I'm reading again--just took a break and thinking about the book. I'm so relieved that Jane has met up with the Dennistons. I realize how silly this is on one level--since I've read the book how many times?! And I know the outcome. But I think it's kind of like the character of Rochester in The Eyre Affair; the characters relive each episode as it is being read by someone in the "real" world. And he says that each time he experiences it--even though he knows the ending--he experiences the original joys and sufferings. But he says he doesn't mind because any joy he experiences with Jane is worth any amount of suffering. In the "original" ending of Jane Eyre, in the Eyre Affair, she does not marry Rochester. How could anyone even imagine such a thing! Anyway, that seems to be the way I re-read this book, which makes it rewarding and satisfying every time!
Well, just wanted to post that while I was thinking about it. Back to reading now.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
That Hideous Strength, ch 3 and 4
Mark goes to Belbury, where he meets Wither, whose manner even at this early stage is described as "vague and chaotic." Later we'll find out why. Ironically, Belbury and the N.I.C.E. are described as "a very happy family" (51), and Mark is told, "you are among friends here" (52). He meets Bill, the "Blizzard," Hingest, as well as Steele and "Fairy" Hardcastle. Hingest has decided to leave the N.I.C.E and advises Mark to go back to Bracton; I noticed in this reading that Hingest is a gardener, which is maybe interesting in light of Jane's experience at St. Anne's.
While Mark is trying desperately to figure out if he's in at the N.I.C.E., Jane goes to St. Anne's to see Grace Ironwood. The description of the grounds there is very organic: fruit trees, a mossy path, gooseberry bushes, a lawn with a see-saw, a greenhouse, a barn, a stable, a potting shed, a pigstye, a vegetable garden, and roses (59-60). Walking through these to the house, Jane starts comparing it all to gardens she has read about in literature: the garden in Peter Rabbit, or the Romance of the Rose, or Klingsor's garden (from Parsifal), or the garden in Alice; these thoughts elicit a "memory": "The beauty of the female is the root of joy to the female as well as to the male . . ." (60), but she doesn't remember where she's read this. A few minutes later, waiting to meet Miss Ironwood, Jane opens a book and sees, for the first time, the quote she's just "remembered."
After the interview with Miss Ironwood (I wonder if my students will figure out the importance of her name), Jane is uncomfortable and not convinced that she should connect herself with the "company" at St. Anne's; while Mark is dying to get in to the inner circle at Belbury, she is worried about being drawn in to something against her will. She had, we are told, a "fear of being invaded and intangled" and a "resentment against love" (70-71); she doesn't want to lose her individuality.
Chapter 4 begins with the N.I.C.E. cutting down trees and proceeding with construction in Edgestow, which leads to the Dimbles and Mrs. Maggs being put out of their homes, and it ends with the N.I.C.E's workmen tearing up Bracton College grounds and a riot breaking out, which is quelled by the N.I.C.E. "police." Jane has a dream in which she sees the murder of Hingest; when she hears the report of the murder from Curry, she begins to think she must go back to St. Anne's, but still hesitates to become part of the company.
In this chapter, too, we meet the Reverend Straik, a member of the N.I.C.E., who believes that science will help to bring the Kingdom of God on earth; he says, "Where we see power, we see the sign of His coming" (77). I won't stop to rant about this! We get another view of Mark here as well; when he and Cosser go to Cure Hardy to write their report, we see that he is really quite different from the N.I.C.E. members. He finds pleasure in the simplicities of the small village; we're told that "Mark was not as a rule very sensitive to beauty, but Jane and his love for Jane had already awakened him in this respect" (84). Also, we find that "his education had had the curious effect of making things he read and wrote more real to him than things he saw" (85). This is interesting in light of Jane's thoughts at St. Anne's, where she relates the real garden only to gardens in literature.
