chronicles of bodleian

“We do not enjoy a story fully at the first reading.
Not till the curiosity, the sheer narrative lust,
has been given its sop and laid asleep,
are we at leisure to savour the real beauties.”

~ C. S. Lewis, On Stories

Although my explorations of the world of C. S. Lewis awakened and concluded daily at his home, The Kilns, my studies were centered at the Bodleian Libraries. The name Bodleian is attached to the system of libraries at Oxford, with the medieval and 16th century-era reading rooms at the center, and incorporated in the Bodleian quad. The eldest of the libraries are in heart of the city of Oxford. Gratefully, these places were also at the heart of my month of days as a Lewis Scholar-in-Residence.

From the crosstown Risinghurst bus, my brisk strides developed into a daily path northwards from the High Street side of the Covered Market, along Saint Mary’s Passage, across Radcliffe Square, and threading the stone-arched gateways of the Old Bodleian. From the courtyard flagstones, I’d send a wink up to King James in the sculpted architecture, thankful for my favorite Bible. Then across Broad Street (nicknamed “Book Street”), with a glance at Blackwell’s, my steps turned the corner from Clarendon, to the Parks Road. The department of Special Collections, home to the Oxford University Libraries’ manuscripts and rare books, is in Radcliffe Science.

Above: King James, facing the Library quadrangle.
Below: A portion of Blackwell's Bookstore.

Each and every visit to the reading rooms began with warm welcomes. Part of the pleasure of my studies was an awareness of collegial kindredship with staff and students alike. Our gathering was transcendent of the perfunctory, and grounded in shared passions for our learning. Taking my seat with my day’s allotment of C. S. Lewis, I’d look around the room, while settling in. Across the table was a reader with a medieval illuminated book; he was using an infra-red visor to see through the manuscripts’ layers. Diagonally across to my right was another reader, with sheet music manuscripts, and she was smiling back at the pages, humming. The large room was regularly filled with adventurers and their pursuits. Indeed, these research spaces are “pencils-only,” and I did find myself making side notes on my study pages that described my impressions.

Focused on Lewis’ work, poring over the materials for hours a day, the opened archival boxes and folders were as windows to me. His handwriting style became intimately familiar. The papers and handwritten words became portals through which I could recognize the author’s mind and method. My daily journeys back across the campuses, to the High Street, were often amidst a state of reverie that followed a spell of deep immersion in my studies.

Views of the High Street, Oxford.

My grateful amazement at the manuscripts and rare books was matched by fascination with the Oxford library structures themselves. The Bodleian’s core buildings date back to the 1400s, with the Divinity School, and Duke Humfrey’s Library, both of which are enveloped by the Schools Quadrangle. As with most of the University buildings, the libraries are sturdily ornate Gothic sand-colored stone edifices. Within the carved and spired masonry are stone steps, complex corridors, and high-vaulted reading rooms. My Oxford card permitted me to explore libraries beyond the Old Bodleian, though I found my favorite post-study-hours reading spaces to be in the more ancient spaces- and among the art, philosophy, and theology collections. (Indeed, this is without mentioning the countless sites and perches throughout the city of Oxford, deserving at least an essay of its own.)

Philosophy & Theology Faculties Library



Below: Divinity School ceiling.

On one memorable occasion, while studying in the Radcliffe Camera, I looked up from my books and up to the heights of the rotunda. Then, as my eyes surveyed the tiered shelves filled with titles- so many of them looking extremely interesting to me- I realized that I might do well to write out names and imprints for future reading, considering my limited time at Oxford. But the other realization, while glancing among massive bookcases and cavernous chambers, was the powerful impression prompted by the sheer vastness of the libraries. It is an ocean of immeasurable volume and depth, which even the thirstiest of readers could not encompass. The sheer abundance is formidable, astonishing, and humbling. An ocean of written words.

Radcliffe Camera

During my month at Oxford, I filled dozens of pages with research notes, and have only begun to digest the experience of intimately studying Lewis’ writing. I mapped my studies in a sequence that commenced with his notebooks, followed by selections of essays, and finally a journey through collections of written correspondence. Beginning with notebooks turned out to be a good idea, acclimating my reading patterns with Lewis’ unedited writing style and his admirable eclecticism. The notebooks were filled from both ends: Lewis would start from the front cover, with project notes and idea developments, and flip the book over to thus create another “front cover” for reading lists, lesson plans, and still more idea-sketches. The notebooks amount to what appeared to me as an operatic overture, with portions of nascent melodies- tastes of motifs that evolve later. Blended in with annotated bibliographies, he wrote out biographies of classical philosophers, and essays I recognized as having read in his published works, plus a complete chapter from The Magician’s Nephew, which was part of his famous Chronicles of Narnia, written for children.

From the Lewis notebooks to manuscripts of his published essays and books, I found many glimpses of the author’s productive mind. He wrote about the subjects he taught, the literary works of the medieval and Renaissance eras. He also wrote prolifically about the ideas that most interested him, and there I saw the philosopher within the provocative author. The manuscript reading room staff did permit me to carry in my own Bible, and very gratefully I made notes in it from Lewis’ insights. Now the words remain together with me.

