CS Lewis' places that unlocked his best

And ours. Deconstructing where CS Lewis turned a regular manuscript. Into Narnia.

Do you think places can really unlock our best?

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Hi, everyone-

I’ve always believed places impact us. But I didn’t exactly know just how—or how much.

CS Lewis schooled me on this.

He is clearly a great thinker. But so are many other thinkers. I can’t tell you how many smart people I’ve met. Not just at Princeton. Which, by the way, often made me feel like maybe someone made a mistake letting me in.

But intellect and training (or mistakes of them) aside:

How do places impact our thinking?

I mean: Beyond just cozy-cafe type feel-good inspiration. For CS Lewis, there are some obvious reasons that made Chronicles of Narnia, well, that good.

One is the daily buttressing of Oxford University’s rigorous scholarly environment.

Another is the daily influencing of like-minded colleagues, like JRR Tolkien, that both corroborate and contend with his mind. Always good to be supported. Even better to also be elevated—by challenge.

Then there are the times he spent in the idyllic northern Ireland landscape of Ulster. A place that made me believe in the times when earth really ruled. Like a stern yet caring allfather.

The place of significance for CS Lewis’ bestseller, however, is the town of Narni in Italy.

“When Walter Hooper asked [CS Lewis] where he found the word ‘Narnia’, Lewis showed him Murray’s Small Classical Atlas, ed. GB Grundy (1904) … On plate 8 of the Atlas is a map of ancient Italy. Lewis had underscored the name of a little town called Narnia, simply because he liked the sound of it.”

-Roger Green, Oxford biographer.

Narnni, Italy is about halfway between Rome and Assisi. Roman roads commonly were well paved with cobble stones in ancient times. To the right and left of these roads, you’d often see sculptures and tombs of the deceased. Few days worth of it. Until you reach Narni, which sits on a hill above a river that cuts a gorge. Like a sword would fresh flesh. [Data: InterVarsity Press]

Remember those times you sit by the river?

We could spend forever there.

Narni, Italy did. It does, actually.

The Nar (or Nera) river has long accompanied the ancient town of Narni—then Narnia. Brown trout, pike, and sea trout have been dancing in that river since over 1,000 BC. Long did it also feed the Osco-Umbrian people—ancestors of today’s handsomely sun-basked Tuscans. When the Romans occupied the town in the 4th century BC, Narnia became Narni.

Look at all those vegetation, guys. For olive trees, they were traditionally and meticulously hand-picked during their high season between late October through mid-December. Everyone has their favorite method. But many prefer to shake the branches, to get all the ripe ones down first. [Data: Agriturismo a Montepulciano] 42.5177° N, 12.5159° E

Lush olives aside, my question remains:

How did Narni become The Chronicles of Narnia?

There are lots of reasons for the story’s success, of course. But my attention goes to three particular things:

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1

Enter here, the mouth of the lion

If you go to Narni today, you’ll see a town on a hill. Immediately, it’s obvious: this dates back to the times when medieval was modern. Gate towers flank an arched stonework on one side. Drawbridges used to creak-smack its mouth open-and-close at will. Judging who’s enemy. And who’s friend.

If you believe Narni is home, getting swallowed by its drawbridges, is bliss. If you don’t, it could be like entering the mouth of the lion.

Aslan as the god-lion figure was worded very much like a mighty drawbridge. Opening and appearing when needed most. But most times: closing and disappearing without explanation. When something that mighty physically towers over us, we just want to know—what’s on the other side.

It’s hard enough to imagine looking up at high metal or wooden doors that creak open at will. Imagine getting the materials on site. Commissioned Italian merchants would often cast bronze elsewhere and have them ship to the construction site in panels and sections. I would not like to be the the grunt horse that cart these, though. I suppose it’s all worth it, once you get inside towns like Narni. [Data: Travelling Matters across the Mediterranean, 2024]

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2

The consuming coat-rows of mountain houses

The Italianette mountain houses are stylistically distinct. Multi-story from street-view. But from the back, on the valley side, they always look taller. Like they have longer legs. Some, sink into the roots of the rock ground they’re on. And over the years, olive trees, cypress trees, and blackthorns all sock it safely in place.

It’s always interesting how the Italians lay foundations in the ground. Or in water, actually. I’ll be talking about this more deeply in my upcoming Venice, Underwater piece.

But my focus right now is on the rows of mountain houses. Touching each other, not too unlike a row of brown fur coats. Not too unlike a walk through Lajatico in Pisa, Italy here.

I’ve always loved CS Lewis’ decision on the wardrobe.

It’s often not enough just to open the door. Any door. The mouth of the lion. Sometimes we must go through a barrage of confusion, just after. Lucy in the books stumble around fur coats in the secret wardrobe first. There’s something suffocating about this. As there is about the rows of intimidating mountain houses in Narni.

Of course, once you’re past that, something curiously magical awaits. Air opens up. And you could almost see: forever.

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3

The faun nature of everything

A town that looks a certain way above ground, is often something else below.

Mr. Tumnus, a faun who is part-human part-goat, embodies this. And yet:

Would you trust someone who has horns on their head?

What about someone with big furry hooves as feet?

It speaks, too. Gently. I would think: I must be dreaming.

Also like a dream, it was said that a group of young Narni street boys just happened upon a series of underground tunnels and rooms. There’s a frescoed chapel. Then the Roman cistern. Then, an Inquisition room. Where the Roman church interrogated those in the 1540s who chose differently.

Underground, the Inquisition room is really no room. There is no natural light. No windows. Much like a bunker, the walls blend into the ceiling in a single arched tube. there is one cut door opening. One way in. One way out.

Giuseppe Andrea Lombardini was said to have come in as an inquisition guard. He ‘came out’ as a heretic in 1759. In the dark, maybe with a torch given by his former guard-friend, he’d carve Freemasonry symbols on the wall.

Edmund, Lucy’s brother in the Chronicles of Narnia, freely chose to side with the White Witch, at first. A symbol of winter that never ends. Robed in the blinding promise of a castle and Turkish delights, it was hard for him to believe that:

Winters can blind.

Winter nearly consumed Edmund. Lost in the dark, he then became a kind of Lombardini. First inquiring with power. Being the White Witch’s supposed favorite. Then, upon finding out her true nature, carving memories he could hardly understand anymore, in a desperate attempt to go back. Or go up above-ground, rather. As if freemason-carving himself out of such a prison, could ever be done.

Roman underground tunnels is often linked to their aqueducts—a water engineering system that carefully measures topo-geographical slopes to transport water. Not just to their cities. But often to underground tunnels. [Data: The Aqueducts of Ancient Rome. CC BY SA 4.0, remixed]

CS Lewis wouldn’t have known about Narni’s underground system upon the time of writing Narnia. It was a good few decades before those street boys discover a series of underground tunnels beneath the gentle, Tumnus-esque town of Narni.

But perhaps CS Lewis had always known, of the faun nature of everything.

Perhaps this is also why, he chose to name his place after the town’s original moniker: Narnia. Instead of the underground-inquisition reminiscent name of Narni, which came later. To bring forth not just Mr. Tumnus, the present human.

But all the formerly furry-hooved and horned-headed past—that sits below his presently gentle nature above.

As far as places of significance is concerned, Narni, Italy explains very much why Chronicles of Narnia spoke to and unlocked CS Lewis’s best. And likely: many of us.

Enter here, the mouth of the lion.

Witness below, the faun nature of everything. And,

Freemason these mountain houses, all those who are heavy-coated and fur-closeted.

Until you could see: forever.

-Thalia

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-Thalia