I do think sometimes our students may be lead to this kind of response to the real world; too often we hedge them in with books, books, and more books, as though these were the most important and only substantial things in the world, when we really ought to be providing them with books as a means of opening up the world and helping them to interact with real people in more integral ways. At a student writing conference this afternoon, one young woman stopped afterwards to tell me how much she appreciated my "stories" in class; I laughed because I know I do tend to go off on rabbit trails occasionally, but she said the stories really encouraged her and helped her to connect what we were reading or working on to the real world--a world, though she didn't say this--that I think she and others are a little apprehensive of encountering as adults. Anyway, it made my day! And I'm always amazed when my own reading connects with my own experience. I should stop being amazed I suppose; that's one of the beauties of language and Story.
While Mark is trying desperately to figure out if he's in at the N.I.C.E., Jane goes to St. Anne's to see Grace Ironwood. The description of the grounds there is very organic: fruit trees, a mossy path, gooseberry bushes, a lawn with a see-saw, a greenhouse, a barn, a stable, a potting shed, a pigstye, a vegetable garden, and roses (59-60). Walking through these to the house, Jane starts comparing it all to gardens she has read about in literature: the garden in Peter Rabbit, or the Romance of the Rose, or Klingsor's garden (from Parsifal), or the garden in Alice; these thoughts elicit a "memory": "The beauty of the female is the root of joy to the female as well as to the male . . ." (60), but she doesn't remember where she's read this. A few minutes later, waiting to meet Miss Ironwood, Jane opens a book and sees, for the first time, the quote she's just "remembered."
After the interview with Miss Ironwood (I wonder if my students will figure out the importance of her name), Jane is uncomfortable and not convinced that she should connect herself with the "company" at St. Anne's; while Mark is dying to get in to the inner circle at Belbury, she is worried about being drawn in to something against her will. She had, we are told, a "fear of being invaded and intangled" and a "resentment against love" (70-71); she doesn't want to lose her individuality.
Chapter 4 begins with the N.I.C.E. cutting down trees and proceeding with construction in Edgestow, which leads to the Dimbles and Mrs. Maggs being put out of their homes, and it ends with the N.I.C.E's workmen tearing up Bracton College grounds and a riot breaking out, which is quelled by the N.I.C.E. "police." Jane has a dream in which she sees the murder of Hingest; when she hears the report of the murder from Curry, she begins to think she must go back to St. Anne's, but still hesitates to become part of the company.
In this chapter, too, we meet the Reverend Straik, a member of the N.I.C.E., who believes that science will help to bring the Kingdom of God on earth; he says, "Where we see power, we see the sign of His coming" (77). I won't stop to rant about this! We get another view of Mark here as well; when he and Cosser go to Cure Hardy to write their report, we see that he is really quite different from the N.I.C.E. members. He finds pleasure in the simplicities of the small village; we're told that "Mark was not as a rule very sensitive to beauty, but Jane and his love for Jane had already awakened him in this respect" (84). Also, we find that "his education had had the curious effect of making things he read and wrote more real to him than things he saw" (85). This is interesting in light of Jane's thoughts at St. Anne's, where she relates the real garden only to gardens in literature.
I do think sometimes our students may be lead to this kind of response to the real world; too often we hedge them in with books, books, and more books, as though these were the most important and only substantial things in the world, when we really ought to be providing them with books as a means of opening up the world and helping them to interact with real people in more integral ways. At a student writing conference this afternoon, one young woman stopped afterwards to tell me how much she appreciated my "stories" in class; I laughed because I know I do tend to go off on rabbit trails occasionally, but she said the stories really encouraged her and helped her to connect what we were reading or working on to the real world--a world, though she didn't say this--that I think she and others are a little apprehensive of encountering as adults. Anyway, it made my day! And I'm always amazed when my own reading connects with my own experience. I should stop being amazed I suppose; that's one of the beauties of language and Story.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
That Hideous Strength, ch 1 and 2
What a treat to be reading about Jane Studdock again! I'd forgotten how much I like this character.
