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Till We Have Faces
03/27/04
Till We Have Faces
I was thinking about this book today. Yes. Till We Have Faces, by C.S. Lewis. I was reading one of my favorite blogs, maintained and pour'ed in with brain juices by the beautiful and eloquent Crystal, where the book was being discussed. Well, actually, only she had thusfar discussed it, but I added in my own little comment blurb after a few minutes of thinking.
I have to say, I really love that book, despite it's ugliness. There's such an oppressive ugliness to the world in which Lewis sets up the story. He has such a way with words. They reach into your soul and don't stop there. Somehow they go farther. Sar gave that book to me for Christmas this year. She had told me so much about it (but none of the story line.. just that she loved it so much, it made her angry, it made her cry, it made her smile... yaddayaddayadda), and when I read through it, I kept expecting this deep, deep underlying message or doctrine, or some hidden truth. I kept parsing every sentence and every character to see if there was some sort of allegory or something I wasn't looking hard enough for. I kept thinking, "Oh! this character represents ______(insert Christian symbol/Bible character here)." I fed on the words, trying to make them pregnant with meaning, while all the while they were simply words, meant to be taken on face value. Though I can't say the same for all of Lewis' work, TWHF seems meant to be taken with all the meaning implicit in the words, but no more. As heartily as I tried, all the truth I added to the story in my own head only proceeded to confused me.
Then, I got to the end, and my heart felt like mush. I finally "got it." There is deep meaning, but it's way too complex to be just some underlying thread that must be meticulously picked out by hand out of a whole queen-size quilt in order to be understood and learned from. The book is often touted as one that helps us to understand how we question God and why, ultimately, we don't need to. I can see that. In fact, Crystals sees it herself, as she says in her 3/27 post, "If you've ever questioned God...this book is incredible." However, though I see that as a legitimate summation of the principles of the book, that wasn't what it was all about for me.
I expected to question God while reading the book. Even at halfway through, I was ready to question God and ask the simple question that begs to be asked, "Is this all unfair?" But I never could ask it because the book never allowed me to. By the time I mustered the courage to ask, my question had already been answered, and in the end, just as Orual did, I only saw my own bitterness and an ugliness that comes from far deeper than the outward appearance. I was, I am Orual.
Lovely book. You all should read it.
9 comments
I just read it because one friend recommended it. No fad influence. :) I found it, as you sad, very ugly, and as you both said, I tried to analyze and decipher and draw conclusions from the madness...coming to the realization that by the time I was worked up and angry and ready to cry over why it was all so hard and ugly...I understood why I ought not to question. In a moment, all my insignificant analytical attempts were seeen to be as small as they truely were. The book amazed me, because it brought me to the realization that I was Orual, too, even as I fought it. I did question, I did reason and dispair...it grabbed me, sucked me into myself, and brought me out, all at once. I have never been grabbed by literature, pulled so strongly into a thing not myself, just so very much me. In my seeking to understand it, I sought the same things she did. In my realization of how blind I was in all my seeking, I wept at the grace that sought that same blind me.
It was more like a bowing to worship, than a book, which is why I knew you'd love it so, after you hated it. :) And all the way through, I thought I was so smart.
*Deanish, 'HA!'" Beautiful interpretation of reading it, Sarah. I guess it's not for everyone... but oh, what you're missing if you don't see the deeper meaning. Yes, Cassie, exactly. I elaborated slightly more in my latest blog post. I, too, drew many parallels between myself and Orual by the end of the book. After the last paragraph, I just had to sit there for a few minutes and reflect.
Our approaches to the book at first were very similar, as well. I had heard people rave about it, which should have been the first sign that it didn't take too much brain power to understand, but I overanalyzed at first, wondering what I was missing. And slowly, that deeper meaning you spoke of revealed itself, and the truth came to light in a way that I wondered where the darkness had gone, or if there was any to begin with. Lewis was a genius. He is, and, yes. That's exactly it. :)
I think you just said everything I wanted to say, m'dear. :) I did not like that book... As you said, it was very ugly. I kept waiting for it to get better, it never did. And at the end of the book, it left me depressed and wishing I hadn't read it, and wondering what on earth it was supposed to be meaning... Sometimes the best books are the ones that depress us. *folds arms and looks grim* No, no... I don't believe so.. 
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