While Aslan is primarily a Christ-figure in the first book, his role in Voyage appears much more like that of the Holy Spirit: 

• He convicts and warns (Lucy with the book, Caspian at Deathwater)
• He comforts and guides (Dark island)
• He is invisibly present (in the Magician’s house)
• He regenerates (Eustace being undragonified)
• Unlike the previous two books, most of the time Aslan appears indirectly. 

This is a book about sanctification, the journey toward Aslan's country, and each character represents us. In so many ways, we are Eustace – unable to shed our sinful nature until the painful grace of God tears it off us, washes us clean, and clothes us anew (at which point we “begin to be” different). We are like Edmund, saved, known by God, and able to counsel others. In other ways, we are the Dufflepuds, clinging to our own way, even when God’s way is so much better. We are like Lucy, wanting to be beautiful, wanting to know what others think of us. We are like Caspian, wanting even something good at the expense of what we are called to do. We too pass through multiple dark islands in our lives, when the things we most fear actually happen and we are plunged in darkness, where we call out to God and receive comfort and guidance. 

And when we reach the end of this journey, we too will cross the River (for He is the great Bridge Builder) and will be met by a Lamb...or is He a Lion? 

This struck me as an apt analogy for the study of literature. Today I asked my brand-new junior high Intro to Lit students why we should bother to study literature - why not just read and enjoy a book and let that be that? They gave some fantastic answers, one of which was that we study literature to "see how it works" and be able to understand and appreciate other books even more.

We talked about how reading the book through for entertainment is like using Google Chrome, but learning about antagonists, protagonists, characterization, climax, conflict, connotation, dialogue, figurative language, flashbacks, foreshadowing, genre, plot, point of view, resolution, setting, style, symbol, theme, is like opening the hood to another dimension. You learn how to recognize the skill of an author and see how they are using various elements to produce a reaction in you. The reading experience becomes richer and fuller - you're getting more out of the book. 

Today we were discussing The Westing Game, a mind-bending puzzle-type mystery. The character who read the clues properly and deduced the answer was nicknamed Turtle. I told my students that as they read they are detectives looking "under the hood," deciphering clues, putting together circumstances, statements, and actions to get to the bottom of why characters are the way they are and why they do what they do. I said I wanted them to be Turtles. They laughed at that (some protesting the nickname). But it inspired one student to send me the following image tonight: Behold our Mascot!

Collectively, 

•  They read 46 authors 
• They read 8,283 pages of prose
• They read 159 poems
• They wrote 165 papers

 My C.S. Lewis class collected 640 quotes and journaled 110 pages in one semester. 

Of course this little collection of numbers doesn't actually communicate much about any individual student's year, since most of them took only one class! Furthermore, 200 pages of Dickens probably contains double the words of 200 pages of Lewis, so the number of pages is pretty irrelevant. Still, CTT students got through a lot last year, and I'm proud of what they accomplished!

(Oh, and this means that last school year I personally read 46 authors, 8,283 pages of prose, 159 poems...and graded 165 papers.  Whew. :)

The results were a great change from the norm. The musicians in class set Lewis poems to music and wrote/performed original songs inspired by The Weight of Glory, The Screwtape Letters, and Till We Have Faces. We even got an original C.S. Lewis rap. One artist drew a beautiful and detailed map and timeline of Narnia, while another produced a series of digital art pieces representing most of our reading list. One student made a music video to show how the worldviews that Lewis critiques in That Hideous Strength are still alive and well in our popular culture. We had a short story based on the Narnia Chronicles, and the transcript of a trial set in a dystopian science fiction future where a noted Christian apologist (based on Lewis) has his ideas put on trial. 

The variety and creativity of these projects was a delight. In so many ways, Lewis's writings are full of ideas that should go beyond our academic lives and infuse our daily walk as Christians. My goal was to have students connect those ideas to other parts of their lives, and I think they did a great job doing so. Below is just one example from a collection of great projects; a piece on The Screwtape Letters by Elise (click for larger): 

Jacobs asks a helpful question--can we say that some books are better than others, and some are simply bad for you to read? In our relativistic culture, the answer is almost always "no." Even among people who are willing to make quality distinctions, the argument is often that even though the kids may be reading low-quality books, "at least they're reading." I do not buy this argument. I am about as staunch a supporter of reading as you could find, but I think we make a big mistake if we place the act of reading above all considerations of content and quality. In our screen-dominated culture, the temptation is to worry when we see kids glued to the TV and rejoice when we see them sitting down with a book. But as much as I value it, I cannot say that reading in and of itself is a supreme good. If a book contains neither truth, beauty, nor goodness, the time you spent reading it would have been better spent elsewhere. Even watching, dare I say it, a movie. (If that movie contains a modicum of truth, beauty, and goodness, of course.)

This is not to say I believe children should only be exposed to rainbows and roses. As I've written elsewhere (here and here), depressing or even "dark" literature has an important place in portraying our fallen world as it is--in need of a savior. Literature cannot be redemptive if it doesn't portray the fall; an unfallen world has no need for redemption. "Dark" literature can teach us a lot about the depths of the human heart, and about what it takes to fight darkness. (C.S. Lewis has a great discussion of this in his essay "On Three Ways of Writing For Children" when he argues against the idea that children's literature should contain nothing frightening.) But I think we can acknowledge that this type of darkness can be portrayed in a helpful way or an unhelpful, even dangerous, way. Wisdom should direct our reading choices.