Lewis tells us in the Preface that this is a "fairy-tale"; he defends this because his story begins in the commonplace, everyday world and moves into the fantastic. But even in the first chapter we get a hint of the fantastic to come when we learn of Jane's dream, though of course at this point, on the first reading, we don't understand the significance of her dreams.
The first word of the novel is "matrimony," which is one of the main themes of the book; it's hard for me to believe that Lewis wrote this as an established bachelor, quite a while before he married. He seems to have a good understanding of the different expectations and responses of both genders. Jane's doctoral thesis is to be on Donne's "triumphant vindication of the body." I wonder if this might have some bearing on my ideas of the physicality of faith; I'll have to dust off Donne and check it out.
In these chapters we meet or hear about many of the main players in the book: Curry, Feverstone (I'm wondering how soon my students figure him out.), Jewel, Busby, and Wither--and the N.I.C.E. As well as the Dimbles, Miss Ironwood, and Merlin. The two main locations are identified, too. Mark is invited to Belbury, and Jane travels to St. Anne's. There's a very descriptive section on Bragdon Wood, in which the narrator, speaking in first person, tells us he has been there once.
I noticed this time that when Dr. Dimble is telling Jane about Bragdon Wood and the Arthurian legend, he contrasts two types of people: Guinevere and Lancelot and the "courtly" people, who, he says, are not "particularly British," and the people in the "background," who are "mixed up with magic" (29). This seems to set up the division between the two groups of people in the novel--though Jane, the Dimbles, et. al., represent the true Logres, and Curry, et. al., the false. It's interesting that Merlin--the magician--is claimed by the false, but we'll see that he's not so easily classified.
Feverstone identifies 3 major problems the Progressives (and N.I.C.E.) will have to deal with. 1) the interplanetary problem--which he doesn't elaborate on, 2) their "rivals on this planet," by which he seems to mean living things, and 3) "Man himself." In order to create a "new type of man," they will have to promote "sterilization of the unfit, liquidation of backward races . . . , selective breeding" (40). Already he is trying to recruit Mark for the N.I.C.E--as a writer. He recognizes the necessity of manipulating language in order to manipulate people. He tells Mark they'll need someone who can write well enough to "camouflage" what's really being suggested and done.
It's interesting that Ransom was sent to Perelandra because he knew the language, and now Mark is being courted by the dark side because he may be able to distort language. In light of the later "Babel" episode, I'll have to be watching for other references to language; this may well be another important thread.
Lewis tells us in the Preface that this is a "fairy-tale"; he defends this because his story begins in the commonplace, everyday world and moves into the fantastic. But even in the first chapter we get a hint of the fantastic to come when we learn of Jane's dream, though of course at this point, on the first reading, we don't understand the significance of her dreams.
The first word of the novel is "matrimony," which is one of the main themes of the book; it's hard for me to believe that Lewis wrote this as an established bachelor, quite a while before he married. He seems to have a good understanding of the different expectations and responses of both genders. Jane's doctoral thesis is to be on Donne's "triumphant vindication of the body." I wonder if this might have some bearing on my ideas of the physicality of faith; I'll have to dust off Donne and check it out.
In these chapters we meet or hear about many of the main players in the book: Curry, Feverstone (I'm wondering how soon my students figure him out.), Jewel, Busby, and Wither--and the N.I.C.E. As well as the Dimbles, Miss Ironwood, and Merlin. The two main locations are identified, too. Mark is invited to Belbury, and Jane travels to St. Anne's. There's a very descriptive section on Bragdon Wood, in which the narrator, speaking in first person, tells us he has been there once.
I noticed this time that when Dr. Dimble is telling Jane about Bragdon Wood and the Arthurian legend, he contrasts two types of people: Guinevere and Lancelot and the "courtly" people, who, he says, are not "particularly British," and the people in the "background," who are "mixed up with magic" (29). This seems to set up the division between the two groups of people in the novel--though Jane, the Dimbles, et. al., represent the true Logres, and Curry, et. al., the false. It's interesting that Merlin--the magician--is claimed by the false, but we'll see that he's not so easily classified.
