The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

I have read many books that have made a lasting impression with their magical words and worlds. One of the earliest was The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis.

This book, and the whole Narnia series, once I discovered there was more of this magic, is one of those books I return to again and again. I love and enjoy the Narnia books as much now as I did when I first read them far longer ago than I care to admit.

My first encounter with Narnia was through the old animated film version of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. When I was a kid, it was one of the Christmas regulars on TV. I cannot recall how I first discovered it was also a book. Perhaps I found it accidentally on one of my weekly visits to the local library. Perhaps someone told me about it. Either way, I was thrilled to find out this magical story existed in book form.

Each time I read the book I fell in love with the magic again. For me, it was like opening the door and stepping into a different world myself. The idea of another dimension hiding behind a mundane door filled with magic was both scary and fascinating.

It was also both familiar and strange. Familiar, because my childhood winters in Finland were long, cold, and snow-filled. Strange, because of the magic, the talking animals, and the endless winter.

Although I loved the winter and the snow, I couldn't imagine never seeing spring or summer again. The thought of never seeing the green of fresh grass or the blue of the lakes on a sunny summer's day filled me with sadness and compassion for my imaginary friends in Narnia.

But what was almost worse was the idea of never having Christmas again. No more Santa and no more presents.

That made my heart ache for all the beings living in Narnia, like Mr Tumnus and the beaver family. To live your life with everything that brought you joy taken away from you.

I didn't realise it at the time, but thinking back, reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe made me grateful. It made me grateful for all the things I had and could do. I lived in a country where spring, summer, and Santa came every year. A country free of tyranny.

Yet, I knew how different life could have been had Finland been conquered during the Second World War like so many of its neighbours. I grew up in the days when the Cold War was still present, not history.

I knew how my grandads had fought the Russians and how many of my dad's uncles never made it home. Some had died fighting, others disappeared without a trace. I knew of the hopes that they too had died. Better that than ending up in a Soviet prison camp.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was also my first, albeit fictional, experience of just how traitorous people can be. How jealousy and greed can lead us to make horrendous decisions.

Each time I read the book, I hoped Edmund would choose differently this time. Each time, I was equally disappointed when he didn't.

As much as I was disappointed by Edmund, it also astonished me how forgiving the others were. It made me wonder whether I could forgive someone who lied and betrayed me.

I cried when Aslan had to pay for Edmund's actions with his life. I rejoiced when he came back to life and defeated the evil witch. It made me believe that good will always triumph over evil. A belief that has become much harder to hold on to as years have gone by.

Although I may no longer believe that good will always win or hope that Edmund will one time choose differently, the book has lost none of its magic.

I still love to return to Narnia.