Tag: Writing

Writers, AI & C.S. Lewis

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, Animals, C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, Christian Life, Education, Great Authors, Great Authors, J.R.R. Tolkien, Literature, Middle Earth, Modern Life, Narnia, The Future, Theological Matters, Writing25 Comments

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 apocalyptic warnings. 

“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.

⁂

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.

⁂

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.

⁂

The Inkling’s works shine
A legacy of wisdom still
In our hearts, forever

⁂

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.

⁂

Oxford Inklings’ lore
In tales of fantasy and truth
Lives on forever

C.S. Lewis on Translating Poetry

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, Literature, Poetry, The Bible, The Future, Writing12 Comments

“A poetic translation is always to some extent a new work of art.”
C.S. Lewis
English Literature in the Sixteenth Century

C.S. Lewis was a gifted translator. One who recognized well the challenges of skillful rendition, including the differing requirements imposed by prose and poetry. Thus, in his essay “The Literary Impact of the Authorised Version,” he offers the following insight.

No translation can preserve the qualities of its original unchanged. On the other hand, except where lyrical poetry is in question, the literary effect of any good translation must be more indebted to the original than to anything else.

In his autobiography, Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis describes his transformative encounter with translated poetry that introduced him to the “northern sky.” Before he became a skilled translator in his own right, he describes how a major part of his awakening,

. . . came through poetry. I had become fond of Longfellow’s “Saga of King Olaf:” fond of it in a casual, shallow way for its story and its vigorous rhythms.

But then, and quite different from such pleasures, and like a voice from far more distant regions, there came a moment when I idly turned the pages of the book and found the

unrhymed translation of Tegner’s Drapa and read

I heard a voice that cried,
Balder the beautiful
Is dead, is dead

I knew nothing about Balder; but instantly I was uplifted into huge regions of northern sky, I desired with almost sickening intensity something never to be described (except that it is cold, spacious, severe, pale, and remote) and then, as in the other examples, found myself at the very same moment already falling out of that desire and wishing I were back in it.

One of Lewis’ most involved explanations of the subject is found in Reflections on the Psalms. As Mere Inkling has noted in the past, C.S. Lewis was a distinguished member of a committee appointed to “revise the Psalter.” Being poetry, the Psalms demanded the proper mindset in their translators.

What must be said, however, is that the Psalms are poems, and poems intended to be sung: not doctrinal treatises, nor even sermons. . . . Most emphatically the Psalms must be read as poems; as lyrics, with all the licences and all the formalities, the hyperboles, the emotional rather than logical connections, which are proper to lyric poetry.

They must be read as poems if they are to be understood; no less than French must be read as French or English as English. Otherwise we shall miss what is in them and think we see what is not.

Some translations, unfortunately, are intentionally corrupted. I described in 2020 the Communist Chinese twisting of the Christian Scriptures. Fortunately, this sort of intentional crime is rare, and most translation efforts are well motivated. That does not mean, however, that even gifted linguists are up to every challenge.

In a letter to the editor of The Christian Century, C.S. Lewis contrasted academic and vernacular translations. Declaring that “any fool can write learned language,” he argues that clergy in particular are faced with the challenge of translating languages into prose which is understandable to the general population. He begins by demurring that he cannot respond to a request for an article written for a popular American audience.

An article on “translation” such as Dr. Pittenger suggests . . . certainly needs doing, but I could not usefully do it for Americans. The vernacular into which they would have to translate is not quite the same as that into which I have translated. Small differences, in addressing proletarians, may be all-important.

In both countries an essential part of the ordination exam ought to be a passage from some recognized theological work set for translation into vulgar English – just like doing Latin prose. Failure on this exam should mean failure on the whole exam.

It is absolutely disgraceful that we expect missionaries to the Bantus to learn Bantu but never ask whether our missionaries to the Americans or English can speak American or English. Any fool can write learned language. The vernacular is the real test.

C.S. Lewis remained an avid reader and critic until his death. In 1961, he received some translations of “modern” Greek poetry from his friend, Muriel Bradbrook (1909-1993), a Professor of English at Cambridge. After thanking her for the gift, he offers his personal response to the intercultural translations.

Dear Muriel,

What a nice thing for a man half drowned in compulsory leisure [due to poor health] . . . It has set me a problem. I find I get a good deal of pleasure out of many of these poems, but am at a loss to say why. One is not getting the “numbers” – and so far as I can judge from the notes the metres of the originals would not much please me.

Nor am I much in sympathy with many of the poets’ moods. The pleasure is like – at least rather like – what I get out of most translations of Chinese lyric. But that isn’t a solution, but merely another problem of the same sort. Anyway, thanks very much indeed.

Advice to Budding Translators

So many good works of literature remain to be translated so they can benefit those unfamiliar with their original tongue. Several years ago, I wrote a column entitled “C.S. Lewis’ School of Translation,” assembling some of the great writer’s wisdom.

