Who Were The Inklings?
The Inklings were an informal circle of writers and intellectuals who met in Oxford, England, during the 1930s and 1940s. They gathered regularly—often in C.S. Lewis’s rooms at Magdalen College or around a table at the Eagle and Child pub—to share and critique each other’s writings. There were no official rules or officers; as Lewis’s brother Warren put it, the Inklings “was neither a club nor a literary society” but simply a friendly union of creative minds. C.S. Lewis was the central figure holding the group together, and the members were mostly his friends and colleagues from Oxford. Over nearly two decades (until 1949), this collegial band of storytellers nurtured ideas that would rewire modern fantasy literature, directly inspiring some of the 20th century’s most beloved novels.
What Did They Do?
Even though the Inklings had no formal structure, they fell into a lively routine. On Thursday evenings, they convened in Lewis’s college rooms for serious literary sessions: a member would read aloud a chapter or poem in progress, and the others would respond with candid critiques. On Tuesday mornings, those who were free would also meet more casually at the Eagle and Child (affectionately nicknamed the “Bird and Baby”) to swap ideas over beer and lunch. The readings ranged from high adventure to theology – Tolkien might share a new chapter of The Lord of the Rings, and Lewis might follow with a draft from his latest tale or essay. Discussion was frank and not for the thin-skinned: praise was given for great work, but mediocre writing could expect “brutally frank” commentary. This mix of support and honest criticism created a kind of creative workshop atmosphere. The members pushed each other to refine plots, deepen themes, and press on to finish projects that might otherwise have been abandoned. Indeed, Lewis later said, “What I owe to them all is incalculable,” and Tolkien admitted that only through Lewis’s encouragement did he struggle through to the end of The Lord of the Rings. In short, the Inklings turned their weekly get-togethers into a crucible for storytelling – a place where playful imagination and rigorous critique combined to shape works that are now classics.
Key Members
C.S. Lewis
Clive Staples “Jack” Lewis was, in many ways, the hub of the Inklings. A scholar of literature and a gifted writer, Lewis provided the meeting space and much of the group’s initial impetus. He delighted in the camaraderie and debate – often leading discussions and keeping them on track. Lewis shared many of his own works with the group before publication, from Christian essays to fantasy novels. For example, he read chapters of his science-fiction tale Out of the Silent Planet and, later, his children’s story The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to get the Inklings’ feedback. The group’s influence is evident in his writing: he dedicated The Screwtape Letters (1942) to Tolkien in gratitude, and he heeded (and sometimes sparred with) his friends’ critiques as he developed the world of Narnia. Not every Inkling loved Narnia – Tolkien famously found its patchwork of mythologies “poorly constructed” – but Lewis took such opinions in stride. Significantly, it was two Inklings (Tolkien and Hugo Dyson) who had helped persuade Lewis to convert to Christianity years earlier, a faith that deeply informed his stories. Ever the encourager in the group, Lewis also spurred on his friends’ creativity. He later acknowledged that the Inklings were crucial to his life and craft, reflecting that their fellowship strengthened his ideas and that without them, Narnia and many of his books might never have fully blossomed.
J.R.R. Tolkien
Oxford professor J.R.R. Tolkien (“Tollers” to his friends) was Lewis’s closest friend and the other central pillar of the Inklings. A philologist and storyteller, Tolkien brought to the group the unfolding legendarium of Middle-earth. Week by week, he read aloud draft chapters of The Lord of the Rings, giving the Inklings an exclusive first look at Frodo’s journey long before the outside world. He, in turn, received both admiration and blunt criticism. Many were captivated by Tolkien’s rich imagination and world-building, though one Inkling (Hugo Dyson) famously groaned “not another elf!” during a late-night reading. Tolkien took such feedback with good humor – after all, the jovial Dyson was a close friend – but he did scale back how much he read to the group as the years went on. Importantly, Tolkien drew motivation from the Inklings to continue his massive work. “Only by [Lewis’s] support and friendship did I ever struggle to the end,” he confessed regarding The Lord of the Rings. Outside of fantasy, Tolkien contributed scholarly insight on language and mythology to the meetings, which enriched everyone’s discussions. He and Lewis also shared a deep Christian faith, and Tolkien’s Catholic perspective often lent another angle in their theological chats. (Tolkien had been instrumental in Lewis’s religious conversion, cementing their bond.) Despite occasional creative disagreements – Tolkien, for instance, never warmed to The Chronicles of Narnia and even disapproved of Lewis’s marriage later in life – the friendship between “Tollers” and “Jack” remained the heart of the Inklings. Tolkien’s son Christopher Tolkien, then an Oxford student, even joined the circle on occasion and helped his father by reading some Lord of the Rings chapters aloud to the group. Through the Inklings, Tolkien found not only an audience for his epic but a supportive fraternity that gave him confidence to bring Middle-earth to completion.
