Product Description

THE MAGICIAN'S BOOK is the story of one reader's long, tumultuous relationship with C.S. Lewis'The Chronicles of Narnia. Enchanted by its fantastic world as a child, prominent critic Laura Miller returns to the series as an adult to uncover the source of these small books' mysterious power by looking at their creator, Clive Staples Lewis. What she discovers is not the familiar, idealized image of the author, but a more interesting and ambiguous truth: Lewis's tragic and troubled childhood, his unconventional love life, and his intense but ultimately doomed friendship with J.R.R. Tolkien.


Finally reclaiming Narnia "for the rest of us," Miller casts the Chronicles as a profoundly literary creation, and the portal to a life-long adventure in books, art, and the imagination.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #93208 in Books
• Published on: 2008-12-03
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Hardcover
• 320 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Jam-packed with critical insights and historical context, this discussion of C.S. Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia from Miller's double perspectives--as the wide-eyed child who first read the books and an agnostic adult who revisits them--is intellectually inspiring but not always cohesive. Finding her distrust of Christianity undermined by her love of Lewis's indisputably Christian-themed world, Salon.com cofounder and staff writer Miller seeks to "recapture [Narnia's] old enchantment." She replaces lost innocence with understanding, visiting Lewis's home in England, reading his letters and books (which she quotes extensively) and interviewing readers and writers. Lengthy musings on Freudian analysis of sadomasochism, J.R.R. Tolkien's Anglo-Saxon nationalism and taxonomies of genre share space with incisive and unapologetic criticism of Lewis's treatment of race, gender and class. The heart of the book is in the first-person passages where Miller recalls longing to both be and befriend Lucy Pevensie and extols Narnia's "shining wonders." Her reluctant reconciliation with Lewis's and Narnia's imperfections never quite manages to be convincing, but anyone who has endured exile from Narnia will recognize and appreciate many aspects of her journey. (Dec. 3)
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From The New Yorker
In this powerful meditation on �the schism between childhood and adult reading,� Miller recounts her tumultuous relationship with the favorite books of her youth, C. S. Lewis�s �Chronicles of Narnia.� Filled from an early age with a distrust of the Catholic faith in which she was raised, Miller didn�t notice the Christian subtext, and when she learned of it, as a teen-ager, she felt �tricked, cheated.� Combining memoir, criticism, and biography, Miller takes Lewis to task for his �betrayals,� including the racial stereotyping and �litism that, she argues, inform the books. Yet her respect for Lewis�s talent remains; scrupulously placing him in his historical context, she crafts a nuanced portrait of the author as a sensitive curmudgeon and comes to the realization that �a perfect story is no more interesting or possible than a perfect human being.�
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From The Washington Post
From The Washington Post's Book World/washingtonpost.com Reviewed By Elizabeth Ward As a small girl growing up in California, Laura Miller did not just long to visit Narnia. So bewitched was she by that imagined realm -- laid out in seven novels back in the 1950s by an eccentric English don -- she was pretty sure that not being able to visit it in person would kill her. Along with its various sequels and prequels, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe brought her the purest sort of bliss. It was the book, she writes in this meandering but beguiling appreciation, "that made a reader out of me." When Miller was in her early teens, she discovered "what is instantly obvious to any adult reader: that the Chronicles of Narnia are filled with Christian symbolism" and that the books that had been the cornerstone of her imaginative life were "really just the doctrines of the Church in disguise." Miller had been raised a Catholic (close enough, for literary purposes, to C.S. Lewis's born-again Anglicanism), but she was left as cold as a Narnia winter by what she describes as the church's "guilt-mongering and tedious rituals." The sense of betrayal by Lewis was so great that for a long time she wanted nothing to do with his now "appallingly transfigured" fairy tale. A lot of readers have felt that way about Narnia -- and not just since Disney's unsubtle blockbuster movie in 2005 left the whole series more or less hijacked by Christian fundamentalists. Lewis's longtime friend J.R.R. Tolkien, the creator of Middle-earth and a self-described "devout Roman Catholic," objected to what he considered the books' heavy-handed Christian parallels, too. But Miller wasn't one to let disenchantment lie. Now a journalist and critic, she re-read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for an assignment a few years back and found that it had not entirely lost its radiance, its uncanny power to stir. "What I dislike about Narnia," she discovered, "no longer eclipses what I love about it." She set out to determine why -- and perhaps to help reclaim it for those misguidedly convinced that it is only a work of Christian apologetics. The result is this hard-to-categorize, absorbing book. Think of it as an extended literary appreciation shot through with illuminating shafts of memoir, scholarship, biography and conversational interviews. Reading it is like sitting down for the afternoon with a fellow Narnia nut who is much more erudite than you are but genial and amusing enough never to intimidate or bore. Well, almost never. But don't worry. Whenever a foray into medieval romance or a disquisition on mythopoeia starts to flag, you can just skip ahead -- and there will be Miller dissing Middle-earth as "the biggest model-railroad setup of all time," or tramping about Northern Ireland and Oxford looking for the real landscapes that inspired Narnia, or sharing Narnia-related confidences from the likes of Philip Pullman and Neil Gaiman. It's that kind of comfortable book. You may find yourself thinking that Miller goes off on too many tangents. In fact, it takes a nimble mind to follow her through these 27 dense, often obliquely titled chapters ("Garlic and Onions," anyone? "Boxcar Children"?). But it finally becomes clear that her branching meditation only mirrors what she sees as the essence of the Narnia books, as well as the quality Tolkien most disliked about them: their joyous, magpie-like borrowing and blending. "The Chronicles are unified," she writes, "not by anything resembling the exhaustive cultural stuff that Tolkien invented for Middle-earth . . . not even, really, by a cogent religious vision, but by readerly desire. Lewis poured into his imaginary world everything that he had adored in the books he read as a child and in the handful of children's books he'd enjoyed as an adult. And there is more, too: treasures collected from Dante, from Spenser, from Malory, from Austen, from old romances and ballads and fairy tales and pagan epics." "The Chronicles," Miller concludes, "are a portal to other worlds, literary worlds." Stick with her. As she methodically explores these rich "worlds," Miller largely succeeds in rescuing the Narnia series from the narrow Christian box into which it has been crammed and reminding us of its elemental power as a story, more resonant than any sermon, intended or otherwise.
Copyright 2008, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

