of his own.
But as all adventures must come to an end, Lewis knew he couldn’t stay in Narnia forever. With a heavy heart, he approached the wardrobe once more and stepped back into his own world, leaving Narnia behind.
Back in Oxford, Lewis couldn’t help but wonder if his journey to Narnia had been a dream or a product of his imagination. Yet, the memories were vivid, and the lessons he had learned about faith, courage, and the power of imagination remained with him for the rest of his days.
And so, the story of C.S. Lewis’s extraordinary voyage to Narnia remained a secret he carried with him, a testament to the enduring magic of literature and the boundless possibilities of the human imagination.
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Variants of the sonnet and haiku produced by WriterHand follow.
The Oxford Inklings were a group of friends Whose conversations filled the air with wit and wit; Their words of wisdom still live on to this day, Their legacy of literature still stands tall and lit.
From C.S. Lewis to J.R.R. Tolkien They bantered and debated through the night; Their words and stories filled us all with joy, A source of inspiration, both dark and light.
From fantasy to science fiction, The Inklings had a way with words; Their genres and stories still stand the test of time, And their influence still continues to be heard.
The Oxford Inklings and their works Will live on in the hearts of many; Their words will inspire generations to come, A lasting legacy of literary plenty.
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The Inkling’s works shine A legacy of wisdom still In our hearts, forever
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The Oxford Inklings were a unique group Formed in the city of dreaming spires A gathering of friends with a shared goal To explore the depths of their desires
A fellowship of authors, poets, and more Including Tolkien, Lewis, and Williams Discussing literature, theology, and lore In the Eagle and Child’s hidden realms
From the Inklings came works of great fame The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings Legends of Middle Earth and tales of great shame A legacy that will last through the ages
The Oxford Inklings were a brilliant crew Inspiring writers and readers anew.
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Oxford Inklings’ lore In tales of fantasy and truth Lives on forever
What would you do if tomorrow you awoke never again able to remember the births of your three children? Never to remember your marriage or your college years? How would you rebuild your life with children and a husband you no longer knew?
In Out of the Silent Planet, C.S. Lewis described a fundamental expectation we possess – “Every day in a life fills the whole life with expectation and memory.” this makes the fragility of the human brain and mind all the more sad.
The question above sounds like the plot to some novel or film, but this was a real life experience for Marcy Gregg. She has written a detailed account of the amazing story in Blank Canvas, and an account of the experience is available online at Focus on the Family.
Before you rush to read it, though, I would like to share a few thoughts about memory. Today, increasing life expectancies make senility and dementia far too familiar to families. Dismissing such disorders related to causes such as brain injuries or drug abuse, we still hear of so many cases of Alzheimer’s and other neurodegenerative diseases. Many of us have been touched by this pain, as it has destroyed the lives of people we love.
Happily, there are growing options for residences equipped with skilled nursing care trained especially for “memory care.” The problem, of course, is not just the availability, but also the significant cost. AARP reported that in 2021, “the average memory care monthly rent is $6,935 in the U.S.”
That’s significantly more than assisted living, which averages $5,380 a month, but a lot less than the $10,562 average monthly cost of a nursing home.
Since we identify our personhood so heavily with our minds, we do not like to think about things like the multiple types of amnesia. Some are terrible, and one is nearly universal. WebMD includes six in their list. The woman above experienced anterograde amnesia which they describe as the loss of “your ability to recall events that happened just before the event that caused your amnesia.” Fortunately, though not the case for Marcy, they add, “usually this affects recently made memories, not those from years ago.”
One form of amnesia listed by WebMD may come as a surprise to you, as it did to me. It is referred to as infantile or childhood amnesia. It describes how our young brains were not yet developed well enough to consolidate and store memories for retrieval. Many of us lack early memories, and rely on stories and media to fill in that long gap in our lives.
A brief article from the University of Queensland describes how “memories aren’t stored in just one part of the brain.” Differing types are stored “across different, interconnected brain regions.”
Cedars-Sinaihas “discovered two types of brain cells that play a key role in creating memories.”
