![]() Chesterton, a writer who was at least Lewis’ equal as an indefatigable defender of Christian truth, should be enjoying a similar renaissance. According to his literary executor, Walter Hooper, “the number of Lewis’ books which are read today is far in excess of anything that happened in his own lifetime.” Lewis, in his humility, was convinced that his books would be forgotten, along with their author, in the years following his death. Many writers who live and die in a blaze of celebrity are doomed to die a second death, in the years after their passing, as their reputation, and the memory of their life and work, fades into the oblivion of public forgetfulness. ![]() There is, however, an obverse side to the coin of posterity. ![]() This was the immortality of which Hilaire Belloc wrote, with mischievous whimsy: ![]() And, for the faithless man, this is the only immortality there is. It is in this way that we mortal men, doomed to die, attain a level of immortality. ![]() Such enduring fame represents a far greater tribute than any obituary could offer. Although it must have been a strangely flattering experience for the great American writer to read of his own demise when he was still very much alive, it is even more flattering that he is still alive long after his death. The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” quipped Mark Twain upon hearing that his obituary had been mistakenly published in a newspaper. ![]()
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