C. S. Lewis: Till We Have Faces
May. 26th, 2013 10:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silverflight8C.S. Lewis' Till We Have Faces is his last work, retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche from the perspective of Psyche's older sister Orual. In the version I have, Lewis' introduction outlines the myth plainly.
Framed as Orual's charge against the gods, Orual narrates her life to provide evidence of the gods' cruelty. The King of Glome largely ignores or beats his daughters, and when Psyche is born a girl, he ignores her also. For most of Psyche's youth, Orual and her tutor the Fox become a family, with the Fox still mentoring Orual, Orual mothering Psyche, and the three forming their little world of their own. When Psyche is taken away to be a sacrifice to the King of the Mountain, cracks start to appear. Orual manages to sneak into Psyche's chamber the night before Psyche is left for the Shadowbrute, but she is dismayed and angered by Psyche's calm acceptance of her fate. Orual makes the climb up the mountain later to try to retrieve Psyche's body, but discovers that Psyche is still alive, and apparently delusional. Psyche says that the god of the mountain has literally made her his bride and that she lives in a palace on top of the mountain. The palace is invisible to Orual, and so she tries futilely to bring Psyche back to Glome. Grief-stricken, Orual and The Fox believe that Psyche's gone crazy, and Orual convinces Psyche to light a lantern when her lover returns, so Psyche can see his face. She does so, and is cast out into the world and into the hands of a vengeful Aphrodite. Although Orual becomes (in any other novel) a ruler of legendary greatness, she's haunted forever by what's happened to Psyche. Narrated from Orual, the novel is nevertheless centered about Psyche.
One of the most beautiful parts of Till We Have Faces is Lewis' writing. It's at once clearly antiquated but perfectly in line with the story he's telling, with turns of phrase which make the novel a pleasure to read. He writes in a style that went out of date thirty or forty years ago, the sort that uses exclamation marks unselfconsciously, but it's not just that--Lewis really does have an ear for language. And as for the writing intersecting with the story: Orual lives in Glome, a backwater little state far from civilized places like Greece, Fox's homeland. Throughout the novel there's the constant comparison of Glome to Greece, superstition (of Glome) and philosophy/poetry/logic (brought by the Fox, an educated man), and between the gods of the two places--Glome's terrible Ungit, and Aphrodite, her counterpart. Even Orual, so ugly that men apparently flinch from her and she ends up wearing a veil for the rest of her life voluntarily, is utterly different from Psyche, "prettier than Andromeda, prettier than Helen, prettier than Aphrodite herself." At the end of the novel all the dualities seem to merge. The widow of one of Orual's trusted advisors, worked to death, calls Orual a devourer of men, the same as the Shadowbrute and Ungit, only that she takes lives willingly from her victims. Ungit and Aphrodite merge as a terrible, vengeful and beautiful goddess in Orual's eyes. And the vision that Orual has of the two Psyches, herself and Psyche, comes true too. Both Orual and Psyche shoulder the burdens that the mythical Psyche does--collecting golden wool from murderous rams, etc. The unreliable narrator device gets used and then reversed; the book is in two parts, with one as the charge and the second with her attempt to overturn the first narrative. Put like that, the reader's left doubting whether any of it's accurate.
I retain an entrenched dislike of Christian theology, and because of that, I did not like the implied idea that divine grace is necessary for love. Orual's love for Psyche, no matter how well-intentioned or genuine or powerful initially turns inexorably into bitterness and hurt. The greatest emotion of love is the greatest bitterness. In his defense, Lewis does write the transition believably; the castle that Psyche lives in is invisible to Orual, and Orual's understandably afraid of madness. But like the realization of the allegory for the Chronicles of Narnia, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Despite everything, everything that I've said, it's really a beautiful, well-written book, well worth the energy spent thinking and reading about. There's a blend of storytelling and philosophy which really does reward further analysis. 10/10
And finally, I am not either of the nonnies in this f_fa thread about the novel but if you are, please friend me posthaste. The link has a trove of thought-provoking analysis about all sorts of ideas in Till We Have Faces.