“One of the reasons we can’t offer significant help for somebody who suffers from a memory disorder is that we don’t know enough about how the memory system works,” said [a] senior author of the study, adding that memory is foundational to us as human beings.
Human experience is continuous, but psychologists believe, based on observations of people’s behavior, that memories are divided by the brain into distinct events, a concept known as event segmentation.
Forgetfulness is, for most who live long enough, an unavoidable aspect of aging. But it may not be quite so bad as it appears to us, as C.S. Lewis related in a letter written several years before his death.
About forgetting things. Dr. Johnson* said “If, on leaving the company, a young man cannot remember where he has left his hat, it is nothing. But when an old man forgets, everyone says, Ah, his memory is going.”
So with ourselves. We have always been forgetting things: but now, when we do so, we attribute it to our age.
Why, it was years ago that, on finishing my work before lunch, I stopped myself only just in time from putting my cigarette-end into my spectacle case and throwing my spectacles into the fire!
Forgetfulness is a common part of human experience, but clinical amnesia is something altogether different.
Tragically, some suffer from anterograde amnesia. One of the saintly matrons at our church carries this cross, assisted by her loving daughter and son-in-law. This cruel disease prevents the retention of new memories. While it is often linked with geriatric considerations, and can affect all of one’s memories, this article from the National Library of Medicine describes a particularly tragic case in which a child “had an abrupt onset of amnesia due to a respiratory arrest at the age of 8 years.”
Cases such as this move Christians to prayer, and many others to despair. While miracles do happen, they are rarer than we desire. Ultimately the Christian hope is in a Lord who keeps his promises, and one of these is that he will come again and will take us to himself, so that where he is, we may be also (John14). And, in heaven, we will receive a new body like Christ’s resurrection body (Philippians 3).
* Samuel Johnson (1709-1784), a prolific and influential English writer, was often referred to simply as “Dr. Johnson.” Many volumes of the good doctor’s writings are available as free downloads from Internet Archive. For example, volume 7 of the 1810 collection, includes the following essay discussing human shallowness. He begins by contemplating the ability of animals to remember and to anticipate the future.
The Idler Numb. 24. Saturday, September 30, 1758.
When man sees one of the inferiour creatures perched upon a tree, or basking in the sunshine, without any apparent endeavour or pursuit, he often asks himself or his companion, On what that animal can be supposed to be thinking?
Of this question, since neither bird nor beast can answer it, we must be content to live without the resolution. We know not how much the brutes recollect of the past, or anticipate of the future; what power they have of comparing and preferring; or whether their faculties may not rest in motionless indifference, till they are moved by the presence of their proper object, or stimulated to act by corporal sensations.
I am the less inclined to these superfluous inquiries, because I have always been able to find sufficient matter for curiosity in my own species. It is useless to go far in quest of that which may be found at home; a very narrow circle of observation will supply a sufficient number of men and women, who might be asked, with equal propriety, On what they can be thinking?
It is reasonable to believe, that thought, like every thing else, has its causes and effects; that, it must proceed from something known, done, or suffered; and must produce some action or event. Yet how great is the number of those in whose minds no source of thought has ever been opened, in whose life no consequence of thought is ever discovered; who have learned nothing upon which they can reflect; who have neither seen nor felt any thing which could leave its traces on the memory; who neither foresee nor desire any change of their condition, and have therefore neither fear, hope, nor design, and yet are supposed to be thinking beings.
To every act a subject is required. He that thinks must think upon something. But tell me, ye that pierce deepest into nature, ye that take the widest surveys of life, inform me, kind shades of Malbranche [Nicolas Malebranche] and of [John] Locke, what that something can be, which excites and continues thoughts in maiden aunts with small fortunes; in younger brothers that live upon annuities; in traders retired from business; in soldiers absent from their regiments; or in widows, that have no children?
Life is commonly considered as either active or contemplative; but surely this division, how long soever it has been received, is inadequate and fallacious. There are mortals whose life is certainly not active, for they do neither good nor evil; and whose life cannot be properly called contemplative, for they never attend either to the conduct of men, or the works of nature, but rise in the morning, look round them till night: in careless stupidity, go to bed and sleep, and rise again in the morning.
