sartresue wrote:
He died the same day as JFK was assassinated.
(And the day before the first
Doctor Who episode aired. I always wonder, given the stable in
The Last Battle, of which Lucy notes that its inside is bigger than its outside, what he'd have made of the Tardis.)
I'm in two minds. I love his fiction, and I think he was a profoundly gifted imaginative writer. My absolute favorite part of anything he did is the Great Song near the end of
Perelandra. Ouinon, I also love the Puddleglum episode you describe - in fact, I think he's at his closest to the Divine when he's most strongly affirming the power of the imagination.
I'm also rather fond of an eerie short story of his called 'The Shoddy Lands' in which the narrator unexpectedly finds himself within a young woman's psyche, seeing the world through her eyes. (It's been criticized for showing a kind of sexual disgust of women, but I think what it's really showing is a disgust of a certain superficial type of person. People have often complained about his attitude to women, as they have about Tolkien's; I think it's down to that very male university world that they both moved in.)
I've read a number of his apologetics, and I find him both fascinating and frustrating in places. He was brilliant at arguing his point, but his own conversion, to go by his account, obviously came from a place deeper than the intellect, and I find sometimes he appears to be trying to argue logically for things which can only ever be directly
experienced.
_________________
"Grunge? Isn't that some gross shade of greenish orange?"