Feverstone identifies 3 major problems the Progressives (and N.I.C.E.) will have to deal with. 1) the interplanetary problem--which he doesn't elaborate on, 2) their "rivals on this planet," by which he seems to mean living things, and 3) "Man himself." In order to create a "new type of man," they will have to promote "sterilization of the unfit, liquidation of backward races . . . , selective breeding" (40). Already he is trying to recruit Mark for the N.I.C.E--as a writer. He recognizes the necessity of manipulating language in order to manipulate people. He tells Mark they'll need someone who can write well enough to "camouflage" what's really being suggested and done.
It's interesting that Ransom was sent to Perelandra because he knew the language, and now Mark is being courted by the dark side because he may be able to distort language. In light of the later "Babel" episode, I'll have to be watching for other references to language; this may well be another important thread.
Monday, January 25, 2010
good class on Perelandra . . .
A short post tonight--it's been a long day.
The class tonight went really well I thought. Most of the students had done the reading--a couple hadn't quite finished the novel so we didn't read the last chapter aloud, which I had wanted to do. That's probably my favorite piece of prose ever! The last half of chapter 16 and then chapter 17. I always say that reading Charles Williams' poetry makes me feel like I'm levitating (this is re: the Arthurian poems)--and I discovered that CSL agrees with me when I was researching a couple of summers ago. But this section of Perelandra gives me that same feeling. It's almost an out of body experience!
We all agreed that CSL is an amazingly gifted writer. Such clear and concise descriptions that really pull us into the story and let us see and experience what's going on. I was amazed this read-through at the number of similes; he really piles them on, and they make whatever he's describing so clear because he uses similes that we can really relate to and have an emotional response to.
We also agreed that the evil--embodied in the Un-man--is incredibly creepy! One student noted that the book made her more aware of Satan's power, and others noted that though evil is powerful it is, as CSL portrays it, infantile and derivative--not creative and truly powerful as Maleldil is.
Some were thankful that Lewis structured the story as it is--with the "ending" at the beginning of the book. We were glad that we knew ahead of time that Ransom made it safely back to Earth; this made reading about his combat with the Un-man and his underground adventures more bearable. I especially love the chapter where he emerges from the caverns and recovers high on the mountain side--what lovely imagery and a sense of peace and accomplishment.
Several students expressed an appreciation of this literature that convicts and encourages them spiritually. It really does strengthen us for the tasks we're called to do!
Well, that's it for Perelandra--at least for now; we'll be discussing these 3 books for the next several weeks. But now on to reading That Hideous Strength.
The class tonight went really well I thought. Most of the students had done the reading--a couple hadn't quite finished the novel so we didn't read the last chapter aloud, which I had wanted to do. That's probably my favorite piece of prose ever! The last half of chapter 16 and then chapter 17. I always say that reading Charles Williams' poetry makes me feel like I'm levitating (this is re: the Arthurian poems)--and I discovered that CSL agrees with me when I was researching a couple of summers ago. But this section of Perelandra gives me that same feeling. It's almost an out of body experience!
We all agreed that CSL is an amazingly gifted writer. Such clear and concise descriptions that really pull us into the story and let us see and experience what's going on. I was amazed this read-through at the number of similes; he really piles them on, and they make whatever he's describing so clear because he uses similes that we can really relate to and have an emotional response to.
We also agreed that the evil--embodied in the Un-man--is incredibly creepy! One student noted that the book made her more aware of Satan's power, and others noted that though evil is powerful it is, as CSL portrays it, infantile and derivative--not creative and truly powerful as Maleldil is.
Some were thankful that Lewis structured the story as it is--with the "ending" at the beginning of the book. We were glad that we knew ahead of time that Ransom made it safely back to Earth; this made reading about his combat with the Un-man and his underground adventures more bearable. I especially love the chapter where he emerges from the caverns and recovers high on the mountain side--what lovely imagery and a sense of peace and accomplishment.
Several students expressed an appreciation of this literature that convicts and encourages them spiritually. It really does strengthen us for the tasks we're called to do!