Johnson’s essay continues with a discussion of the soul and its distinction from the mental processes themselves. Obviously, he is not considering the subject of amnesia, but he reminds us never to become too doctrinaire, since that “supposes what cannot be proved, that the nature of mind is properly defined.”
His purpose in the essay is not to discuss the abilities of the brain but, at least in part, to critique those who choose to be unthinking. Those who spend not a moment in reflection or contemplation.
I encourage you to read the entire essay, as it demonstrates Johnson’s brilliance. I close this extended “footnote” with a passage in his concluding section which keenly describes our common human experience with memory.
We every day do something which we forget when it is done, and know to have been done only by consequence. The waking hours are not denied to have been passed in thought; yet he that shall endeavour to recollect on one day the ideas of the former, will only turn the eye of reflection upon vacancy; he will find, that the greater part is irrevocably vanished, and wonder how the moments could come and go, and leave so little behind them.
The spiritual legacy of C.S. Lewis continues to bear abundant fruit. And, although his humility would prevent him from accepting it, Lewis shares credit in the blessings being passed on to new generations by those whose lives he directly touched.
Some of these gifted Gospel communicators have publicly praised Lewis for his role in their own conversions or moments of deeper epiphany into the work of our Creator.
One such Christian leader was Timothy Keller, who recently died at the age of 72. Although he was just a few years older than me, Keller and I shared a number of traits. Raised Lutheran, we accepted the truths about Jesus’s work as kids, but it wasn’t until our young adulthood that we were confronted with the fact that trusting Christ as a loving Savior falls far short of taking up our own crosses and following him as Lord.
It’s no accident that our mutual spiritual awakenings coincided with our introduction to the writings of C.S. Lewis during our collegiate years. Both of us became pastors, although the paths of ministry we followed differed, as befits children of a heavenly Father who guides each of his children as the unique person he has created them to be.
Keller was ordained in the Presbyterian tradition, and devoted most of his energy to helping the Christian Church establish a far more intentional ministry in cities. I was ordained in the Lutheran branch of the Body of Christ, and served much of my ministry as a military chaplain. Both of us were pastors in evangelical, Scripture-affirming denominations within our respective traditions.
I’m sure there are other parallels, such as both being married since the mid-70s and having three kids, but the last similarity I wish to note is that we both have writing as part of our vocations. Not that I would compare my own modest talents to Keller’s.
Tim Keller was a prolific author. And the influence of C.S. Lewis on his thinking, and writing, is pervasive in Keller’s work. Last year The Evangelical Christian Publishers Association presented him with the prestigious “Pinnacle Award.”
Timothy Keller has written more than 35 books, published by a variety of companies, with some co-authored by his wife Kathy. His published body of work represents a variety of categories including apologetics, biblical studies, theology, prayer, devotionals, marriage, Bible study, the Church, and cultural engagement – with sales exceeding 7.5 million units and translated into more than 25 languages.
Keller’s prodigious literary output is one reason he has been likened to C.S. Lewis. Another obvious reason is the subject matter, particularly the prominent place occupied by Christian apologetics.
Like Lewis, Keller was an avid reader. This trait provided the foundation for both authors’ literary contributions to Christian thinking. “A Reading List to Understand Tim Keller” includes a number of the works of great importance to him.
Read This Twice, which gathers book endorsements found on the internet, provides a list of 64 books endorsed by Tim Keller. What makes this curious site special is they provide quotations for his recommendations and the sources from which they are gleaned. Oddly, the aggregator appears to lean heavily on contemporary Twitter sources. Consequently, it includes not a single book written by C.S. Lewis himself, belying the Inkling’s seminal influence on Keller.
The endorsement website also offers access to book recommendations on subjects of a visitor’s choice, compliments of Sona. Sona, as a caution to those among us who are wary of artificial intelligence, is an “AI-driven book recommendation assistant that makes it easy for you to discover your next read. Just provide your specific preferences, and [she] will quickly search through a large database of books to offer you options that closely align with your request.” The invitation closes with: “Try ‘Sona’ and enjoy a seamless, personalized book-finding experience.”
