Our Real Book

Sooo... last entry? Neato. Short and sweet to wrap things up, then.

I would have to disagree with Lewis' notion that Till We Have Faces is his greatest work. I thought Perelanda and even the Narnia series were more rich in extraordinary thoughts. Nevertheless, the novel still had a number of wonderful topics and ideas that I found very intriguing.

I thought that Till We Have Faces really went out with a bang. I kept thinking "Why wasn't the rest of the novel this good?" while reading it. I thought the part where Orual read her real book of complaints against the Gods both very intriguing and close to home. It's very easy to believe that our frustrations with God to be altruistic and concerned about the good of others when really they're almost entirely out of selfishness. It takes a truly humble person to really admit the source of his or her feelings. Hopefully I can learn that lesson now and not be faced with an eventual shameful realization like Orual had.

Irregular Forsakenness

I hope to add on to this post later, but I'll do what I can now.

As I read "A Grief Observed," I sometimes found Lewis' feelings of forsakenness (I don't think it's a word, but you know what I mean) to be, at points, disconcertingly similar to certain episodes in my life. The door-slamming, bolting and double bolting analogy is a fitting one. At other instances, however, I've feel more as what the author of the forward described as her experience in times of great grief, that of comfort, consolation, and irrefutable Presence. I have often wanted to know why some difficulties seem to be solo affairs and others hardly begin before God arrives with the desired balm. I'm sure that part of the reason why is simply that God knows what we need and when, but I still wonder why some trials require one sort of therapy and others a treatment regimen of a different variety.

Too Short to Matter?

I began thinking about the topic of this post after a discussion I had with some members of the class who arrived early. We were talking about a sentiment that the author of the forward of A Grief Observed shared that essentially stated she didn't feel that the Lewis' relationship had lasted long enough to really matter. In her view, not enough time had passed in order for Jack to be able to justify how he felt. Those of us in class didn’t agree with her, of course, but it made me wonder why she felt as she did.

Why, according to some people, are relationships validated only after the passing of much time (though how much is necessary is harder to determine)? Does having only a short time with someone instantly disqualify the relationship from having incredible meaning?  Truthfully, I believe that the answer is more elusive than a simple yes or no. On one hand, each of us is probably familiar with the (typically young) individual who thinks he or she has found “the one” after a chance meeting that spawned a couple of dates or even only hang outs. On the other, I both know through personal experience and friends’ statements that, on occasion, a relationship that only lasted for a comparative moment has tremendously influenced the rest of my/her/his life.

I suppose that the core of the issue is a question: Are time and love (or maybe relationships in particular) inseparably connected? In continuance of my increasingly more regular form, I have to leave the question unanswered because I yet to figure out the solution.

What Is the Connection?

Ever since I first read The Magician's Nephew, I have wondered about the city Charn where Jadis the witch came from. Jadis had annihilated all of the life on the planet after a bitter civil war that she was about to lose. For lack of time (surprise surprise), I won't repeat the history that Jadis provides, particularly since anyone reading this will likely have read the book. What I wonder about is how the history of Charn relates to the history of Earth. I don't see any strong parallels between Charn and the War in Heaven, aside from the loose civil war connection.

As of the present moment, I haven't many answers to this question of correlation between the story and reality. I'm going to have to give it the consideration it deserves and, hopefully, I'll be able to determine what symbols Lewis was embedding into the story.

Shorter Than I Would Like...

So I'm really short on time right now so this post will be much shorter than I would like it to be. I am particularly disgruntled because this post concerns a scene that I have thought about over and over again. Nevertheless, I don't think I have yet grasped what Lewis intended by it. The episode I am referring to is immediately after Peter slays Maugrim/Fenris Wolf and Aslan instructs him to clean his sword and to always do so after combat.

I have a few notions about what Aslan/Lewis meant on a deeper level, but I'm not convinced that any of them are correct. Not one seems to have that "last piece of the puzzle" feel to it. I'm hoping that someday the full truth suddenly hits me or is suggested to me by someone else. Until then, I suppose I'll have to live with the gaping hole of the incomplete, yet acknowledged, lesson.

On the Fall of Tor and Tinidril

Just to warn you, dear reader, from the beginning, this post will be more geared toward asking questions rather than offering my thoughts. Having said that, I did find Perelanda to be filled with beautiful imagery, marvellous characters, and fantastic ideas. If the work was not meant to be such an obvious analogue to the Fall of Man on Earth, its hinting toward the Adam and Eve account would have been heavy handed, to say the least. However, Lewis successfully walked the fine line he set out for himself, and pulled it off smartly.

Now on to the questions. Obviously, I do not expect an answer to these questions, considering the unfortunate complication that the author is no longer living. I cannot see why that should nonetheless stop me from asking them.

What did Lewis believe was the purpose of the Fall? Did he consider it necessary? What would he have suggested would have happened if it had not occurred? Did he reject the idea that the two first humans could not have born children without the Fall occurring? Where did he believe the adversary came from? What did he think of Eve and her choice? What about Adam and his? Did he think that the resurrection simply restores the soul and body to the state like unto those that our first parents possessed before the Fall?

I'm sure that he has answers to some of these recorded in other works in a fair amount of detail. Now it's my job to go find them.

Reading Old Books

Ah, old books. Truth be told, if a book is initially inviting and intensely riveting, it really doesn't concern me when it was published. However, I think Clive Staples (did anyone ever call him either of those names?) makes an excellent point in "On the Reading of Old Books" that we should be mindful to intersperse our enjoyment of modern novels with those published in an earlier time. His reasoning is, at least in part, that there are ideas and elements in societies that change with the passing of time, and to think that our own ideas and elements are the best that could possibly exist would be just as foolish as if the Greeks or the Romans thought the same thing. Thus acknowledging that our modern philosophies are imperfect, we would then do well to discover what superior gems may be found from past cultures (since those from the future are sadly unavailable) so we might thereby be further enlightened.

I think this is both an excellent observation and a valuable piece of advice.Nevertheless, I actually think it could be taken further. I believe that time is not the only barrier that separates individuals from new philosophies. Divides cultural, political, and lingual also do a fine job splitting people, and consequently ideas, apart. Even though I would do well to heed my own advice, many great things can be learned from our contemporaries in other lands and of other languages. In fact, I think Lewis' suggestion of switching off from old and new books could benefit from the insertion of foreign works into the rotation as well.