I explained before how I’m devoting this year’s reading to C.S. Lewis. From May 23, 2011 (my 25th birthday) to May 22, 2012, I’m attempting to read through all of Lewis’ works, in addition to some biographies, personal letters, and second-hand critiques.
While designing my reading plan, I decided to read through the books chronologically which I thought would provide a fuller understanding of Lewis’ life and maturation.
It’s been a little more than three months now, and I’m not moving quite as fast as I first hoped. But I’m still making decent progress. I’ve read about 350 pages of his personal letters–his teenage writing blows me away–along with five of his books. Here are reviews of the first four.
Spirits In Bondage
C.S. Lewis
This was Lewis’ first published book, which he published as a 20-year-old (and to think people gawk when they discover I’m 25.) The collection of poems is easy to drift into and out of as they are all short, the longest being just a few pages.
I have to admit that going in, my history with poetry was laughable. I’ve never been a huge fan–mostly due to lack of exposure–but I especially get frustrated by poetry I can’t even understand. A lot of the poetry in this collection fits that bill. Lewis channels Nordic myths, Greek gods, and ancient poets and if you’re not already familiar with these references most of the content will fly over your head (at least it did for me.)
Yet still, there were parts that just set my soul ablaze. Even though I didn’t understand most of Lewis’ allusions, even though I missed most of his mythological references, I felt moved and swayed and lifted up at multiple points. If you love poetry this might be for you, but if not, it will be a struggle, though one peppered with momentary joys.
The Pilgrim’s Regress
C.S. Lewis
In his autobiography, Surprised By Joy, Lewis remembers the story of his first trip to Oxford. During the train ride up he was bubbling over with excitement. Lewis had long yearned to see the great stone buildings and the beautiful gardens at Oxford which were renowned for their splendor.
But when he got off the train, he was puzzled. He looked around and saw nothing but drab, ugly structures and no gardens to speak of.
He thought maybe the campus lay far from the station so he took off walking. But no matter how far he went, the scenery never improved. He walked a few miles, finally coming to the end of the road, and heaved a defeated sigh of frustration. Not knowing what to do, he figured his best bet was to turn around and head back toward the station.
When he did, though, he was shocked by what he saw. The beautiful spires and towers shot high in the sky right behind the station revealing his primary mistake–this whole time he had been walking the wrong way. If he had only turned at the beginning of his journey, he would have entered the glorious land from the start.
Lewis considered this episode an allegory for his entire early life, and The Pilgrim’s Regress uses the same model for its structure. The book, a retelling of John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, follows the main character, John, as he confronts Marxism, Communism, hedonism, nihilism, and many other popular twentieth-century ideologies. Each are personified through memorable characters and lands throughout the book.
John goes all the way through each of these realms but then is converted, turns around, and walks back the other way, seeing them all again through his newly converted eyes.
Lewis is quick to point out that the book was primarily written to be a story, not a blow-by-blow account of his own personal conversion. Even still, many of the philosophical pit-stops Lewis dabbled in on his way to Christianity show up.
This isn’t one of my favorite books by Lewis, as it lacks the spark and life or some of his others. But it’s not his worst either. If you’re going to dive in, read Bunyan’s original and Lewis’ autobiography first.
Out of the Silent Planet
C.S. Lewis
Many readers come to know Lewis through his magical Narnian chronicles. That’s no surprise as the books are still bestsellers today. His Space Trilogy, though, is far less known, and that’s a minor tragedy.
Out of the Silent Planet was one of the earliest science-fiction books. Written in 1938, it was far ahead of its time. In fact, I read somewhere that the book includes the fourth ever mention of the world ‘spaceship’, a sign of its frontier material.
Out of the Silent Planet reads like a blend between Robinson Crusoe and Avatar. Ransom, the main character, finds himself stranded on a strange planet far away from Earth. Without food or direction he travels along the whimsical terrain, mingling with native inhabitants and ultimately meeting the Great Power in charge.
Like Robinson Crusoe, the book is slow at parts. It’s as much a mental narrative as a physical one. But this adds to the realism as Ransom has the same internal struggles you would expect of someone in an unfamiliar world.
As in Avatar, the book shows what happens when humans crash into a more peaceful, morally developed, spiritually grounded culture. Ransom arrives alongside two other men, one representing science and the other human abasement. Between the three of them they reflect the primary tendencies we have toward strange cultures–one tries to civilize it, another to exploit it, and Ransom tries to leave it in peace.
I’m sure I’ll have more to say about the Trilogy as I finish the next two volumes, but Out of the Silent Planet was a great start. Fans of science-fiction, especially those with a more philosophical bend, will especially enjoy it.
The Problem of Pain
C.S. Lewis
Out of the five Lewis books I’ve read so far, this has been my favorite. St. Thomas Aquinas said that there really is only one legitimate objection to the existence of God–the problem of pain.
How could an all-good, all-powerful God permit such pain and suffering in our world? In his book, Lewis devotes a chapter to each element in this problem.
God’s goodness, according to Lewis, doesn’t mean “niceness” in the modern sense. It doesn’t mean that God’s ultimate goal is for us to be carefree and comfortable. We must remember, Lewis reminds, that God is “our father who art in heaven,” not “our grandfather who are in heaven.” Which means he sometimes refines us and brings challenges that end up benefiting us and make us fully alive. God does that not in spite of his goodness, but because of it.
Regarding God’s power, Lewis explains that while in most cases God doesn’t cause pain, he certainly permits it because it can often have incredibly positive effects. Pain fortifies and refines our character, as most of us can attest, while it also forces us to lean closer to God. Both are worthy ends in God’s eyes.
In addition to these topics, Lewis also covers the nature of heaven and hell along with the interesting question “do animals experience pain?”
The Problem of Pain is one of Lewis’ most brilliant books and, excepting Mere Christianity, the one I would most likely give to an atheist friend. It’s an intelligent, charitable response to one of Christianity’s thorniest issues and I think Lewis’ answers are some of the best available.