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Lenten Lands: My Childhood with Joy Davidman and C.S. Lewis
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$ 7.79
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$ 2.20 (22%) |
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| Item Number |
161468 |
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Item Description...
Chapter OneMeThe candle flame stood tall and unmoving, creating its own small pool of light in the darkness which seemed to surround me. I saw almost nothing else; the candle, the coffin upon which it stood and the low overhanging branches of the yew tree which were to shelter the grave. I stood staring down at the coffin until the Vicar moved directly in front of me to perform the ritual which would bring to a definite end the second part of my life. Father Head said his words, and the coffin was lowered gently into the earth by men whose faces were revoltingly impassive, smooth and professionally respectful. How I loathe funerals On that day in November 1963 there was a bitter stillness about the world; for the second time in my life everything I knew, everything I held dear and the one person I loved had been swept away.At that point I had no parents, no home and no hope. The winding path of life that had led me to this place and this time had provided strange contrasts and strange similarities in the pattern of my environments. There was always a House, for example; not just a house though, but a distinctive house, one which stood out from its neighbours, different and aloof although neglected and sadly in need of repair. In America, my father's, W.L. Gresham's, choice was a tall, gracious, white, pillared structure of three stories. In England, my stepfather; C.S. Lewis, lived in a two-floor red brick monstrosity which had grown more by accident than by design. I loved both these homes. There were other parallels, too; there was always a lake. The Endekill Brook, in upstate New York, was dammed by a small wall of stones and formed a wide pool. In Oxford there was a disusedclay-pit in the wood, deep and still, filled with the strange mystery that still water and its denizens seem to weave about themselves. Then there was the wood itself, the trees so alike and yet so different. Pines in rows in Staatsburg, broken here and there by dogwoods and maples. In Headington there were sycamores, oaks, birches and beeches all mixed together in the higgledy-piggledy fashion so typical of an English wood, and at the top of the hill a grove of larches. I was always surrounded by books, too, books and writers, and the wide and lively conversation which seem to be their hallmark. My stepfather's funeral really was the beginning of many things as well as the end of so many others, and I am beginning to realise that every point in one's life at which one loses everything is far more a beginning than an end, for one has lost merely the past, and one has yet to gain the future, and eternity itself. On that morning, the 26th of November, 1963, I was just eighteen years old.I was born on the 10th of November, 1945, in the city of New York. The Gresham family then consisted of my father, William Lindsay Gresham, my mother, Helen Joy Davidman Gresham, my brother, David Lindsay Gresham and myself. At some stage during the first two years of my life, the family moved to Ossining, New York, where we lived for a while. Of that time I have no memories.My first recollections are of the beautiful house and estate at Endekill Road, Staatsburg, New York (about seventy-five miles north of New York City), and of the forests and fields which surrounded it; dark, cool pines, welcoming gentle dogwoods and majestic, towering maples lent their shade and their beauty to my childhood. I firstremember being alive at about the time that I was three years old, and the Staatsburg home was a heaven for a little boy, teaching from the very beginning the meaning of beauty. Hot summers, the long dusty days frequently split apart by electrical storms with awesome power of sound and spectacle, dramatic autumns as the maples changed from silent dark greens to mellow gold and then to shrieking soprano reds before dying away through vermilion to brown and finally sighing into the annual little death that, for trees, is winter. The thick blanket of snow which brought the sleep of winter to the woods and meadows brought delight and excitement to a child, as well as sleds, toboggans, snowmen and snowball fights and the quiet, strangely holy, snowbound Christmas. For the little boy who became me, winter meant just two things: snow first and then Christmas, the one leading as if by decree to the other. And then, after Christmas, one simply waited for the thaw and the riotous exuberance of spring, as the sleeping world exploded into vibrant glowing life. I loved that place, and there live within me still the shocks of one or two incidents so breathtaking that the very memory of them even now seems to stop the world. Standing, for example, on the first-floor balcony of the large, decaying mansion that was our home and looking down into the heavy, warm darkness of a summer evening to see a carpet six or seven feet deep of millions of fireflies. They flew about three feet from the ground at the lowest to about ten feet up and appeared as a layer of flashing, winking, starlike lights. Once I came face to face with a doe and her fawn in the forest, and it would be hard to say who was the morefrightened A wonderful place for a little boy to grow, but all worldly Edens have their serpents, and mine was no exception. Outside, in the kindliness of nature, the world of this early part of my childhood was mostly a peaceful, fascinating land of many delights and some good and healthy terrors, snapping turtles and copperheads, for example, but indoors, as I passed from the age of three on towards six and... |
Item Specifications...
Pages 256
Dimensions: Length: 0.75" Width: 5.25" Height: 7.75"
Weight: 0.45 lbs.
Binding Softcover
Release Date Jan 1, 2003
Publisher HarperOne
ISBN 0060634472
EAN 9780060634476
UPC 099455014007
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Availability 50 units.
Availability accurate as of May 25, 2012 07:41.
