For my last birthday, the family presented me with a collector’s hardback box set of The Chronicles of Narnia. It now sits proudly on the shelf alongside my two other editions. There’s the ragged remnants of the ’60s paperback set (only three and a half remain) which, falling to pieces, descended through my siblings to me. Then there’s the set of replacement paperbacks I bought in the ’80s, with Stephen Lavis’ covers, which, while perfectly serviceable, somehow lacked the magic of Pauline Baynes’ originals.
So it was with great delight that I settled back in for the umpteenth re-reading of the books which have captivated since I was a tween. They’ve lost nothing, indeed gained much, in the years since. I am, as Lewis reminded Lucy Barfield, to whom he dedicated The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, ‘old enough to read fairy-tales again’.