At this early stage of personal response to these intense studies, impressions of discoveries come to mind. C. S. Lewis likely did not anticipate that his notebooks would be analyzed, let alone in the 21st century, alongside the manuscripts of the authors whose oeuvres he studied himself and taught to his students across town at Magdalen College. The boxes and boxes of carefully preserved manuscripts reminded me of a description that post-dates Lewis’ life: multitasking. He received (through his prodigious correspondence, as well as with his many friendships) ideas and themes, and he produced ideas and themes. It is immensely inspiring.

I also saw how Lewis “worked” his writing- all by hand, fine-tuning his compositions. I found myself drawn to crossed-out words and sections, to see how- or whether- Lewis replaced his own text. He would change words, or the order of his words (using arrows), or titles of essays and chapters. I used the opportunities to write both the original and the changed words in my notes. Amidst a ream of boxed papers, on one occasion, I found myself steeped in Screwtape Proposes a Toast, and thoroughly enjoyed the side-adventure.

Previous to these studies, I has not been aware of the extent of Lewis’ letter correspondence. Alongside the original renditions of published works are decades of correspondence (and these are the letters that were collected later by the Bodleian’s donors; there were a great many more letters received by Lewis, and sent by him. I’ve also seen many at the Archives of Wheaton College). Lewis made a point of responding to every letter; he felt that personal correspondence was a way to extend the compassion of his faith. He replied encouragingly to the children who wrote him, complimenting their perceptions of his Narnia characters. He wrote to the Nobel committee, nominating his friend and colleague J.R.R. Tolkien for the Nobel Literature Prize.

The motto above the Library entrance translates as:
Academicians of Oxford, Thomas Bodley has built this library for you
and for the Republic of the Learned.
May the gift turn out well.

Equally inserted in preservation folios are numerous letters to and from American readers that sent care packages to the Lewis household at The Kilns during the post-World War II period of severe rationing in England. There are humorous and endearing letters between Lewis and his wife Joy. Still further, amidst the fasciculed letters, I navigated the currents of correspondents between Lewis and his student Bede Griffiths. The letters span from the early 1930s to the end of Lewis’ life, with subjects the two philosophical, theological, and intellectual thinkers shared. Through the letters, I saw what a full life Lewis had. As a tutor and professor, I saw that he exceeded those roles by being a practitioner of his ideals. C. S. Lewis truly comprehended the dictum of Saint John*, who enjoined his readers to rise above pronouncements by living and inspiring the meaning of faithfulness and trust. And in the company of volumes and words received, my steps continue nourished.

* 1 John 3:18

the kilns

“I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here.
This is the land I have been looking for all my life,
though I never knew it till now...
Come further up, come further in!”

-- C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle.

As a Scholar-in-Residence, sponsored by the C. S. Lewis Foundation, my home during the month I spent at Oxford was Lewis’ own house. The house’s name dates back to the brick manufacture that had long been based at the eastern end of Oxford, in a section called Headington. When Lewis purchased the house in 1930, there had been acres of land encircling the house. Since his passing, in 1963, portions east and north of the house had been sold (as house lots), and a nature reserve bearing Lewis’ name was created south of the house. Publicly accessible, the nature reserve’s land had once been part of The Kilns’ property, and was a favorite place (and literary inspiration) for Lewis and his colleague J. R. R. Tolkien. The gardens around The Kilns, enjoyed by Lewis, his family, friends, and guests, are still as important to the home as the rooms themselves- and the outdoor space contributes to the house’s sense of sanctuary. With layered plants, trees, and flower beds- plus a row of hedges along the road- there are neither walls nor fences around The Kilns. Being in and around the house, I always felt the cottage-sized building and its peripheral gardens were larger than their actual area dimensions.

Views in and from the C. S. Lewis Nature Reserve, Oxford.

The Kilns is maintained by the Foundation both as a historic place to visit, and as a place for scholars to live. The warden of the house emphasizes how the place is a living landmark- compared to a static environment as found in most museums. Scheduled tours are meant to promote awareness of C.S. Lewis, displaying and providing narratives for the grounds and common rooms. For a resident, the house is very much a hands-on and cozy home, in and around which to roam and find respite. And plenty to read: along with the parlor (livingroom) and the study, the northern portion of the house is the C. S. Lewis Study Center. The parlor, which faces the largest portion of the garden, is an intimate space; one side of the fireplace has a complete collection of Lewis’ publications on the wall shelves, and on the other side a collection of Lewis’ favorite books (such as the works of George MacDonald, G. K. Chesterton, and Boethius, as examples).

The Parlor (above and below). Map of Narnia on wall, above fireplace.





Above: Upstairs rooms
Below: 2 views of the kitchen.

