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This is the final book of C. S. Lewis's acclaimed Cosmic (or Ransom) Trilogy, which includes Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra. A classic work of fantasy as much for the wonder of its storytelling as for its insights into the human condition, the trilogy stages an epic battle between forces of light and darkness across a canvas of other worlds. In That Hideous Strength, the brave philologist Dr. Ransom (modeled after Lewis's friend J.R.R. Tolkien) finds himself in a world of superior alien beings and scientific experiments run amok. There is a rumor that the powerful wizard Merlin has returned to the world of the living, and a sinister technocratic organization plans to use his power in their plot to "recondition" society. Ransom's fight for moral wisdom in a brave new universe dominated by science is a quest filled with intrigue and suspense.… (more)
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That's very much a line that is continued in That Hideous Strength, but that isn't what caused me to put the book down deciding not to torture myself further. Yes, the anti-science, anti-technology line irked me. As did the evident contempt for all those who aren't believers in Christian orthodoxy--let alone atheists. And as an American and (small "r" and "d") republican and democrat I bristle at Lewis' evident fondness for the whole class system from how you address servants to the belief in the curtsy as an essential social skill to the love of monarchy--and what may seem quaint in that respect in Narnia just seemed at its most noisome here. But no, what really got to me was the attitude towards women. I've defended Lewis in reviews against those who have called him sexist based on Narnia. Truly, Narnia has wonderful heroines. Even compared in terms of current science fiction and fantasy what struck me was how important and strong were his female characters and how gender balanced were his cast of characters in a very testosterone-laden genre. But it really was just really too much in The Hideous Strength. The contempt heaped on "emancipated women," characters like Hardcastle that seem to signal that just being in an nontraditional profession for a woman means you're perverted and a fascist. And Jane. Oh, Jane. You know where I couldn't take it anymore? It was the "Pendragon" chapter. Here's two quotes:
She said at last, "I suppose our marriage was just a mistake."
The Director said nothing.
"What would you - what would the people you are talking of - say about a case like that?"
"I will tell you if you really want to know," said the Director.
"Please," said Jane reluctantly.
"They would say," he answered, "that you do not fail in obedience through lack of love, but have lost love because you never attempted obedience."
And...
Jane said, "I always thought it was in their souls that people were equal."
"You were mistaken," he said gravely. "That is the last place where they are equal. Equality before the law, equality of incomes - that is very well. Equality guards life; it doesn't make it. It is medicine, not food. You might as well try warming yourself with a blue-book."
"But surely in marriage . . . ?"
"Worse and worse," said the Director. "Courtship knows nothing of it; nor does fruition. What has free companionship to do with that? Those who are enjoying something, or suffering something together, are companions. Those who enjoy or suffer one another, are not. Do you not know how bashful friendship is? Friends - comrades - do not look at each other. Friendship would be ashamed . . ."
"I thought," said Jane and stopped.
"I see," said the Director. "It is not your fault. They never warned you. No one has ever told you that obedience - humility - is an erotic necessity. You are putting equality just where it ought not to be.
No, just no.
And yes, there were things I liked that make me wish I could tolerate this novel better. There's a reason after all I keep coming back to Lewis. He's a great writer with truly striking, shapely prose and at his best has a prodigious imagination and a winning sense of humor and a great way of infusing fiction with ideas--sometimes all too blatantly--but often brilliantly. Even here there were things I relished. His depiction of the process for instance by which Mark Studdock was corrupted was terrifically done. And I had to smile at the way he named his characters--very Dickensian. Some of those on the villain's roll included Lord Feverstone, Miss Hardcastle, Mr Frost, Withers, Steele, Curry. And you can't get better than the acronym for the sinister organization of baddies--N.I.C.E. And it's not as if I disagree with all of Lewis' message--the whole scenario of controlling humanity in the name of "Order" and scientific principle was chilling and resonated with me. I loved how Lewis was working in the Arthurian theme into a story set in mid-twentieth century England. And as I love the Arthurian genre, that was very much a highlight and it took a lot to finally break me away from that. But after that encounter between Jane and Fisher-King I thought it was time to part company before the urge to tear my book in half and start shredding the pages took hold of me--especially since this was about twice the length of the two earlier books. I couldn't imagine being able to get through the rest with my sanity intact.
--J.
