So Many Books, So Little Time...

If only I could be paid for reading, I would not have any problems working.

 

And yes, I am yet another refugee from Goodreads.  So far, I like BL.  What about you?

The Invisible Man (Signet Classics)

The Invisible Man - H.G. Wells

The Invisible Man, by H.G. Wells ****

 

This was the third book in a row that I read by Mr. Wells. In reading it, something finally became clear that bothered me all through “The Time Machine” and “The War of the Worlds”, but that I could not put my finger on at the time. It is this: in these books there are no heroes. There is genius, courage, resourcefulness, and even some villainy, but no heroism, no virtue. This makes reading Wells a bit of a challenge. I did not come away from these books liking the central characters very much, nor could I begin to identify with them. That these are barriers to my enjoyment, though, says more about me than the books, so on to the book itself.

 

“The Invisible Man” tells the story of Griffin, a brilliant young scientist who discovers the secret of making living things invisible. Griffin is a proud and unstable man who, by virtue of his intelligence and scientific achievement, feels he is above other men and their moral constraints. It is nothing to him to use live animals as test subjects with no regard for their welfare, or to try to exploit other men to further his own ends. When he discovers the secret of invisibility, he chooses to test it on himself. It works well enough, but he makes a critical mistake; he tests the formula before learning how to reverse the process.

 

The bulk of the book chronicles his desperate search for an “antidote” and the accompanying descent into madness and fury before its tragic, but inevitable, end. “The Invisible Man”, like all great works of literature, functions simultaneously on multiple levels. It is a well-written story of action and suspense, a cautionary tale about the dangers of science practiced outside the bounds of ethics, and an exploration of the idea of the lone genius. It resembles “The War of the Worlds” and “The Time Machine” in its rather grim and hopeless assessment of humanity and what might be accomplished through science. Despite this, and my own difficulties with the character of the book, I can recommend it highly.

Darkness Visible

The Invisible Man - H.G. Wells

The Invisible Man, by H.G. Wells ****

This was the third book in a row that I read by Mr. Wells. In reading it, something finally became clear that bothered me all through The Time Machine and The War of the Worlds, but that I could not put my finger on. It is this: in these books there are no heroes. There is genius, courage, resourcefulness, and even some villainy, but no heroism, no virtue. This makes reading Wells a bit of a challenge. I did not come away from these books liking the central characters very much, nor could I begin to identify with them. That these are barriers to my enjoyment, though, says more about me than the books, so on to the book itself.

The Invisible Man tells the story of Griffin, a brilliant young scientist who discovers the secret of making living things invisible. Griffin is a proud and unstable man who, by virtue of his intelligence and scientific achievement, feels he is above other men and their moral constraints. It is nothing to him to use live animals as test subjects with no regard for their welfare, or to try to exploit other men to further his own ends.

When he discovers the secret of invisibility, he chooses to test it on himself. It works well enough, but he makes a critical mistake; he tests the formula before learning how to reverse the process. The bulk of the book chronicles his desperate search for an antidote and the accompanying descent into madness and fury before its tragic, but inevitable, end.

The Invisible Man, like all great works of literature, functions simultaneously on multiple levels. It is a well-written story of action and suspense, a cautionary tale about the dangers of science practiced outside the bounds of ethics, and an exploration of the idea of the lone genius. It resembles The War of the Worlds and The Time Machine in its rather grim and hopeless assessment of humanity and what might be accomplished through science. Despite this, and my own difficulties with the character of the book, I can recommend it highly.

A Punishment that Suits the Crime

Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Keith Carabine, Constance Garnett

Crime and Punishment, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Of all the Russians I've read so far, Dostoyevsky is by far the most challenging, and Crime and Punishment his most difficult work. I did not at all enjoy any of it. Let me acknowledge at the outset that the fault lies not in the book but in my ability to enter fully into the Russian literary mind.

Russian literature has always been a challenge for me. Something happens to books as I move east of the Oder River and the Carpathian mountains, and it is not just that the language changes. The Russian way of thinking is different enough from ours as to seem alien to me. Their habits of speech, their manners, even the way they address one another are just a little odd. In most prose, there is a rhythm, almost a cadence that is unique to every author. I can never quite get into the flow of Dostoyevsky. Every time I try to find a rhythm to settle into, up comes an obstacle in the form of a new name for an old character, or an almost completely incongruous statement from a character that seems to stick out at right angles from the story. My train of thought is derailed almost before it leaves the station and I am left to pick up the pieces and start over again.

Even were it not for the difficulties with the Russian style, I am not sure I could ever bring myself to like Crime and Punishment. It reminds me of a story Dickens might have discarded because it is too depressing. Most everyone who is familiar with classic literature knows something about the plot. A young man who fancies himself an intellectual conceives and commits a terrible crime, mostly for the purpose of proving to himself that he can do it and get away with it. Already on the verge of a nervous breakdown, the guilt of his crime threatens to push him over the brink of insanity. Haunted by fear, stalked by strangers who seem to know more about him than he knows himself, baited by the police, he walks the precipice of self-destruction until, through the love of his friends, family, and a young woman, he is redeemed. He confesses his crime, pays his debt to society, and moves on to become a good man. Well and good, but it is not the plot that I stumble over. It is the gloom, the oppressive atmosphere that permeates nearly every page of the book.

The main character, Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov, is the anti-hero who commits the despicable crime. At no point in the book is he likable. Nothing about him is admirable. Obsessed with his own self-importance, or lack thereof, he shambles through the book in a haze of self-inflicted misery. He is surrounded by many who love and care for him, yet he rejects their advances on every side, preferring to stay wrapped in his pain.

He lives in one of the more depressed districts of Moscow, having abandoned his studies at the university and a post as a tutor to live in relative squalor. Not long after he commits the crime, his mother and sister, Pulcheria and Avdotya, move to Moscow. His sister has entered a marriage contract with a strange man in order to save the family from poverty and enable Raskolnikov to continue his studies. They do not understand the true reason he has left the university has little to do with a lack of funds. Raskolnikov objects to the match, particularly because of the willingness of his sister to sacrifice her future for his, which only increases his agitation.