I recently encountered a curiously brilliant observation on the subject of translating poetry in C.S. Lewis’ English Literature in the Sixteenth Century. Although he refers here to advising others, it would be wise for any of us who are considering the task to reflect long on Lewis’ acumen.

Most of us, I suspect, would advise a mediocre poet, if he must translate, to avoid the greater originals and choose the less, as if these would be easier. But this is probably a mistake.

The great poets have so much wealth that even if you lose two-thirds of it on the voyage home you can still be rich on the remainder: slighter art, when it loses the perfection of its original form, loses all power of pleasing.

As I think about it, this advice likely applies to prose as well. If you or I someday attempt to translate a work, we should consider working with the richest possible source material. That way, even if it loses value in the process, the quality that remains will still possess value for our translation’s readers.

Even if we do not pen “a new work of art.”

Some Fresh Words

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, C.S. Lewis, History, Humor, J.R.R. Tolkien, Middle Earth, Narnia, Reading, Words, Words that Make You Smile, Writing4 Comments

Here at Mere Inkling our admiration for C.S. Lewis moves us to emulate some of his practices. Thus, we are avid readers and we also enjoy learning new words.

Some of us even enjoy inventing new words. No, we’re not so presumptuous as to desire to wend our ways into the dictionary. We just find this creative game to be both fun and useful for promoting mental health.

The challenge is providing rational definitions for our neologisms. These meanings can be serious or absurd; that doesn’t matter. Here are four I recently devised. (More, from years past, are available in the links I have included above.)

: Zambaloney : noun

A succulent cut of meat served only in skating rinks while the ice is being resurfaced during formal sporting competitions.

: Teguchigulper : noun

The indigenous name for the Honduran species of Chupacabra.

: Belladonut : noun

The presentation of poison derived from the perennial Atropa belladonna in appealing confectionaries. See also, doughnut. 

: Sinderella : noun

The Brothers Grimm story about a beneficent stepmother who learns her two biological daughters are being terrorized by their physically beautiful yet wicked stepsister.

We’re Not Alone

If you have tried your hand at this, or at least think it’s curious, you might be surprised to learn there are online “word generators” that perform at least part of this function. Let me mention a couple before sharing some more of my own inventions.

Unfortunately, some only toss out made up words, in literary isolation. This is the case of Random Word Generator, which did, however, suggest the intriguing word “picneted.”

Nonsense Word Generator “generates nonsense words based on a frequency list of phonemes as they occur in legitimate English words.” They claim “an actual word may slip through occasionally but it should mostly generate pronounceable gibberish.”

Since gibberish isn’t what I’m after, and I haven’t yet found an artificial intelligence website offering what I seek, it’s up to human beings to fill the gap. I hope you enjoy at least one or two of my other neologisms which follow.

New Words & Apropos Definitions 

: Dramadairy : noun

A business offering various products created from camelid milk. Suspense is generated by the uncertainty as to the particular species from the genus Camelus that provided the day’s primary ingredient.

: Sir Mize : proper noun

A minor noble of the Carolingian dynasty noted for his skill at accurately assessing situations despite lacking clear evidence for his hypotheses.

: Fleedom : verb

The attempt to escape restrictions imposed by an autocratic government.

: Califate : noun

The final destiny awaiting those who seek to impose their religion on others by means of violence rather than through thoughtful conversation and compassionate service.

: Hippocampus : noun

Commonly considered a region of the brain, the word originally referred to the special academies where priestesses of Taweret schooled Egypt’s hippopotami to serve Pharaoh.

: Integreation : verb

The process through which individuals or different groups are incorporated into a common whole, resulting in a truly synergistic benefit to all.

: Sinergy : noun

The crippling illusion that one should embrace diverse expressions of evil simply because they have become a standard practice under a decadent worldview.

: Laboratorinthine : adjective

Applied to extremely complex, often inescapable, research and medical facilities hosting arcane experiments on human subjects. See also, “science fiction and horror tropes.”

: Confort : noun, verb

noun : The false sense of security felt by a vulnerable individual who is being successfully deceived by a criminal. See conforter.

verb : The act of pretending to render aid or support to someone in need while laying the groundwork for a malevolent action toward them.

: Pintacostal : noun

Members of an ecstatic religious sect who allege that their ancestors arrived in America in the fifteenth century aboard one of Christopher Columbus’ smaller caravels.

: Calumknee : noun

Defamatory statements, especially directed toward athletes, related to the largest joint in a particular person’s anatomy.

: Commaraderie : noun

The collegiality felt by writers who advocate the use of the Oxford comma in lists of three or more items.

: Peripathetic : adjective

Traveling from place to place and job to job without ever finding the right fit.

: Lyberry : noun

A fruit concoction comprised of berries cleansed with minute amounts of lye water, which can be fatal if mismeasured. Not to be confused with the tragic mispronunciation of “library.”

: Indogtrination : noun

The process of training people to uncritically embrace a canine belief system and obedience to arbitrary and sometimes self-injurious commands. Antonym of catechesis.

