Yesterday was C.S. Lewis’ birthday.

Like many English speaking folks (especially those, like myself, raised within Lewis’ own Anglican communion), Lewis was a big part of my reading childhood. I devoured all those Narnia books which, in the bad old days before the internet, took a while to finally collect.

My own favorite (though I gather it is not held in high esteem by critics and Lewis scholars) was The Horse and His Boy.

Later, I delved into his more adult stuff: The Screwtape Letters, The Great Divorce, and Out of the Silent Planet (I never read the rest of the series, rather feeling it to be similar to, but ultimately second best to Madeleine L’Engle’s series beginning with A Wrinkle in Time).

Later, when going through a difficult time, I read a book he wrote after his wife’s death, A Grief Observed.

I should also note his scholarly book, The Allegory of Love. Though I have to admit that I have not read it, it is reckoned be a very important work in developing our understanding of medieval literature and the medieval mind and it is a reminder that C.S. Lewis was not just a children’s writer nor just a Christian polemicist, but an Oxford don and a scholar of no little repute.

His books combine to form a Christian theodicy, an explication of how evil and suffering can exist in a world created by a perfect and loving god.