"It is usual to speak in a playfully apologetic tone about one's adult enjoyment of what are called 'children's books'. I think the convention is a silly one. No book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally (and often far more) worth reading at the age of fifty - except, of course, books of information."
Of This and Other Worlds is a small collection of essays written by C. S. Lewis in regards to facets of writing, reading, the art of story, critique, fantasy, science fiction, myth, and literature as a whole. It also includes several essays directed at or in response to certain individual's works or critiques. As is usual for Lewis, his wit and logical examination of topics is applied here, not to theological matters, though one can see the foundations from which he approaches varying matters and hear the echo of his religious works, but to matters of art.
The proper statement is that some men like bad art: but that good art produces a response for which ‘liking’ is the wrong word. And this other response has, perhaps, never been produced in anyone by bad art.
Many of these essays were refreshing; refreshing in the sense that they inspired me to re-examine my own viewpoint on the fantasy genre as a whole, restoring to myself a certain enjoyment and fascination of The Hobbit for example, which has not been a consideration of mine for some time. Lewis' statement that a book we had a particular fondness for at ten can and should still do so when we are fifty. Not because we are lowering our standards and allowing juvenile delights to enter our hearts, but because those delights have never left us, and the genuine application of what Lewis calls the 'inevitable' is equally true at ten as it is when we are grown. The themes of life and death, love and loss, courage and fear, are themes which are not only applicable in fairy tales, far from it, but are incurred and contemplated within our personal and professional schedules.
To limit such grand aspects of life to mere fairy tales is to do a disservice to such stories, to those who enjoy them, the virtues represented, and to our spirit which is itself an immediate and an 'inevitable' which longs for that same virtue. It's not entirely distant from stating that virtue, as represented by heroes of story and legend, is not the same virtue we find when we overcome an evil in our own world; courage is courage, whether required to fight a great dragon, or to stand against racism, and when we read of it in the stories of our youth we are inspired to live as our heroes do. If we dismiss that in exchange for the dull and serious pursuit of 'adult entertainments' (those upon which a child is not sophisticated enough to understand rather than those defined by perversions) we can see that the virtues of courage, bravery, sacrifice, and heroism are things relegated to the nursery rather than to be held as pursuits in adult life. Fairy tales, fantasy, science fiction, and myth, then, are a conduit for experiencing the aspects of life that are already and ever present, allowing us to examine them as they really are - the dragons and demons of our daily life and the things we must find courage to conquer.
"For [Myth] deals with the permanent and the inevitable, whereas an hour's shelling, or perhaps a ten-mile walk, or even a dose of salts, might annihilate many of the problems in which the characters of a refined and subtle novel are entangled.
I think that Lewis may have single-handedly inspired me to reconsider the fantasy genre, at least those that break the traditional mold of stereotypical monomyth, with several of these works. In regards to his friend Tolkien's work, The Lord of the Rings, which he praises, he states:
The value of the myth is that it takes all the things we know and restores to them the rich significance which has been hidden by 'the veil of familiarity'. the child enjoys his cold meat (otherwise dull to him) by pretending it is buffalo, just killed with his own bow and arrow. And the child is wise. The real meat comes back to him more savoury for having been dipped in a story; you might say that only then is it the real meat. If you are tired of the real landscape, look at it in a mirror. By putting bread, gold, horse, apple, or the very roads into a myth, we do not retreat from reality: we rediscover it. As long as the story lingers in our mind, the real things are more themselves. [The Lord of the Rings] applies the treatment not only to bread or apple but to good and evil, to our endless perils, our anguish, and our joys. By dipping them in myth we see them more clearly. I do not think [Tolkien] could have done it any other way.
The phrase 'dipped in story' has an almost self-evident exuberance that manifests its own energy, just as what Lewis is suggesting happens when we read fantasy and then examine the pillars of our lives through the lens of the fantastic. His treatise on fantasy and his reasoning for loving it so was enough to convince me to hasten a reading of The Worm Ouroboros and one of The Lord of the Rings this year; I'll add them to my list.
Of This and Other Worlds is a very welcome series of discourses that offer the Lewis reader a view on matters not necessarily Christian-centric. Recommended for readers of Lewis' other works, those who appreciate the fantasy genre and wish to have many of its virtues articulated in concise fashion, or those interested in literary criticism.