Well, that's it for Perelandra--at least for now; we'll be discussing these 3 books for the next several weeks. But now on to reading That Hideous Strength.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Perelandra, 9 - 11
The pace is quickening as the Unman reveals his true nature more and more to Ransom, while continuing to speak civilly and reasonably to the Lady. Chapter 9 begins with Ransom discovering and following the trail of mutilated frogs; they are to him an "obscenity" (94), completely out of place in this idyllic world. He contemplates the fact that there are two ways only to live in the universe--to move either toward the "Beatific or the Miserific Vision" (96). While this kind of language is found in numerous medieval thinkers, including Dante, it also makes me think of Charles Williams--and more reading I'll need to do.
The Unman tells the Lady his purpose in coming to Perelandra is to teach them Death; he couches this in nearly theatrical terms--as Ransom tells us. The Unman tempts the Lady to adopt the "role" of heroine for her race; he tempts her with her own beauty (Vanity) and with the idea of glorious self-sacrifice. Ransom feels he is losing the battle; it doesn't help when he loses his temper!
While the eldila do not interfere in Perelandra, Maleldil is present, and Ransom realizes that He has always been present--it's just that Ransom has managed to ignore Him while focusing on the battle of words and ideas. Three times Ransom thinks, "This can't go on." Finally he asks, "Why did no miracle come?" (119) At this point Ransom experiences the presence of Maleldil, which grows stronger until, Ransom says, it's almost a Voice, and eventually it speaks to him.
But first, Ransom feels himself divided into two arguing selves: one is clearly guided by Reason, the other is more holistic perhaps--the narrator later names it "intuition" (123). His reasonable, or as he says, his voluble self claims that he has done all he can, that all he has to do is his best and then "God would see to the final issue. . . . He must not be worried about the final result. Maleldil would see to that. . . . One must have faith" (120).
Immediately his other self recognizes the falseness of this way of thinking; if Maleldil's will is to be done on Perelandra, Ransom must DO it: "Ransom and the Lady were those hands" (121) which would accomplish the task. This made me think of a quote from St. Terese of Avila:
Christ has no body now on earth but yours,no hands but yours, no feet but yours,
yours are the eyes through which Christ's compassion is to look out to the earth,
yours are the feet by which He is to go about doing good
and yours are the hands by which He is to bless us now.
Ransom realizes he is the miracle Maleldil has sent to Perelandra, and he moves to the certainty that he can and will physically fight to destroy the body of Weston, thereby erasing Satan's footprint on Perelandra.
Lewis gives such a clear picture here of our task as members of Christ's body; he says,
"As the Lady had said, the same wave never came twice. When Eve fell, God was not Man. He had not yet made men members of His body: since then He had, and through them henceforward He would save and suffer." (123)
Ransom must do his part, but Maleldil has said that His name, also, is Ransom; if Ransom avoids his path and his responsibility, Perelandra will still be redeemed but at a terrible price. And Ransom is given grace to accept his role.
This whole concept is so encouraging to me--daunting but also energizing. God has work for us to do--real, physical work. Sometimes this means physically avoiding temptation or physically putting ourselves in the path of grace, but it means being active, doing what God commands, in faith that He is with us. It also means what Charles Williams call "Co-Inherence" and "Substitution"; we're not responsible only for our own journey but for the others we meet on the way. We are the bringers of redemption--though Christ is the Redeemer. Lewis says, after Ransom has thought all of this through and is prepared to do battle, that Ransom "had been delivered from the rhetoric of his passions and had escaped into unassailable freedom. . . . Predestination and freedom were apparently identical" (127). Now there's something for a Presbyterian to think about! It seems clear, also, that Faith and Works are one. Perhaps from the predestination comes the Faith and from the freedom the Works. I'll have to think about this more--this is just writing as the thoughts come to me. I'm enjoying blogging!
