Those who became Christians shortly after World War II often discovered that the next stop after the baptismal font was the bookstore. There, if the salesperson was wise and knew what was in the “religion” section, they encountered the works of C. S. Lewis, Dorothy Sayers and Charles Williams. And whole new worlds came into being for them. And what worlds they were, in which archangels conversed with men, and the forces of a genuine good battled those of a real evil, and the ways of God became somewhat understandable and the ways of men somewhat less repugnant.
They were a remarkable trio. Individually, and as a group, they were among the most effective apologists in the history of English-speaking Christendom. (Even twenty years ago it was possible to talk about English-speaking Christendom, and mean something by it.) Collectively, they belonged to a group called “The Inklings,” nominally a literary study group but also an effective “cell” for the propagation of the Christian Faith (J. R. R. Tolkien, Gervase Matthew and Owen Barfield were other “Inklings”; Miss Sayers was more or less on the fringe). Though all three were members of the Church of England, none was an exponent of denominationalism: that they left for others. With the exception of Lewis, they have, at best, a small readership today.




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