Holywell Cemetery is at the centre of old Oxford but other Inklings lay at the edges. Joined with him in mouldering depths is his wife, “Michal,” who survived him by 25 years, and his son who lived to see a new century dawn. The initials on that footstone, covering its ancient bone digits, is CWSW: Charles Walter Stansby Williams. Though this is pretty normal in UK graves, I find it a bit creepy there is a footstone too, as if trying to keep the corpse in. Here is the headstone that tells its final tale. Could there be an Inkling more fitting for a cemetery scene? Even in life, he lived in the liminal space between the living and the dead. So here is the gravestone of Hugo and Margaret Dyson.īut Holywell’s main attraction, for me, was the gravestone of Charles Williams. Lewis to Christ and for his great impatience with Tolkien’s elves. But there is also Hugo Dyson, famous for helping lead C.S. Famous women, apparently, place their restful bones elsewhere. Holywell is the long-term home of Kenneth Grahame, James Blish, Austin Farrar (an Inkling I didn’t find), Max Müller, and other legendary lights. I begin with Hugo Dyson–partly because I found his grave by accident, and partly because, honestly, who thinks of Hugo? Holywell Cemetery had a very spooky sign but I forgot to take a picture. No doubt I have missed some essential figures, but this is how I spent my afternoon and evening. This circle of scholars and writers gave us The Lord of the Ringsand Narnia, but in a much broader sense created a culture of critical creativity from a broad Christian tradition that deepened theological perspectives, challenged cultural norms, and opened up new ways of telling stories. Last week was the first time I ever made this sort of pilgrimage, a journey through Oxford by visiting the graves of the Oxford Inklings. So, naturally, I decided to visit the Inklings’ graves. It was a beautiful autumn day thousands of miles from where I live at the centre of a new generation of fantasy literature.

So I switched my plans up and decided to spend Friday wandering around Oxford and Saturday in the archive. But the next day, Saturday, called for pouring rain. Earlier this month, on a particular Friday in Oxford, the sun was shining and I was looking toward to a day at the archive. I took this picture when I was cutting through some alleys in the Headington area so I could find my way to C.S. I wish I had been there at night to take a proper Hallowe’en picture.

Isn’t that the coolest name? Quarry Hollow.

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