What if my imagination was stunted, having never really grown? I admit I haven’t considered this idea before. Call me naïve, but I supposed everyone had an active imagination whether it was sluggish or bustling. When I recently read David Beckmann’s account of C.S. Lewis and the London evacuees in Life with the Professor: The True Story Behind the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, I realized I had forgotten much of Lewis’s experiences during World War II when a number of school-age girls stayed with him, his brother Warnie, and their household help at the Kilns. Evacuees stayed for a few months or a few years while attending school nearby. Lewis quickly realized he and his brother could be positive influences on the children. Yet both men were also quick to admit they had had “little experience” with children in general. Lewis soon found he was a father figure, a homework helper, and chore enthusiast. He also was adept at spoiling the girls. Bypassing his housekeeper Mrs. Moore, he slipped snacks and treats to them regularly. But Lewis noted one thing was missing in the girls’ development—an apparent lack of imagination. It was as if the imagination muscle had atrophied. If he told a story on a long walk or at bedtime, the girls hardly knew what to do other than listen. Beckmann is certain Lewis began work on the Narnia Chronicles at this time, as early as 1939. Cultivating the imagination of children was simply one more motivation in his fiction journey. Beckmann writes, By the time the war was over, Lewis had a true, loving appreciation for the young and a compassionate concern that they learn to love the imaginary." Not all of us as children could craft the Boxen stories as Jack and Warnie did nor as the Brontë siblings did with the kingdoms of Angria, Gondal, and Glass Town. Maybe some would say our imaginations are lesser in comparison to these literary greats. Maybe so, but I'm not discouraged. Our imaginations are not extinct.
Beckmann’s short and relatable account quickened a train of thoughts for me. I wondered what role war and separation from family played in stifling the imagination of those girls. What about now? What other stressors inhibit creativity in the young? What about the old and all of us in between? Is it possible to kill the imagination entirely? Can we stir our own imagination? Join me in my ponderings this January. Share a comment or two below.
Leslie
1/19/2021 10:44:33 am
Once again you do not disappoint. What an intriguing post. Thank you. I love how you think and I'm thankful I found this website.
Christine Norvell
1/19/2021 10:54:27 am
Thank you for your kind words, Leslie! This is the third time in recent weeks Latta's book has been mentioned to me. I am adding it to my To Be Read pile!
Annette
1/19/2021 12:41:58 pm
This brings to surface my own journey of separation from my father who was deployed to Vietnam when I was an infant. Thankfully he returned safely. Yet war lingered for decades. Imagination has felt on lockdown for me even though I’m told to be highly creative. Looking forward to the passages you explore and all that’s revealed.
Christine Norvell
1/19/2021 12:49:40 pm
Fascinating. So many have described the pandemic as a war too. I wonder now about the correlation to how "war" of any kind stifles the imagination. 1/20/2021 05:59:15 pm
Brilliant post, Christine. I seem to recall, though I cannot remember in which work, Lewis confessed he didn't have an affinity for children and considered it a deficiency in his character. This experience of taking them in during the war seems to be a work of sanctification in his life, the growth of which produced great fruit. Thanks for sharing.
Christine Norvell
1/20/2021 06:42:10 pm
Thanks for reading, Scott! Sanctification indeed. Such a unique and timely opportunity for Lewis. Comments are closed.
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