In the 16 years since I last read this, I've occasionally wondered whether it merited the five stars and favourite status I accorded it in 2010. Re-reading it in 2026 convinces me I was correct. In a world where there's a never-ending spate of books about the Inklings that honestly look unappealingly shallow to me, this is one that's actually worth reading. It's about fiction and literary criticism; it's about medieval cosmology; it's about Christianity and philosophy. It's an academic book, which means it delves deep and references everything pretty comprehensively; but it's also written in beautiful, crystal-clear prose. Refreshingly, above all the book deals not with Lewis the prominent Christian or popular apologist, but with Lewis the academic, Lewis the poet, Lewis the literary critic, Lewis the philosopher, and Lewis the medieval cosmologist. It's a rare appreciation of the unique body of esoteric historical and literary knowledge Lewis brought to his work, particularly THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA.
Ward's thesis in this book is that the Narniad, far from being a hastily-composed grab bag of whatever Lewis wanted to throw into Narnia - Turkish delight, centaurs, Father Christmas! - does in fact express a coherent artistic vision in ways that he considered it important to conceal. That artistic vision was the seven heavens of the medieval imagination. Aslan isn't merely Jesus as a lion; he's the incarnation of each of the seven presiding planetary intelligences (since for the medievals, "the gods were God incognito and everyone was in on the secret") - Jove in THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE, Mars in PRINCE CASPIAN, Sol in THE VOYAGE OF THE DAWN TREADER, and so on. Father Christmas turns up in LWW because he is one of our culture's few remaining symbols of true Joviality. The coherence is there. It is a poetic coherence which flies in the face of much of what passes for sense in the fantasy genre as it is practised in the 21st century: I was furious a year or two back when a producer left the Netflix Narnia productions, complaining that the worldbuilding was too scattered and incoherent and that they wouldn't let him "fix" it. But as Lewis himself wrote:
"A supreme workman...will break without scruple any number of those superficial regularities and orthodoxies which little, unimaginative critics mistake for laws."
I think it was the two chapters on the two goddesses, Luna and Venus, that I found most thought-provoking this time around, partly because this is where Lewis's thoughts on gender and the sexes are explained, and this is an area where my own thinking has developed since 2010. First of all, Luna's book, THE SILVER CHAIR, is explained by Ward as an image of lunar submission and obedience (to Sol, whom Luna reflects). It is clear from the book that Lewis held a form of the view known as "eternal submission of the Son" or ESS, which subtly (and I would suggest, not harmfully - thanks to the obliquity of fairy-tale) inflects his imagery in this book. The chapter on Venus and THE MAGICIAN'S NEPHEW was still more thought-provoking.
Ward explains in his section on Venus in THAT HIDEOUS STRENGTH how in Lewis' thought Venus is most fully herself in submission to Jupiter, so that Jane's femininity and beauty is awakened by her meeting with Ransom, and he quotes: "For beauty was made for others. Her beauty belonged to the Director. It belonged to him so completely that he could even decide not to keep it for himself but to order that it be given to another." This sort of erotic awakening in submission to a priestly figure is of course supposed to be innocent, but it comes across as the priestly male having disposal of and authority over the submitted female and her sexuality, which is pretty offensive. But then, Ward goes on to say: "A likely source for Lewis's idea about beauty belonging to someone so completely that he can 'order it to be given to another' is [notable groomer, serial abuser, adulterer, and all round sex pest] Charles Williams". I cannot say that I am surprised.
Ward discusses how in Williams' Forest of Broceliande image, heaven and earth come together in a sort of Venereal fusion: "In Heaven there is permanence, command, 'the lord'; in Earth there is response, obedience, 'the mother of making'. Complete and balanced humanity arises out of the union of the two, the Empire and Broceliande, Divine Order and formless chaos...the city and the wood." What strikes me about this is how deeply, deeply pagan (with the entrenched patriarchalism of paganism) this is. Pagan cosmology gives us divine, masculine, ordered sky and a mortal, feminine, chaotic earth. Gross matter was feminine, but the higher reality of Platonic Form was masculine. This, of course, turbocharged ancient pagan misogyny. I would argue that the Christian worldview has nothing of this, or should have. God expresses himself in both masculine and feminine imagery; he created humans male and female; order and chaos is irrelevant beside right and wrong
Ward then mentions that Edmund Spenser, like many Renaissance authors, used Venus as an image of God; and Lewis wrestled with this, saying: "There remains the problem of Spenser's Venus...Is it tolerable that, in defiance of all tradition, Form should be embodied in the feminine image and Matter in the masculine, and even called 'the Father of all formes'? It is hardly tolerable, yet I believe we must tolerate it. ... I do not say that this image, if rightly understood, is theologically shocking; it is imaginatively shocking. The intellect can accept it; but on the level of the imagination the masculinity of the Word is almost impregnably entrenched by the sixfold character of Son, Bridegroom, King, Priest, Judge, and Shepherd. Yet all these, apparently, Spenser was prepared to break through. After that, the transference of the sexes between Form and Matter sinks into insignificance."