: Banalgesic : noun

A drug designed to reduce the pain induced by participating in a banal conversation.

: Farmageddon : noun

Subterranean postapocalyptic nutrient harvesting plants specializing in either edible algae or plant-based meat alternatives (derived from algae).

: Olympipad : noun

Special edition of Apple’s iPad scheduled for release in conjunction with Olympiad XXXIV in Los Angeles in 2028.

And, as a final tribute to that great writers and saints, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien:

: Nearnia : noun

A fantastical world which does not require a Wardrobe to discover, but is as close as one’s own inspired imagination. See also, “Median Earth.”

An Interstellar Accomplishment

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, Books, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Military Chaplaincy, Publishing, Reading, The Future, Writing10 Comments

Whoever says “getting there is half the fun” is not referring to the arduous journey undertaken by writers seeking publication.

We writers – I say “we” because odds are you share my literary interests – we writers believe we have something to say that is worth hearing. Something that can genuinely benefit others.

That’s why we undertake the labor of writing, often without any financial reward. That’s why we risk revealing ourselves, becoming vulnerable to criticism and even ridicule.

This desire to share is why we invest the time and emotional energy required to imprint our thoughts and feelings on paper, literal and digital. It’s also the reason we strive to improve our literary skills. Writing well, is not easy.

Some writers enjoy the actual process of writing, but for many of us it is too akin to “work” to be considered fun. A decade ago, I wrote about “The Satisfaction of Writing.” 

In the post I confessed I don’t find the writing process all that grand. It was enlightening when I realized it’s not writing I enjoy, but the “satisfaction of having written.” And, having something published multiplies that level of satisfaction, particularly when what I have written finds a home in a publication edited by others.

And that brings me to my good news.

My Recent Publication

This week I received a complimentary copy of a new volume published by Rowman & Littlefield, an academic publishing house.

Theology and Star Trek gathers a group of scholars from various religious and theological disciplines to reflect upon the connection between theology and Star Trek anew.

Among the twenty chapter essays included in the volume is one written by yours truly. In “Starfleet’s AWOL Chaplain: Why Star Trek’s Federation Lacks Chaplains,” I explore Gene Roddenberry’s firm rejection of chaplains in his fictional universe.

I have been a fan of Star Trek ever since I watched the first episode of the original series air on September 8, 1966. And I am extremely proud to have contributed a chapter to Theology and Star Trek.

Allow me to share with you an insight I gained from this experience. It has to do with the project’s extended timeline. Admittedly, part of the delay was apparently caused by the covid epidemic, but even without that interruption, it takes a long time for an academic collection such as this to finally see print.

In October of 2018, I learned about the project and submitted an initial proposal for inclusion in the book. On New Year’s Eve I received acceptance of the proposal and an invitation to submit a “manuscript of approximately 5,000 words” by the first of May 2019. Deadline was extended to June first. First draft was mailed to the co-editors. After my extensive research, the manuscript numbered an immodest 17,442 words.

On July first I accepted the invitation to abbreviate my manuscript, which might be published in some future day, in an appropriately independent version as “a short book.” Revised chapter forwarded on 11 July: “Full word count now is 5549, but since 1528 are in the endnotes, the actual text for the chapter is only 4011, of which 169 constitute the abstract.”

Nearly a year later, on June 9, 2020, I received editorial suggestions from the editors and on June 30, 2020 I submitted my edited chapter. On September 11, 2021, the editors apologized for delays and said they were sending all of the essays out for peer review. On  June 11, 2022 I inquired with the editors as to whether the project may have been dropped, and was pleased to learn that it was still underway. The editor said the essays had been returned to writers to incorporate peer review comments. Since my essay had “only minor comments,” they were able to amend it without involving me. 

In July 2022 we worked together online with the Index, and reviewed our bio entries for the volume. On March 17, 2023 the publisher’s proofs for Theology and Star Trek were available for our personal review of our essays. April 11, 2023 marked completion of the corrected proof copy, and we added the actual pages for each of the subjects we had added to the index. Sent my final confirmation of the indexing, noticed a minor error in my chapter that was too late to fix, and waited for the arrival of my copy of the finished work . . . which arrived slightly under five years after I asked to join the project.

Lessons learned: (1) be more conscientious about meeting the word length guidelines, (2) be patient, and (3) remain patient.

Even as I share this extended timetable, I’m conscious of the fact I am no expert on the subject. I feel a bit like the people to whom C.S. Lewis referred in a 1952 letter to his publisher, Geoffrey Bles.

I often smile when I compare my ignorance with the knowingness of some people who, on the strength of having published one book, seem to have the whole mystery of publishing, printing, & binding by heart.

Advice to Writers

If you’ve followed Mere Inkling for a while, you’re aware I occasionally offer modest writing tips. 

