The book that I read was by C.S. Lewis called Spirits in Bondage. It was his very first published work from 1919 when he was only 20 years old (originally published under the pseudonym Clive Hamilton). It represents a book of poetry that chronicles his world view, shaded by his experiences growing up in Ireland and England and his stint as a soldier in World War I. I had just finished reading Lewis' own account of his early life (Surprised by Joy) and I thought it might be interesting to read some of his thoughts penned during the same period. The book contains a random sampling of verse reflective of his thoughts on nature, war, friendship, and mysticism.
In truth, I was reminded that I am not a great fan of poetry. Try as I might to find something of resonance, it always leaves me in a rush to read it just get it over with. Such was the case with this work. I do know enough about writing poetry to appreciate just how complex the thought patterns of Lewis were, even at this relatively young age. Each word was carefully and methodically chosen for a specific purpose, to convey a certain mood, to paint a precise landscape. Yet for all of the recognition of the craft, I just cannot feel any appreciation from the art.
I also might add that I infinitely prefer reading from a book than an e-reader. It just feels so much more natural to me. So, I won't be going down this road again any time soon, unless the price is free.