In addition to his mother and sister, Raskolnikov, encounters a number of people who will seek to influence him as he struggles with the consequences of his actions. In his semi-delirium, he seeks out a fellow student, Dimitri Razhumikin, who goes to great lengths to help him get back on his feet. Raskolnikov stumbles into a bar where he encounters Semyon Marmeladov, an alcoholic with a consumptive wife, starving children, and an older daughter, Sofya, who has turned to prostitution to save their lives. Arkady Svidrigailov, a lecherous, adulterous old man who had designs on Avdotya, shows up in Moscow with a fortune in rubles and a burning desire to see Raskolnikov. And Pyotr Luzhin, the man betrothed to Avdotya, who turns on her only to begin a campaign against the seemingly doomed Sofya.

All of these characters drift into and out of the focus of Raskolnikov and are quickly divided into two camps; those who seek to manipulate him to their own ends, and those who seek his redemption. There is a great deal of development in the characters who surround Raskolnikov, but he, himself, is nearly paralyzed by the combination of their influence and his guilt. Manic in his behavior, he alternates between near catatonia and frantic action, one moment huddled on the couch in his flat, the next marching down to the police station to bait, and be baited. Emotionally he swings between radical highs based on his conviction that he has gotten away with his crime, and the despair of believing that everyone knows what he has done and is manipulating him.

Slowly, agonizingly (for me), he finds his way through the fog. In his more lucid moments, Raskolnikov and Sofya begin a tentative relationship. Against his will, he begins to love her, and she him. This love will be the catalyst for his confession and ultimate redemption. But it takes nearly 400 pages of slogging through Raskolnikov's fog to get to this point. By the time it arrived, I almost did not care. It was too little too late.

So why five stars if I disliked the book so much? Because I cannot deny its excellence and power. Crime and Punishment is a brilliant work of art. Dostoyevsky was no hack; he knew exactly what he was doing. If the main protagonist is unlikeable, it is because Dostoyevsky wished him so. But why would a writer like Dostoyevsky create such a despicable hero? Crime and Punishment is not about the crime of Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov. It is about grace. Raskolnikov and the grace he receives are metaphors for the unmerited favor the Christian receives from God when he repents. Despicable as he is, Raskolnikov is no different from anyone who has ever lived and fallen short of the glory of God. He is the mirror image of myself, if I am completely honest. The love that he receives from his family and friends is not unlike the love I receive from God that calls me to repentance.

Crime and Punisment is also an amazing study in contrasts and an indictment of false humility. Raskolnikov lives in poverty mostly by choice. His misery is entirely self-inflicted. At any time, he could resume his studies, receive students, and return to a meaningful, productive life. His rejection of these things is akin to the Marxist rejection of the way of life that makes his very life and rejection possible. (Though Crime and Punishment predates Zarathustra, Raskolnikov gives every appearance of being Dostoyevksy's response to the idea of the Nietzchean superman and the Marxist ideal.) Raskolnikov imagines himself as a new Napoleon of sorts, one who wants to identify with the poor. This is contrasted against the truly poor Sofya and her family. Victim of her father's alcoholism, trapped by his sudden death, left with nothing to market but her body, Sofya is the original of which Raskolnikov is the counterfeit, a fact that contributes to his mental agitation.

In spite of her circumstances, she possesses a nobility of character that is a mystery to Raskolnikov. This is another of Dostoyevsky's contrasts. Not only Sofya, but all those who are genuinely interested in his well being are possessed of noble souls. He is shamed by them, even as he tries to rise above something he considers to be as mundane as shame and nobility. Against them are set the manipulative Pyotr Luzhin and Arkady Svidrigailov, men of wealth and station for whom no act is so low that they will not stoop to it to achieve their ends.

I could go on about the ironies and contrasts, but the most overwhelming characteristic of the book is grace. The love Raskolnikov receives, the grace he is offered are burdens to him until he accepts them. Only when he does so is he fully free, even though he sits in a Siberian prison. Likewise, the love of God is a heavy burden to bear as long as I do not accept it. Like the criminal, I waste away until the time I confess, repent, and accept. Once that is done, it is finally possible, not only for Raskolnikov, but for me, to enter fully into life, regardless of my external circumstances.

For these reasons, and many more, I can recommend Crime and Punishment. It is not an enjoyable reading experience, but is one that edifies and rewards the reader.

Paradise Lost...and found

Paradise Lost (Norton Critical Editions) - John Milton, Gordon Teskey

In the beginning, there was the Word. And the Word was with God. And the Word was God. Some time after that, there was John Milton. He took the written word, already beautiful in itself, and set it to the music of verse.

Paradise Lost is a poetic exegesis of the first three chapters of the book of Genesis. In it, Milton recounts the story of the two falls that marred the beauty of God's creation. First, the fall of Satan and his demons. Second the fall of Adam and Eve from sinless perfection. Woven into the story are a number of threads that enhance both the beauty of the story and our understanding of it: the war in heaven and subsequent expulsion of Satan and his demons, the creation of the heavens and earth, the creation of Adam and Eve, their temptation and fall, and the promise of redemption. The major elements of the story come directly from Scripture. He fleshes them out with details that are imagined, but certainly not inconsistent with the Bible. Milton's was a redeemed imagination on the order of Dante, and somehow he was able to reflect some of the glory that might have been when our first parents walked naked and unashamed through the garden. His descriptions of Heaven, Eden, and the sinless state of Adam and Eve have inspired countless authors who have imitated and borrowed from him over the centuries.

Like all great works of literature, Paradise Lost is brilliant in its scope and execution. It was executed by a poet of the highest order, who was also an accomplished theologian. Milton chose as his models the great epic poems of antiquity with the intent of creating the first epic poem in the english language. For a lesser poet to aspire to such a lofty goal might be hubris. Milton not only aspired to it, he succeeded and in so doing established himself as one of the greatest poets of all time. The aesthetic excellence of this work is beyond question. Critics have praised it since its first publication. That he accomplished this feat while blind is hardly to be believed. To conceive of a poem on the scale of Paradise Lost, to organize one's thoughts, to recite, listen, edit, and complete this masterpiece required a strength and stamina that only comes with genius that has been cultivated over a lifetime.