Charles Williams
Charles Williams was the oddest – and in some ways, the most electrifying – member of the Inklings. An editor at Oxford University Press and an accomplished writer of poetry, novels, and theology, Williams joined the group a bit later, around 1939, when his job relocated him from London to Oxford. He brought with him a very different flavor of storytelling: his novels were psychological thrillers with mystical and supernatural themes, quite unlike anything the other Inklings were writing. Lewis had become an avid fan of Williams’s work (he once called Williams’s The Place of the Lion “one of the major literary events of my life” in a letter ) and eagerly welcomed him into the fold. Williams’s presence lit up the meetings – he was dynamic, imaginative, and could wax eloquent about Arthurian legend or divine love in equal measure. Other members noted that Williams often kept the conversation vigorous and the readings exciting. At the same time, some Inklings quietly found Williams’s ideas and prose rather bewildering. His blend of occult references, dense symbolism, and unorthodox theology was a lot to take in (Lewis was willing to overlook Williams’s fascination with esoteric mystical orders, but Tolkien remained wary of that side of Williams’s life). Still, Williams contributed significantly: during the war years, he read drafts of his novel All Hallows’ Eve to the group and honed it based on their feedback. His friendship with Lewis, in particular, was deeply enriching to both men’s creativity. Tragically, Charles Williams died suddenly in 1945 while the group was still active. His death was a severe blow – Warren Lewis wrote in his diary that after Williams’s passing, “the blackout has fallen and the Inklings can never be the same again.” Indeed, without Williams’s lively voice at the table, the Inklings’ gatherings grew noticeably dimmer. He had made himself an indispensable part of the circle in just a few short years, and his legacy endured in the ideas and enthusiasm he had imparted to his fellow Inklings.
Owen Barfield
Philosopher, attorney, and author Owen Barfield was known affectionately as “the man who disagrees with you about everything.” One of Lewis’s oldest friends (their friendship pre-dated the Inklings by decades), Barfield was the resident contrarian whose challenges sharpened everyone’s thinking. He and Lewis had engaged in famous friendly debates about philosophy and faith since the 1920s, disagreements that Lewis said were invaluable to clarifying his own beliefs. Barfield’s role in the Inklings was to provoke thought: if an argument or story point seemed too pat, Barfield would question it, probing its foundations. Though he was only an occasional attendee (living in London for much of the time), his impact was lasting. Barfield’s ideas about language and meaning deeply influenced the other Inklings. His 1928 book Poetic Diction (on the evolution of language and imagination) was read by Tolkien and helped shape Tolkien’s view of how words relate to myth and reality. In meetings, Barfield might contribute a piece of literary criticism or even a whimsical children’s story he’d written, but more often, he contributed to the conversations themselves – pressing his friends to define their terms and think more deeply. By profession, Barfield was a lawyer, and he brought a lawyer’s rigor to any discussion, much to the amusement (and occasional frustration) of the others. Lewis credited Barfield with heavily influencing his own intellectual development and even dedicated some of his books to Barfield’s children as a mark of their close bond. Unlike the other key Inklings, Barfield outlived them all (living to 1997) and saw the far-reaching success of the works he had helped incubate. Soft-spoken but intellectually tenacious, Barfield ensured that the Inklings never became an echo chamber – his philosophical sparring guaranteed that ideas were truly tested among the group.
Lesser-Known Members and Guests
While Lewis, Tolkien, Williams, and Barfield were the stars, many others played important roles in the Inklings’ story. Here are a few of the notable “lesser-known” Inklings and visitors who rounded out the group’s ranks:
- Warren “Warnie” Lewis – C.S. Lewis’s elder brother. A former Army major turned historian, Warnie was a quiet pillar of the Inklings. He attended almost every meeting, often pouring the drinks and listening intently, even if he rarely presented writings of his own. Warren’s shared childhood of imaginative play with his brother helped spark the very creativity that led to Narnia, and as an adult, he continued to fuel Jack’s imagination with steadfast encouragement. He eventually authored six books of history himself and later edited his brother’s collected letters. Warnie also kept a detailed diary that documented the Inklings’ gatherings from an insider’s perspective – without his notes, much of what we know about the group’s day-to-day life would be lost. In short, Warren Lewis’s camaraderie and record-keeping were invaluable to the Inklings, even if he stayed mostly in the background.