In Lewis' defence, he does firmly admit that God is sexless and contains both masculine and feminine within himself; that's all good and orthodox. He even says that it's intellectually and theologically accurate to use feminine imagery for God as Spenser does. But it defies his imaginative categories: which I would say is a problem with his imagination and the stuff on which he's fed it. Tolkien, for instance, drew on Norse mythology in which the sun is feminine and the moon masculine to create a myth of a powerful feminine Sun and the wandering masculine Moon that loves and follows her. But I feel that this particular chapter encapsulates the primary hesitation I have about Lewis' use of the medieval cosmology: that it is innately hierarchical and coloured by pagan categories. Again, these flaws in his thinking are vastly mitigated by the way he uses them in the Narniad (as opposed to THS), but meditating on these things helped me identify the ways in which I want to differ (and have differed) from Lewis in my own writing.
With regards to Lewis' views on the sexes and gender, the books influenced by his views fare better than his earlier attempts to deal with the same themes in PERELANDRA and THAT HIDEOUS STRENGTH because they do a far better job of making his thoughts implicit in the fairy-tale, which means that although his errors may inform his fairy-tale imagery, his imagery is rich enough to be interpreted in ways that do not reinforce his errors. Where Lewis runs into trouble is where he allows his prejudices to rise to the surface despite the greater generosity of his underpinning scheme. Take THE HORSE AND HIS BOY, Mercury's book. Since Mercury is the planet of language, and of meeting and separation, Lewis focuses the book's Christology on Christ as Logos and God as Trinity. It is, obviously, for this reason that he chose to code his antagonists in the book as Islamic, a unitarian faith with a radically different understanding of words. Knowing that the reason for the inclusion of an Islamic coded culture was primarily a critique of religion rather than racial prejudice may come as a relief, but this is concealed in the story itself; what is obvious is the racial prejudice and the rather petty digs at eastern (Persianate?) literary techniques which I, for one, have always found delightful.
The chapter on Saturn's influence over THE LAST BATTLE is the critique that makes me wish I could enjoy that book, but it can't. As Ward says (after drawing out the good and beautiful things TLB tries to do with the book's take on God as mystery, hiding when we need him most) in defense of the decision to kill off the entire cast, "death could no more be omitted than war could have been left out of Prince Caspian", which I agree with, but I might add to that "or than sex could be left out of The Magician's Nephew, but that didn't mean we needed Uncle Andrew and Jadis spicy times" - and I do apologise for that mental image. Perhaps it is best for those of us who do not care for TLB to consider the book primarily as a product of its time, a time which Lewis himself considered to be strongly under the influence of Saturn. The book does not appeal to me on an imaginative level because my view of the end times (like St Augustine's) is an optimistic one, beside which the view in TLB has always felt like a slap in the face; but to Lewis, whom Ward quotes several times as expecting the inevitable arrival of "the heat-death of the universe", who had lived through the ugliness and death of two world wars and more than one genocide, the thought of the age of Saturn passing away with the material world to give way to a Platonic Joviality in the hereafter would have been hopeful by comparison with the world in which he saw himself living.
Ward finishes the book with a couple of chapters, one outlining a possible (though not conclusive) motivation for the Narniad in the critiques made of the first edition of his non-fiction book MIRACLES, and a last one discussing some larger questions raised by his thesis. I particularly enjoyed the strong case made for fantasy and fairy-tale as symbolic means of conveying truth: as Lewis himself argued, "Symbols are the natural speech of the soul, a language older and more universal than words."
PLANET NARNIA is not just one of the most exciting literary discoveries of this (or indeed, any) century, making an overwhelmingly persuasive case for the hidden imagery of the Narnia chronicles. It's also a deeply thought-provoking work that delves into the nature and craft of fantasy writing. As such, I would commend it to anyone who, like me, follows in this craft, particularly from a Christian point of view.