That Hideous Strength Chapters 1-4 Revisited
Matrimony...if neither loved very much, each was still anxious to be admired
Welcome to Reading Revisited, a place for friends to enjoy some good old-fashioned book chat while revisiting the truth, beauty, and goodness we’ve found in our favorite books.
Welcome to the end of our cosmic journey. Welcome to the final planet, the one we’ve continually returned to. Welcome back to earth, and an all too terrestrial feel. Welcome to the mundane, demoralizing, humdrum, and confusing. We’re certainly back on earth.
First Things First
If you haven’t read the Preface, do so.
First, because C.S.Lewis’ voice is enjoyable to hear.
Second, because it is meant, I believe, to help readers of the previous two books in this trilogy, adjust their expectations. This is not fantasy, Lewis says, but fairy tale.1
For the both Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra, we used this section to outline the themes which were being established in the initial chapters. We did this well, for that work pays off now.
Therefore, let’s use this section this time to examine the beginning using Aristotle’s lens:
What [Aristotle] means is that a story’s beginning is some event in the life of the protagonist without which there would be no story.
(
, Beauty and Imitation, 47)
Thus, we can ask: what event occurs at the beginning of each of these three books, which is necessary for the rest of the story to happen?
Out of the Silent Planet: if Ransom had not been turned away from the hotel at Nadderby…he would not have continued his walking tour that night, which means he would not have spoken to the woman about her son, which means he would not have promised to go to his old colleague Devine, which means…no trip to Mars. It all began with “no room in the inn” and a mother worried about her son.
Perelandra: if the narrator had not randomly written the letter to Ransom at the end of Out of the Silent Planet, or if Ransom had not telegraphed the narrator to “Come down Thursday if possible. Business”…the narrator would not have met Oyarsa or been present to seal Ransom in the coffin for his journey to Venus. It all began with a friend burying his friend.
That Hideous Strength: I will contend that the first event in this novel, without which there is no story, which sets into motion this entire earthly battle is: matrimony, the first word of the novel.
Why do I feel confident in this assertion? Because matrimony, the bringing into communion of a man and a woman with God, is the beginning event of the Genesis story, a story we have already explored in depth on Perelandra.
Without Mark and Jane Studdock getting married, there is no story. All our other themes, which we have been tracking for the last 348 pages, will converge on this particular marriage of two ordinary, 6-months into the covenant, young, English academics.
And man, doesn’t it seem like the deck is stacked against them?
Too particular an event, you say? Not a broad enough scope for a trilogy which has expanded our perspective beyond the borders of the horizon, not to mention beyond physical space and time…
Well, as
’s professor once told her in a writing class: “If you want to make a story universal, make it about one man.”2Thus we find ourselves, in these first chapters, mainly focused upon the relatable poor communication of a young married couple, and the destruction of a garden.
What, you say, a garden? Where?
I suppose the mere fact of being walled in gave the Wood part of its peculiar quality, for when a thing is enclosed, the mind does not willingly regard it as common. As I went forward over the quiet turf I had the sense of being received. The trees were just so wide apart that one saw uninterrupted foliage in the distance but the place where one stood seemed always to be a clearing; surrounded by a world of shadows, one walked in mild sunshine. Except for the sheep whose nibbling kept the grass so short and who sometimes raised their long, foolish faces to stare at me, I was quite alone; and it felt more like the loneliness of a very large room in a deserted house than like any ordinary solitude out of doors. I remember thinking, “This is the sort of place which, as a child, one would have been rather afraid of or else would have liked very much indeed.” A moment later I thought, “But when alone—really alone—everyone is a child: or no one?” Youth and age touch only the surface of our lives (19).
In the central section of the first chapter, we enter with the narrator into a walled garden, an enclosed space, a Hortus Conclusus, a place of original myth, which will soon be sold for some red stuff. Oops, wrong story. This isn’t Esau selling his entire birthright for a bowl of “red stuff.” None of us would be so stupid. This isn’t a woman selling her and her husband’s full bodied chance at a glorious life leading towards god-like status for the bite of an apple. No, nothing so silly. This is merely a bunch of college fellows selling a wood that couldn’t truly be said to be merely theirs in order to bring in a bit of cash to tide them over til the next quarter, and because they didn’t want to replace a few falling bricks.
See my point?
This wood, and it’s destruction, is universal in the connections to Man’s story throughout time, and extremely particular.
This is not the place of all the world’s original myth, but it is England’s.
As the narrator walks to Bragdon or Bracton Wood, he notes the history of his entire island through the medium of architecture: Newton quadrangle, Gregorian buildings, medieval college, Chapel with an old clock, “seventeenth century work: humble, almost domestic…a sweet, Protestant world” (18), and at the heart of the Wood a well of masonry that was “very late British-Roman work, done on the eve of the Anglo-Saxon invasion” (19) and Merlin’s mythical resting place.
Y’all, we have Merlin (a man who was, in many ways, a bridge between times and cultures), an enclosed garden, a wood, a river that must be crossed, and a fountain or well at the center. All the elements are here to make all the connections to legend, fairy tale, myth, Genesis, Dante, and probably any other old and beautiful source you can think of. This is a special place.
And with superb timing, just as we have fallen in love with this Edenic Wood, Lewis sells it off for some green stuff.3 Money. For the sake of Science.