It is often said that Dr. Timothy Keller, who died last Friday at his home in Manhattan, was this generation’s C.S. Lewis. The dust jacket for The Reason for God says so.
Tim would have had none of it. He just wasn’t that kind of person. I remember sitting down with him after yet another remarkable talk that he had delivered, sparkling with ideas and insight, with lots more to explore, and all he wanted to talk about was his kids and how great they were. Tim was a simple child of God with, like all of us, the normal joys and worries in life.
And yet . . . that impact! It was enormous. Although it might be an overstatement to ascribe C.S. Lewis status to his contribution, it would only be a slight overstatement.
Tim Keller certainly shared some of C.S. Lewis’ righteous qualities, but some writers are adamant about acknowledging their distinctions. A fellow Presbyterian pastor has a great post on this subject titled “Tim Keller is NOT this generation’s C.S. Lewis.” The author persuasively argues that their vocations were too different to make such a claim.
But please, can we not call him another C.S. Lewis? Any time we call a great person “another” anybody, we are doing disservice to both figures. Lewis’ vocation was to serve as a man of letters who wove his faith into his writing. Keller’s vocation is to be a pastor and equipper who employs writing as but one of his tools.
There are even some conservative Reformed authorities who view Keller (and C.S. Lewis) with suspicion. According to Christian Network Europe “Laurens van der Tang . . . wrote in De Wachter Sions (The Watchman of Sion) . . . that the books of Christian writers, such as Lewis, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Tim Keller” may possess positive elements but are incomplete. “He argues that they did not pay enough attention to man’s death state, the need for repentance and God’s holy wrath on sin.”
He concludes that “distancing is appropriate” and that these “authors cannot replace theologians from the Reformation or the Dutch Second Reformation.” Also, the Dutch Rev. A. Schreuder writes that “whoever reads the works of the Big Three misses the ultimate point of the personal appropriation of salvation.”
Fortunately, such opinions are in the minority. Most Christians find all three writers inspiring. As this very article reports, “the combination of reason, feeling and imagination is also why Christians in many different surveys indicate that they see Lewis . . . as one of the most influential theologians of the 20th century.”
A glance at virtually any one of Keller’s books will reveal at least one reference to the writings of C.S. Lewis. In Shaped by the Gospel, he references four of Lewis’ books and essays. In his book On Death, Keller discusses that when we stand in God’s very presence – a joy he even now knows – and alludes to a powerful metaphor offered by C.S. Lewis in The Weight of Glory.
C.S. Lewis says if these lower reaches of the stream of God’s glory are so intoxicating, what will it be like to drink from the fountainhead?
The Atlantic published a poignant essay by Keller as he faced his impending death. “Growing My Faith in the Face of Death: I spent a lifetime counseling others before my diagnosis. Will I be able to take my own advice?”
The subtitle says it all. It’s a challenge many Christians one day face, and it is particularly sobering for pastors. In the article, Keller relates an acutely tragic conversation.
A significant number of believers in God find their faith shaken or destroyed when they learn that they will die at a time and in a way that seems unfair to them. Before my diagnosis, I had seen this in people of many faiths. One woman with cancer told me years ago, “I’m not a believer anymore—that doesn’t work for me. I can’t believe in a personal God who would do something like this to me.” Cancer killed her God.
Yes, reality and the suffering consequences of the Fall may have shattered the spectral image of her god (lower case “g”), but I hope that through the ministry of Keller and others that unfortunate woman came to know the true God before she stood in his presence.
For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8).
Timothy Keller, like C.S. Lewis before him, who served as one of Keller’s mentors, left us with a treasure trove of edifying literature. In the past I’ve often been too busy to read much of Keller’s work. However, as of now I am in the process of rectifying that problem. If you join me in that journey, I’m sure neither of us will be disappointed.
Last week I wrote about “Learning Languages,” and I promised to follow up with a related theme – the creation of new words and languages. Let’s consider the simple matter first.
