“Anywhere can be magical if seen with the imagination.”
23 festive Bookers arrived at the home of Bonnie Magee for our annual tribute to all that is good, pure, and special about the holidays. Edna Ferber said, “Christmas isn’t a season, it’s a feeling,” full of joy and reflection…one we honor in our hearts…and strive to keep all year long. Many thanks to Bonnie for hosting and coordinating our yummy fare, to all who contributed, and to Patsy who offered a beautiful blessing in keeping with our celebration.
Books + Friends = Book Club. What sticks out in my mind for the past nineteen years of Bookers is the friendships we have formed through our mutual love of reading. Friends come in all forms…they can rekindle our inner spirit, are able to be silent in moments of despair, they can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing…with friends we face our powerlessness together. You have overwhelmed me with your generosity (way too much I might add but so appreciated!) and I’m so thankful to call you great friends!
We were delighted to welcome Donna Walter back and hope she’ll visit again, and it was wonderful that Kellie Brisse was able to join us while still recovering from her recent surgery. Please keep Melanie Prebis in your healing prayers as she deals with a painful bout of Plantar Fascitis and to those who are battling health issues and/or struggles.
Bookers was treated to a special guest, John Magee, in the persona of C.S. (Jack) Lewis who led us through his personal journey of becoming the prolific author of The Chronicles of Narnia. He certainly didn’t have to learn the Irish brogue before assuming this personality and delivered a flawless, humorous, and endearing accounting. Bookers is lucky to have such a willing participant to our many whims!! Here’s what Mr. Lewis had to say.
Nollaig Shona Dhaoibh
“I don’t suppose that many of you have the Gaelic and so I will translate. It is a traditional Irish greeting meaning Merry Christmas to you all. I am delighted to be here today. My name is Jack Lewis although my birth name, which I detest, is Clive Staples. You might know me as C.S. Lewis, author of fairy tales.
I was born in Belfast Northern Ireland in 1898 and died on November 22nd, 1963, and so I am only here in spirit or as JoDee would say, I am wandering the Elysian Fields of Greek Mythology, my last resting place. But, to our present purpose! You are gathered today to discuss the delicious accounting of my Narnia, written by Patti Callahan who also wrote a lovely tribute to my wife Joy in Becoming Mrs. Lewis.
I had an older brother who we call Warnie, he did not like his birth name either. My father was awkwardly good natured and had a boisterous sense of humor which was in stark contrast to us, his sons, who were somewhat reticent. We immersed ourselves in a game called “Animal Land and India.” It should come as no surprise that I was obsessed with talking animals and Warnie was intrigued by the land of India, so to our mutual satisfaction, we mapped out a place called Animal Land bordering on India. You might assume this was a precursor to my Narnia, but you would not be correct. Those stories that I wrote were yawnable at best. Still, I never gave up the idea of a fantasy land populated by talking animals.
I loathed school life, was terrible in grammar, failed miserably in any athletic endeavor, and was bullied – all these experiences surfaced in my writings, particularly in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, leading to my arduous journey through my faith. My studies were interrupted by a draft notice from the Army and that pesky World War 1. I returned wounded and while I was in the hospital, I notified my father who replied that he was too busy to see me. His place was taken by my best friend’s mother Mrs. Janine Moore. Paddy Moore and I had promised each other that if one of us died in the war the other would look after our parents and so for ten years I became involved and friends with an older lady, Mrs. Moore. There has been much speculation regarding the nature of our relationship, some calling it an Affaire de Coeur as the French would say, others said it was a “motherly” relationship. My brother Warnie described it as self-imposed slavery, as she became a very demanding woman as the years went by. Being a gentleman, I think the less said about this subject the better.
During those years I made a slow return to a belief in Christianity experiencing flashes of “joy” a sort of spiritual longing. I was able to think logically through my faith, but something was missing – an emotional understanding. While I was writing The Chronicles of Narnia in 1952, I met a plain-spoken American woman fifteen years my junior resulting in a long friendship slowly morphing into love and marriage in 1956.– she was my Joy…my passion…my everything even after she died in 1960.
To work through my grief, I wrote in a journal and later published it under a pseudonym, the piece representing one of my first attempts to reconcile my intellectual belief in Christ with the shattering experience of losing my wife, finally able to come to terms with an understanding of faith at an emotional level. I died a heartbroken man three years later, a week before my 65th birthday.
So, there you have it, my life in a nutshell. Many thanks to all of you for being interested in ole’ Jack’s story! I suspect you will have quite a craic when I am gone. that is an Irish colloquial word for a fun discussion. With all this blarney I have worked up a terrible thirst. I am sure this fellow Magee whose hospitality I am enjoying has a bottle hid away somewhere. I will take my exit stage left and leave you all to talk about me.”
Jack
What a treat to have Mr. Lewis pop in from the spiritual ether to share his story with us. Patti Callahan penned a love letter to the magic of stories in her powerful tribute to C.S. Lewis and his Narnia using the voices of all her characters to reveal the truths in his story and dissect the hidden innuendos of family, faith, love, relationships, and the many ways a tale can both break and heal our hearts. Mr. Lewis might regard endings as just beginnings out of order so I’m going to test that theory.