Milton is one of the giants of literature on whose shoulders many have since stood.

Having said all of this, I must confess that there are a few things that I don't understand about PL. First is the reaction of those who claim that Satan is somehow either the hero or the most interesting character. From the beginning, it is clear that Satan is a hero only to himself and his sycophantic demons. He lies to everyone, including himself. Even the famous line about it being better to reign in Hell than rule in Heaven is a lie, since no one really reigns in Hell. Satan is as much God's subject in Hell as he was before his fall. His self-aggrandizing speeches have no foundation in reality. There is no question of his ability to mount a successful rebellion against God, as it does not exist. He and his demons were kept at bay by angels during the war in heaven, then easily dispatched to Hell by Christ, the second person of the Trinity. There is nothing noble about Satan, his lies, his delusions, or his successful attack on man. It takes an intentional mis-reading of the text to glean any admirable quality from Satan.

The second is the reaction of many toward Eve. I have heard Milton referred to as a misogynist, and seen PL used as evidence. Again, it seems to be a deliberate mis-reading of the text. Prior to the fall, Eve is as noble as Adam in every way. They have different, complimentary attributes, and are each perfectly suited to the roles for which they were created: Adam for dominion of the world, Eve for its domestication. It is not until after the fall that Eve is presented as inferior to Adam, and that comes primarily from Adam, who is now fallen, and cannot be trusted to speak truth. Yes, there is the discourse between Adam and Raphael wherein Adam speaks of Eve in a somewhat derogatory fashion. But even here, Adam is using hyperbole, and is rebuked by the angel for going too far. This also occurs after Satan has infiltrated creation and made his presence felt.

The Norton Critical Edition is wonderful. Mr. Teskey's introduction, explanatory notes, and supplementary reading material are quite helpful in understanding Milton's poem. I highly recommend this edition to anyone interested in exploring Milton's epic.

The War of the Worlds (Everyman's Library (Paper))

The War of the Worlds (Everyman's Library (Paper)) - H. G. Wells;Arthur C. Clarke An excellent work of science fiction by one of its founding fathers. Wells vision of an alien invasion and the impotent human response is dark and troubling. There is no institution to which man can turn for salvation. The church is reduced to incoherent babbling, the military is outgunned, apathetic and lazy, and man is too self-interested to mount any type of effective response once he finds that his first lines of defense have failed him. It is only by an accident of evolution that man survives at all, and this is no guarantee of survival in the future. It is by no mere coincidence that the last word in the book is “death”. Of course I disagree with Mr. Wells’ presuppositions, but his skill as an author and the force of his imagination ameliorate any faults in his reasoning.

The Time Machine (Signet Classics)

The Time Machine - Greg Bear, H.G. Wells Even though I disagree with H.G. Wells’ worldview, I admit that I admire him and his writing. He did not flinch from facing the logical conclusions of what he believed. As a Darwinist and materialist, he understood the full implications of those theories, and in “The Time Machine” he follows their implications to their ends, as horrible as they may be. There are no happy endings for the Darwinist, humanist, or materialist. The universe will one day wind down. Long before that happens, man will have died, and all of his greatest achievements will be dust. This is the world of “The Time Machine”. The great question left unasked, and unanswered at the end, is “why bother?” As with all his works, “The Time Machine” is a well-executed work of art and worth reading. Wells was a master storyteller and “The Time Machine” provides ample evidence to support that assertion.

A War Like No Other: How the Athenians and Spartans Fought the Peloponnesian War

A War Like No Other: How the Athenians & Spartans Fought the Peloponnesian War - Victor Davis Hanson I enjoy reading classical Greek and Latin literature of all sorts: drama, poetry, and history, as well as books about these topics. So it was with the anticipation of something good that I sat down to read Hanson’s “A War Like No Other”. Hanson is a noted author, historian and classicist, so what could be more interesting than his take on the Peloponnesian war? A lot of things, actually.Not that “A War Like No Other” is bad. Hanson, as has been noted in many reviews, departs from the typical linear presentation of the war, taking instead a topical approach. In each chapter he examines the war as a whole through the lens of a particular aspect of the war. In “Armor”, he focuses on the life of the Greek Hoplite soldier, the main Hoplite battles, and how the nature of those battles changed radically from the opening to the closing of the war. Likewise in “Walls” he investigates the ancient Greek practice of siege warfare. Naval battles are discussed in “Ships”, cavalry in “Horses”, and so on. As he examines these topics in detail he also touches on several recurring themes, chief among them the cost of the war in material treasure, human lives, and the way the Peloponnesian war changed Western concepts of war forever. All of this is fascinating.The issue I had was not with the information presented, but how it was presented. The topical approach simply did not work for me. It was too fragmented and disjoint. I felt like I was reading the same story over and over again. True, each chapter varied from the last in topic, but too many of the events and characters were repeated. The narrative thread provided by a linear history was disrupted as those characters and events lost their normal place in a timeline. It did not help that this was my first reading of a book on the Peloponnesian war. Perhaps if I had already read Thucydides, “A War Like No Other” would have been more accessible. On the whole, Hanson’s book is worthwhile, but I cannot recommend it to a newcomer to the war between Athens and Sparta. Start with Thucydides. I intend to make him my next stop.