Even if the issue isn't one of quality, there is simply the question of age-appropriateness. This is particularly tricky with children who are prolific readers (as I was) and likely to read anything they can get their hands on, whether it is suitable for their age or not.

Each family will take a slightly different approach on this "wisdom issue" of what your kids should read and when. But I think a good rule of thumb is this: Be involved. Be wise. Talk to your kids about what they read.  

 Many thanks to my students and their families for a wonderful 2010-11 school year! My students ranged in age from 13 to 18, and lived from California to Rhode Island to Italy. Each class had its own unique flavor. American Lit challenged and questioned and picked sides. (Team Hawthorne versus Team Poe, anyone?)  British Lit was lively, intense, creative, and full of class spirit. My C.S. Lewis students spent a whole semester thoughtfully applying Lewis's writing their own lives and walks with Christ--it was inspiring to watch. 

One of my goals as a teacher is to teach students to appreciate literature even if it isn't to their personal taste--several of my students told me they had learned that very thing. One said, "Miss Mattson taught me to love literature." Right there--students like that make this even more of my dream job than it was already!

I'm thankful for a wonderful year, and already looking ahead to the fall with great anticipation.  

This first section of Far From the Madding Crowd also provides a perfect platform on which to practice the "three trees" method of character analysis, adapted from CCEF material. In Luke 6, Jesus uses a tree as an analogy for the relationship between our circumstances, our behavior, and our heart motivations. The same "heat" of circumstance may be shining on two trees, but one produces good fruit because of its good roots, and another produces bad fruit because of its bad roots. 

Our tendancy is always to analyze fruit and strive to get better behavior out of people, instead of dealing with the root motivations that produce behavior. Literature helps dramatize the distinction between root and fruit, and by learning how to see it in a fictional situation we can more easily apply it to real-life situations. 

In the last scene of our week's reading, Bathsheba's shepherd, Gabriel Oak, confronts her about her foolish and irresponsible behavior. She is outraged that he would dare criticize her, and immediately fires him.

The “heat” in this situation is Gabriel’s criticism, and the fruit she produces is definitely bitter. Why does she lash out at him? The easy answer is that she’s angry and her pride has been hurt. But such an answer is still only dealing in symptoms; it’s at the “fruit” level instead of the “root” level. Together our class peeled back the layers to find out the source of her anger: her knowledge that he is right. At the root Bathsheba is burdened by guilt for which she cannot atone. Now we see how we could truly counsel her. If the root problem isn’t anger, it won’t be helpful to give her a lecture on anger management. If her heart is poisoned by guilt, she needs to hear the good news of one who died to bear the guilt of sinners! The only thing that can turn a bitter bush into a thriving fruit tree is the living water flowing from a third tree - the Cross.

During the last 15 minutes of class everyone logged out and logged back in with a pseudonym chosen from the books we have read this year. Communicating via the chat box, the students tried to be "in character" while we all tried to guess their real identities. I wish I could describe how uproariously funny our time was. My students creatively came in as both major and minor characters. Our motley crew consisted of characters from The Moonstone, including Mr. Betteredge, who kept referring to Robinson Crusoe, the Head Indian, who offered to tell our fortune for half-price, and Miss Clack, who was handing out tracts and getting upset that we were heathenishly lying about our identities! Mrs. Hale from North and South also made an appearance, although she seemed rather sickly. And there was a gaggle from Jane Eyre, including Jane, Mr. Brocklehurst, who was quick to make proclamations about Hell, and even Uncle John Eyre.

One particularly funny moment revolved around Grace Poole, who turned in a red herring performance just as she did in Jane Eyre! We guessed early on that she was Student A, so the girl who was actually playing her, Student B, started impersonating Student A, while still in the character of Grace Poole. Student B had us convinced that she was Student A.

When it came time for "The Reveal" each student spoke over audio, some disguising their voices, and others using funny accents. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time.

Literature has a lot to teach us...but boy, it sure is FUN to play around with, too! :)

Language is powerful - no matter how often a postmodern deconstructionist wants to tell us it has no meaning. No matter how often someone chants "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." The truth is that words do mean something, and they can indeed hurt. This new version tries to make Twain's language less hurtful. The problem is that at the same time, it makes it less meaningful. 

I can understand why someone would prefer to read a nice clean, sanitized version of Huck Finn and avoid the awful implications of the oft-repeated n-word. Here's the question: is a more comfortable reading experience a better one? From my perspective, the casual and ubiquitous use of the word "nigger" tells us a whole lot more about the truth of American slavery than the sterile word "slave" does. Its very offensiveness expresses the moral repugnance of an institution built on racial superiority. It makes you shudder because it should make you shudder. If we are to receive moral benefit from our reading, we cannot avoid the hard truths. We cannot simply decide we don't want to be dismayed when it is our moral obligation to be dismayed. 

Of course, it takes maturity to understand the implications of using such language. I would never recommend Huck Finn as a children's book just because its main character is a child. (That is a mistake made frequently in literary classification!) But I also think we are robbing our older students of vital intellectual, emotional, and spiritual development by feeding them a sanitized vision of the past that doesn't require them to confront the horrible reality. In fact, I think meeting the n-word in the pages of Huck Finn is far more likely to help develop a righteous disgust of racism than listening to it repeated 46 times in the latest hip-hop music track.