Adding New Words
Anyone can make up a new word. The problem is whether we have enough influence to have it adopted and used by another human being. (I add this qualifier to eliminate those who might attempt to skirt the question by simply training parrots to mimic the new word.) As Scientific Americanrelates,
When parrots are kept as pets, they learn their calls from their adoptive human social partners. Part of their appeal as pets is their ability to sing lower notes than smaller birds and so better reproduce human voices.
So, while you may be able to trick one of your parrots into repeating a novel “word,” that doesn’t count for our purposes here.
Likewise, any other birds who mimic speech, including musk ducks and corvids (ravens, crows and their ilk). In fact, let’s exclude all nonhuman “speakers” from consideration. After all, AZ Animals introduces readers to seven specific animals of different species (only one of which is avian) whose “forebrain is . . . responsible for some animals’ ability to mimic speech.”
So, animals aside, who embraces and disseminates newly invented new words? Some words, of course, find a partially prepared or receptive audience because they are imported from other tongues. The global influence of English makes other languages especially vulnerable to its influence, which can be deeply resented. The “corruption” of mother tongues sometimes elicits reactionary responses – such as Italy’s current effort to purge English from the Italian Republic.
And some Italians are extremely serious about the task, proposing fines up to €100000. (That is not a typo; at today’s exchange rate it would be $109,857.50.) Their animus toward English follows the path established by the French, who frequently default to Napoléon’s order to refer to Britain as “perfidious Albion.” The Académie Française goes so far as to repudiate specific words, including business, cash, digital, vintage, label, and deadline.
Vocabulary adopted from other nation’s may be “new” to their most recent users, but such importation is certainly not the same as fabricating novel words from the proverbial “whole cloth.”
True Neologisms
I wrote a moment ago that creating words is easy, but persuading others to use them is quite another thing. I’ve discussed this subject in the past, in “Create a Word Today” and “Creative Definitions.” Sadly – and fittingly – none of my personal neologisms have caught on.
Popular creative writers may, however, find their fancies adopted by larger audiences. Shakespeare’s “bedazzled” was birthed in The Taming of the Shrew. The “chortle” was first heard in Lewis Carol’s “Jabberwocky.” “Pandemonium” was revealed as the capital of Hell in Milton’s Paradise Lost. And the first “Nerd” was encountered in Dr. Seuss’ If I Ran the Zoo.
Some neologists were particularly prolific. How about these few additional examples from the Bard:
Bandit ~ Henry VI Dauntless ~ Henry VI Lackluster ~ As You Like It Dwindle ~ Henry IV
Oh, and Grammarly adds, “Shakespeare must have loved the prefix un- because he created or gave new meaning to more than 300 words that begin with it.” Can you imagine a world without:
Unaware ~ Venus & Adonis Uncomfortable ~ Romeo & Juliet Undress ~ Taming of the Shrew Unearthly ~ The Winter’s Tale Unreal ~ Macbeth
Before moving on, it would be fair to note that some voices consider this achievement by Shakespeare to be “a common myth.”
It turns out that Shakespeare’s genius was not in coining new words – it was in hearing new words and writing them down before they became widespread, and in wringing new meaning out of old, worn-out words: turning “elbow” into a verb and “where” into a noun. He didn’t invent the words, but he knew how to use them better than anyone.
C.S. Lewis was not a philologist, but he did create a few novel words. The Inkling scholar who pens A Pilgrim in Narnia has written on this subject here and here.
J.R.R. Tolkien was no slouch at inventing English words himself. Some which now reside in our common vocabulary include hobbit and orc. The latter he derived from an Old English word, orcþyrs, a devouring monster associated with Hell. More surprisingly, Tolkien created the modern word “tween,” albeit in the context of hobbits, who lived longer lives than we.
At that time Frodo was still in his tweens, as the hobbits called the irresponsible twenties between childhood and coming of age at thirty-three.
Envisioning novel words is relatively simple, but inventing an entire language, is an infinitely more complex challenge. The universally acknowledged master is J.R.R. Tolkien, whose Elvish tongue has become a “living” language.* But he was not alone in building internally consistent linguistic systems. Albeit, no philologist came near to Tolkien’s expertise, which included elaborate etymologies.