Two years ago I wrote a post entitled “Are You an Author or an Editor?” In it I discussed some distinctions between different aspects of our writing lives. In “C.S. Lewis and the Oddities of Editors,” I highlighted that great author’s amazement at the arbitrary decisions made by editors.

I discussed a skill I have never mastered in “Brevity & Clear Communication.” In “Does Sincerity Result in Good Writing” I discussed C.S. Lewis’ thoughts about The Pilgrim’s Progress.

In “On Choosing Between a Child and a Book,” I even addressed the delicate subject of whether an individual would prefer to leave a book, rather than a child, as their legacy. Several more articles on related subjects are linked here.

A Word of Encouragement

Sadly, many aspiring writers feel like they will never “arrive” – in terms of seeing their words in “traditional” print. We must, nevertheless, remain persistent since, if we quit writing, that end is all but guaranteed.

However, when we read widely, and physically sit down with pen or keyboard, our chance of seeing our name in print rises geometrically. When we continue to study the art of writing and when we continue to sharpen our skills by stretching beyond our comfort zones, our efforts are often rewarded.

The internet abounds with stories of people who were not published until late in life. And there are many whose work only gained fame after their deaths.

Some popular writers, including C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, were prolific. They enjoyed some renown during their lives, but have only grown in their popularity posthumously. Many writers have left unfinished projects which have been published after their passing. In the case of these Inklings, this effort was spearheaded by Lewis’ secretary Walter Hooper and Tolkien’s son Christopher.

Waterstones, the British bookseller,  goes so far as to say “J.R.R. Tolkien is arguably one of the most posthumously-published authors there has ever been. The Silmarillion was compiled from notes he left behind, likewise The Children of Hurin and, in 2014, Tolkien’s prose translation of Beowulf was released.”

It may be unlikely that you are I will have anything published after our life ends. But, the words we pen might one day prove a blessing to others in a future family memoir. 

I encourage you to continue to write, whether publishers reinforce you or not. However small your audience may seem, virtually everyone recognizes there is value in expressing ourselves in this way. 

And, may the cost of your literary labors be outweighed by the satisfaction you gain as its reward.

Star Trek Postscript

Yes, if you check out the publication site, you will see that my name is listed last among all of Theology and Star Trek’scontributors. Even if this isn’t a consequence of alphabetical considerations, I’m not bothered. My simple inclusion in the volume is sufficient . . . and we struggling writers must never forget the words of Matthew 20:16.

Caring for Nature with an Inkling Spirit

On By robstroudIn Animals, C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, J.R.R. Tolkien, Narnia, Nature, Poetry, Reading, Writing5 Comments

I never thought I would become an apiarist, but living in forests of America’s Pacific Northwest made this a logical stage in my growth as a naturalist. And I’m convinced that if he had known how simple it is to promote healthy bee populations, C.S. Lewis would have joined me in the hobby.

After all, he delighted in their work ethic, describing the moment of their Narnian creation with the words, “Butterflies fluttered [and] Bees got to work on the flowers as if they hadn’t a second to lose.”

In “An Experiment in Criticism” Lewis discussed the value of seeing the world through the eyes of others. In awe of the majesty of creation he expressed a yearning to explore its myriad facets from perspectives other than his own.

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. . . .

Even the eyes of all humanity are not enough. I regret that the brutes cannot write books. Very gladly would I learn what face things present to a mouse or a bee: more gladly still would I perceive the olfactory world charged with all the information and emotion it carries for a dog.

Like most people, I grew up thinking of beekeepers as the people who dress in protective gear and harvest the honey produced by those tireless little workers. Honeybees, however, are only one type of bee. The Treehugger site offers an illustrated page featuring the bee types, with Hoverflies (good, and in more than 6,000 species) and Wasps (bad, and in more that 100,000 species) thrown in.

The bees I help to encourage in our area are not honeybees or bumblebees, who form colonies. They are mason bees, who are solitary by nature. They don’t have an aggressive bone in their tiny bodies and they are excellent at their jobs. They “pollinate around 95% of the flowers they visit, whereas honey bees generally only pollinate about 5%.” 

C.S. Lewis, like his close friend J.R.R. Tolkien, loved nature. Like most people Lewis either knew nothing about solitary bees, or his attention was directed by default to the honeybees we prize for the honey refined in their hives. In 1930, he wrote to his friend Arthur Greeves about the deeper motivations that drive people such as themselves to become writers.

As for the real motives for writing after one has ‘got over’ the desire for acknowledgement . . . I found and find, that precisely at the moment when you have really put all that out of your mind and decided not to write again . . . precisely then the ideas – which came so rarely in the days when you regarded yourself officially as an author – begin to bubble and simmer, and sooner or later you will have to write . . .

Who knows . . . what will in the end reach the ear of humanity? The successes of our own age may be speedily forgotten: some poem scribbled in pencil on the fly leaf of a schoolbook may survive and be read and be an influence when English is a dead language. . . .

