That book really does stand the test of time. I re-read it a few years ago and actually cried when Reepacheep sailed away. Also, Lewis could pack a LOT into a small book. If you look at how much ground he seems to cover effortlessly on a single page, it's kind of amazing. However, there's no denying that British (*cough* I mean, Narnian) smugness makes it more shallow than it needed to be, even for the length. You definitely get the sense that one Narnian is worth a hundred unwashed foreigners.
Mostly, though, I wasn't less enchanted with Lewis at 28 than I was at 8. Tolkien, on the other hand...not so much. Hughes is re-reading the Lord of the Rings and snickering under his breath. The other day he said to me something like, "You know how we criticized the movie for having all those homoerotic overtones between Sam / Froto/ Gullum and the whole jealousy triangle? And we said that wasn't in the book? Well, we were kids when we read the book. It's there. And how." It's that kind of homoeroticism that feels creepy and icky because the story refuses to admit its presence. It starts to feel like the author's id speaking over his own voice. At least that was my interpretation.
It's funny to re-read the books I loved as a kid, especially to read them to Alice. Seeing their weaknesses (and the weaknesses of their authors coming through) doesn't ruin them for me...usually. It certainly doesn't ruin Narnia, but it does give the stories another layer for me to wrestle with.
Mostly, though, I wasn't less enchanted with Lewis at 28 than I was at 8. Tolkien, on the other hand...not so much. Hughes is re-reading the Lord of the Rings and snickering under his breath. The other day he said to me something like, "You know how we criticized the movie for having all those homoerotic overtones between Sam / Froto/ Gullum and the whole jealousy triangle? And we said that wasn't in the book? Well, we were kids when we read the book. It's there. And how." It's that kind of homoeroticism that feels creepy and icky because the story refuses to admit its presence. It starts to feel like the author's id speaking over his own voice. At least that was my interpretation.
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