Customer Reviews

Well-Researched, Well-Written, Well Worth It
Laura Miller's The Magician's Book: A Skeptic's Adventures in Narnia is part literary history and critique, part biography, and part memoir. She combines all of these genres wonderfully in the pursuit of one goal: to convince readers that there is more to C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia than their reduction to Christian allegory.

Miller's intentions are not entirely benign; she takes the Christian themes of Narnia very personally, and is frankly put off by them. As a self-described "skeptic," she drifted away from the religion of her youth and settled on an idea of Christianity that leaves little to be desired. And yet, The Chronicles of Narnia remain the most important books of her lifetime. How can she settle the apparent discrepancy between her unbelief and her love of books so seemingly full of belief?

Miller constructs this book in three parts, which seem to mirror the progression of her own relationship with Narnia. In the first part, she articulates all the reasons to love Narnia. It's a magical place, full of talking animals, with the appeal of a secret, private garden. Children especially identify with the world of Narnia because there, children are tested and challenged, and what they do matters. There is a satisfying weight to their thoughts and actions, and in a real world typically condescending to kids, young people find Narnia liberating.

The second section of Miller's book details her discovery of the blatant Christian themes in Narnia. This was a betrayal to her, the idea of an agenda being injected into an otherwise pure reading experience. Now that C.S. Lewis the author is revealed in Narnia, she begins to realize there are other reasons not to blindly trust in the epic. Themes of racism, sexism, and elitism are apparent in the Chronicles, all stemming from Lewis' own flaws as a person. Miller is left feeling alienated and upset, until she gets some advice from author Philip Pullman, himself a detractor of Lewis and his creative worlds. Pullman tells Miller that if she is really interested in making peace with Narnia, she must find "another way in."

The third section of The Magician's Book is a scholarly examination of the influences on Lewis at the time he wrote Narnia. The English landscape surrounding his home and haunts, his interest in Norse mythology and medieval romance, and especially his close relationship with fellow author J.R.R. Tolkein - all of these experiences factored in to the creation of Narnia as much as Lewis' conversion to Christianity. In finding evidence of these other crucial contributions to Narnia's universe, Miller is in essence "reclaiming" (as she puts it) Narnia for the readers who gain little from a Christian examination of the books.

The Magician's Book is so well-written - I was consistently impressed with Miller's thorough research and amazing ability to transition from one idea to the next. Her interviews with other authors are seamlessly woven into the path of her journey here, and I felt the contemporary views really added to my understanding. Miller doesn't require her readers to be fellow experts in the Chronicles books - she does an excellent job summarizing parts of the books under examination. The only prerequisite to enjoying Miller's effort is a love of reading, and an appreciation for the many whys and worlds involved in the creation of any given text.

