The two most common reactions to Doug Wilson are both wrong, but for different reasons. One reaction is for a person to see red, start foaming at the mouth, and make it their life’s ambition to burn this ministry in Idaho to the ground. The other reaction is to treat Wilson as a modern-day, Old Testament styled Prophet. You’ll find the person with this reaction often uproot his life and move to Moscow so as to get closer to the glow coming off of Wilson’s face—to behold it so as to be transformed from one degree of cheekiness to another. I’ve never understood either of these reactions; they are both weird. Wilson is right about plenty, and he is wrong about plenty. This book is a fine example of both. If there is any area I am eager to hear him out on, it is the area of Lewis.
Some of the essays in this collection are exceptional. Wilson’s back-to-back essays on Susan's troubling absence from (and Emeth's troubling presence in) Aslan’s country in The Last Battle are persuasive and delightful (spoiler: Susan made it, or at least, she will before she dies; and Emeth being there is probably wrong, but not as wrong as you might think). His back-to-back reflections on Lewis’s reformed-ish trajectory in his essays, “Undragoned” and “Was C.S. Lewis Reformed?” are also very good. (You can find them in the form of a talk given at Desiring God’s 2013 conference. Also, fun fact, this message shows Doug getting the closest thing to “emotional” you will witness, which looks like him pausing, scratching his beard, and saying, “I was afraid this was going to happen.”)
Also, Wilson’s treatment of all things pertaining to The Abolition of Man and That Hideous Strength are worth the price of the book. Wilson “gets” the concept of “men without chests”—one of Lewis’s most important contributions to this moment in our culture, in my estimation. He’s also incredibly helpful at tracing out the all-important distinction between “outer space” and “the heavens.” On these topics, Wilson is one of the most effective commentators on Lewis, and I commend these reflections with all the enthusiasm I can muster. (Now, before reading one, let me point out that the preceding two paragraphs are deceivingly short. But think of them as extraordinarily dense, heavy paragraphs; my commendation here should be taken as the most important part of this book review. The essays I just described here cannot receive too much hype from me. I’m a fan. Read them. Profit from them. Buy this book so that you can underline and return to the insights found in these essays often.)
There are some portions of this book, though, that I think Wilson gets very wrong. Basically, Wilson suffers a thorough influence from Van Til. And this compels him to follow Van Til in the same erroneous criticisms of inconsistency regarding Lewis’s apologetic methodology. What’s so interesting is that Wilson readily recognizes that his “presuppositional” apologetic tactics were inherited by Lewis. Before he had read a word from Van Til, he was doing apologetics in such a way as to be described as a “Van Tilian” (pg. 52), even though he received that apologetic method from Lewis. It is unfortunate that running a reductio ad absurdum has become synonymous with Van Tilian apologetics, since Van Til didn’t come up with it, and it is therefore not a “presuppositionalism” trick, strictly speaking. But this common association leads Wilson to the unfortunate conclusion that Lewis is somehow an “inconsistent presuppositionalist.” We can cut him some slack for reaching such a conclusion. After all, that faulty assumption that this apologetic argument is uniquely presuppositionalist didn’t originate with Wilson, so he can hardly be blamed for it. So it’s understandable that Wilson would call this argumentation “presuppositionalism,” see Lewis employing it while also employing other arguments that presuppositionalists would not use, and then conclude that Lewis is an “inconsistent presuppositionalist.” It’s understandable, yes, but it is still wrong, and it suffers from the same kind of deficiency as Van Til himself: namely, the tendency to come to a conclusion about figures by obviously second-hand information instead of analysis from primary sources.
To give a (someone) unrelated example of this kind of mistake, at one point, Wilson writes, “Lewis was a Christian Platonist, but he does this in a really admirable way” (pg. 26). The implication by this qualification, “but he does this in a really admirable way,” seems to be that Lewis puts a spin on Christian Platonism. But what Wilson goes on to describe as Lewis’s “really admirable way” of being a Christian Platonist is really just standard, ordinary, run-of-the-mill Christian-Platonism. Of course, Lewis’s vision is a departure from Platonism at crucial, but Christian Platonism has always been a departure form Platonism at precisely those points! Lewis’s embrace of the Christian Platonic tradition is rather ordinary in this way. I’m not sure why Wilson would consider Lewis’s description of Heaven’s “further up and further in” character (the context of this particular reference to Plato) as a special kind of Christian Platonism unless he hasn’t spent a lot of time with Christian Platonists down through the centuries, as they did exactly what Lewis does. Or, as I find more likely, he has spent time with them, but with someone like Van Til in his ear, calling consistencies inconsistencies.
In brief, Lewis was not an inconsistent presuppositionalists. He was consistently classical (and by this, I don’t mean to say that he was part of the school of apologetics that calls itself “classical.” I'm thinking of figures like William Lane Craig, who calls himself a classicist while rejecting and revising significant classical doctrines that Lewis himself defended. Frankly, Craig doesn’t get Lewis on his apologetic-method team, and we should stop letting him claim he does. When I call Lewis consistently classical, I mean to contrast him with both the faux-classicism (which would find itself at odds with Anselm, Aquinas, the Reformers and the Post-Reformation scholastics) on the one hand, and Van Tilian presuppositionalism (which finds itself at odds with everyone) on the other. So Lewis was a true classicist, and therefore (much to the chagrin of Van Til and company) his apologetic method was entirely consistent with the Reformed Tradition.
Even so, I find myself feeling for Wilson what Wilson feels for Chesterton and Lewis: “[Lewis] along with Chesterton, has the capacity to edify you profoundly at the very moment he is saying things to make you wrench at your head in exasperation” (pg. 97). For example, in the most wrong of Wilson’s essays, The Tao of Lewis (which is essentially a Van Tillian rebuke for Lewis’s embrace of natural theology), Wilson writes this conclusion:
Perhaps an allegory may be fashioned from a situation in one of Lewis's Narnia stories—Prince Caspian. Peter, a king of the Narnians, is in a duel with Miraz, a usurper and tyrant. In the course of the fight, Miraz falls over and Peter, a true gentleman, steps back to let him rise.
In a similar way, Lewis watches his opponents fall to the ground, and in a typical English fashion, points out that they have done so. But he is a gentleman, and he is not in a battle to the death with all forms of unbelief—only the aggressive ones.
In contrast to this, the consistent presuppositionalist is not in a gentlemanly duel, with agreed upon common rules. He is in a total war; he is not interested in a negotiated settlement. Like Samuel, he “hews Agog to pieces before the Lord.” (pg. 93)
Ok, it needs to be said that I think Wilson is wrong here. This illustration is the apex of an argument I profoundly disagree with... but that is good. That is very good. That is chuckle out loud, shake your head with a smile and murmur “Dang it, Doug!” good.
It’s good writing, so I’m edified, but it’s still wrong, so I wrench at my head. I pray it’s not patronizing to do so, but on this topic of Wilson’s take on Lewis and Van Til, I would want to borrow Wilson’s words from another context, “I believe that there are many times when we are wrenching at our heads in exasperation over Lewis while the heavenly host is looking down on us, wrenching at their heads... if angels do that. There will be times when we are tempted to write off something in Lewis as a simple contradiction, when we are the ones who have not thought very deeply about what we are saying ... So let us feel free to differ with him, but let’s also take care not to be patronizing" (pg. 98). To this, I offer a hearty amen.