id="udb027c88-4511-5e36-9f8a-e9783807f8a5">
C. S. LEWIS
SURPRISED
BY JOY
THE SHAPE OF MY EARLY LIFE
‘Surprised by Joy – impatient as the wind.’
WORDSWORTH
William Collins
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by Geoffrey Bles 1955
Copyright © C. S. Lewis Pte Ltd 1955
Cover design and illustration by Kimberly Glyder
The right of C. S. Lewis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007461271
Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2010 ISBN: 9780007332311
Version: 2015-12-05
To Dom Bede Griffiths, O.S.B.
Contents
This book is written partly in answer to requests that I would tell how I passed from Atheism to Christianity and partly to correct one or two false notions that seem to have got about. How far the story matters to anyone but myself depends on the degree to which others have experienced what I call ‘joy’. If it is at all common, a more detailed treatment of it than has (I believe) been attempted before may be of some use. I have been emboldened to write of it because I notice that a man seldom mentions what he had supposed to be his most idiosyncratic sensations without receiving from at least one (often more) of those present the reply, ‘What! Have you felt that too? I always thought I was the only one.’
The book aims at telling the story of my conversion and is not a general autobiography, still less ‘Confessions’ like those of St Augustine or Rousseau. This means in practice that it gets less like a general autobiography as it goes on. In the earlier chapters the net has to be spread pretty wide in order that, when the explicitly spiritual crisis arrives, the reader may understand what sort of person my childhood and adolescence had made me. When the ‘build-up’ is complete, I confine myself strictly to business and omit everything (however important by ordinary biographical standards) which seems, at that stage, irrelevant. I do not think there is much loss; I never read an autobiography in which the parts devoted to the earlier years were not far the most interesting.
The story is, I fear, suffocatingly subjective; the kind of thing