Framed as Orual's charge against the gods, Orual narrates her life to provide evidence of the gods' cruelty. The King of Glome largely ignores or beats his daughters, and when Psyche is born a girl, he ignores her also. For most of Psyche's youth, Orual and her tutor the Fox become a family, with the Fox still mentoring Orual, Orual mothering Psyche, and the three forming their little world of their own. When Psyche is taken away to be a sacrifice to the King of the Mountain, cracks start to appear. Orual manages to sneak into Psyche's chamber the night before Psyche is left for the Shadowbrute, but she is dismayed and angered by Psyche's calm acceptance of her fate. Orual makes the climb up the mountain later to try to retrieve Psyche's body, but discovers that Psyche is still alive, and apparently delusional. Psyche says that the god of the mountain has literally made her his bride and that she lives in a palace on top of the mountain. The palace is invisible to Orual, and so she tries futilely to bring Psyche back to Glome. Grief-stricken, Orual and The Fox believe that Psyche's gone crazy, and Orual convinces Psyche to light a lantern when her lover returns, so Psyche can see his face. She does so, and is cast out into the world and into the hands of a vengeful Aphrodite. Although Orual becomes (in any other novel) a ruler of legendary greatness, she's haunted forever by what's happened to Psyche. Narrated from Orual, the novel is nevertheless centered about Psyche.
One of the most beautiful parts of Till We Have Faces is Lewis' writing. It's at once clearly antiquated but perfectly in line with the story he's telling, with turns of phrase which make the novel a pleasure to read. He writes in a style that went out of date thirty or forty years ago, the sort that uses exclamation marks unselfconsciously, but it's not just that--Lewis really does have an ear for language. And as for the writing intersecting with the story: Orual lives in Glome, a backwater little state far from civilized places like Greece, Fox's homeland. Throughout the novel there's the constant comparison of Glome to Greece, superstition (of Glome) and philosophy/poetry/logic (brought by the Fox, an educated man), and between the gods of the two places--Glome's terrible Ungit, and Aphrodite, her counterpart. Even Orual, so ugly that men apparently flinch from her and she ends up wearing a veil for the rest of her life voluntarily, is utterly different from Psyche, "prettier than Andromeda, prettier than Helen, prettier than Aphrodite herself." At the end of the novel all the dualities seem to merge. The widow of one of Orual's trusted advisors, worked to death, calls Orual a devourer of men, the same as the Shadowbrute and Ungit, only that she takes lives willingly from her victims. Ungit and Aphrodite merge as a terrible, vengeful and beautiful goddess in Orual's eyes. And the vision that Orual has of the two Psyches, herself and Psyche, comes true too. Both Orual and Psyche shoulder the burdens that the mythical Psyche does--collecting golden wool from murderous rams, etc. The unreliable narrator device gets used and then reversed; the book is in two parts, with one as the charge and the second with her attempt to overturn the first narrative. Put like that, the reader's left doubting whether any of it's accurate.
I retain an entrenched dislike of Christian theology, and because of that, I did not like the implied idea that divine grace is necessary for love. Orual's love for Psyche, no matter how well-intentioned or genuine or powerful initially turns inexorably into bitterness and hurt. The greatest emotion of love is the greatest bitterness. In his defense, Lewis does write the transition believably; the castle that Psyche lives in is invisible to Orual, and Orual's understandably afraid of madness. But like the realization of the allegory for the Chronicles of Narnia, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Despite everything, everything that I've said, it's really a beautiful, well-written book, well worth the energy spent thinking and reading about. There's a blend of storytelling and philosophy which really does reward further analysis. 10/10
And finally, I am not either of the nonnies in this f_fa thread about the novel but if you are, please friend me posthaste. The link has a trove of thought-provoking analysis about all sorts of ideas in Till We Have Faces.
