What would C. S. Lewis Say about Harry Potter? (#7)

Some people are (whether rightly or not) worried about possible negative effects of Harry Potter. What would C. S. Lewis say about that?

Perhaps he would suggest that many of those people might really be worried about the effects of fantasy literature in general. One of the first questions we need to settle is therefore, “Can there be value in reading fantasy? Does good fantasy exist or is all fantasy bad simply because it is fantasy?”

The term “good” can of course have many meanings. To the Christian parent it means probably something completely different than to a professional literary critic. But whatever our standard is, we first have to decide whether fantasy can meet that standard, and then—and only then—see whether Harry Potter passes or fails the test.

What, then, constitutes good literature? Its didactic value? According to C. S. Lewis, no. As he made clear in his book “An Experiment in Criticism,” he rejected the view that imaginative literature should mainly be valued for telling us truths about life. He criticized those who foisted upon every book a serious “philosophy.”

Literature, he believed, is primarily a collection of works of art. Lighter works should therefore not be misrepresented as being really far more serious than they look; and when it comes to weightier literature, there should be some free play, some willingness to suspend disbelief (or belief) or even repugnance while we read the good expression of what, in general, we might think bad.

We should not limit our appreciation of authors to those who confirm our own views. Such limitation closes the way to one of the principal effects that good reading has on us: to admit us to experiences other than our own. If we only read imaginative works to tell us truths about life, we will necessarily attribute to our chosen author what we believe to be wisdom; and the sort of thing that seems wise to us will of course be determined by our own caliber.

If we are fools we will find and admire foolishness; if we are mediocrities, we’ll find and admire dullness. At best we are profound thinkers ourselves, and what we acclaim as our author’s philosophy might in itself be good, but in reality be merely our own. In that case we are like the long succession of preachers who have based edifying and eloquent sermons on some straining of their texts. The sermons, though bad exegesis, were often good teachings in their own right.