So . . . whether the necessity and duty of writing is laid on a man or not can soon be discovered by his own feelings. With remote consequences we have no concern. We never know enough. I think the thing is to obey the ordinary rules of morality . . . but for ultimate justifications & results to trust to God.

The bee builds its cell and the bird its nest, probably with no knowledge of what purpose they will serve: another sees to that. Nobody knows what the result of your writing, or mine . . . will be. But I think we may depend upon it that endless and devoted work on an object to which a man feels seriously impelled will tell somewhere or other: himself or others, in this world or others, will reap a harvest exactly proportional to the output.

In 1914, C.S. Lewis shared with his father a humorous anecdote from the Roman poet Virgil. 

Did you ever at Lurgan read the 4th Georgic? It is the funniest example of the colossal ignorance of a great poet that I know. It’s about bees, and Virgil’s natural history is very quaint: bees, he thinks, are all males: they find the young in the pollen of flowers. They must be soothed by flute playing when anything goes wrong etc., etc.

C.S. Lewis enjoyed his laugh at Virgil’s poetic ignorance about bees. Coincidentally, he would discuss the humble creatures in a poem of his own. It appears in his posthumous Poems collection, as the fourth and fifth of his “Five Sonnets.”

Pitch your demands heaven-high and they’ll be met.
Ask for the Morning Star and take (thrown in)
Your earthly love. Why, yes; but how to set
One’s foot on the first rung, how to begin?
The silence of one voice upon our ears
Beats like the waves; the coloured morning seems
A lying brag; the face we loved appears
Fainter each night, or ghastlier, in our dreams.
“That long way round which Dante trod was meant
For mighty saints and mystics not for me,”
So Nature cries. Yet if we once assent
To Nature’s voice, we shall be like the bee
That booms against the window-pane for hours
Thinking that way to reach the laden flowers.

“If we could speak to her,” my doctor said,
“And told her, “Not that way! All, all in vain
You weary out your wings and bruise your head,”
Might she not answer, buzzing at the pane,
“Let queens and mystics and religious bees
Talk of such inconceivables as glass;
The blunt lay worker flies at what she sees,
Look there—ahead, ahead—the flowers, the grass!”
We catch her in a handkerchief (who knows
What rage she feels, what terror, what despair?)
And shake her out—and gaily out she goes
Where quivering flowers stand thick in summer air,
To drink their hearts. But left to her own will
She would have died upon the window-sill.”

British Bees

The British are quite enamored with quaint names for their public houses. Because of that, I knew I would be able to find a suitable pub to feature at the top of this post. I was, however, caught off guard by an embarrassment of riches in the return to my google search.

In addition to “The Bumble Bee” in Quedgeley pictured above (which I chose because of the lamppost in the garden), I found images of similarly named pubs in Blackwood, Flitwick, Gloucester, Gwent, Westoning, and Fleur-de-lis, Wales.

I’m sure I could find many other tributes to buzzing pollinators, if I broadened my search to include pubs like “The Beehive” in Egham or “The Golden Bee” in Stratford-upon-Avon.

The story of one more bee will bring our reflections to an end. In his early diary, All My Road Before Me, C.S. Lewis mentioned a number of visits to Bee Cottage, where some of his friends occasionally resided. For example, one summer Sunday in 1922, he recorded:

After lunch I bicycled to Beckley and called at Bee Cottage where I found [Cecil] Harwood alone and reading in a pleasant, stumpy 18th Century Bible. He quoted from Genesis “Whatever Adam called anything, that was the name of the thing,” as an excellent definition of poetry.

Once lost to the mysteries of time, the precise location of Bee Cottage has been discovered, as we can read in Bee and Church Cottage.

Laurence Harwood, C.S. Lewis’s godson, was a lecturer at [the 2009] Summer Seminar on C.S. Lewis Remembered.  His father, Cecil Harwood, was a close personal friend of Lewis as well as fellow Inkling Owen Barfield. 

Harwood and Barfield had often rented a small cottage-Bee Cottage-in Beckley, a few miles from Lewis’s home in the Kilns, and Lewis often visited the place (perhaps while on walking tours though the countryside just like his character Elwin Ransom).  Unfortunately its precise location was lost and remained unknown.

Following the lectures, “Laurence decided that searching for the cottage would be a . . . great way to remember Lewis.” He and several friends “managed to locate the small house, and found that it looked just as anyone would have expected-the waning summer sun sinking behind it, and the bees buzzing about the lavender plants alongside the stairs.”

Bees are important members of our environment. Many would argue they are essential and famine would certainly follow if they became extinct. The Environmentor says,

If all the bees died, humans would become responsible for taking up the slack. This is already happening in China, where a majority of the bees have already died. People take buckets full of pollen and “paint” the pollen on with a paintbrush.

But, this could only be done with a few of the plants that require pollination because there simply aren’t enough humans to perform the task.

The alternative, offered by Brittanica is that we could “robo-pollinate.” But I have already written about where that ominous trend might lead. 

