Gee whiz, I love C.S. Lewis.
Of all the writers I have declared favorites, C.S. Lewis, without a doubt, has had the most influence on me. Everything is tinted by his books.
This isn't to say that I don't have a tough time comprehending it sometimes. Miracles - to use a slightly rude, but wholly accurate phrase - is kicking my butt. Usually, I can just breeze along at a good clip when I read. But even though his language and descriptions are crystal clear (he doesn't make things fluffy, if you know what I mean), I have to work. It's tough stuff. The Narnia books and the space trilogy are so much easier. Though, I must admit, That Hideous Strength took me forever to get through. I listened to an audiobook of Till We Have Faces a few months ago, and besides a desultory and uncomprehending read in Junior high, I'd never actually gone through it before. Incredible. I need to read it - and the Great Divorce, and (oh heck) all the others - again.
The Screwtape Letters is one of my favorite books; I can't begin to think how many times I've read it. If you haven't (lucky! You'd get to read it for the first time!) I command you to leave this blog (though I'm sure this command is unnecessary because I'm the only person who reads this. But don't worry, I'm not bitter.) and drive to a Barnes and Noble and buy it and begin reading it right there at the attached Starbucks. I give you permission to get a scone and a hot chocolate. And maybe a rice krispy treat too. But not the gum because it is always gross and disappointing. I'm serious. Now go. And maybe bring me back a hot chocolate too.