Usually ships within one to two business days from Momence, IL.
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Reviews - What do our customers think?
 | Land of Imagination Jan 1, 2007 |
This book adds to any C.S. Lewis collection. Anyone trying to undertsand better Lewis' life and works will gain some value from this book, but in addition, the book adds value to understanding Joy Davidman, herself a remarkable person and Doug himself. One reviewer is somemwhat upset about the book because the author writes mostly about himself, yes, it is subtitled "My Childhood...".
Doug Gresham is remarkably candid about himself (he directs most criticism at himself, well and the Millers). He is also very forgiving towards his father, which I found instructive for all of us. His insights into Lewis' chairity (both in time and money) and Christian heart are an addition to what a Lewis admirer might already know, but it helps add to the Lewis icon. I do wish he had a wrote more on his brother, but it may be he is keeping in with his brother's wishes (it is well known that David has avoided the Lewis/Davidman limelight).
This is a good book, at a great price, and it is a quick, nicely paced read. | | |  | A Search for Truth Mar 12, 2006 |
Gresham's Lenten Lands provides a private picture into live with C. S. Lewis.
I envy Douglas for having the privilege of living with Lewis as together they traveled the "Lenten Lands!"
I'm impressed with the amount of time that passed before Douglas finally internalized the both the Truth and the truths taught and role modeled by his step-father.
But isn't that true of so many of us today, searching for Truth, but always testing that it's real! | | |  | so-so Dec 22, 2005 |
If, as one reviewer states, you are an ardent fan of C.S. Lewis, you will want to read this book. The opposite is true, too. If you are not particularly interested in C. S. Lewis, this is a forgettable book, not very interesting. I am not particularly interested in C.S. Lewis, I'm not going to see "Narnia," I never read the Narnia books as a kid. I wanted to read this because I saw "Shadowlands" and wanted to know what happened to the little boy after his mother died.
What stands out the most is Gresham's writing style: rather like that of the people who send anecdotes to Reader's Digest. It's clear enough, rather rambling, rather predictable imagery, lots of repetition. Not very interesting. I didn't even finish reading it.
So, my recommendation, if you're not a fan of C. S. Lewis, is to skip this book, and watch "Shadlowlands" when it comes on television again - it is beautiful and stands on its own. | | | | Must read for authentic admirer of C.S.Lewis Dec 4, 2005 |
This is one of those books I think any authentic admirer of C.S.Lewis should read because Douglas H. Gresham writes so empathetically as well as objectively of his Mother Joy and his step father 'Jack' Lewis. Seeing these two people thru his eyes from childhood to young adulthood is fascinating. Be it the feel of his Mothers embrace that made him feel safe, to how mature his view was of his father who had problems with alcohol. Where some people would have been harsh or mean in how they saw such a parent Douglas was able to see beyond the issue of alcohol to something deeper.
Reading of his first impressions of C. S. Lewis and his brother Warnie again shows reality vs visions one has in their heads of things and people not yet seen. From the cigarette stained teeth to the evening visits to the local pub, Douglas bring a sense of humanness to the great author. And his descriptions of the places he/they lived are so real one feels as if they are a fly on the wall.
The thing that makes me appreciate Douglas so much is how the lessons he saw and was taught have taken root in his life . He now lives in Ireland and is active in walk the community helping women with unwanted pregnancies.
So the nasty comment by reviewer Kona (Emerald City) 'The problem with this book is that Douglas Gresham did nothing in his own life to warrant an autobiography' makes me wonder just how much of the book did they actually read, since having taken the priceless lessons that the great C.S.Lewis wrote and taught and putting them to day to day use, makes Douglas well worthy of being an author. The title is after all 'Lenten Lands: My Childhood with Joy Davidman and C.S. Lewis'. | | | | Douglas' Memories Nov 23, 2005 |
In the preface Greshman makes it clear that the book is his story about his life. No doubt the publisher thought it necessary to throw "My Childhood with Joy Davidman and C.S. Lewis" on the cover because this is the reason why we care about Douglas Greshman.
Most of the book is about his early life and there is much on his mother Joy and Lewis. I found the parts that had nothing to do with Joy and Lewis to be enjoyable too. Gresham is a very good writer and you get a feel for what it was like to grow up in England in the 1950's.
Only the last few chapters deal with his life after the death of Lewis. But in some ways, this is an important part of the Lewis story. Why you ask? Because we see how little Gresham, Lewis' stepson, benefited from being his stepson. Greshman was dirt poor and barely getting by. What happened to Lewis' money? Why were Lewis' two stepsons not in his will?
Whatever one thinks about the book overall, it is an essential piece of C.S. Lewis history. Greshman saw Lewis up close and personal. He gives insights that few others can. Even if he did not live with Lewis all the time (he was at boarding school), he still lived with Lewis some of the time, and this is more than most. His memories are invaluable. | | | Write your own review about Lenten Lands: My Childhood with Joy Davidman and C.S. Lewis
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