I’ve left as much of the context in as is reasonable, hoping that the voyeuristic instincts in each of us will draw us to engage in what I think is a unique book in our 20 th century canon. Meanwhile, though, I have decided to quote lengthy passages that strike me in content or beauty in order to whet the appetite for those who have not yet read A Grief Observed. Of my own personal responses to the book. Lewis’ “sudden deprivation brought about a brief loss of faith” (6)-I’m not sure she’s found quite the right words for it-and I’ve already given one
I will deal elsewhere with the question that Madeleine L’Engle raises by saying in the foreword that C.S.
Yet, in the midst of the physiological shock of his grief Lewis has penned some of his most honest questions and some of his most beautiful images. If engaged empathetically, this thin book is painful. The Socratic questioning, however, is turned inward on his own torment. Though some kind folk sent Lewis his own book as a way of comforting him-remember, it was published pseudonymously-the voice is characteristically his. Once again I was struck by the raw nature of the journals-Gresham calls it “stark honesty and unadorned simplicity” (12). So without any qualms at all I picked up this unique set of reflections. If I wasn’t a highly voyeuristic person then, I am now. Who was I to peek into his inner life in such a detached way as reading a library reprint on a Friday afternoon? It felt voyeuristic to read it-a feeling that was confirmed for me when I discovered that it was published pseudonymously under the everyman designation, N.W. It was unprotected and unedited and unrestrained. I discovered it really was Lewis’ journal I was reading. I’m not certain I even turned past the first page.
So, as a young adult, I picked up A Grief Observed. I especially wanted to find out how Lewis processed the death of this woman who miraculously disturbed the “the placid surface of his existence”-as his stepson, Douglas Gresham put it in the introduction (14)-only to be snatched away as love deepened. As engaging and intriguing as Hopkins was-I still think of a Hopkinsian Lewis when I imagine him walking in fields or lecturing to crowds-I just wasn’t sure Hollywood captured him well. My instinctive distrust of Hollywood’s ability to capture complex religious characters made me wonder how Lewis’ faith perspective was twisted or strained. I had recently seen Shadowlands with Anthony Hopkins and Debra Winger, and I was curious about Lewis’ own version of the events. Lewis’ A Grief Observed for the first time.
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