At long last, faithful readers, since it's been sitting in a Word document on my desktop for the last three weeks, here it is for your reading pleasure...
The premise of That Hideous Strength is, in some ways, just about as normal as it gets: a young couple struggling with an unfulfilled marriage; he’s a college professor trying to get ahead and make his life mean something, and she’s, well, the original desperate housewife that starts having really bad dreams and is just about ready to check herself in to a psych ward. That’s when they start meeting different circles full of characters in every sense of the word. And then they realize that they have willingly joined opposite sides of an intergalactic, supernatural struggle over the physical destiny of mankind.
To the modern ear, it sounds like a bizarre cross between The X Files and Mr. and Mrs. Smith, but there is an almost alarming level of realism in this volume, typical of Lewis, but in a completely different style. The first half of the book is almost unbearable in its plainness, or at least it was to me – I found myself longing for ‘the good part’ to start – perhaps I am extraordinary impatient, but it seems that after that first two entries of the trilogy, one is led to expect a quick read. In retrospect, the set-up in needed, and perhaps the seemingly over detailed first half makes more sense in a second reading. All that to say the second half is worth surviving the first, and the first is not without its merits. One can relate to Mark and Jane almost without realizing it. You find yourself defending them in conversation and sympathizing with their thoughts and motivations.
One example I appreciated in particular, remembering the time when I thought God was a list of dos and don'ts: “… it ought to have been she who was saying these things to the Christians. Hers ought to have been the vivid, perilous world brought against their grey formalized ones; hers the quick, vital movements and theirs the stained glass attitudes. That was the antithesis she was used to. This time, in a sudden flash of purple and crimson, she remembered what stained glass was really like.” This is followed by her conversion, well-presented though words are inadequate for any salvific experience – even for literary figures. The summation is beautiful in both the immediate moment of decision and the long-term process of sanctification: as various questions and counterattacks fill her mind and she struggles with her self-comparison with others, as well as her desire to please, there is a final word: “But her defenses had been captured and these counter-attacks were unsuccessful.” She has been won.
On the other hand, you have Dr. Ransom in his full earthly maturation – hardly the protagonist though far too central to be called a secondary character. No longer the space adventurer per se, he appears as the mysterious, wise, and almost prehistoric leader of the St. Anne’s group, brought together to defy the scientifically-driven megalomaniacs at Belbery. (Though as Ransom eloquently points out at one point, they had all been drawn there to serve the One who had done the drawing – and he was not the drawer.) He is now an interpreter and a prophet, yet unlike his persona in the previous volumes, Ransom seems so otherworldly that his understanding of Christianity is too big to be communicable. I guess any of us would find it impossible to put the big picture into human terms even if we had the opportunity to somehow know such secrets.
My earlier rant comparing this trilogy with Tolkein’s is amusing in light of some of the connections, apparent and subtle, contained in this volume. Lewis makes a direct reference to Lord of the Rings as the “history of the True West,” which can only lead one to assume that in his universe, Aragorn may very well have known Merlinus Amborsious. There are a few other interesting tidbits of comparison, too, from a passage regarding the transformation of faces that is not unlike something Sam describes in Return of the King. Ransom and Frodo meet similar, quiet hero’s ends. I first noticed this trend among the best heroes at an early age after reading Watership Down and feeling such loss at Hazel’s being “called home.” How much my perspective has changes on what reward truly means! I wonder with some frequency just how often the true heroes, the ones fighting for what really matters, are ever really recognized, but are so transformed by their service that passing quietly past time, history, and space is the only reward that could truly fulfill them.
I will say that greater knowledge (translation, any knowledge) of Arthurian history would have been a much more enjoyable read If anyone knows of a good primer in this subject (and I’m guessing Disney’s "Sword in the Stone" isn’t it), please let me know. Far too much of the Merlin stuff was totally lost on me. I thought Lewis’ handling of Merlin’s Christianity was particularly fascinating, as I got a sense of what it means for Christianity to have transformed and yet remained constant over so many generations. Lewis seems to almost always (from what I’ve read) present Christianity as highly organic – which is absolutely true – but sometimes it’s almost to the point of being totally different for each person. Not different in the sense that obedience to Christ is always required, but what is actually demanded of you in a material sense is never the same thing for two people. This is also reflected in the diversity of conversation experiences in the book, from Jane’s moment of decision to Mark’s first step toward faith, the extraordinary scene with him and the crucifix, as well as Merlin’s change to being, as Lewis put it, “no longer his own man.” How much we’ve lost that in the modern church, and how much worse we’re off as a result! If we conceive of the Holy Spirit as a cookie cutter that will form us all alike in a physically tangible way, it’s no wonder there are divisions among those of different gifts and callings. But Scripture shows marvelous divine purpose for the body’s diversity. Being conformed to the image of Christ hardly means becoming a facsimile of a saint with the only differentiation being a unique serial number. Why did God create so many vastly different yet equally wonderful people and world if it did not please Him to do so?
Sort of on that note, Lewis writes a beautiful vignette celebrating the unity of the body at St. Anne’s. On one particular evening, as the eldil are visiting Ransom and Merlin (the latter of whom is rather anxious, and Ransom provides him with a challenging but not entirely comforting thought: “I do not know how we can dare to look upon their faces, but I know we cannot dare to look upon God’s if we reduce this enterprise.”). the group engages in amazing discourse and jubilation, even as they consider that the task ahead of them could cost their lives: “And suddenly all their faces and voices were changed. They were laughing again, but it was a different kind of laughter. Their love for each other became intense. Each, looking on all the rest, thought, ‘I’m lucky to be here. I could die with these.’” How perfectly Lewis states this. I have had the blessing of being able to honestly think along similar lines in my life, not only once but on a number of occasions, and I am of the opinion that until you have been in such company and had such a moment, I wonder if you have truly lived at all. What incredible freedom to be totally unafraid of death – what a peace to live in the moment when you truly realize that what is most valuable cannot be moved or lost, not even at death. Such conviction of the heart is the only cause of utter fearlessness. Oh, to live in that strength morning by morning!
That Hideous Strength challenges with its ability to communicate Lewis’ philosophy of modernity (see The Abolition of Man for his nonfiction handling of the subject) in a palatable “modern fairy tale,” as he puts it. While Perelandra is still by far my personal favorite, this may be the most beneficial in terms of asking the hard questions in a way that impacts living, not just speculative theology. For a volume that seems to juxtapose the Biblical and modern understanding of everything from marriage to science and governance, That Hideous Strength still manages to be a coherent, readable, and smashingly intelligent volume.
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