Perelandra (Space Trilogy, Book 2)

Perelandra  - C.S. Lewis It is difficult to write a review about “Perelandra”. There is so much that could be said that it is hard to know where to begin. Its story is so rich, the imagery so beautiful, the underlying themes so profound and complex, its theology so full that no summary can do it justice. I would rather simply encourage everyone to read it and let each discover its joys for themselves. But since there is no reason for anyone to merely take my word for it, I will do my best to support my recommendation.Though the characters and names are different, the story of “Perelandra” follows the basic outline of Milton’s “Paradise Lost”. Creatures made in the image of God arise on a world newly made. They live in the joy of sinless obedience until two visitors arrive from outside their world; the first to warn them of impending evil, the second to tempt them to disobey and fall. But whereas Milton’s herald is the immortal angel Gabriel, Lewis re-introduces his reluctant hero from “Out of the Silent Planet”, the very human Dr. Elwin Ransom. There are other differences between Milton’s poem and Lewis’ novel. “Paradise Lost” is set on the Earth during the time of Genesis. Perelandra takes place long after the fall of Adam and Eve on a planet named Perelandra. Milton’s tempter is Satan in the form of a serpent. Lewis’ is the brilliant, but twisted Dr. Weston, the physicist from “Out of the Silent Planet”. But these are superficial and only thinly disguise the many similarities between these two great works of literature. It may be fair to say that just as “Paradise Lost” is a retelling of Genesis, “Perelandra” is a retelling of “Paradise Lost”.Both Milton and Lewis dwell on what it might be like for men and women to live prior to the fall from grace. Such is the genius of both authors that they not only create a convincing image of pre-fallen humanity, they are able to communicate that image to their audience. Their understanding of what we lost in the original fall was so deep, and their longing to return so keen, that unspoiled worlds seem to flow from their pens as smoothly as ink. In one way, though, Lewis was able to do his great predecessor one better. Lewis was not constrained by the nature of Earth as Milton was. Lewis’ Perelandra is a world of many and varied delights, an otherworldly Eden. There are trees, the fruit of which are huge, shimmering, transparent orbs that burst at the lightest touch, bathing the passerby in a thrilling shower. Other trees bear fruits that are achingly beautiful to taste, both savory and sweet. There are fantastic and extraordinary creatures that rival the whimsy of Hieronymus Bosch. Perelandra is easily the most glorious world CS Lewis ever created. Lewis and Milton also focus on the female as the vector of attack. Lewis wisely avoids speculation as to why this should be. There is no indication that the female is somehow inferior to the male. It is simply a matter of fact that in the history of Earth Eve was deceived, not Adam. It stands to reason that the tempter will follow the same plan.The last great similarity between “Perelandra” and “Paradise Lost” I want to mention is the way language is used in the temptation of Eve and her Perelandrian counterpart, Tinidril. Both authors give their tempters brilliant speeches with which to seduce their prey. They are eloquent and persuasive, flattering but not obsequious. Their arguments are successful in making that which is forbidden seem attractive and disobedience seem heroic. The tempters are so eloquent that the reader is nearly moved to agree with them. Which brings me now to two real and remarkable differences between “Paradise Lost” and “Perelandra”. First, unlike Eve, who’s story was carved in history long before Milton lived to set it to verse, Tinidril has a champion in the form of Ransom. He is by her side, fighting constantly against the influence of Weston. It is in their subsequent philosophical battle of words and ideas that Lewis explores a powerful theme. Ransom and Weston fight on uneven ground, with the advantage going to Weston. Ransom has reason and truth on his side, but is constrained by the absolute morals of Christianity and the rules of reason itself not to stray from those ideals. Weston is seductively irrational. He is utterly immoral and can lie in any and every way, twisting and distorting the truth to suit his ends. As the war becomes hopeless, Ransom is faced with a terrible conclusion; reason alone cannot defeat non-reason. A person who is dedicated to being irrational cannot be argued out of their position. There is no example strong enough to persuade them, no beauty in reason sweet enough. In the end, for truth to win over a lie, something extraordinary is necessary. The great example of our own world is the Cross. This is reflected in Perelandra in a surprising way.The second great difference is the end. Ransom is successful in overcoming Weston, and Tinidril overcomes her temptation. She, along with the Tor, the Perelandrian Adam, passes the test that Adam and Eve failed. Together they “step up that step at which [our] parents fell.” Lewis takes the theme of unfallen humanity and extends it beyond what Milton conceived. He contemplates what life might have been like had we not fallen, for ourselves and the rest of creation. What would our stewardship of the world and its creatures have been like? How would our relationship with God and the spiritual realm been different? How would our transition from the physical realm to the Heaven have been different? These questions, and others like them, are asked, and answers are hinted at as the book ends with a verbal fugue that would rival the musical fugues of Bach.“Perelandra” is a work of startling beauty that stings the heart of the reader. It was one of Lewis’ personal favorites (one supposes it still is) and it is easy to see why. In it, there is a glimpse of Paradise that stands equal to the work of Milton and Dante. If there is any justice in the literary world, it will one day take its rightful place in the literary canon by their sides.

That Hideous Strength (Space Trilogy, Book 3)

