A Tribute to the Dawn Treader

I received my first box-set of the seven Chronicles of Narnia one Christmas soon after my college graduation. I had never heard of the Chronicles before I opened the Christmas wrapping that morning. When I gave a quizzical look, wondering what these books were all about, the giver of the gift simply said, “They’re children’s stories—that lots of adults like to read.”

At that moment I didn’t know whether to be insulted that I had received a set of children’s stories or honored that I was now deemed old and wise enough to read children’s stories (again) with enjoyment and with better understanding. I was told that I could read these tales in any order, so I simply started my first excursion into the land of Narnia in the middle with The Horse and His Boy.

I don’t remember much about my first reading of that book, but I enjoyed it sufficiently to continue the series. Nor do I remember which of the stories I read next, but I do remember the momentous enchantment brought on by my reading of The Voyage of the ‘Dawn Treader.’  That particular trip into Narnia brought with it a helpless fascination with all things Narnian. Through that story Lewis brought my personal desire for a “land of one’s dreams” to the forefront of my mind—never to retreat.  For, you see, I had gone with Lucy and Edmund (and yes, with the dastardly Eustace Clarence Scrubb) through the painting on the wall onto the deck of the Narnian vessel Dawn Treader. I went with Prince Caspian to the Lone Islands, with Eustace to Dragon Island and heard him tell Edmund how he had been “undragoned” by Aslan. I went with Lucy to the Island of the Voices and experienced Lucy’s ordeal reading through the Magician’s Book to find the spell to make invisible things visible, and to the Dark Island where I endured a real nightmare. 

On the Island of Ramandu I became enamored of the numinously beautiful daughter of Ramandu and discovered that the Dawn Treader had to sail to the World’s End in order to break the spell of the three sleeping lords. When the crew came back to the island, having left at least one of their company behind, they would find that the sleepers had awakened. As I read, I agreed that Reepicheep should be the one to go to the Utter East and not return, for it had been prophesied by a wood-woman that he would find there all he sought.

As Lucy, Prince Caspian, Edmund, Eustace, Reepicheep, and the crew of the Dawn Treader made their way east, I traveled with them—heart and soul. I tasted the sweet water of the Last Sea that was drinkable light. I saw the sea-people and the white lilies on the sea as Lucy witnessed them. My eyes daily grew stronger (like eagle eyes) so that I, like those with whom I traveled, was able to look directly at the sun as it grew bigger and brighter each day. I smelled the aroma from the Silver Sea that Lucy later described as “sweet—yes, but not at all sleepy or overpowering, a fresh, wild lonely smell that seemed to get into your brain and make you feel that you could go up mountains at a run or wrestle with an elephant.” I felt the water as Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace waded through the white lilies toward the white Lamb.

But of all the emotions I felt during the voyage, most powerful were those I felt when Reepicheep left the Dawn Treader, letting the current take him in his coracle to a smooth green wave. The coracle went more and more quickly until it rushed up the wave’s side taking Reepicheep away from the children’s sight. When I read that passage I put the book down and said to myself, “If that’s what heaven is like, let’s go right now!”

That was revealing, for though Lewis had not described heaven in those final chapters of The Voyage of the ‘Dawn Treader,’ he had awakened my longing for heaven. I had instinctively translated the longing for heaven into the reality of heaven.

I am thankful that I have never recovered from reading The Voyage of the ‘Dawn Treader.’ It has nourished my soul and it has helped me identify scenes and situations in other stories that arouse a longing for a world beyond our own.

And believe me, there is an abundance of stories like that. So may I introduce them to you; or should I allow you to read and watch stories willy-nilly to discover them on your own? After all, no one said to me, “Here, read The Voyage of the ‘Dawn Treader,’ it will awaken your longing for paradise.” I was prompted merely by receiving a gift from Father Christmas.

But it may be appropriate to point you in the right direction—to share titles of books and films that have given me glimpses of glory. So, without further adieu, here’s a short list of titles that you may want to check out. These stories continue to nourish my desire for heaven.

1. Perelandra: part two of the Ransom trilogy by C. S. Lewis that explores life on planet Venus

2. The Pilgrim’s Regress by C. S. Lewis: an allegory portraying Lewis’s conversion to Christianity

3. The Golden Key by George MacDonald: an expansion of the fairy tale written by the Brothers Grimm

4. Smith of Wootton Major by J. R. R. Tolkien

5. Finding Neverland: a film about how J. M. Barrie wrote Peter Pan

6. Amadeus: a play about Mozart by Peter Shaffer and adapted for film

7. The King’s Speech, the story of how England’s King George VI overcame his fear of public speaking

8. The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame, particularly the chapter titled “The Piper at the Gates of Dawn”

Happy reading and watching! I hope this short tribute prompts you to read The Voyage of the ‘Dawn Treader’ for the first or the umpteenth time. And I hope this tribute inspires you to enjoy a few of the stories that have enriched my life.