- Captain Hugo Dyson – A lecturer in English literature, Dyson was a convivial and outspoken member who brought a dose of humor to every meeting. He was a Shakespeare expert by trade, which meant he had a keen sense of drama and timing – including when to heckle a friend’s reading for comedic effect. Dyson wasn’t shy about voicing his opinions; legend has it that during one of Tolkien’s lengthy readings of The Lord of the Rings, Dyson stretched out and groaned, “Oh no, not another elf!” (using slightly more colorful language at the time). His interjection caused much laughter and is one of the most famous anecdotes in Inklings lore. Despite occasionally getting impatient with high fantasy, Dyson deeply valued his friends – he had been, along with Tolkien, instrumental in nudging the once-atheist Lewis towards Christianity years earlier. His wit and extroverted warmth kept the atmosphere from ever becoming too stuffy. When Dyson was in the room, the Inklings could count on plenty of chuckles to balance the serious literary debate.
- Nevill Coghill – A scholar and theatrical director, Coghill was another of Lewis’s Oxford colleagues who dropped in on the Inklings. He is best remembered among the group for an indirect but crucial contribution: it was Coghill who handed Lewis a copy of The Place of the Lion, a novel by Charles Williams, urging Lewis to read it . Lewis’s enthusiastic response to that book sparked the friendship that brought Williams into the Inklings. Coghill himself loved medieval literature (he later produced a well-known modern translation of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales), and he shared that passion with the group. Though he wasn’t a constant attendee, when present he added thoughtful critiques and a touch of artistic flair (Coghill enjoyed drama and even produced plays in Oxford). His eye for literary quality helped introduce new voices and works to the Inklings – including, importantly, Charles Williams – thereby shaping the group’s evolution.
- Other Inklings and Visitors – The circle included a rotating cast of additional members over the years. Academics like Adam Fox (a theologian and poet who became Dean of Divinity at Magdalen), Lord David Cecil (a biographer and literary critic), Dr. Robert Havard (the physician to Lewis and Tolkien), J.A.W. Bennett, Colin Hardie, and others all took part at various times. Dr. Havard, in particular, exemplified the group’s playful camaraderie: as the resident non-literary man (he was a medical doctor), he earned the teasing nickname “Useless Quack” from the others – a moniker he bore with good humor. Meetings occasionally welcomed esteemed guests as well. Notable visitors included the poet Roy Campbell, whose dynamic personality made an impression, and fantasy novelist E.R. Eddison, author of The Worm Ouroboros, who visited to swap stories with these fellow lovers of myth. Each of these figures, whether regular or guest, added their own spice to the mix. The Inklings at any given gathering might include a combination of soldiers, poets, scientists, and scholars – all drawn together by the love of a good story and the delight of friendly debate.
The Inklings’ Influence on Literature
The influence of the Inklings on literature – especially fantasy and Christian literature – has been profound and enduring. Within the circle, the members directly shaped one another’s works through feedback and inspiration. Many chapters of books that are now classics were first tested in front of this small audience. Tolkien’s entire Lord of the Rings trilogy was essentially workshopped among the Inklings, with members offering both encouragement and constructive criticism that helped refine the epic. Lewis’s novels, too, benefited: for instance, The Screwtape Letters and The Great Divorce were read aloud to the group, who helped Lewis polish his arguments and narrative style. Charles Williams managed to complete and improve All Hallows’ Eve, thanks to input from the Inklings. In several cases, the authors acknowledged this debt directly – the first edition of The Lord of the Rings was dedicated to the Inklings, as were other works like Lewis’s The Problem of Pain. These books likely would have been very different (or unfinished) without the Inklings’ camaraderie. The proof is in letters and memoirs: Lewis said the group’s help was “incalculable,” and Tolkien credited the Inklings with nothing less than seeing The Lord of the Rings to completion.