That Hideous Strength  - C.S. Lewis The reader who comes to “That Hideous Strength” for the first time after reading “Out of the Silent Planet” and “Perelandra” could be excused for wondering how it fits in with the rest of the Space Trilogy. It bears little resemblance to its companion volumes. There is no journey through space, no exploration of strange, beautiful worlds, and no alien races. Dr. Ransom, far from being the central character, is absent from the first third of the book, Lewis makes no appearance at all, and nowhere are there hints of an un-fallen creation. The story is more complicated, the cast of characters larger, and the scale of the battle between good and evil far greater, and far more subtle, than the first two books. From every angle, “That Hideous Strength” appears to be stubbornly Earthbound and cut from a completely different cloth.Those, however, who are familiar with C.S. Lewis, know that there is always more to his books than meets the eye. In spite of the many substantial differences between That Hideous Strength and its predecessors, the patient and careful reader will discover profound similarities, and an even more profound, startling and ambitious purpose. When the book opens, a young, progressive, academically minded couple is making the difficult transition from single to married life. Mark Studdock is a fellow at a small college trying to work his way into an influential inner circle in the hopes of advancing his career. His wife, Jane, works at home on a dissertation. Mark is forced to spend long hours at the college wrangling for position and his wife is, understandably, frustrated. But the trappings of a domestic soap opera disappear before they can take root. Jane begins to experience visions of a gruesome, disembodied head speaking to her in a strange tongue and a giant, ancient man about to be awakened from an ages long sleep. Deeply disturbed by her visions and her husband’s absences, Jane sets aside her progressive feminism to consult the housemother of her former college, the very old-fashioned Mrs. Dimble. Older, wiser, childless but still matronly, Mother Dimble invites Jane to consult with a man she refers to as “The Director” who lives in a mansion at St.-Anne’s-on-the-Hill. Mark, in the meantime, succeeds in penetrating the inner circle of his college, only to find that there is a deeper circle still, larger, more influential, and connected with an organization known as the National Institute for Coordinated Experiments, or the N.I.C.E. The N.I.C.E. exists, ostensibly, to de-couple science from the restrictions of government, streamlining discovery and facilitating invention. Freed from the shackles of government oversight and accountability, it exercises a great deal of power both within its walls and in the world outside. Mark is encouraged to pursue a position with the N.I.C.E., and is invited to spend a long weekend there to secure the situation. He and Jane each depart without the other’s knowledge for their respective destinations, moving in opposite directions physically and spiritually. Mark learns that nothing about the N.I.C.E. bears any resemblance to its name. Those who exercise power there draw him in, manipulating his desire to be included and fear of being left out. He is disoriented by a combination of ugly secrets, lies, and frightening mysteries until he slowly realizes that, not only is his career in jeopardy, but his life, his wife’s, and the future of everyone in England. Jane, too, is drawn in to the inner circle of the mansion at St. Anne’s, but she is attracted by a Good that is absolute and beautiful. There are secrets and mysteries at St. Anne’s, but, far from being manipulative and disorienting, they bring clarity and freedom. Her discoveries lead her to a life that is larger, richer and more beautiful than she had ever imagined. As Jane and Mark learn more about St. Anne’s and the N.I.C.E., the plot of “That Hideous Strength” deepens and the pace quickens. They find themselves caught on opposing sides of a new battle in a war as old as time. They both encounter characters and situations that, though normal in appearance, possess a subtle strangeness. The mundane around them melts away, and they find themselves in an old faery tale world of kings and wizards, monsters, evil faeries, lesser gods and animals that are far more than mere beasts. When the battle is joined, all of these will play their part. Many will die and be overthrown, but much will also be restored to its rightful place before the end. To reveal more about the story would be to rob the reader of the delights too numerous to mention. Suffice to say that there is more than enough to entertain and satisfy the imagination of even a superficial reader. But “That Hideous Strength” is about so much more than just its story. It is as rich and full of various types of meaning as “Faery Queene” or “The Divine Comedy”, and his purpose is no less ambitious than Spencer’s or Dante’s.Primarily, “That Hideous Strength” is about redemption, and that on many levels. At the highest level is about the redemption of Mark and Jane. When they are introduced, neither of them are likeable. Mark’s fixation with being in the most progressive inner circle betrays a desperate insecurity. It is more important for him to be in the know than to know anything worthwhile or to know his wife. His enemies play on this weakness to ensnare him in the culture of the N.I.C.E. For most of the book, he is willing to do anything to be on the inside, ignoring the evil around him, descending to ridiculous levels of self-deception and compromise, almost to the point of sacrificing his wife. Jane is equally vapid, devoted to a feminist ideology bent on the abandonment and destruction of anything remotely feminine. She eschews the traditional roles of male and female in marriage, especially that of bearing children. She carries a hidden resentment of her husband simply because he is a man. The road to redemption for both of them is perilous, but as they travel it, they become more and more attractive, more like the kind of people we might like, and want to be like.Deeper than the redemption of Mark and Jane, it is about the redemption of marriage and childbearing. In Mark and Jane, he embodies the prevailing mindset about marriage among the more intelligent and affluent; that marriage is a partnership of mutual convenience, an arrangement between equals. It is sterile and dry, ignoring the obvious differences between men and women in the name of political correctness. Sex is for recreation and entertainment. Children are an imposition, a necessary evil for the purpose of perpetuating the race, to be disposed of in childcare and state schools as soon as possible so that we can have our time back. Lewis dares to step in and say “no”. Marriage is a covenantal relationship between a man and a woman where each gives their all for the other. There are no equals in marriage. Men and women are so different that equality does not enter the equation. Marriage cannot be about getting our rights