Beyond Narnia & Middle-earth: 6 Recommended Reads That Are Not Lewis and Tolkien

An invitation for Christian thinkers to read beyond the gates

Co-written: Ruth Buchanan and Erin Newton

It’s 10 o’clock in the morning, on October 24th, if you must know. But I’m not in Elrond’s house. I’m home in my tiny office.

I glance at my inbox, trying to prioritize the manuscripts that need editing. There are a dozen projects, from articles to books to dissertations. I can tell you now that at least one of them will have a Middle-earth or Narnia reference. How do I know? Because every single author in my editing queue is writing in the field of theology or biblical studies, where it’s always Narnia and never Earthsea.

The Lay of the Land

C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien published their now-famous Narnia and Middle-earth series in the 1950s. Members of the initial generation that grew up with the Fellowship and the Pevensie kids are nearing their seventies. Gen X got the BBC’s live-action Narnia adaptations featuring truly startling special effects and the 1978 animated film version of The Lord of the Rings, which has had them singing “Down, Down to Goblin Town” ever since. My generation, the Millennials, had the Peter Jackson films. Gen Z and Alpha get the Rings of Power.

The appeal of these stories to religious communities likely comes from their deeply philosophical truths. The struggle between good and evil, light and dark. The conflict felt by the characters to do the right thing. The themes of fear, pain, loss, and redemption. Each of these reverberates throughout Scripture and pairs nicely with a sermon or within a theological discussion.

We need the literary imagination as a means of bridging the sacred with the secular. Familiar tales draw out our affections. They incarnate the theological truths on paper.

We scoff at Edmund and Boromir when they are tempted by evil. We shed tears when the tiny hobbits and young Lucy show giant-like courage. We cry out along with the Fellowship as Gandalf plunges into the abyss over the Bridge of Khazad-dum, and, like they did, we long for his return.

In addition to fiction, Lewis also wrote on theology and Christian living. For many, his story of faith is just as familiar as Paul’s journey to Damascus. The clearly symbolic figure of Aslan is the perfect illustration for a sermon. We can just as easily equate Gandalf with a divine-like hero sent from above and born again, coming back to us now at the turn of the tide.

The connection, at least in Lewis’s work, to spirituality is spelled out for you. Aslan is Jesus. The kids are called “sons of Adam” and “daughters of Eve.” It’s basically literary paint-by-numbers for Christian writers.

Unlike Aslan himself, Narnia and Middle-earth references are safe. So safe that when I read them, I let out a little sigh, text the editor-in-chief, and give him a heads up that “we got another one.”

The problem is not that I dislike these metaphors. I simply mourn the evidence that for many of today’s Christian writers, literary engagement seems to begin and end with these two authors: C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien.

Gated Communities

For the purposes of this discussion, I like to think of Narnia and Middle-earth as the metaphorical equivalents of gated communities. If you’ve ever lived in a gated community, you know exactly what I mean.

Once you’ve passed through the gates, there are few surprises. We know what’s in there, where all the roads lead, and are comfortable finding our way. No matter which way we turn, we’re relatively certain of what comes next. For many, this is the best part of gated communities. Nothing new or out of the ordinary is built within the confines of the gates.

But while “no surprises” living can feel safe, it can also feel boring for the passengers in your car. Predictable.

Yes, venturing beyond the gates of safety also comes with risks. You might turn down a street that leads to a dead end or a gravel road with potholes or downed power lines or a washed-out bridge.

But as the best stories tell us, great risks come with great rewards.

Reading Beyond the Gates

If you’re a Christian reader and communicator ready to venture beyond Narnia and Middle-earth but are unsure where to start, we’ve got you covered.

We’ve compiled a list of some of our favorite fictional places and spaces. Skim through, find one that sparks your interest, and dive in.

Book 1: The Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan

Imagine the voice of Cate Blanchett in her opening monologue in Lord of the Rings: “The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.” And now read this: “The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again.”

All the things you love about Tolkien’s Middle-earth are found in Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series (I refer here to the books, not the TV series). A motley crew of characters find themselves tangled in a web of events, with some wielding power from the True Source—for both good and evil.

Not only do the characters struggle externally against light and dark in the world, fighting to keep evil at bay, but also internally as they search to find meaning in who they are or who they are becoming.

