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The magician's nephew / C.S. Lewis ; illustrated by Pauline Baynes.

By: Lewis, C. S. (Clive Staples), 1898-1963.
Contributor(s): Baynes, Pauline.
Material type: materialTypeLabelBookSeries: Chronicles of Narnia ; 01. Publisher: London : HarperCollins Children's, 2009, c1955Description: 219 p. : ill. ; 20 cm.ISBN: 9780007323135; 9780007588510.Subject(s): Children's stories | Premiers' Reading Challenge : 5-6 | Premiers' Reading Challenge : 7-8 | Narnia (Imaginary place) -- Juvenile fiction | Fantasy fictionDDC classification: 823.912 Summary: When Digory and Polly discover Uncle Andrew's secret workshop, they are tricked into touching some magic rings that take them right out of this world. But even Uncle Andrew doesn't realise the wonders that lie ahead as they discover the gateway to the magical land of Narnia, where many thrilling adventures await them!
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Item type Current location Collection Call number Status Date due Barcode Item reserves
Junior Deer Park Library (DIY)
Junior Fiction J LEWI Issued 04/10/2019 I7636789
Junior Sunshine Library (DIY)
Junior Fiction J LEWI Issued 19/10/2019 I7636771
Junior Sunshine Library
Classics Collection – Children's
Junior Fiction J LEWI Available IA2027763
Junior Sunshine Library (DIY)
Classics Collection – Children's
Junior Fiction J LEWI Issued 17/10/2019 IA2027762
Junior St Albans Library
Junior Fiction J LEWI Available I7636894
Total reserves: 0

First published: Bodley Head, 1955.

When Digory and Polly discover Uncle Andrew's secret workshop, they are tricked into touching some magic rings that take them right out of this world. But even Uncle Andrew doesn't realise the wonders that lie ahead as they discover the gateway to the magical land of Narnia, where many thrilling adventures await them!

Ages 9+

Excerpt provided by Syndetics

The Magician's Nephew PLM Chapter One The Wrong Door Polly had discovered long ago that if you opened a certain little door in the box-room attic of her house you would find the cistern and a dark place behind it which you could get into by a little careful climbing. The dark place was like a long tunnel with brick wall on one side and sloping roof on the other. In the roof there were little chunks of light between the slates. There was no floor in this tunnel: you had to step from rafter to rafter, and between them there was only plaster. If you stepped on this you would find yourself falling through the ceiling of the room below. Polly had used the bit of the tunnel just beside the cistern as a smugglers' cave. She had brought up bits of old packing cases and the seats of broken kitchen chairs, and things of that sort, and spread them across from rafter to rafter so as to make a bit of floor. Here she kept a cash-box containing various treasures, and a story she was writing and usually a few apples. She had often drunk a quiet bottle of ginger-beer in there: the old bottles made it look more like a smugglers' cave. Digory quite liked the cave (she wouldn't let him see the story) but he was more interested in exploring. "Look here," he said. "How long does this tunnel go on for? I mean, does it stop where your house ends?" "No," said Polly. "The walls don't go out to the roof. It goes on. I don't know how far." "Then we could get the length of the whole row of houses." "So we could," said Polly. "And oh, I say!" "What?" "We could get into the other houses." "Yes, and get taken up for burglars! No thanks." "Don't be so jolly clever. I was thinking of the house beyond yours." "What about it?" "Why, it's the empty one. Daddy says it's always been empty since we came here." "I suppose we ought to have a look at it then," said Digory. He was a good deal more excited than you'd have thought from the way he spoke. For of course he was thinking, just as you would have been, of all the reasons why the house might have been empty so long. So was Polly. Neither of them said the word "haunted". And both felt that once the thing had been suggested, it would be feeble not to do it. "Shall we go and try it now?" said Digory. "All right," said Polly. "Don't if you'd rather not," said Digory. "I'm game if you are," said she. "How are we to know we're in the next house but one?" They decided they would have to go out into the box-room and walk across it taking steps as long as the steps from one rafter to the next. That would give them an idea of how many rafters went to a room. Then they would allow about four more for the passage between the two attics in Polly's house, and then the same number for the maid's bedroom as for the box-room. That would give them the length of the house. When they had done that distance twice they would be at the end of Digory's house; any door they came to after that would let them into an attic of the empty house. "But I don't expect it's really empty at all," said Digory. "What do you expect?" "I expect someone lives there in secret, only coming in and out at night, with a dark lantern. We shall probably discover a gang of desperate criminals and get a reward. It's all rot to say a house would be empty all those years unless there was some mystery." "Daddy thought it must be the drains," said Polly. "Pooh! Grown-ups are always thinking of uninteresting explanations," said Digory. Now that they were talking by daylight in the attic instead of by candlelight in the Smugglers' Cave it seemed much less likely that the empty house would be haunted. When they had measured the attic they had to get a pencil and do a sum. They both got different answers to it at first, and even when they agreed I am not sure they got it right. They were in a hurry to start on the exploration. "We mustn't make a sound," said Polly as they climbed in again behind the cistern. Because it was such an important occasion they took a candle each (Polly had a good store of them in her cave). It was very dark and dusty and draughty and they stepped from rafter to rafter without a word except when they whispered to one another, "We're opposite your attic now", or "This must be halfway through our house". And neither of them stumbled and the candles didn't go out, and at last they came to where they could see a little door in the brick wall on their right. There was no bolt or handle on this side of it, of course, for the door had been made for getting in, not for getting out; but there was a catch (as there often is on the inside of a cupboard door) which they felt sure they would be able to turn. "Shall I?" said Digory. "I'm game if you are," said Polly, just as she had said before. Both felt that it was becoming very serious, but neither would draw back. Digory pushed round the catch with some difficulty. The door swung open and the sudden daylight made them blink. Then, with a great shock, they saw that they were looking, not into a deserted attic, but into a furnished room. But it seemed empty enough. It was dead silent. Polly's curiosity got the better of her. She blew out her candle and stepped out into the strange room, making no more noise than a mouse. The Magician's Nephew PLM . Copyright © by C. Lewis . Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from The Magician's Nephew by Pauline Baynes, C. S. Lewis All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Horn Book Review

Who would have thought Branagh could create the perfect narrator's voice for this classic fantasy: avuncular and comforting, it is the voice of a storyteller gathering his young listeners around the hob on an idle afternoon. The solid believability of this voice is important, a necessary anchor to the real world and a counterfoil to Uncle Andrew, whose unctuous, sniveling whine is increasingly tinged with madness. Branagh also takes care to draw each of the other characters with exactitude: Polly and Digory, quintessentially ordinary as they quarrel and make up, compete and cooperate; Jadis, whose jagged voice is steeped in venom; the hardy cockney accent of the Cabby; and mighty Aslan, majestic and alarming in equal measure. Rev. 10/55. (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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