I think it’s best that we diligently care for bees we currently enjoy, and nurture all their future generations. And I believe C.S. Lewis would agree.

CS Lewis | Skeletons

On By robstroudIn Animals, C.S. Lewis, History, Humor, Theological Matters, Writing1 Comment

Deep Thoughts from the Quill of the Other C.S. Lewis

Welcome to another in an occasional series of fictitious quotations from a fabricated contemporary of the great Oxbridge professor, Clive Staples Lewis.

The C.S. Lewis who authored these questionable observations, Clyde Scissors Lewis, possessed a worldview enigmatically different from that of the esteemed Christian author. Despite the fact that their two lives overlapped in a variety of ways, the similarities were superficial.

A brief biography of the lesser Lewis is available at this link.

The Other C.S. Lewis: A Brief Biography

By all means, do not confuse the wisdom of the genuine article with his shadowy counterfeit. Despite any cursory similarities between the two men, this is most definitely not the C.S. Lewis readers have come to know and love.

Judging by Appearances

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, Books, C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, Education, Great Authors, J.R.R. Tolkien, Literature, Publishing, Reading, Writing13 Comments

If books should not be judged by their covers, how much more true is it that we should avoid judging people by their initial appearance?

We don’t want others to be hasty in determining who we are, right? We need to take some time to get to know people before coming to “conclusions” about what they are like.

Yet we still tend to look at someone and – right away – assess whether they are trustworthy or not. I confess it is sometimes challenging for me to maintain an open mind. For example, teardrop tattoos (especially when accompanied by neck ink that combines letters and numbers), make me nervous.

First impressions are usually by their very nature superficial. Which means they often prove to be wrong. That’s true about people . . . and books.

Lewis scholar Dale Nelson recently sent me an interesting review of the book The Inklings, written by Humphrey Carpenter in 1978. The fascinating thing about the piece was that it was written by Lord David Cecil (1902-1986), who was himself an Inkling.

One of the things which drew my attention was his physical description of several of the members, especially C.S. Lewis. Without citing the maxim, he declares how misleading first impressions may be.

[Charles] Williams was the most obviously odd. Very tall, and indisputably ugly with a high forehead and with gleaming spectacles, he yet diffused a curious charm that came from an enthusiastic warmth of spirit united to a comic lack of inhibition. . . .

Lewis at first sight appeared less unusual; stocky, red-faced, loud-voiced, he might indeed have been taken for an innkeeper or even a butcher.

Such a mistake would not have displeased him, he liked to think of himself as representing the common man, in contrast to the sophisticated intellectual.

These observations were interesting, but there was something far more thought-provoking in the (excellent, by the way) review. More about that in a moment. First let’s return for a moment to the issue of book covers.

What about the Cover of the Book You are Writing?

I discussed covers, and Lewis’ thoughts thereon, in this post.

It’s unsurprising that with all of their many reprintings, the writings of C.S. Lewis have been published with a wide range of covers. Some of this can be attributed to the artistic fads of the decade in which particular editions saw print. More important, I believe, are the arbitrary tastes of publishers.

When it comes to self-publishing, authors are in complete control over the image that graces their literary creations. While I make no pretense of being an artist, I must confess at being shocked by the shoddy quality of many such works. Surely they are aware that the very best of writing can be marred by dreadful packaging. By the same token, even weak literature has received wider dissemination than it merited, due to stunning or alluring graphics.

The internet is filled with posts on this subject. These are representative:

“Against Popular Advice, Books Continue to Be Judged by Their Covers” says, “for some, this can be a bitter pill to swallow, because writers want to believe that their work will speak for itself.”

The reality is that every person who steps into a book shop or browses books online is judging books by their cover, even if only subconsciously. I’m not saying that the judgment is always correct. Some books have amazing covers but are comprised of some pretty bad writing. I’d guess that many more amazing books are hiding behind bad cover art. The challenge is to get readers to pick up your book in the first place. That’s where the artwork comes in.

Another writer contends that potential readers do consider a host of matters. In “Why ‘Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover’ is Bad Advice,” the writer nevertheless admits it is the single most important element in winning an audience (short of a celebrity endorsement).

Readers are going to keep on reading and judging based on a whole host of criteria. The cover is just one of the many factors that are taken into account. Like other aspects of a book, it holds valuable information about the story kept inside.

Disregarding it is bad advice. Instead, why not try judging a book by its cover? Maybe next time you peruse the shelves of your neighborhood bookstore or scroll through the numerous titles listed online, you can select books purely based on the cover.

You never know, that could tell you everything you need to give that book a chance.

Covers are not the only factor in enhancing your book’s reception. Consider as well the nature of the paper in printed copies, as I discussed in “The Ugliest Book,” about a Mayan codex.

Now, back to the book reviewer.

David Cecil’s Thoughts on His Own Identity as an Inkling

After graduating from Oxford, Cecil briefly taught Rhetoric in London, before returning to Oxford, where he taught English. During his career, he wrote various works, including a number of literary biographies. These include: The Stricken Deer or The Life of Cowper, English Poets, Hardy the Novelist.

