Missing Lucy, but enjoying Jill in "THE SILVER CHAIR" by C.S. Lewis

 

Wow...  "The Silver Chair".  This was a different read than the first three books.  First difference... No Lucy.  I had grown attached to Lucy.  But she grew up and that made room for Jill.  

It is another journey.  I like journeys and unlike the first three books, I didn't have the movies to give me a sense of ease when the kids encountered challenges along the way.  I had not idea how it would end or how they would find their way home again, and even when Aslan would show his furry face.  

This book had less of Aslan's physical appearance and more of the children's faith in Aslan.  I wonder if that is on purpose.  Is C.S. Lewis guiding readers into the reality of a world where the lion isn't there to hug.  That lion becomes more of a belief to hold on to.  Especially when things get dark and they are enticed to believe that Aslan isn't real.  

I think I still like Aslan.  He doesn't come across as a beast to be messed with.  He can be cuddly, but he has his moments.  

* * * 

"Are you not thirsty?" said the Lion.

"I'm dying of thirst," said Jill.

"Then drink," said the Lion.

"May I—could I—would you mind going away while I do?" said Jill.

The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realised that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.

The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.

"Will you promise not to—do anything to me, if I do come?" said Jill.

"I make no promise," said the Lion.

Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.

"Do you eat girls?" she said.

"I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms," said the Lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.

"I daren't come and drink," said Jill.

"Then you will die of thirst," said the Lion.

"Oh dear!" said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I suppose I must go and look for another stream then."

"There is no other stream," said the Lion.

It never occurred to Jill to disbelieve the Lion—no one who had seen his stern face could do that—and her mind suddenly made itself up. It was the worst thing she had ever had to do, but she went forward to the stream, knelt down, and began scooping up water in her hand. It was the coldest, most refreshing water she had ever tasted. You didn't need to drink much of it, for it quenched your thirst at once. Before she tasted it she had been intending to make a dash away from the Lion the moment she had finished. Now, she realised that this would be on the whole the most dangerous thing of all. She got up and stood there with her lips still wet from drinking.

* * * 

"We've got to start by finding a ruined city of giants," said Jill. "Aslan said so."

"Got to start by finding it, have we?" answered Puddleglum. "Not allowed to start by looking for it, I suppose?"

* * * 

Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia.

* * * 

Jill held her tongue. (If you don't want other people to know how frightened you are, this is always a wise thing to do; it's your voice that gives you away.)

* * * 

Then they saw that they were once more on the Mountain of Aslan, high up above and beyond the end of that world in which Narnia lies. But the strange thing was that the funeral music for King Caspian still went on, though no one could tell where it came from. They were walking beside the stream and the Lion went before them: and he became so beautiful, and the music so despairing, that Jill did not know which of them it was that filled her eyes with tears.

Then Aslan stopped, and the children looked into the stream. And there, on the golden gravel of the bed of the stream, lay King Caspian, dead, with the water flowing over him like liquid glass. His long white beard swayed in it like water-weed. And all three stood and wept. Even the Lion wept: great Lion-tears, each tear more precious than the Earth would be if it was a single solid diamond.

* * * 

A great hope rose in the children's hearts. But Aslan shook his shaggy head. "No, my dears," he said. "When you meet me here again, you will have come to stay. But not now. You must go back to your own world for a while."

"Sir," said Caspian, "I've always wanted to have just one glimpse of their world. Is that wrong?"

"You cannot want wrong things any more, now that you have died, my son," said Aslan. "And you shall see their world—for five minutes of their time. It will take no longer for you to set things right there."

* * * 

Here is the first book where Aslan sheds tears because someone had died...  almost like Jesus does at the tomb of Lazarus.  And why not?  Why does the ability to change the course of events have to remove the compassion and heart of the moment.  

I like the books better than the movies.  I am less traumatized by reading the story than by watching Hollywood's visual reenactment. 

Well... on to the next one... "The Horse and His Boy"