Audiobook Sample
Listen to the sample to experience the story.
Please wait while we verify your browser...
- Title: Magician’s Nephew
- Author: C.S. Lewis
- Narrator: Kenneth Branagh
- Length: 03:56:09
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 24/05/2005
- Publisher: HarperCollins
- Genre: Kids, Fairy Tales & Folklore, Classics
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
The first time I heard the lion’s song in “The Magician’s Nephew”, I was driving through the Andes at dawn. Kenneth Branagh’s voice filled my rental car as the sun painted the mountains gold, and in that moment, I understood why C.S. Lewis insisted this was the true beginning of the Narnia saga. There’s something about experiencing creation myths through audio that makes them feel more ancient, more sacred – like hearing campfire stories from the first people who ever walked the earth.
Branagh’s narration is a masterclass in oral storytelling, reminding me of those magical evenings in Oaxaca where abuelitas would spin tales that made the stars seem closer. His performance captures the dual nature of this story – at once a whimsical children’s adventure and a profound cosmological myth. Listen to how his voice changes when the Wood Between the Worlds appears: suddenly hushed and reverent, like we’re being let in on a secret older than time.
The audio production shines brightest during Aslan’s creation song. Branagh’s voice swells with the same awe I felt watching daybreak over the Atacama Desert, when the world seems to remake itself before your eyes. The choral elements in the background don’t just accompany the narration – they become part of Narnia’s very fabric, just as Lewis intended. You can practically feel the grass pushing up through the soil, hear the stars singing overhead.
What surprised me most was how Branagh handles the book’s philosophical undertones. When Digory wrestles with temptation, the narrator’s pauses speak volumes – those silent moments contain more moral weight than most full chapters in contemporary fiction. It reminds me of sitting with Mayan storytellers in Guatemala, where the spaces between words held as much meaning as the words themselves.
Lewis’s themes of creation, corruption, and redemption resonate differently in audio format. The scene where Jadis crashes through the London row houses becomes a visceral experience – Branagh’s crashing consonants make you flinch as plaster rains down. Yet he never loses the childlike wonder that makes Narnia so enduring. His Uncle Andrew voice is particularly brilliant, capturing all the pathetic grandeur of a man who’s convinced himself he’s important.
For travelers like me who’ve spent years collecting stories across continents, this audiobook feels like discovering the source of all myths. There’s a reason I keep returning to it during long train rides through unfamiliar countries – it’s foundational storytelling, the kind that makes you look at every wardrobe with new eyes. Branagh understands this intimately; listen to how his voice thrums with recognition when the characters first see the lamp-post, as if he’s revealing the origin of every streetlight that’s ever comforted a lonely traveler.
The production isn’t flawless – some of the animal voices verge on pantomime, and a few scene transitions feel abrupt. But these are minor quibbles in what’s otherwise a transcendent listening experience. At just under four hours, it’s the perfect companion for a long afternoon hike or a rainy day journey.
Compared to other classic children’s fantasies in audio format, Branagh’s “Magician’s Nephew” stands apart by honoring the text’s dual nature – it’s both a simple children’s tale and a complex theological allegory. Where other narrators might choose one lane, Branagh dances deftly between them, much like the best oral storytellers I’ve encountered from Ireland to Indonesia.
If you’re introducing someone to Narnia, start them here, with this audio version. There’s magic in hearing the rings clink together, in experiencing the birth of a world through sound. It’s the closest thing we have to gathering around that first Narnian campfire, listening as someone tells us how everything began.
May your journeys – both literary and literal – always lead you to wonder,
Marcus Rivera