The Unman tells the Lady his purpose in coming to Perelandra is to teach them Death; he couches this in nearly theatrical terms--as Ransom tells us. The Unman tempts the Lady to adopt the "role" of heroine for her race; he tempts her with her own beauty (Vanity) and with the idea of glorious self-sacrifice. Ransom feels he is losing the battle; it doesn't help when he loses his temper!
While the eldila do not interfere in Perelandra, Maleldil is present, and Ransom realizes that He has always been present--it's just that Ransom has managed to ignore Him while focusing on the battle of words and ideas. Three times Ransom thinks, "This can't go on." Finally he asks, "Why did no miracle come?" (119) At this point Ransom experiences the presence of Maleldil, which grows stronger until, Ransom says, it's almost a Voice, and eventually it speaks to him.
But first, Ransom feels himself divided into two arguing selves: one is clearly guided by Reason, the other is more holistic perhaps--the narrator later names it "intuition" (123). His reasonable, or as he says, his voluble self claims that he has done all he can, that all he has to do is his best and then "God would see to the final issue. . . . He must not be worried about the final result. Maleldil would see to that. . . . One must have faith" (120).
Immediately his other self recognizes the falseness of this way of thinking; if Maleldil's will is to be done on Perelandra, Ransom must DO it: "Ransom and the Lady were those hands" (121) which would accomplish the task. This made me think of a quote from St. Terese of Avila:
Christ has no body now on earth but yours,no hands but yours, no feet but yours,
yours are the eyes through which Christ's compassion is to look out to the earth,
yours are the feet by which He is to go about doing good
and yours are the hands by which He is to bless us now.
Ransom realizes he is the miracle Maleldil has sent to Perelandra, and he moves to the certainty that he can and will physically fight to destroy the body of Weston, thereby erasing Satan's footprint on Perelandra.
Lewis gives such a clear picture here of our task as members of Christ's body; he says,
"As the Lady had said, the same wave never came twice. When Eve fell, God was not Man. He had not yet made men members of His body: since then He had, and through them henceforward He would save and suffer." (123)
Ransom must do his part, but Maleldil has said that His name, also, is Ransom; if Ransom avoids his path and his responsibility, Perelandra will still be redeemed but at a terrible price. And Ransom is given grace to accept his role.
This whole concept is so encouraging to me--daunting but also energizing. God has work for us to do--real, physical work. Sometimes this means physically avoiding temptation or physically putting ourselves in the path of grace, but it means being active, doing what God commands, in faith that He is with us. It also means what Charles Williams call "Co-Inherence" and "Substitution"; we're not responsible only for our own journey but for the others we meet on the way. We are the bringers of redemption--though Christ is the Redeemer. Lewis says, after Ransom has thought all of this through and is prepared to do battle, that Ransom "had been delivered from the rhetoric of his passions and had escaped into unassailable freedom. . . . Predestination and freedom were apparently identical" (127). Now there's something for a Presbyterian to think about! It seems clear, also, that Faith and Works are one. Perhaps from the predestination comes the Faith and from the freedom the Works. I'll have to think about this more--this is just writing as the thoughts come to me. I'm enjoying blogging!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Perelandra, cont.
I read chapters 5 through 8 today; I have to speed up to get this done before Monday night class! Here we see the cosmic importance of the Incarnation on Thulcandra, when Maleldil took on human form; no longer will hnau be created in a variety of form; all will follow the same pattern. Though of course the Green Lady of Perelandra is quite different from her terrestrial counterparts, but most of the difference is in her experience of living on an unfallen planet--and her close communication with Maleldil. She tells Ransom she is the Mother of her children to come--and Ransom begins to get an idea of his mission though he doesn't know what his role will be in helping to prevent a catastrophic fall on Perelandra. At first he thinks the eldila will aid him as on Malacandria, but he later learns that the eldila are not communicate with the "new" worlds.
The Green Lady is already "growing older" from her conversations with Ransom; she says, "I thought that I was carried in the will of Him I love, but now I see that I walk with it" (60). The concept of free will is one that Weston/Unman will work to develop.