David Cecil was an accomplished man, and a true Oxford Inkling. The curious aspect is how, as the son of a marquess (bearing a courtesy title), socializing with a different caste, so to speak, would bond so well with the rest of the Inklings. Fortunately, Cecil briefly explains why he valued the fellowship in this book review.

Usually one of them would read aloud a piece from some book he was writing. . . . The meetings were also occasionally attended by persons who did not share The Inklings’ distinctive point of view but who liked spending an evening in their company.

I myself was one of these; I found such evenings enjoyable and stimulating; and all the more because the spirit of The Inklings was in piquant contrast to those of the Oxford circles in which I spent most of my time.

A final gift to those who treasure Lewis and his companions comes in Cecil’s incisive understanding of their unifying bond.

The qualities . . . that gave The Inklings their distinctive personality were not primarily their opinion; rather it was a feeling for literature, which united, in an unusual way, scholarship and imagination.

Their standard of learning was very high. To study a book in translation or without a proper knowledge of its historic background would have been to them unthinkable; they were academic in the best sense of the word.

But – and this is what made them different from most academics – they also read imaginatively. The great books of the past were to them living in the same way as the work of a contemporary. . . .

Simply they read their books in the spirit in which they were written. And they could communicate their sense of this spirit to their hearers so that, for these also, these great books sprang to fresh, full life.

This was a unique achievement in the Oxford of their time.

It appears the Inklings would be among the last to judge a book, or a person, by their cover.

Free Lecture Series Explores the Inklings

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, Church History, Education, J.R.R. Tolkien, Modern Life, Theological Matters, Writing4 Comments

If you would like to learn more about C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and their fellow Inklings, a free series of five lectures has just been produced. I am in the midst of the first, introductory lecture, and am eager to listen to the entire series.

You can receive links to the series from Hillsdale College by completing a small form at this link.

The subjects addressed in the series include:

  1. “Who Are the Inklings?” by Bradley J. Birzer
  2. “C.S. Lewis’s The Abolition of Man” by Michael Ward
  3. “J.R.R. Tolkien’s Scholarship” by Michael Drout
  4. “Themes of Lewis’s Fiction” by Jason Lepojärvi
  5. “Tolkien and the Christian Imagination” by Holly Ordway

Hillsdale College is an independent Christian institution, founded in 1844. They currently have 1,573 undergraduates, “representing 49 states, D.C., and 13 foreign countries,” complemented by more than one hundred graduate students.

Several years ago, they offered a free online course about C.S. Lewis, which we promoted on Mere Inkling in this post.

That course – along with thirty more – is still available at no cost. (Donations are welcome, of course.) You can learn about all of these courses here.

And, if you’re in the mood for reading a free issue of Christian History on the subject of “Heaven and the Christian Imagination,” look no further than this link. (The issue includes several references to the thought of C.S. Lewis.)

Music, Muses & C.S. Lewis

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, Animals, C.S. Lewis, Classics Worth Revisiting, Good Music, History, Literature, Modern Life, Music, Mythology, Potentially Useful Trivia, Writing4 Comments

Why do so many modern musicians – including some who are commercially successful – appear to suffer from amusia?

Well, I suppose that diagnosis is a matter of opinion, since “amusia” has come to refer to a particular medical disorder related to “the inability to recognize musical tones or to reproduce them.” More on that in a moment. First let’s consider the original meaning of the word.

It begins with the Greek Muses. While “muse” has morphed into anything that inspires a creative soul, it did not begin that way. The Muses began as personifications devoted to nine children of Zeus and Mnemosyne (Memory). During Europe’s revival of Classical themes, they were associated not only with the arts, but with culture and refinement in general.

In Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis records his admiration for one of his early teachers. This man taught him to love poetry, and although he practiced corporal punishment (standard for the era), embodied “perfect courtesy.” On an occasion he was sent to the headmaster, who misperceived that Lewis had acted inappropriately. After dispelling the confusion, this teacher, who treated his students as “gentlemen,” matter-of-factly said “you will have to be whipped if you don’t do better at your Greek Grammar next week, but naturally that has nothing to do with your manners or mine.”

The idea that the tone of conversation between one gentleman and another should be altered by a flogging (any more than by a duel) was ridiculous. His manner was perfect: no familiarity, no hostility, no threadbare humor; mutual respect; decorum.

“Never let us live with amousia” was one of his favorite maxims: amousia, the absence of the Muses. And he knew, as Spenser knew, that courtesy was of the Muses. 

Muses, from this perspective, undergird civilization. But the Muses are fickle. One cannot create their own Muse. Inspiration comes to us of its own volition. It can’t be commanded.

Nearly four years ago, I posed this question in Mere Inkling: “Who is Your Muse?” Various literary figures have written paeans to the muses which inspire their work. In that column I also noted how our animal companions* often exert an influence on our own creativity.

