Reading Time: 4 minutes

This blog contains spoilers for the Chronicles of Narnia.

Stories centered on moral lessons have long been a part of the literary world, especially in children’s books. On the surface, there’s nothing inherently wrong with this – storytelling is often the best way to learn, regardless of age. However, there’s a web of complex issues underlying moralistic literature that can detract from the reading experience.

Whether it’s the lack of nuance or the author simply beating you over the head with the lesson, let’s examine the major pitfalls of this type of storytelling through the lens of The Chronicles of Narnia.

Problem #1: The moralistic chokehold

Moralistic literature can sometimes focus solely on conveying its specific lesson or value, to the detriment of the story’s creativity and imagination. The rigid adherence to a moral message can stifle the narrative’s potential for rich character development and complex plotlines. The Chronicles of Narnia – specifically the final book, The Last Battle – serves as a prime example of this challenge.

The Narnian world is a place of enchantment, filled with talking animals, magical creatures, and epic adventures. It has always been a realm where imagination knows no bounds. Yet, in The Last Battle, this imaginative world becomes overshadowed by the primary objective of conveying moral and religious messages – through the death of both Narnia and almost all the characters. Character deaths which occurred via train accident in the real world, I should add. A completely random event which adds no value to the story.

The richness of Narnia, which has delighted readers of all ages, is diminished as the narrative becomes more focused on these themes and tries to wrap up the series with a moralistic bow.

While there’s no denying the depth and complexity of the moral and religious allegories presented, the heavy-handedness of these themes can overshadow the imaginative world that C.S. Lewis so masterfully crafted throughout the series.

Problem #2: Hand-holding

One of the primary issues with moralistic literature is its propensity for didactic storytelling. Or in other words, the author straight up telling you what to think.

The beauty of art is relatability. It’s reading a book, watching a movie, or listening to a song and drawing your own meaning from it, finding those parallels to your own experiences. No one goes into it wanting to be told something – we want to feel it. Didactic storytelling takes that experience away from you.

(If you’re interested in the music version of this phenomenon, Gabi Belle has a great YouTube video on Christian cover songs that explains it perfectly).

In The Chronicles of Narnia, this didactic approach becomes more prominent in The Last Battle, where the story’s religious allegory is overt and central to the narrative. While many readers appreciate the allegorical aspects, this final installment can feel more like a sermon than a captivating story. The characters themselves often function as mouthpieces for the allegorical messages, leaving little room for subtlety or interpretive space.

Problem #3: Characters as stand-ins

Many moralistic stories utilize characters as mere vehicles for conveying moral lessons. Instead of being fully fleshed-out individuals, characters can become one-dimensional representations of virtues or vices. This oversimplification can lead to unrelatable characters and unrealistic interactions.

Coming back to The Chronicles of Narnia. While the series features a diverse cast of characters, it’s in the concluding installment that the one-dimensionality of some characters becomes particularly apparent. During The Last Battle, the characters felt less like well-rounded individuals and more like puppets in a morality play.

One character that suffers from this treatment is Susan Pevensie. Susan, a beloved character throughout the series, finds herself excluded from the Narnian conclusion. This exclusion is largely attributed to the fact that she has, in the eyes of the narrative, become too focused on worldly and material concerns, thus forsaking the spiritual journey that the other characters undergo.

The problem with Susan’s portrayal is twofold. First, it reduces her character to a simplistic representation of a single moral perspective, effectively overlooking the complexity of her growth throughout the series. This loss of depth and nuance diminishes the character’s richness, which had been developed over multiple books.

Second, the treatment of Susan in the end raises a valid concern about the morality conveyed by The Chronicles of Narnia. While it’s essential to encourage readers to contemplate deeper questions, the series’ conclusion appears to pass judgment on Susan in a manner that feels overly harsh and unrelatable for many readers.

Characters like Susan ought to be allowed to exist in all their complexity, embodying both virtues and vices, just as real people do. Moralistic literature can struggle in this regard, as it sometimes places such a heavy emphasis on characters representing moral absolutes that it neglects the very humanity that makes them relatable.

Storytelling needs nuance.

Moralistic literature isn’t inherently bad, but it does require a careful balance. A well-crafted moral lesson woven subtly into a narrative can enhance the reading experience. Authors should strive to let the story breathe and allow readers to draw their own conclusions rather than force-feeding morality.

The Chronicles of Narnia as a series remains a valuable contribution to literature, but its final installment serves as a cautionary tale about striking the right balance between morality and storytelling. The Last Battle exemplifies how moralistic literature, even when well-intentioned, can sometimes overshadow the creativity and relatability that make stories truly captivating.

There’s beauty in literature that respects the reader’s intellect and embraces the complexities of human morality. Ultimately, the best stories are those that allow us to ponder, question, and arrive at our own understanding of the world, rather than prescribing it for us.