Book 2: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

If you’re a reader who longs to immerse yourself in another place and time but aren’t sure what to make of mythical beings, magical quests, or fantastical worlds, this is the book for you.

Ostensibly the journal of a seventy-six-year-old pastor dying of heart failure, Gilead is an exploration of beauty, family, community, and love, all set against the backdrop of rural, early twentieth-century Iowa.

Though the first half of the book can feel somewhat disjointed as Reverend Ames skips around in his early memories, recording highlights and important moments, the second half coalesces into his present-day circumstances and becomes much more narratively cohesive.

What I love about this book is not just the power of the gentle storytelling technique but how Reverend Ames’s narrative voice infuses each scene with warmth, beauty, and grace.

Book 3: Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke

Imagine Harry Potter magic with 19th-century British history. Susanna Clarke brings the story of aging magician Mr. Norrell and his young, albeit overly confident, apprentice Jonathan Strange, both vying for power and prestige while interfering with the Napoleonic Wars.

The book’s cover depicts a solitary crow flying across the dark page, which I find an apt image for the shadowy story that leaves you feeling both intrigued and haunted. This is a Victorian drama of sorts, all the black lace and Dickensian atmosphere, paced like an old-world classic. I have never loved an ending to a book more than this one.

Book 4: Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

While many books in this list focus on exterior world-building, this one focuses on the interior. Eleanor Oliphant is a woman with a complicated history and a rich inner life, although not in the way we generally use that phrase.

This book reminds us that the people around us may be fighting demons we never would have imagined. About what hurts us and makes us whole. About how not all quests involve swords, bows, and axes. About how friendship can save your life.

Anyone who works with people, especially in a pastoral capacity, could do with the perspective this story brings.

Eleanor Oliphant deserves the world.

Book 5: Doomsday Book by Connie Willis

As a doctoral student in ancient history myself, the premise of Connie Willis’s Doomsday Book is a dream come true. What if historical research could be done by time travel? The main character Kivrin, an Oxford student, travels to the 14th century, unknowingly at the dawn of an epidemic. At the time the techs discover their chronological error, an epidemic breaks out in modern-day Oxford, leaving her rescuers confined by the quarantine.

Quarantine. Too soon, right?

Reading this book after the COVID pandemic left me with a depth of empathy that would not have been possible without our own lived experiences. The story reveals characters who love deeply and sincerely. It highlights the role of the church and faith during a time when people’s faith was shaken.

Book 6: Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan

For me, Claire Keegan’s Small Things Like These was the dark horse read of 2024. Short enough to be read in a sitting or two, swathed in a sneakily calming and pastoral-looking cover, this story nevertheless packs a strong emotional punch.

I actually don’t want to say too much about the plot here because I believe that the less you know about the book before you pick it up, the stronger effect it may have. Suffice to say it’s a story that hinges on love, loss, and identity and raises questions about morality, compassion, and the difference one ordinary person can make.

Taking the Left Turn

Intentionally exiting the gated community of literary familiarity simply means heading back to the entrance and turning. You’ll always know your way back to Tolkien and Lewis, and thankfully, they aren’t going anywhere.

But beyond the gates, the world is vast and open.

As Bilbo once said—if we may violate our own plea here for a moment—“It’s a dangerous business … going out your door.” You never know what new ideas you may bump into. With adventurous reading, that’s part of the fun.

We’ve given you a few places to start here, but when it comes to gaining insight from fiction, the power isn’t necessarily in the books you pick but in you the reader and what you bring to the endeavor.

Because God is both immanent and transcendent, if you look for him, you will find him at every turn, working his wonders both great and small, in the world, in our hearts, and between the pages of your next great read.

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Ruth here.

I’m so thankful Erin took the time to contribute to today’s essay! It’s the fruit of a rolling conversation that’s been slowly unspooling over many months in our private writing community.

Erin’s a skilled editor, a keen thinker, and a woman invested in seeing other writers thrive. Click through below to learn more about her and follow her work!

Erin is a full-time PhD student looking at the way in which nature is the divine words of wisdom for Job’s suffering. Somewhere in the bending of time and space, she works as an editor for various publishers and academic journals. In various fits of academic rebellion, she is found reading Mary Oliver’s poetry while sitting on the porch or reading sci-fi novels and wishing she had chosen a PhD in astrophysics. Sometimes, when all else fails, she writes.

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