as equals. If we insist only on equality, marriage fails because we focus on what we are getting and making sure that it is equal to what we are giving. If marriage is to work, men and women must give their all as men and women to be servants of one another. This is one of the hardest lessons about marriage, but when it is learned, when we come to grips with the glorious complementary inequality between man and woman, it makes marriage the most beautiful of relationships. Lewis also makes the bold claim that one of the chief aims of marriage is childbearing. When we intentionally prevent conception, we violate the created order of things. The physical pleasure that accompanies copulation is a byproduct of the act that produces children, not the other way around. It was never meant to be only a form of entertainment, but re-creation in the truest sense of the word. It is in the mutual submission of marriage and the successful rearing of children that we find joys that far transcend mere physicality. All of this is accomplished without preaching or quoting Scripture. Instead, Lewis uses illustrations of healthy marriages and prose that borders on poetry to shame the cold institution that passes for marriage today. For example, in one of the most famous episodes in the book, the Director confronts a stranger in a battle of wits and words that includes the following exchange:"The Stranger mused for a few seconds; then, speaking in a slightly sing-song voice, as though he repeated on old lesson, he asked, in two Latin hexameters, the following question: 'Who is called Sulva? What road does she walk? Why is the womb barren on one side? Where are the cold marriages?'Ransom replied, 'Sulva is she whom mortals call the Moon. She walks in the lowest sphere. The rim of the world that was wasted goes through her. Half of her orb is turned toward us and shares our curse. Her other half looks to Deep Heaven; happy would be he who could cross that frontier and see the fields on her further side. On this side, the womb is barren and the marriages are cold. There dwell an accursed people, full of pride and lust. There when a young man takes a maiden in marriage, they do not lie together, but each lies with a cunningly fashioned image of the other, made to move and to be warm by devilish arts, for real flesh will not please them, they are so dainty (delicati) in their dreams of lust. Their real children they fabricate by vile arts in a secret place.'" In another passage, the same stranger asks permission to kill Jane for the crime of avoiding conception. "...the Stranger was speaking and pointing at her as he spoke.‘Sir, you have in your house the falsest lady of any at this time alive.’‘Sir, you are mistaken. She is doubtless like all of us a sinner; but the woman is chaste.’‘Sir,’ said [the stranger], ‘know well that she has done in Logres a thing of which no less sorrow shall come than came of the stroke that Balinus struck. For sir, it was the purpose of God that she and her lord should between them have begotten a child by whom the enemies should have been put out of Logres for a thousand years.’‘She is but lately married,’ said Ransom. ‘The child may yet be born.’‘Sir,’ said [the stranger], ‘be assured that the child will never be born, for the hour of its begetting is passed. Of their own will they are barren: I did not know till now that the usages of Sulva were so common among you. For a hundred generations in two lines the begetting of this child was prepared; and unless God should rip up the work of time, such seed, and such an hour, in such a land, shall never be again.’‘Enough said,’ answered Ransom. ‘The woman perceives that we are speaking of her.’‘It would be great charity,’ said [the stranger] ‘if you gave order that her head should be cut from her shoulders; for it is a weariness to look at her.’"This is a common enough argument against contraception and abortion; who knows how many great men and women have been killed in the womb? The physician who would have found a cure for cancer, the engineer that would have discovered a clean, renewable source of energy; have they died before they could give their gift to the world? It is impossible to know. Juxtaposed against the justly harsh critique of contemporary marriage are the healthy marriages of Mother Dimble and her husband Cecil, and Arthur and Camilla Deniston. They provide an attractive model of what marriage can be. Though far from perfect, their marriages are marked by a love that is other-centered and self-sacrificial. They know each other’s strengths and weaknesses, but the weaknesses provide opportunities to serve, not correct. A beautiful example of this comes when Mother Dimble and another resident of the mansion are discussing their husbands:"'That's how they treat us once they're married. They don't even listen to what we say,' I said. And do you know what she said? 'Ivy Maggs,' said she, 'did it ever come into your mind to ask whether anyone could listen to all we say?'"Mother Dimble does not chide her husband for not listening to every word she said. She understands that men do not work that way, and serves her husband by allowing him to be a man. The promise of beauty in marriage and childrearing is alive in the Dimbles and the Denistons. By divine intervention, Jane and Mark are given the opportunity to enter into both. Going even deeper, "That Hideous Strength" about the redemption of beauty and innocence on Earth. In both “Out of the Silent Planet” and “Perelandra” he created scenes of heartbreaking beauty amid a setting of un-fallen, innocent creatures. At first glance, “That Hideous Strength” is devoid of those things. But near the end, there is a chapter devoted to reconciliation that takes place in a scene of humble domesticity: a bridal chamber in a simple cottage, with a fire on the hearth and dinner cooking on the stove. After the horror of the recent battle, it is breathtakingly beautiful, and Lewis’ purpose comes into sharp focus. He had to take us away from Earth to Malacandra and Perelandra to reintroduce us to beauty and innocence. Our eyes and consciences had to be reopened and refreshed, and we had to be reminded of the hideous nature of evil, before he could bring us back to Earth and show us that beauty and innocence can still be found here. The infection had to be removed before we could remember health.There is so much more that could be discussed. There is the redemption of the relationship between man and the lower animals; there is a critique of the evils of postmodernism, there are contrasts and ironies galore, and the bringing together of elements of Arthurian legend, medieval cosmology, and even the curse of the Tower of Babel to tie all of it together. There is also his love of language, which is equal to that of Tolkien and every bit as enjoyable, though of a slightly different savor. But I have gone on long enough. There are treasures in “That Hideous Strength” rich enough to reward all who are willing to take the plunge, and I heartily encourage everyone who comes this way to do so.