By the way, if you've never heard of Williams, he was the third of the major Inklings after Tolkien and Lewis. You've probably never read anything he wrote, and you probably don't consider him very influential, but if you read this book, you'll realize that he probably had the largest influence of the major Inklings -- you can tell when someone's pastiching Tolkien, but Williams, or at least the style of _That Hideous Strength_, is _everywhere_.
A young married couple, Jane and Mark are at the heart of the novel. Mark is offered a job at a strange organization called N.I.C.E.
Jane decides to see a counselor, Miss Ironwood, about her nightmares and finds out they aren’t dreams, but premonitions. Meanwhile Mark is being asked to do small things that challenge his belief system and each tiny step in the wrong direction takes him farther from his wife.
In a strange way it reminded me (a tiny bit) of The Dark is Rising series. Both use aspects of the Arthurian legend and set their stories in the 20th century. Both have forces of good and evil fighting against each other in a vague but continuous battle. But where The Dark is Rising pulls you in with great characters, Hideous Strength holds you at arms length with ideas and a cast of dislikeable individuals.
BOTTOM LINE: I wanted to finish Lewis’ space trilogy, so I’m glad I read this one, but I don’t think that it’s up to the same standard of the previous books. The pacing is off, the characters fall flat and the final showdown was weak.
novel by Lewis.
Too many times I have Withers-types, and now recognize their vagueness as a type of evil.
The tone and presentation reminded me of Daphne du Maurier's "Rebecca" (but even better!).
"That Hideous Strength" begins with new characters in the setting of academic circles. Readers might
In Lewis' book, evil begins subtly. Something as small as laughing at someone else's expense or ignoring your conscience just once. Something so insignificant can help numb us to further wrong and has the potential to spiral out of control.
The best part for me was the interweaving of Arthurian legends. SWEET!
Random thought: Could King Arthur been a King David type?
You won't get this until you read the book, but here's my favorite line:
"Those who have forgotten Logres sink into Britain."
I speed through the book because I couldn't stand waiting to see what happened next, but was really upset to see it end. I told my husband I was very disappointed because I didn't readily have any Lewis fiction to read--but it would have been hard to pick anything up after this book. I needed to let it all soak in, you know?
C.S. Lewis in 1946 sounds weirdly similar to today's futurists who predict the coming Singularity, and who hope to achieve immortality by uploading their consciousness into computers. And of transhumanism ...
''We have found how to make a dead man live. He was a wise man even in his natural life. He lives now forever; he gets wiser. Later, we make them live better - for at the present, one must concede this second life is probably not very agreeable to him who has it. You see? Later we make it pleasant for some - perhaps not so pleasant for others. For we can make the dead live whether they wish it or not ...'
''...the lessons you learned at your mother's knee return. God will have power to give eternal reward and eternal punishment.'
''God?' said Mark. 'How does He come into it? I don't believe in God.'
''But, my friend,' said Filostrato, 'does it follow that because there was no God in the past that there will be no God also in the future?'
''Don't you see,' said Straik, 'that we are offering you the unspeakable glory of being present at the creation of God Almighty? Here, in this house, you shall meet the first sketch of the real God. It is a man - or a being made by man - who will finally ascend the throne of the universe. And rule forever.'' (pg. 179)
And on obsession, whether about immortality or another craving:
'Suddenly, like a thing that leaped to him across infinite distances with the speed of light, desire (salt, black, ravenous, unanswerable desire) took him by the throat. The merest hint will convey to those who have felt it the quality of the emotion which now shook him, like a dog shaking a rat; for others, no description perhaps will avail. Many writers speak of it in terms of lust: a description admirably illuminating from within, totally misleading from without. It has nothing to do with the body. But it is in two respects like lust as lust shows itself to be in the deepest and darkest vault of its labyrinthine house. For like lust, it disenchants the whole universe. Everything else that Mark had ever felt - love, ambition, hunger, lust itself - appeared to have been mere milk and water, toys for children, not worth one throb of the nerves. The infinite attraction of this dark thing sucked all other passions into itself: the rest of the world appeared bleached, etiolated, insipid, a world of white marriages and white masses, dishes without salt, gambling for counters. ... But it was like lust in another respect also. It is idle to point out to the perverted man the horror of his perversion: while the fierce fit is on, that horror is the very spice of his craving.' (pg. 268)