Before considering Tolkien himself, we will note several other efforts of a similar kind. And, following a discussion of Tolkien, we will conclude with a note about his good friend, C.S. Lewis. For, despite the fact that Lewis was not a philologist himself, it is interesting to note that he too dabbled in creatio linguarum.
Inventing New Languages
Some “constructed languages” are formed with practical purposes. Esperanto, birthed in 1887, incorporated elements from existing languages and was envisioned as a common “international auxiliary language.” It boasts its own flag, and claims to be the native language of approximately a thousand people.
One curious use of Esperanto came in its adoption by the United States Army as the “Aggressor Language” used in twentieth century wargames. The curious can download a copy of the now-rescinded Field Manual 30-101-1, which provided guidance for its usage “which will enhance intelligence play and add realism to field exercises.”
Another genuine constructed language is Interlingua. Developed between 1937 and 1951, it is based primarily on the shared (and simplified) grammar and vocabulary of Western European languages.
In addition to languages constructed for international use, there are a variety of tongues created for fictional applications. “To learn Klingon or Esperanto” describes how linguistic anthropologist Christine Schreyer “invented several languages for the movie industry: the Kryptonian language for ‘Man of Steel,’ Eltarian for ‘Power Rangers,’ Beama (Cro-Magnon) for “Alpha” and Atlantean for ‘Zack Snyder’s Justice League.’” While none of these could ever rival the languages of Middle Earth, her bona fide linguistic credentials place her in a context similar to J.R.R. Tolkien. The interview reveals how Schreyer balances her creative impulses with her anthropological concerns.
I teach a course on linguistic anthropology, in which I give my students the task of creating new languages as they learn about the parts of languages. Around the time I started doing that, “Avatar” came out. The Na’vi language from that movie was very popular at the time and had made its way into many news stories about people learning the language – and doing it quickly.
My other academic research is on language revitalization, with indigenous or minority communities. One of the challenges we have is it takes people a long time to learn a language. I was interested to know what endangered-language communities could learn from these created-language fan communities, to learn languages faster.
Other fictional languages that exist include R’lyehian (from Lovecraft’s nightmare cosmos), Lapine (from Watership Down), Fremen, the Arabic/alien blending (from Dune), Parseltongue (ala Harry Potter), Dothraki (from Game of Thrones), Ewokese, etc. (from Star Wars), Goa’uld and others (from Stargate), Minbari and more (from Babylon 5), and the gutturally combative Klingon and others (from Star Trek). This brief list is far from exhaustive.
Tolkien, Lewis & New Languages
The languages forged by J.R.R. Tolkien are unrivaled by any conceivable measure one might employ. They are no mere stage dressing, like some of the aforementioned examples. Even those with developed vocabularies and consistent grammar fall far short of Tolkien’s creation. In terms of the histories of his languages, his diligent etymologies beggar all other such efforts. Of course, for Tolkien this was no competition. He was driven to make his languages as flawless – not “perfect,” but realistic – as humanly possible. It was a linchpin in his subcreative labor.
As a skilled calligrapher, Tolkien devised unique alphabets to complement his languages. The letters in his alphabets were not devised as mere adornments. Tolkien left that to lesser imaginations. Nor were his scripts restricted to Tolkien’s fiction. The Tolkien Estate offers an insightful essay on “Writing Systems.”
Tolkien also used invented scripts that were not associated with any of his fictional worlds. An early example is the Privata Kodo Skauta (Private Scout Code), which appears in a still unpublished notebook from 1909 called the Book of the Foxrook. This makes use of a phonetic code-alphabet, as well as a number of ideographic symbols representing full words. . . .
Toward the end of his life, Tolkien made use of the New English Alphabet, a phonetic script that combined the logical structural principles of the Angerthas and the Tengwar with letters that looked more like Greek or Latin. The alphabet has not yet been published in full, but examples can be seen in . . . J.R.R. Tolkien: Artist & Illustrator.