There is a warm and peaceful ambience in the house. Accentuating the furnishings, walls and ledges are decorated with reminders of Lewis (known to his friends and family as Jack), his brother Warren (known as Warnie), Lewis’ wife, Joy, her sons (Lewis’ step-sons) Douglas and David, the Moores, Fred Paxford, and various friends and extended family members’ framed photographs. The library even displays the Lewises marriage certificate. A photo in the kitchen includes one of Lewis’ favorite cats, named “Tom.” Sitting at the dining table, it is easy to imagine Jack and Joy playing scrabble (either in Latin, or Saxon). The dining room also displays the Lewis typewriter, a very well-used Royal portable (which will have its own subsequent essay). Through a month of days, I found my favorite resting spaces in the kitchen, the parlor, and the garden. The caretaker of The Kilns (officially, the Warden) graciously decorates all the rooms with flower arrangements. A modern refrigerator stands discreetly near the vintage “Aga” gas stove, attesting to the coexisting present and past. Like the college buildings within Oxford University, the strong sense of the historic revolves around references to the liminal moment. These are contiguous places of community and of communion.

This very sociable cat's nickname is "Warnie."






The Dining Room

Risinghurst is the neighborhood in which The Kilns is situated. Among centuries-old stone houses, there are clusters of semi-detached town houses and converging lanes. Boarding an Oxford city bus daily, along Kiln Lane, reminders lent themselves to context. The eastern edge of Oxford encompasses the home of C. S. Lewis, some of the beloved haunts of writers called The Inklings, along with the poet Shelley- but it’s also a district filled with houses and shops, apartments and markets, and busy roads. And the paths woven of antiquated passages and new pavement connect The Kilns with University buildings, churches, pubs, and the city Lewis knew as student, teacher, and author.

place and time

“What was sown in momentariness is raised in still permanence.
What was sown as a becoming rises as being.
Sown in subjectivity, it rises in objectivity.
The transitory secret of two is now a chord in the ultimate music.”

~ C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm

Places and times of embarkation provide reminders of our paths, of our ways and distances already covered. As we begin to clearly sense the verge of discovery, an awareness of the sum of our being emerges. In newness, historic roots are revealed. Even modest and unknown lives find profound significance, when viewed in the context of pilgrimage. Yes, even small steps through fleeting sojourns can represent forward progress and meaning to influence a lifetime.

My father likes to recount how his father, long before I was born, would describe his adventures as he immigrated across Europe and the Atlantic to New York. He built a great career as a portrait photographer, beginning simply and from scratch as a photo retoucher. I’ve been told that he’d say, “I made a living with a pencil,” referring to the essential retouching implement used for brightening negatives. Many years later, my grandmother found about a dozen of his retouching pencils and gave them to me when I went to art college. One of them was in my shirt pocket when I arrived at the University of Oxford this past August to finalize my registration to study there. Having applied this past winter to be a research fellow, I reported to the Clarendon building in my role as Scholar-in-Residence. The writing samples accompanying my fellowship application were drawn from La Vie Graphite. A life brought forward by a pencil.

Above: The Clarendon Building, University of Oxford, England.
Below: Research in the Bodleian Library, using one of my grandfather's pencils.

Clarendon, on Broad Street, is at the northern end of a double quadrangle at the core of the ancient Bodleian Library buildings. Throughout the month after arriving in Oxford, my steps threaded the stone arches of these quads, along with countless lanes, courtyards, and passages. This great opportunity, sponsored by the C.S. Lewis Foundation, permitted me to study the manuscripts of Lewis, and to live in his home, The Kilns. With my identification card, all of the many and varied reading rooms throughout the Bodelian Library’s system became available to me. These are the vast and deep resources (the tunneling Gladstone Link, beneath Radcliffe Square has two underground levels) that serve the entire University of Oxford. In addition to my programme of study with the Lewis archives, there was plenty of time to research and read portions of other collections of personal interest, such as in the Philosophy and Theology Faculties Library. Each search produces adventure. Indeed, there was also time to observe and write. There are many stories.

Bodleian Library, Oxford.

My journal was always close by (pencils only, in Special Collections, as well as in the hallowed Duke Humfrey’s Library). On occasion, looking up from tomes, handwritten documents, or even from a table of tea and scones, the idea of place and time came to mind. Pilgrimage sees the individual aperch on a wooden pier in Maine, as well as in a storied medieval library- and back again. Similar to my grandfather’s mechanical pencil, the soul becomes witness to many places and times. Looking up at wave upon wave of shelved books, interspersed by vaulting latticed windows, the significance and wonder of place and time began to appear unified with the continuum of pursuit. Strolling, visiting, and dining in the city of Oxford, meeting new friends, and returning home to The Kilns every day brought together the pursuits of inspiration, knowledge, and improvement. And needed respite.

At The Kilns, C.S. Lewis' home.

Remembering the cycles of creation as advancing and returning, spreading and recollecting- or as Eriugena described in the Periphyseon: division and resolution- the many facets of these travels are more clearly seen in retrospect. There are numerous photographs and notes to add to my digestion of my sojourn in Oxford, followed by a return journey to Wales. True to any pilgrimage, these experiences and impressions have surely had their effects, though in time I will be able to delineate them. For the time being, I’ve resumed the place and time I’d interrupted so that I could inhabit other places and times, and the present is now something entirely different.