She and Ransom see a flash of light as something falls from Deep Heaven into the sea; Weston has arrived.
The Lady and Ransom spend the day on the Fixed Land, looking for the King; Ransom now thinks that the King will be the key to the preservation of Perelandra, but he's nowhere to be found. Instead they encounter Weston; this scene always makes me smile--he's traveled through space dressed as a 19th c. explorer complete with a pith hat! What was he thinking? Of course he has a gun and his old superiority complex--though now his thinking has "evolved" and he no longer believes in the mere continuation of the human race. Now his faith is grounded in "emergent evolution": "The forward movement of Life--the growing Spirituality--is everything" (78). His goal is "pure Spirit" (79); Ransom asks if this spirit is personal, and Weston's demeanor changes to give us a hint of what is going on. He makes some pretty creepy comments about being "guided" and a "force" rising up in him (80). He is completely overcome with his megalomania and calls the force into himself; "Then horrible things began happening" (82). We get one frantic plea for help from the "real" Weston and then that terrifying scene of the black Perelandrian night descending on Ransom and Weston's body.
In chapter 8, the true battle begins with the Unman's conversation with the Green Lady; he tells her about the women of our planet whose minds "run ahead of what Maleldil has told them"; they are like, he says, "little Maleldils" (91). The chapter ends with Ransom feeling something in the air--some airy suggestion of victory, and he concludes that he has come merely as a witness to the battle, which will end with victory for the Lady and her race. He's in for a rude awakening . . .
It's so convicting to listen to the Unman's arguments--to recognize the various elements of our sin and rebellion; it's so disheartening to realize that our nature is truly bent--even our understanding of and seeking after "good"; and it's so encouraging to realize the extent of God's love and mercy in re-establishing communication and communion with us.
The Green Lady is already "growing older" from her conversations with Ransom; she says, "I thought that I was carried in the will of Him I love, but now I see that I walk with it" (60). The concept of free will is one that Weston/Unman will work to develop.
She and Ransom see a flash of light as something falls from Deep Heaven into the sea; Weston has arrived.
The Lady and Ransom spend the day on the Fixed Land, looking for the King; Ransom now thinks that the King will be the key to the preservation of Perelandra, but he's nowhere to be found. Instead they encounter Weston; this scene always makes me smile--he's traveled through space dressed as a 19th c. explorer complete with a pith hat! What was he thinking? Of course he has a gun and his old superiority complex--though now his thinking has "evolved" and he no longer believes in the mere continuation of the human race. Now his faith is grounded in "emergent evolution": "The forward movement of Life--the growing Spirituality--is everything" (78). His goal is "pure Spirit" (79); Ransom asks if this spirit is personal, and Weston's demeanor changes to give us a hint of what is going on. He makes some pretty creepy comments about being "guided" and a "force" rising up in him (80). He is completely overcome with his megalomania and calls the force into himself; "Then horrible things began happening" (82). We get one frantic plea for help from the "real" Weston and then that terrifying scene of the black Perelandrian night descending on Ransom and Weston's body.
In chapter 8, the true battle begins with the Unman's conversation with the Green Lady; he tells her about the women of our planet whose minds "run ahead of what Maleldil has told them"; they are like, he says, "little Maleldils" (91). The chapter ends with Ransom feeling something in the air--some airy suggestion of victory, and he concludes that he has come merely as a witness to the battle, which will end with victory for the Lady and her race. He's in for a rude awakening . . .
It's so convicting to listen to the Unman's arguments--to recognize the various elements of our sin and rebellion; it's so disheartening to realize that our nature is truly bent--even our understanding of and seeking after "good"; and it's so encouraging to realize the extent of God's love and mercy in re-establishing communication and communion with us.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Perelandra, cont.
Chapters 3 and 4. Here we get the account of Ransom's arrival on Perelandra and first encountering its ultra-sensuous nature. The prevailing color, as he is nearing the surface, is "golden or coppery" (31); I think I remember reading that the metal copper (and probably gold as well) was associated with the goddess and the planet Venus, but I can't find that reference at the moment. I'm sure it's somewhere in Michael Ward's book--but that will have to wait for another day.
