Hmm... I'm not sure I'm following your objection. If Lolita is an illustration, or examination (in large part by counterexample) of the moral life, then so too is the Bible. People in the Bible act (small-g) good sometimes, bad sometimes, ambiguous other times, and the trenchancy and richness of the text makes it ripe for all kinds of moral interpretation, reinterpretation, and reimagination.
As I said, my problem around Susan is the other Pevensies' reaction, not the brute fact of a divinely ordained train wreck (the first book takes place during WWII, so the moment we allow for any kind of divine interaction with history at all, the moment that any of the books implies that Aslan could have saved Susan's parents or any single other inhabitant of Earth, then we run smack dab into Aslan's apparent inattention to the ovens of Auschwitz, right? After that, one train crash is something I can swallow easily.)
Lewis has used all the tricks twentieth century literature knows to make us like and identify with Peter, Edmund, and Lucy, and up until this moment their actions have either been worthy of our approval, or swiftly repented of. They are -- in a way no character in the Hebrew Bible, I would argue, is, because the Hebrew Bible is not a modern heroic melodrama -- the good guys.
Not only that, up until now there have been no real moral costs to following Aslan. In all the battles with the White Witch and the Telmarines and so on, no one ever said to Peter, "our supply lines are stretched too thin and we're late, you're going to have to slaughter these prisoners if you want to win this one." Susan is the only thing they must jettison.
It's a reasonable guess that the original scribes "approved" of Joshua's genocide, for some value of approve -- though discomfort with it emerges pretty early in the tradition. But in the text, at least in my reading, there's no sense of complacency. There's no sense of "alas, tsk, tsk, our sister is interested in stockings, no Heaven for her."
If anything, the story of Jericho rubs the reader's nose in the unflinching horror of the massacre. It is sparely told, there are no modern tricks of reader identification, and no one in it is a good guy. The scribes (unlike me) may have thought Joshua acted rightly, but they also, I imagine, thought that the proper reaction to the fact that Joshua acted rightly was terror -- abject terror, deep unease, awe, and horror.
That means that while the scribes and I disagree in the matter of the extent of obedience, I at least feel they are playing fair with me about the costs of their point of view. I feel like we are having the same conversation. I don't feel that way about Lewis.
There is no such thing as too argumentative on this blog, and I'd be happy to argue about religious tradition -- here or anywhere! Thanks for renewing the moribund thread. :-)