Considering Books by C.S. Lewis

I think I might like Till We Have Faces as much as all other C.S. Lewis books combined.

How about you?

Here’s my brief review (of an old book!) from earlier this year.

Why You Can’t Win

Sound arguments can’t compete with good feelings. 

Good feelings are stronger motivators than sound arguments.

C.S. Lewis Drank Three Pints of Beer in The Morning — A Letter From Tolkien

In a recent post, David Russell Mosley tries to understand why evangelicals love C.S. Lewis so much—when so much of C.S. Lewis was not evangelical.

After reading the following excerpt from a letter by J.R.R. Tolkien to his son Christopher Tolkien, I not only laughed out loud (for seven years I was a beer columnist for a weekly newspaper), I also found myself a bit amazed at Lewis’s physiological capabilities.

“Lewis is as energetic and jolly as ever, but getting too much publicity for his or any of our tastes. ‘Peterborough’, usually fairly reasonable, did him the doubtful honour of a peculiarly misrepresentative and asinine paragraph in the Daily Telegraph of Tuesday last. It began ‘Ascetic Lewis’–––!!! I ask you! He put away three pints in a very short session we had this morning, and said he was ‘going short for Lent’.”

Wow. Three pints in the morning, and that’s giving up some for Lent.

I wonder if that makes for a jolly day. I’d probably need a nap around lunchtime.

An Autumn Bicycle Ride by Owen Barfield

An autumnal poem by Owen Barfield, one of The Inklings:


O! I love this poem. Sharing it here, cheers! to October

“An Autumn Bicycle-Ride”

The leaves, grown rusty overhead,
Dropped on the road and made it red.
The air that coldly wrapped me round,
Stained by the glowing of the ground,
Had bathed the world in the cosy gloom
Of a great, red-carpeted, firelit room;
It filled my lungs, as I rode along,
Till they overflowed in a flood of song,
And joy grew truculent in my throat,
Uttering a pompous trombone-note;
For this elegant modern soul of mine
Was warm with old Autumn’s rich red wine.

Note: This poem was possibly written in 1919 and is transcribed from the typescript at the Bodleian Library (Barfield Papers, Dep. c. 1103).
found at:

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Tavern Song

And this I know: whether the one True Light,
Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite,
One glimpse of It within the Tavern caught
Better than in the Temple lost outright.

— LVI, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám 

When the neighborhood Anglican Church starts another Baptist Bible study




When the neighborhood Anglican Church starts another Baptist Bible study. 


Photos from

Salt Water

-La cura para todo es el agua salada:las lágrimas,el sudor y el mar-

via Karen Blixen — La Brújula

“The cure for anything is salt water—tears, sweat, or the sea.” — Isak Dinesen, a.k.a. Karen Blixen