The footnote below links to some resources for those who would like to learn how to speak the languages of the elves. By way of help with pronunciations, remember the following advice:
Use an Italian accent to pull off Quenya speech patterns. In general, you can kind of sound Elvish – even without following the rules of the language – by applying an Italian accent when pronouncing Quenyan words. Native Italian speakers tend to use speech patterns from their native tongues to interpret English words, which can make your Elvish sound practiced even when it isn’t.
Speak with an Irish or Scottish accent to pull off a natural Sindarin accent. Irish and Scottish speakers tend to speak English by emphasizing sounds in the front of a word regardless of the standard pronunciation. This is a pretty good method for pronouncing Sindarin words, since the vast majority of them stress the first syllable.
For those who want to quickly capture some Elvish script without the effort of studying, consider the English to Elvish online translator, which is offered by the company that fashioned The One Ring for Peter Jackson’s cinematic epics. I decided to test the translation tool and posed the question: “Does AI translation of English to Quenya actually work?” The software swiftly complied.
It looks elegantly correct, but unfortunately, I’m unable to personally verify its accuracy. And I must confess to modest trepidation since the site advises:
“USE CAUTION BEFORE COMMITTING TO ANY TATTOOS, INSCRIPTIONS AND ENGRAVINGS” [triple emphasis in original].
The Jens Hansen site sells jewelry, as befits the fasioners of The One Ring. In addition to hosting the translator, they offer a free pdf document called Elvish 101 in 5 Minutes. It’s an interesting document, but it reveals a limitation I assume is shared by the online generator. It is a resource for transliterating, not translating, words. Not quite the same thing . . . but the script still looks elegant.
Tolkien was the master of creating languages for his subcreation, but C.S. Lewis also used the same technique in the writing of his Space Trilogy. Each work focuses on an individual planet in our solar system, which is referred to in the books as the Field of Arbol.
While a number of languages have developed over time, the original language, known as Old Solar, is retained by some, and learned by the series’ protagonist Dr. Elwin Ransom. Ransom is a philologist at Cambridge, and as he is modeled after Tolkien, it’s no surprise his first name means “elf friend.”
In Perelandra, Ransom describes how a language he learned on Mars was once shared by all.
“It appears we were quite mistaken in thinking Hressa-Hlab the peculiar speech of Mars. It is really what may be called Old Solar, Hlab-Eribol-ef-Cordi. . . . there was originally a common speech for all rational creatures inhabiting the planets of our system: those that were ever inhabited, I mean – what the eldila (angels) call the Low Worlds. . . .
That original speech was lost on Thulcandra, our own world, when our whole tragedy [the Fall] took place. No human language now known in the world is descended from it.”
Lewis’ use of Old Solar is sparing, but a partial lexicon can be found at FrathWiki. There, for example, you will learn that “honodraskrud” is Old Solar for a “Groundweed; an edible pinkish-white kind of weed, found all over the handramit” of Malacandra (Mars).
The accomplishments of Tolkien and Lewis are difficult to compare. These two brilliant scholars shared a great many interests, but wrote with far different goals. We rightfully expect genius to vary between such individuals. This is well illustrated by their differing treatments of constructed languages, as Martha Sammons describes so well in War of the Fantasy Worlds.
Tolkien began with invented languages and then developed an elaborate mythology to create a world where his languages could exist. Lewis’s works began with mental pictures; he would then find the appropriate ‘‘form’’ to tie together the images. . . .
[Tolkien’s] penchant for historical and linguistic detail is unparalleled. In contrast . . . Lewis uses just enough language, geography, and science to make his novels believable.
While either approach may inspire those among us who aspire to writing, we best avoid attempting to emulate either author. Best, I believe, to compose our epics with the language that most naturally flows from our pen.
* While some fans of Klingon and Na’vi may learn to speak in those tongues, the students of the languages of Arda, typically possess greater ardor for the languages of Middle Earth. For example, an online guide to learning Elven languages begins by answering the question, “why study Elvish?” And a free online course for learning Quenya is offered here. Among the Quenya dictionaries, the finest free example is available at Quenya-English Dictionary English-Quenya Dictionary.
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