Beyond the individual books the Inklings nurtured, the group’s broader legacy has been to legitimize and popularize imaginative fiction in an age that was often dominated by realism and modernism. In the 1940s, serious literature was expected to be gritty, psychological, or avant-garde; fairy tales and fantastical romances were considered old-fashioned. The Inklings boldly went against the grain. They proved that epic myths, magical worlds, and theological themes could speak to modern readers just as powerfully as any contemporary social novel. Thanks in large part to the works of Tolkien, Lewis, and Williams, the modern fantasy genre was born (or at least given a huge boost) in the mid-20th century. Today, the popularity of fantasy literature – from hobbits to magical wardrobes – can be traced back to the success of the Inklings’ masterpieces and the standard they set. These writers showed that fantasy could be serious literature, worthy of critical respect and capable of conveying profound truths.
The Inklings also had a significant impact on theological literature and Christian imagination. Most of the group were devout Christians, and their conversations often wandered into questions of faith, morality, and the meaning behind myths. This shared spiritual outlook seeped into their stories: for example, Lewis’s fiction (from Narnia to his Space Trilogy) and Williams’s novels are rich with Christian symbolism, and Tolkien described The Lord of the Rings as a fundamentally religious and Catholic work at its core. By bouncing these ideas off one another, the Inklings effectively honed a new kind of storytelling where fantasy, morality, and theology intersect. They showed that a novel could entertain with dragons and witches while also exploring deeper philosophical and religious themes. The result was a body of work that has influenced generations of readers in both realms – inspiring future fantasy writers like Ursula K. Le Guin and J.K. Rowling, as well as Christian authors and apologists who saw how narrative can convey faith. Millions of readers around the world have now enjoyed the books born in the Inklings’ meetings, and Oxford itself has become almost a pilgrimage site for fans of imaginative literature. The Inklings demonstrated the power of friendship and shared vision in creating art, and their legacy endures not only in the pages of their books but in the very shape of modern literary culture.
Lesser-Known Facts and Traditions
Beyond the well-known stories, the Inklings’ fellowship generated many interesting legends, traditions, and behind-the-scenes quirks. Here are some lesser-known facts that shed light on the character of the group:
- How the Inklings Got Their Name: The name “Inklings” wasn’t invented by Lewis or Tolkien – it was inherited. In 1931, an Oxford undergraduate named Edward Tangye Lean had formed a small literary club (mostly students) called “The Inklings” for reading aloud unfinished compositions. Tolkien and Lewis attended a few meetings of that student group. When Lean left Oxford in 1933 and his original club dissolved, Lewis and Tolkien informally adopted the name for their own growing circle. Tolkien appreciated the pun in “Inklings”: it implied vague ideas or inklings of thought, but also those who dabble in ink – perfect for a band of writers. And so the moniker stuck. (Tolkien later remarked that even if Lean’s club hadn’t existed, their group would have formed “at that time” anyway – the name was just a happy accident .)
- No Reading in the Pub: Contrary to popular imagination, the Inklings did not sit around the pub reading high fantasy aloud to astonished patrons every week. The Tuesday gatherings at The Eagle and Child were purely informal social meet-ups – friendly chat, jokes, and maybe sharing ideas about their works, but never formal readings. The serious manuscript reading and critiquing happened during the private Thursday night sessions in Lewis’s rooms, not in the public eye . So while the Inklings certainly frequented the “Bird and Baby” pub and made it famous, one might be disappointed to learn that famous lines like “Not all those who wander are lost” were not declaimed over pints of ale for the whole bar to hear. The pub meetings were more about friendship and relaxation. (In later years, after Lewis’s death, some surviving members kept up the habit of meeting for a beer, but these were more nostalgia than anything else.)
- Joyful Rites and Jokes: The Inklings had their share of playful traditions. One favorite pastime was a contest to see who could keep a straight face the longest while reading intentionally bad literature. They would pass around the atrociously florid prose of Amanda McKittrick Ros – widely considered one of the worst published writers in English – and challenge each other to read it aloud without bursting into laughter. Inevitably, someone would crack up, and the room would dissolve into merriment. This good-natured game was a testament to the Inklings’ ability to laugh at themselves and at bad writing, even as they strove to produce great literature. The group also loved inventing or retelling lighthearted poems, limericks, and inside jokes. In short, not every Inklings meeting was a solemn critique session – often, it was more like a gathering of schoolboys seeing who could outdo the others in wit and mirth.