Finally, While it is clear that Miller is trying to come to a heightened idea of "full circle" (love-hate-love Narnia), I must confess that I got caught up in the centrifugal force of the final turn. The third section was very heavy in research, and I felt it lost some of the more intimate tone of the first two sections. Still, I came away feeling that this book is an important companion to anyone's understanding and appreciation of C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. I will also be enthusiastically recommending this as a book club read, since there is much opportunity for discussion, and I'm eager to pick the brains of other book lovers and new fans of Laura Miller.

A book I've enjoyed disagreeing with
Similar to the tension with which Laura Miller loves the Narnia books but vilifies certain positions the author (C.S. Lewis) takes, I intend to do the same with this review of "The Magician's Book". :-) I liked her book immensely, but at times her unchecked political correctness mistakes good for ill (much like an overactive immune system, damaging as it seeks to serve). The reader will appreciate Miller's nod to objectivity and transparency when laying down her cards in the first chapter: "I began The Magician's Book hoping to explain not only why but how it is still possible for me to love these books, despite the biases and small-mindedness they sometimes display, despite often feeling that I wouldn't have much liked the man who wrote them". And throughout her text, she expresses the wonder with which Lewis could create the literary constructs that produced such longing and desire for otherworldly intimacy within her. While Lewis would claim that such things are written on the heart, and that God uses myths to call us to himself, Miller attempts to develop a purely humanistic rational for these desires.

Miller is at her best when distilling the various types of literary forms (allegory, metaphor, etc.), and in her exploration of Lewis's literary influences (Arthurian legends, Norse mythology, Celtic folktales, the "wildness" of faery lore, etc.). She explores many story archetypes, helps the reader identify them in other (non-Narnian) contexts, and does so in way that doesn't sacrifice any meaning or enjoyment in their reading.

She deconstructs the world views of Lewis's time and of the previous eras that shaped his ideas, but never in a way that cuts Lewis any slack. Ironically, in not turning that same criteria on herself, Miller fails to qualify how her contemporary sensitivities may likewise be responsible for most of her objections to Lewis's life and works. Fortunately, there are only a few chapters where Miller, indulging in a bit of unnecessary ivory tower political correctness, tediously grasps for something in which to find offense. In chapter 6 (and a bit at the end of Chp 12), she succumbs to minor feminist trappings as she wrestles with the fact that there are (indeed) gender differences, and that they play out in Lewis behaved and wrote. But she feels obliged to judge books written 60 years ago by modern progressive ideals, even when Lewis gave so very little to argue with on the gender front. And in Chapters 11 and 13, she bashes Lewis for the "dark-skinned Calormenes" and their "garlic", but falls far short of making her case that Lewis was racist (against Turkish people, of all things). Apparently she doesn't want Lewis speaking ill of imaginary people groups, since that's a small step away from judging real people. Again, the modern mindset (in this case, a reluctance to refer to another country as enemies) conducts a lengthy and tedious hearing on the matter, then gives itself a congratulatory pat on the back.

She obviously has high respect for Pullman and Gainman (quoting them frequently, and giving them a venue to throw moral stones), but is very selective with her representation of them and their works, especially on issues that would demonize Lewis had he done likewise. For example, she takes the time to describe Gainmen's short story, "The Problem of Susan", but fails to mention small details like Aslan eats Susan and Lucy, and has sex with the White Witch (the short story is very graphic). Such double standards makes me skeptical of the remaining balance of the book that I otherwise might consider objective.

Despite the above reservations, Miller has done her homework, and has many intriguing and probably original ideas I would not have come up with on my own. You get the feeling that Narnia is the root structure into which she's grafted much of her literary adult life (writing the book was probably therapy for her), so it's unsurprising that she'd have some fresh insights along the way. For not sharing Lewis's faith, she did a good job describing what Lewis meant by "joy". In fact, the very idea of anti-Christian pro-Narnia literary analysis should be enough to intrigue many a reader. Those that know only one side of a viewpoint know very little of that side, and Miller book stands ready to broaden the discussion for everyone.

A Disappointing Tirade
I picked up Laura Miller's The Magician's Book with high expectations. Fans of Narnia know that Lucy reads a story in Coriakin's book on the Island of the Voices, and this story becomes the standard by which she judges all books. Miller makes the case that each of us book-lovers has a Magician's Book, the one book we read in childhood that impressed itself firmly on our young minds and shaped who we are today. I've blogged about a similar theory, calling it a haunting. Certain books we read as children never leave us.