Lewis's narrative and descriptions in this book are full of allusions to the goddess; in ch 3 the planet itself is described as a "warm, maternal, delicately gorgeous world" (32), in which "excessive pleasure" is "communicated to [Ransom] through all his senses at once" (33). And yet it is all pleasure with no accompanying feelings of guilt.
Here we get the descriptions of the floating islands, the balloon fruit, and the bubble trees. The only fear Ransom has is that his reason may be in danger because of the overwhelming nature of his sensory experiences (37). Lewis sets up a dichotomy between reason/rationality and the senses/desire; when reason prompts Ransom to enjoy the balloon fruit a second time, he refrains from doing so: Lewis, the narrator, tells us ". . . something seemed opposed to this 'reason.' It is difficult to suppose that this opposition came from desire . . . " (38). It may be difficult to suppose . . . but it looks like this is exactly what Lewis is proposing. Does this have some connection to the fact that our reason is as "bent" as our other faculties? Do our senses and intuitions sometimes point us to the truth or toward integrity? What is the desire that directs Ransom's actions? A desire for moderation or to acknowledge satiety? Well, this chapter has given me plenty to think about.
In chapter 4 we begin to meet the inhabitants of Perelandra--the dragon, the dolphin-like fish--and we get our first glimpse of the Green Lady. And Lewis asks, "Were all the things that appear as mythology on earth scattered through other worlds as realities?" (40). After bathing under the bubble trees, Ransom "had a sensation not of following an adventure but of enacting a myth" (42).
Perhaps living as a Christian is both an adventure, which it frequently is, and an enactment of the True Myth, as Tolkien described the Gospel story of Christ's death and resurrection. And if Lewis is right here, it isn't reason--or at least not merely reason--that ought to guide our behavior. We need a cleansing and heightening of our perceptions and desires in order to respond with integrity to our surroundings and circumstances. Ransom got this from the bubble fruit; how do we access it?
Lewis's narrative and descriptions in this book are full of allusions to the goddess; in ch 3 the planet itself is described as a "warm, maternal, delicately gorgeous world" (32), in which "excessive pleasure" is "communicated to [Ransom] through all his senses at once" (33). And yet it is all pleasure with no accompanying feelings of guilt.
Here we get the descriptions of the floating islands, the balloon fruit, and the bubble trees. The only fear Ransom has is that his reason may be in danger because of the overwhelming nature of his sensory experiences (37). Lewis sets up a dichotomy between reason/rationality and the senses/desire; when reason prompts Ransom to enjoy the balloon fruit a second time, he refrains from doing so: Lewis, the narrator, tells us ". . . something seemed opposed to this 'reason.' It is difficult to suppose that this opposition came from desire . . . " (38). It may be difficult to suppose . . . but it looks like this is exactly what Lewis is proposing. Does this have some connection to the fact that our reason is as "bent" as our other faculties? Do our senses and intuitions sometimes point us to the truth or toward integrity? What is the desire that directs Ransom's actions? A desire for moderation or to acknowledge satiety? Well, this chapter has given me plenty to think about.
In chapter 4 we begin to meet the inhabitants of Perelandra--the dragon, the dolphin-like fish--and we get our first glimpse of the Green Lady. And Lewis asks, "Were all the things that appear as mythology on earth scattered through other worlds as realities?" (40). After bathing under the bubble trees, Ransom "had a sensation not of following an adventure but of enacting a myth" (42).
Perhaps living as a Christian is both an adventure, which it frequently is, and an enactment of the True Myth, as Tolkien described the Gospel story of Christ's death and resurrection. And if Lewis is right here, it isn't reason--or at least not merely reason--that ought to guide our behavior. We need a cleansing and heightening of our perceptions and desires in order to respond with integrity to our surroundings and circumstances. Ransom got this from the bubble fruit; how do we access it?
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