After C.S. Lewis published The Chronicles of Narnia, children from around the world wrote to him. Thousands of them. Letters asking about Aslan. Letters asking if Narnia was real. Letters asking what happened to Susan. Letters asking what he thought about their own stories.
Lewis wrote back.
Not form letters. Real replies. He took their questions seriously — about plot, about faith, about growing up, about animals, about whether imagination was a waste of time. He treated a nine-year-old's question about the White Witch with the same gravity he would give a colleague's philosophical inquiry.
He kept doing it until he could no longer. He died November 22, 1963 — the same day John F. Kennedy was assassinated, and the same day Aldous Huxley died. His death went almost unreported. The world had other news.
But somewhere, children were still reading his books. And somewhere, tucked in drawers and boxes, were letters in his hand — written to people who, decades later, would describe the experience of receiving them as one of the most meaningful moments of their childhoods.
He was a busy man who believed children's questions deserved real answers. That belief, reproduced thousands of times, in his careful handwriting, is still in the world.
Feedback
Your suggestions help me make this book even better. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me.