Out of the Silent Planet (Space Trilogy, Book One)

Out of the Silent Planet  - C.S. Lewis CS Lewis once wrote a poem entitled “An Expostulation: Against Too Many Writers of Science Fiction”. In it, he complains that science fiction writers transport us light-years away, only to give us “the same old stuff we left behind...stories of crooks, spies, conspirators, or love.” He then asks why he should leave the Earth unless “outside its guarded gates, long, long desired, the Unearthly waits.” It’s easy to see his point. Most of the science fiction written during his lifetime were twice-told tales set on rocket ships with ray-guns instead of revolvers. Lewis was looking for something that was truly unique, something never before captured in a work of science fiction; the genuinely alien. Though I have no proof of this, it strikes me that, since he could not find anything that fit the bill, he decided to go ahead and write it himself. “Out of the Silent Planet” is the result. Though not science fiction in the strictest sense (there is no hard science to be found in Lewis’ Space Trilogy), “Out of the Silent Planet” certainly qualifies as science fantasy, and is one of the best examples of the genre. Its protagonist is Dr. Elwin Ransom, a philologist and Cambridge professor. While alone on a hiking tour through England, Ransom is kidnapped by two men, Richard Devine and Professor Edward Weston. Weston, a physicist, has invented and built a spaceship, and together with Devine they force Ransom to join them on a trip through space to a planet they call Malacandra. During the long voyage, Ransom deduces from the conversations of the other two men that the planet to which they travel is inhabited, and that he is being taken there to be offered up as a sacrifice of some sort. Though not the typical SF hero, Ransom has no intention of being offered up without some sort of resistance, and shortly after touching down on the new planet’s surface he is able to evade his captors and effect an escape. This is where Lewis’ imagination takes flight. Ransom encounters flora and fauna that bear no relationship whatsoever to anything Earthly. At first it is a tremendous shock; the world is so alien that Ransom literally does not know what he is looking at. He is like an infant, newborn from the womb of space. He possesses all of the faculties of a grown man, but like a baby he has no vocabulary for what he sees around him. The world is new. There is vegetation, he sees creatures that move on four legs, others that swim in the waters, but has no categories in his mind in which to hold any of them. In spite of his peril, all that he beholds is beautiful and wondrous. Lewis does an amazing job of capturing the sense of awe that Ransom feels as he learns more about the new world he has crossed space to enter.Eventually, and quite by accident, Ransom stumbles upon an intelligent alien. Though surprised by each others appearance, they do not fly, and Ransom’s contact with sentient life on Malacandra begins. It is a meeting like few in science fiction. The two beings recognize each other as alien, but intelligent, and proceed from there. There is no malice, no suspicion, no hostility, only curiosity and hospitality. Ransom is taken in by the alien, a Hross named Hyoi, and, given that Weston and Devine are not likely to take him back to Earth, settles in for what appears to be a long stay.His training as a philologist serves him well and it is not long before he is able to converse with the Hrossa, a water-loving race who bear a faint resemblance to giant otters. As he learns more about them, he discovers that their society is completely unlike any on Earth, which of course addresses the complaint of Lewis about SF authors. The Hrossa, and the other sentient races on Malacandra, live in a state of innocence, untouched by the fall of man. Evil does not exist there. There is no crime, no war, no injustice. The three sentient races who populate Malacandra live in peaceful, amicable co-existence. At the same time, it is not some dry, sterile, idyllic utopia. Malacandra is a rich world with a complex past and an unsettling future that its inhabitants seem to accept without fear. The more Ransom discovers about Malacandra, the more we discover how thoughtful an author Lewis was. He never violates the internal logic of his setting. The whole hangs together as neatly as if the place were real and the reader is drawn in and invited to love Malacandra as much as any reader loved Narnia or Middle-Earth. But “Out of the Silent Planet” is far more than an alien travelogue. Sadly, Weston and Devine do not give up on finding Ransom. He is found, blood is spilled, and the innocence of Malacandra, though not spoiled, is deeply shaken. When this happens, it begins to look like Lewis will fail to achieve his goal after all and the book will turn out to be nothing more than a sermon on how civilized man corrupts the noble savage. Nothing could be further from the truth. The end of “Out of the Silent Planet” is as surprising as everything that has gone before and sets the stage for even greater delights to be found in the second book of the trilogy, “Perelandra”. “Out of the Silent Planet” is easily one of the most beautiful books I have ever read. Lewis successfully creates the appearance of a world that is not fallen. In it, he explores numerous themes that only another book could analyze fully. It is a meditation on what alien intelligences might truly be like, particularly if they are not affected by the fall of man. It is an homage to and working out of medieval cosmology and natural philosophy. It is an exploration of language and its original source. It is a critique of modern science divorced from a moral compass. And yes, given that Lewis was a devout Christian, it is a deeply spiritual work. Hopefully, that last point will not discourage any from reading “Out of the Silent Planet”. It contributes more to the excellence of the whole than can be imagined. One could no more remove Lewis’ Christianity from his work and retain its genius than Bunyan’s from “Pilgrim’s Progress” or Milton’s from “Paradise Lost”. I highly recommend it to all.

The Man Who Knew Too Much

The Man Who Knew Too Much - G.K. Chesterton The Man Who Knew Too Much **by GK Chesterton“The Man Who Knew Too Much” is a very odd book for Chesterton in that it is not very good. Of course it is well written; I think it was impossible for him to have written badly, but the stories themselves lack the cleverness and charm that make Fr. Brown and his other works of fiction so engaging. “The Man Who Knew Too Much” is a collection of detective stories featuring Horne Fisher. Fisher, the man for whom the book is named, is a member of the nobility, very intelligent, and well connected. When confronted with a crime, Fisher, like Fr. Brown, is able to quickly assess the situation, analyze the evidence, and deduce the identity of the culprit. Unlike Fr. Brown, Fisher is thoroughly uninteresting. He slouches through the stories, solving crimes almost as an afterthought, but never in such a way that the criminals can be brought to justice. He stands, in my opinion, as one of the weakest characters that Chesterton invented. Further, the writing lacks the ingenious twists of phrase, the rapier wit, and keen insights into human nature which the seasoned Chesterton reader is always expecting."The Man Who Knew Too Much" is not a bad book, but it is not Chesterton’s best. The diehard fan may enjoy it, but the newcomer will miss a lot of what makes the rest of his books so worthwhile.

The Wit, Whimsy, and Wisdom of G. K. Chesterton, Volume 5: All Things Considered, Tremendous Trifles, Alarms and Discursions

The Wit, Whimsy, and Wisdom of G. K. Chesterton, Volume 5: All Things Considered, Tremendous Trifles, Alarms and Discursions - G.K. Chesterton Tremendous Trifles, by GK Chesterton ***Essays by the man who brought us Fr. Brown, Orthodoxy, and The Everlasting Man. Uneven in quality, but overall worth reading and pondering.

The Love Chapter: The Meaning of First Corinthians 13 (Paraclete Essentials)

The Love Chapter: The Meaning of First Corinthians 13 - John Chrysostom, Frederica Mathewes-Green The Love Chapter, by St. John Chrysostom *****“The Love Chapter” is a collection of sermons written and delivered by St. John Chrysostom, the 4th century Archbishop of Constantinople. Together, these sermons constitute a profound verse-by-verse exegesis of one of the most famous chapters of Scripture written by St. Paul: I Corinthians 13. In this short chapter St. Paul describes the nature of Agape, the selfless, other-centered love of the Christian for his neighbor. It is easy to read and gives every appearance of being self-explanatory. It is so well known in the Church that it is easy to take it for granted and gloss over it to look for more challenging bits of Scripture. It might even be tempting to think that we have mastered it and that St. Paul is describing our love for others. Through his patient exegesis, St. John carefully unpacks each phrase, forcing the reader to slow down and examine the meaning of the text more thoroughly. In so doing, I discovered how impossible is the task of loving as Paul describes it, and was reminded how desperately in need of God’s grace I am, even as I try to do something as simple as loving another human being. I highly recommend “The Love Chapter.”