Savoring this splendid conceit for the title, I settled down to enjoy Miller's collection of essays on Narnia and its creator, C. S. Lewis. Within a few pages I was starting to feel uneasy. There were some decent discussions on what it means to be a "bookish child" and why Lewis' Talking Animals are so popular with young readers (it is because children are "immigrants" from the realm of non-language). But after that, the essays steadily declined in quality. Miller's arrogant tone was hard to enjoy; at one point she claims that the Chronicles taught her nothing as a child; she merely recognized "her better self" in them (page 172*). In the section where Miller is discussing herself as a "bookish child," the air of self-congratulation is very off-putting.

The book's subtitle -- "A Skeptic's Adventures in Narnia" -- is rather misleading. The bulk of the essays in this book start with one idea from the Chronicles as a launching point for a discussion of Lewis rather than of Narnia itself. Miller's offhand assumption that A. N. Wilson is Lewis' "most distinguished biographer" is highly suspect; that claim isn't established in the least (page 39*). If distinguished biography consists of taking everything the subject wrote and contradicting it with the biographer's own specious theories, Wilson may indeed be the best at this game. But his work has been roundly denounced as inaccurate, highly conjectural, and even blatantly untrue on several counts by other scholars and people who knew Lewis.

Miller betrays her own personal scorn for Lewis as a person in several passages, writing in one chapter that "It was via that late-night talk with Tolkien and Hugo Dyson in 1931 that he'd [Lewis had] converted (or at least that is what he chose to believe)" (page 216*, emphasis mine). I believe Lewis would know the circumstances of his own conversion a little better than a biased critic writing over 70 years later. Miller also admits that she is sure she would not like Lewis if she met him. Approaching an author with a preconceived and personal dislike is no way to start biographical work. This authorial prejudice is yet another problematic element in an already questionable book.

Miller's dislike of Lewis seems to stem from her overarching dislike of Christians, whom she insults often. In the introduction, she writes that one area she was just going to "fly over" in this book is Lewis' Christianity (page 14*). If by "fly over" she meant "fly over and drop all the bombs I can," that's an accurate description of her methods. I found her insensitivity and intolerance disturbing. A very mild example of this is on page 126*, where she is writing about a former atheist named Francis S. Collins. She writes that Collins was given Lewis' Mere Christianity by a Methodist minister, taking unfair advantage of Collins who must have been "ripe for the plucking." It's interesting how Miller's invective shows especially when discussing people's conversions to Christianity, as with Lewis' own conversion (see above). A cruder jab is found on pages 166-167*, where Miller writes that sexual sadomasochism and religion are the same thing with different trappings, and that religious people are really just nonsexual sadomasochists looking for that particular relational dynamic.

Another issue is Miller's fawning compliments to Philip Pullman, well-known for his vicious and unbalanced criticism of Lewis and especially the Chronicles. There may or may not be merit in Pullman's basic arguments, but his abusive style makes it difficult for an intelligent reader to take him seriously. Flattering him as a man whose "intelligence, curiosity, and good humor" should be emulated is simply transparent propaganda (page 305*). One wonders if there is some literary back-scratching going on.

I don't think Miller understands that if all the many things she personally finds offensive -- especially Lewis' Christianity -- were expunged from the Chronicles, Narnia would become the insipid fantasyland of so many modern imitators. If modern readers recreate Narnia in their own image, it will cease to be Narnia.

Miller's writing style is of mixed quality; sometimes she puts things very succinctly, but other times the dependent clauses make the prose awkward and difficult to read. I am a professional editor and I found myself trying to fix Miller's sentences in several passages. This carelessness extends to the content as well; for example, she refers to J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings as a "trilogy" on several occasions (pages 98, 235, 238*). A trilogy is a set of three books that are related in theme but that can stand independently of one another as three individual stories. This is obviously not the case with The Lord of the Rings, which is one story originally published in three volumes because of the cost of paper after the war. The work is most emphatically not a trilogy, and it pains me to see a literary critic misapplying such a basic term.

In the end, Miller brings nothing new to the discussion on Lewis and Narnia. She trots out all the usual objections critics make to the Chronicles, and essentially finds new ways to restate them without adding anything original to the literature. Readers searching for scholarly work on Lewis would do better to look to the original sources rather than Miller's lackluster summation. And lay readers who enjoy the Chronicles won't find much insight here. I was looking forward to reviewing this book in response to the publisher's gracious request, but unfortunately it was a great disappointment. Not recommended.

*Please note all quotations are taken from the Advance Reader's Copy of the book.