I truly admire those individuals who have the remarkable ability to step into another person's perspective. Lewis, in my opinion, accomplished this with greater brilliance than anyone I have ever witnessed (with the sole exception of Hillary Jordon's Mudbound). I frequently find myself wondering what could possibly drive the undertaking of written work, especially this particular one by Lewis. After conducting a bit of research, I was able to arrive at a workable answer. This book was written during the harrowing experience of surviving the bombings of WWII, a war fought against a clearly malevolent foe. The constant struggle to maintain the semblance of a normal life amid the deafening explosions of bombs, the shrill screams of sirens, and the desperate search for news of loved ones both nearby and on the distant battlefront inevitably took a toll on people's souls. For me, it is not difficult to make the leap and understand this book, as well as the sinister intent of evil that seems to lurk around every corner, ready to trip us up. I was truly glad when Wormwood finally lost in the end.