Four Faultless Felons

Four Faultless Felons - G.K. Chesterton Is it possible to hang a man in order to keep him from being hung? Or commit perjury in order to keep from being perjured? These are the questions asked by Chesterton in this collection of novellas. They form a hybrid of sorts between his pure detective stories in the Father Brown tradition and his "Club of Queer Trades". The "Four Faultless Felons" are four men who all share one peculiar trait: they are each guilty of crimes that they intentionally committed for the purpose of preventing an even worse crime. They are technically guilty but spiritually innocent. It is a deeply Christian theme, something which should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with Chesterton. The four novellas are full to the brim with Chesterton's sparkling wit, ingenious turns of phrase, and depth of spiritual insight. They are delightfully entertaining for those who just need a little brain-candy, but will also reward the most thorough analysis. I highly recommend them.

On the Incarnation: De Incarnatione Verbi Dei (Popular Patristics Series)

On the Incarnation: De Incarnatione Verbi Dei (Popular Patristics Series) - St. Athanasius A brilliant exposition of why Christ:1. Has always existed as part of the God-head2. Is the agent through whom God created the universe3. Had to be born in the flesh as a man4. Had to die5. Had to die on the cross6. Had to be resurrectedThis particular edition includes Athanasius’ letter to his good friend Marcellinus on the importance of the Psalms, and an introduction by CS Lewis which, alone, is worth the price of the book."On the Incarnation of the Word of God" should be required reading for all Christians.

Heroes of the City of Man: A Christian Guide to Select Ancient Literature

Heroes of the City of Man: A Christian Guide to Select Ancient Literature - Peter J. Leithart Heroes from the City of Man, by Peter Leithart ***I have long disliked the contemporary habit of trying to force post-modern sensibilities on any literature that pre-dates the advent of Derrida. The practice of reading the classics from a Marxist/feminist/queer perspective to milk from them some evidence of white European male repression of everyone and everything is abominable and the accompanying theories garbage. I feel almost defiled anytime I come in contact with them. Reading Peter Leithart, therefore, is a refreshing, even a cleansing experience. Leithart, a professor of English at New St Andrews College, has written a number of books analyzing the works of different authors. He is unapologetically Christian, but he does not try to force a Christian reading on the literary works he analyzes. Like C.S. Lewis in his “Experiment in Criticism”, Leithart sets aside his prejudices to enter into the world of the author to see what the author is trying to say. He analyzes the evidence first, arriving at conclusions only after a thorough and careful reading. In “Heroes of the City of Man”, Leithart turns his attention to the poetry and drama of the ancient Greeks and Romans. The model for his analysis is derived from Augustine, in that he posits two cities, Jerusalem and Athens, the cities of God and Man. He writes as a citizen firmly established in Jerusalem and views the literature of the ancient Greeks and Romans as products of Athens. He has no desire or intention to build a bridge between the two, and is content to observe Athens from a distance. From this vantage point, he examines the theology and morals of the Greeks and Romans, evaluating their strengths and weaknesses, contrasting them overall with Christianity. He discovers some parallels, but the differences are far more numerous and striking.He begins with the “Theogeny” and “Works and Days” by Hesiod, which form a creation narrative and body of wisdom literature that parallel Genesis and the book of Proverbs. In the “Theogony”, Hesiod recounts the creation of the universe and the first tales of Greek mythology by tracing the lineage of the gods from their beginning. It is a tumultuous tale filled with every kind of violence and perversion. The Greek gods are a capricious, bloodthirsty and licentious group, murderous, adulterous and incestuous. Any system of morals or ethics derived from these myths could only be expected to follow suit. This is born out in “Works and Days”, which at its best could only be called the “anti-beatitudes”. Though both Genesis and Theogeny account for the creation of the world, Leithart demonstrates that the two could not be more different in their meaning.After Hesiod, Leithart examines the Trojan trilogy comprised of the Iliad, Odyssey and Aeneid. Greek and Roman heroism is the dominant theme running through these works, but their understanding of heroism is not what we might imagine. An ancient Greek hero placed his reputation as a hero as the highest good. It was to be pursued at the cost of all else. Even Hector, possibly the most noble of the heroes in these books, prizes his valor above the security of Troy. In the scope of the Iliad, it is his duel with Achilles more than any other factor that seals the fate of his home, even as it secures his status as a hero. Contrasted against the acts of Christ, whose death on the cross forever secured the safety of His beloved, such heroism becomes empty and meaningless.From poetry, Leithart moves to the drama of the Greeks, beginning with that most famous of Greek tragedies, the Oedipus cycle. In this, as well as the Oresteia, Bacchae, and Clouds, he discovers a world in which the gods are capricious, where justice is a matter of expedience, revenge a justifiable end, and education and philosophy empty, self-serving pursuits. It may seem from what I say that Mr. Leithart has nothing good to say about the ancient classics, but that is not completely accurate. His analyses are thoughtful and respectful, and he gives credit where credit is due. It is not that he finds nothing noble or admirable in the ancient classics. But as with the contrast between Hector and Christ, all of the nobility and beauty of the ancients pales in comparison with the great true myth of Christianity. As rewarding and fulfilling as it may be to read the ancient classics, perhaps the best they can ultimately do is stand as a negative example of the best that man can accomplish apart from the one true God.Having said that, I cannot give "Heroes" my wholehearted recommendation. Too often, Leithart appears to give the beauty of these great works short shrift. He writes as though he is suspicious of their aesthetic merits, as if someone might be seduced by their beauty and tempted to abandon Jerusalem for Athens. This view may not be completely baseless, but if someone were to make such a jump I would be more suspicious of their commitment to Jerusalem to begin with rather than the persuasiveness of the literature. It is for this reason that I can only award “Heroes of the City of Man” three stars. As a guide for Christians who are unfamiliar with the classics it is not without merit, but you would be better served by simply reading the classics for yourself.

Currently reading

Man and Woman He Created Them: A Theology of the Body
Michael Waldstein, Pope John Paul II
Progress: 25/768 pages
Great Books of the Western World
Mortimer J. Adler
The Glory Of The Lord, Vol. 1: Seeing The Form (The Glory Of The Lord: A Theological Aesthetics)
Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis, John Riches, Joseph Fessio, Hans Urs von Balthasar