I've officially been reading C. S. Lewis for ten years now; not continuously, of course, but probably more than any other single author. Whenever I see a picture (and environs) of this man from whom I have probably learned more than from any other, I'm filled with longing. I long for the days when I first read him, when I first discovered this fresh brilliance, this teacher who relieved all my anxieties, this boon companion. I see in him everything that I should truly long to be in this life, as a man and as an intellect, if only it were my destiny. I am also filled with longing for my youth, for those few years in my adolescence when I was closer to God than I had ever been before, or have ever been since.
I don't suppose it's coincidental that Lewis himself was The Doctor of Sehnsucht. It's a subject that comes up often in his writing; and his autobiography, Surprised by Joy, is all about it, that which had haunted him his entire life.
I'm quite excited that this Autumn, Cambridge (Canto Series) is re-printing Lewis's greatest literary study: The Allegory of Love: A Study in Medieval Tradition. Also: Image and Imagination: Essays and Reviews (also Canto), a collection of never previously published works. Hooah!
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