Let me introduce myself, my name is Margaret Louise Devonshire, but most everyone calls me Megs. I’m a nerd but not in a literary way – my heart belongs to numbers and equations; my thoughts focused on solving the greatest mysteries of physics. I was the first woman in our family to go to college and was on scholarship to boot thanks to my understanding of Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity. My blue-eyed blond brother whom I love more than life itself, George, has been dying since he was born sadly his heart giving out in 1950. I remember every minute of his service – the pews filled including brothers C.S. and Warnie Lewis. I stood at the lectern and told of a young boy with wisdom beyond his years, with as much courage as any knight in shining armor, as brave as any explorer risking his life to save a maiden, and as adventurous as any odyssey to the center of the earth. His bedroom had been filled with everything of the broken and whole world, overflowing with mystery – the stories he loved were echoes of the world that waited for him, and he heard, as loud as a new world thundering out of the cosmos, the mighty roar of a lion. George took part of my heart with him when he left us…so let’s look at the ending as the beginning of our time together today.
I’m reading the rest of my husband’s story to my grandson, George, when he insists, I start over so it will last longer – which of course is why I wrote the book to begin with. When I look into his eyes my brother is alive and well in the memories of all who loved him. Padraig and I have been married for thirty years living close to our daughter who inhabits the old Devonshire cottage. We are officially retired, but both continue to write, Padraig authoring twenty books. Every time I go into our library I’m filled with emotion as it would have been my brother’s dream come true – full of leather-bound classics including the signed collection of the Narnia Chronicles. Young curious George wants to hear about the trip to Dunluce and the castle and I tell him about meeting Mr. Lewis. The story I’m reading to him today is the one I wrote titled, Once Upon a Wardrobe, illustrated by my dear brother.
Eight-year-old George spends most days in bed and is captured by C.S. Lewis’s book, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe often propelling him out of bed and into Narnia huddled inside his own wardrobe. George wants to know if I’ve read this book and of course I tell him no – after all it’s a children’s book and I’m convinced that numbers hold the universe together. He’s of the belief the world is held together by stories and is certain the man who wrote this book knows something, but that something is a mystery. He begs me to ask Mr. Lewis a question – Where did Narnia come from? It’s life or death to him to know the answer, so not only do I read the silly kid’s story, but I cave as I often do when it comes to my brother’s requests promising to seek out Mr. Lewis and find the answer to George’s burning question. So, I’m off to the Lewis residence. I could have faced stalking and trespassing penalties if it weren’t for the kindness of his brother, Warnie, who invited me in for tea and to meet Mr. Lewis – Jack – as he liked to be called. I relay my mission and he’s clearly heartbroken with George’s story, but then I blurt out that I know Narnia is not real. He asked how I came to that conclusion to which I responded that I am smart enough to know it was imagined. He said, maybe I’ll be old enough to read fairy tales again someday but was not sure he could answer George’s question instead suggesting giving him some stories to carry with him through his journey. And so, the trips to the Kilns began with stories, insights, questions with no clear answers, and a relationship with a literary giant.
George always insisted our stories begin…Once upon a wardrobe, not very long ago…and not far away. This little lad was born with a weak heart but with a soul bigger and stronger than most. We follow his journey, witness his maturity and insight, and embrace the love he has for family and his Narnia. My full review is attached to this email.
Our discussion:
We talked about what’s in our Narnia – mine including a photo of my Mom and her twin brother. With a nod to the magic of fairy tales we have a Cherry fairy, an angel of caring and one of kindness and a sparkly bracelet all representing those special Bookers watching over us from above…Lois Welch 2015, Jane Freer, 2017, Bernie Crudden, 2020, Janet Farhat, Daryl Daniels, Beverly Dossett, Cherry Fugitt all in 2021…they were caring and kind and the bracelet is a tribute to the light they bestowed on everyone they met. We remembered childhood fantasies of waltzing in Vienna, spending a month alone in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, being in the medical field on staff in an emergency room, pirouetting like a prima ballerina, being blessed with the ability to sing like an angel.
We discussed how well George died – surrounded by everyone who loved him and what a blessing that would be for caregivers to know how much they are needed when dealing with end-of-life moments. We visited the themes and symbols throughout The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and those that made their way into all C.S. Lewis’ stories. Callahan’s story was well received – sad and uplifting at the same time. Maybe George lived longer in pursuit of the answer to Narnia – the quest took him to a fantasy land and a wonderful place to be in before his heart gave out. We talked about friendships that alter lives and how special it would be to be that person who made a difference in someone else’s life. Our chat about the differences between the right-brain and left-brain person fostered lively conversation – one Booker confessing she only reads words – nothing more – everything is black or white – but when listening to our discussions she wonders if she read the same story some of us did. Logic versus imagination or as Megs discovered there is a line that crisscrosses making both feasible. Instead of giving someone a direct answer to a question isn’t it more rewarding for them to figure it out themselves? Some thought the ending was predictable…it was, and it needed to be. Why? Any trick or a miraculous cure for George’s heart condition or another surprise twist would cheapen it. Instead, it closed the loop on all the loose ends, was comforting in the realization that George created a legacy although he didn’t live very long. Well done my friends!
On the business side:
Patsy Dehn announced Bible Study will begin on Thursday, January 5, 2023 at 9:30 a.m. at the home of Ann Marie Briggs. Amos Bible Study book with video, An Invitation to the Good Life by Jennifer Rothschild will be featured. Contact Patsy for more information. 214-478-5135.
2022-2023 Bookers list of books, reviewers, and host homes is attached.
Happy Reading,
JoDee