- The Great Story Challenge: One of the most intriguing “what if” moments in Inklings history is the writing pact made between Lewis and Tolkien in the mid-1930s. Frustrated that nobody was writing the kinds of fantastical stories they enjoyed, the two friends decided to create their own. They agreed that Lewis would write a space-travel adventure and Tolkien would write a time-travel story. Lewis swiftly delivered on his end of the bargain – this led to his 1938 novel Out of the Silent Planet, the first of his sci-fi/Space Trilogy. Tolkien began a tale about a modern man’s journey back through time to ancient Atlantis (a novel fragment now known as The Lost Road), but he never completed it. Although Tolkien’s time-travel story remained unfinished, elements of it later found their way into his mythos of Númenor. This friendly challenge shows the creative synergy between the two men: it directly spawned one published book (Lewis’s) and indirectly influenced Tolkien’s legendarium. It’s fascinating to imagine how different literary history might be if both halves of the deal had been carried through to completion.
- Friendly Rivalries and Critiques: Despite their deep friendship, the Inklings didn’t always see eye to eye, and they weren’t shy about voicing it. Some of the most famous disagreements have become legends in their own right. Tolkien, for example, had a very particular vision of fantasy and was notoriously hard to please when it came to others’ works. He openly disliked C.S. Lewis’s Narnia stories – finding them too hastily assembled and internally inconsistent for his taste. Lewis, who respected Tolkien’s opinion, took the critique in stride (though he didn’t change Narnia to suit Tolkien – the two simply agreed to disagree on that matter). Tolkien was also lukewarm about Lewis’s marriage in 1956 to Joy Davidman (Tolkien, a traditional Catholic, had reservations about the match), which caused a bit of a chill between the friends in Lewis’s final years. On the other side, Lewis and others sometimes grew impatient with Tolkien’s perfectionism – he was slow to publish and would obsess over details. The good-natured ribbing from his peers (like Dyson’s quip about “another elf”) sprang from genuine affection but also real frustration that The Lord of the Rings was taking so long. Meanwhile, Hugo Dyson’s famous outburst during a Tolkien reading (“Not another [expletive] elf!”) has gone down in history as a sign of both the Inklings’ candor and their ability to forgive one another’s lapses. Tolkien reportedly never read aloud from The Lord of the Rings to the group again after Dyson’s comment, but he did continue attending and valued Dyson as a friend nonetheless. Another subtle tension involved Charles Williams: Lewis was utterly charmed by him, whereas Tolkien remained politely friendly but privately skeptical of Williams’s mystical leanings. These disagreements never truly broke the fellowship – if anything, the friction occasionally produced sparks that made their conversations more illuminating. The Inklings proved that even among the best of friends, you can vehemently critique each other’s work or worldview and still bond over a shared love of story.
- The Unofficial “Last” Meeting: The end of the Inklings came not with a bang but with a whimper – or rather, with an empty room. By 1949, the Thursday evening gatherings had dwindled as members moved away or lost some of their earlier enthusiasm for reading aloud. On October 20, 1949, Warren Lewis wrote in his diary: “No one turned up after dinner, which was just as well, as [Jack] has a bad cold and wanted to go to bed early.” A week later, he noted, “No Inklings tonight, so dined at home.” And that was that – without any official announcement, the regular meetings ceased. The Inklings as a formal group quietly faded out in late 1949 once it no longer served its purpose. However, the friendships continued. Lewis and Tolkien, though they saw each other less frequently, still met on occasion to chat about their works-in-progress. The surviving members stayed in touch through letters and visits. When C.S. Lewis died in 1963, J.R.R. Tolkien poignantly described the feeling as like an old tree losing a limb – a testament to how much these men meant to one another. In a sense, the spirit of the Inklings lived on well beyond 1949 in the connections they maintained and the collective influence they had on each other’s lives.
Each of these tidbits adds color to the story of the Inklings. They weren’t just a stiff academic club but a group of real, dynamic friends with quirks, inside jokes, arguments, and affections. Knowing their traditions and trials – from drinking games with awful prose to unwritten novels and gentlemanly quarrels – helps us appreciate how human and relatable these creative giants were. The Inklings’ legend is not only about the famous books they gave us but also about the warm pints on a cold Oxford day, the laughter ringing out in a smoky room, and the supportive camaraderie that can make even the hardest creative work a joy.