The link between inspirational Muses and music itself is strongly intertwined. Consider, for instance, Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900), who was brilliant, but much to be pitied. He despised God, but he did love music. In “Amousia: Living Without the Muses,” Classicist Stephen Halliwell discusses the importance of music for enjoying a meaningful existence. He begins with a quote from Nietzsche, and points out a Platonic corollary. 

Without music life would be a mistake . . . So, famously, wrote Friedrich Nietzsche in . . . Twilight of the Idols. As always, Nietzsche had deeply personal reasons for the force and pathos of this aphorism; music did indeed help to keep him alive. . . .

[W]e can detect in Nietzsche’s stark utterance, I would like to suggest, a trace and resonance of Greek feeling. We might even wonder whether in formulating his maxim Nietzsche was subconsciously remembering the passage in Plato’s Philebus where Protarchus, asked by Socrates whether music, as one of the ‘impure’ arts, is needed for the mixture of a humanly desirable life, says that he certainly takes it to be necessary – ‘at any rate,’ as he puts it, ‘if our life is really to be a life of some kind.’

Without music, Protarchus . . . seems to take the idea to be practically self-evident, human ‘life’ would hardly be worth the name at all.

Amusia as a Medical Condition

I suggested above that the caterwauling of some musicians suggests they are tone deaf, but in fact there is a genuine medical condition called amusia. It traces its beginning to the Muses we have been speaking about, and suggests their absence.

In “The Genetics of Congenital Amusia (Tone Deafness),” we learn that “congenital amusia . . . is a lifelong impairment of music perception that affects 4% of the population.” What’s more, “the pitch disorder has a hereditary component.”

In amusic families, 39% of first-degree relatives have the same cognitive disorder, whereas only 3% have it in the control families.

As the husband of a gifted music teacher, the father-in-law of another, and the grandfather of a number of extremely talented children, I understand the Greek principle. While I would miss music’s grace if I was stricken with amusia, I know a number of precious people for whom that would be one of the most terrible fates imaginable.

C.S. Lewis and Music

Like most of us, C.S. Lewis enjoyed some forms of music while others left him exasperated. Wagner, bravo. Church hymnody, not so much. A recent article by John MacInnis, a professor of music, goes so far as to claim: “music listening and discussion factored regularly in C.S. Lewis’s relationships, and love for music inspired his creative endeavors and prompted his best thinking.”

I agree with the first part of this, and will attribute the “best thinking” declaration to the hyperbole of one who has devoted his own life to music.

The author of “A Medium for Meeting God” explores in  detail the effect of Wagner’s work, and the sense of Northernness it imprinted on Lewis’ psyche.

In 1934, Lewis, along with his brother Warnie and J.R.R. Tolkien read Wagner’s operas together in German, in anticipation of attending performances of the Ring cycle. MacInnis points out that Lewis enjoyed the music of Sibelius (also “evocative of Northern landscapes) and likened it to Wagner as an expression of natural or earthy music. This he contrasted to Beethoven, which he also enjoyed, and thought of as “noble” and even spiritual.

As for church music, Lewis had mixed feelings. I’ve written about that in the past, in “Good, Bad and Ugly Hymns.” Most of us would agree that music enriches our lives. Our tastes vary, of course, just as they do with literature.

And, speaking of which, just as there are tone deaf individuals who should avoid recording music . . . most of us have encountered writers who suffer from a literary variant of amusia. And, lacking the influence of anything remotely like a muse, would not the world be a more harmonious place if they simply laid down their pens.

* When we got our youngest border collie as a puppy, I named her Calli. Actually, that’s what we call her, but her given name is actually Calliope. I named her after the Muse of epic poetry with the hope she might inspire my writing.

Since she’s our fifth border collie, I should have known better. The very last thing Calli wants me to do is sit at the computer composing documents (no matter how interesting or edifying). “Get out of that chair and get some exercise with me,” she says plaintively with her body, voice, and pleading eyes.

She’s plenty loving, and her insistence on activity may well add years to my life, but if I look to her to help me write more productively, I’m guaranteed disappointment.

CS Lewis | Academic Tam

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Education, History, Humor, Theological Matters, WritingLeave a comment

Deep Thoughts from the Quill of the Other C.S. Lewis

Welcome to another in an occasional series of fictitious quotations from a fabricated contemporary of the great Oxbridge professor, Clive Staples Lewis.

The C.S. Lewis who authored these questionable observations, Clyde Scissors Lewis, possessed a worldview enigmatically different from that of the esteemed Christian author. Despite the fact that their two lives overlapped in a variety of ways, the similarities were superficial.

A brief biography of the lesser Lewis is available at this link.

The Other C.S. Lewis: A Brief Biography

By all means, do not confuse the wisdom of the genuine article with his shadowy counterfeit. Despite any cursory similarities between the two men, this is most definitely not the C.S. Lewis readers have come to know and love.