Themes
Speaking of money and science…let’s touch on some Space Trilogy themes.
Here, at the beginning, we have no sight of Ransom (other than a reference to him as the “murderer” of Weston by Devine to Mark Studdock). There is no intimation that the heavens/light are acting for the good in this world.
Instead, we’ve got strong and conquering themes of:
Anti-Man (which builds within it an Anti-Nature theme)
Science & Business/Money
Gap
And that latter theme of Gap, is of the bad sort. The gaps we see in these first four chapters are not mind-expanding gaps, not word-searching gaps, not perspective-creating gaps, but mind-numbingly verbose deluges of definition-less words. The gaps in this section are not created by the need for a word to bridge it, instead the barrage of overly-intellectualized and bureaucratically-vague words shoots like bullets through any bridge that was meant to span a gap, or any window that was meant to allow someone the chance to observe a scene of natural beauty. We have words in plenty, but their meaning is to conceal not to reveal.
Characters
In Fairy Tale fashion, there are a lot of characters to track.
Additionally, since we haven’t seen Ransom yet, we don’t know who is on whose side. While there are certainly two opposing sides, and while one seems definitely bad, the other does not feel definitely good since it is so uncomfortable. Our only hope in this, is that Lewis is continuing his numinous theme, in that we, fallen men, do not always feel comfortable with pure goodness.
I suggest penciling two opposing columns into the cover of your book. On one side is the N.I.C.E. house at Belbury and on the other is St. Anne’s on-the-Hill. Underneath each of these homes, all the characters can be divided. In between the two houses, being pulled in opposing directions are Mark and Jane Studdock.
While you do that, I’ll lay before us a description of the two homes:
Lord Feverstone’s car had long since arrived at Belbury—a florid Edwardian mansion which had been built for a millionaire who admired Versailles. At the sides, it seemed to have sprouted into a widespread outgrowth of newer cement buildings, which housed the Blood Transfusion Office (49).
And…
Although the train had been chugging and wheezing up-hill for the latter half of her journey, there was still a climb to be done on foot…a winding road between high banks led her up to it. As soon as she had passed the church she turned left, as she had been instructed, at the Saxon cross. There were no houses on her left—only a row of beech trees…she was on the highest ground of that region. Presently, she came to a high wall on her right that seemed to run on for a great way: there was a door in it and beside the door an old iron bell-pull (49).
The differences are ripe for comparison.
Mark arrives at the N.I.C.E. in a new, fast, independently operated automobile.
Jane arrives at St. Anne’s on-the-Hill in an old, slow, interdependent local train.
The N.I.C.E. is ostentatious and expanding with the overly-utilitarian material of concrete.
The house at St. Anne’s on-the-Hill is private and walled. Indeed, Jane must journey single-file along a narrow path through a hortus conclusus to reach the home.
Then the experiences of both within the opposing houses are ripe for comparison. I believe my best summary for how I read these sections is: Evil is sweetish at the first, bitter at the end. Good is bitterish at the first, sweet at the end.
What’s at Stake
If you did not read the previous two books of this trilogy, you may find yourself asking at this point: what are the stakes? Is anything at stake here?
While the N.I.C.E. feels repulsive, it’s only harm at this point is that it’s cut down some trees and been a bit bureaucratic. Nothing outside of our everyday experience.
But, if you read the first two books of the Trilogy with us, than you, too, are probably continually forcing yourself to remember that the entire cosmic world is still out there. If you’re like me, reading this book is similar to what it’s like to go through daily life, in the sense that it’s a constant battle to remember that all those other things, those real things, those spiritual and other-worldly things, do exist. The Hrossa on Mars are still paddling their boats, the Sorns are still gliding down insanely steep mountain slopes on their way to speak with Oyarsa, the King and the Lady are standing in un-fallen splendor overlooking the waters of Venus. What is is bigger than we can see.
The Christian life is a combat, a war without mercy. Saint Paul, in a letter to the Ephesians, invites us to put on the armor of God to fight not against human enemies…but against the cosmic powers of this dark world and the spiritual forces of evil in the heavens (Ephesians 6:10-12)…
Every Christian must be thoroughly convinced that his spiritual life can in no way be viewed as the quiet unfolding of an inconsequential life without any problems; rather it must be viewed as the scene of a constant and sometimes painful battle, which will not end until death.”
(Father Jacques Philippe, Searching for and Maintaining Peace A Small Treatise on Peace of Heart, 8-9)
This is what Lewis accomplishes for me in this book. He has taken me into the outer cosmos, shown me the powers at work there, and then brought me back to earth. And it is my continual job to make the effort to remember that those same cosmic powers from Malacandra and Perelandra and, most depressingly, Thulcandra, are still at play here.
And what’s at stake? Just like in the Original Garden, just like on the floating island of Perelandra, what is at stake here is the unity of Man and Woman and their unity with God.
And who is the hero and who is the heroine we are given to place our hopes upon? Mark and Jane. Two humdrum, raised-by-the-world nobodies. Just like all of us. The entire cosmos holds its breath, and waits. Will “the whole darkness ring with victory” (Perelandra, 92), at the end of this book too?
Dare we hope?
Until next time, keep revisiting the good books that enrich your life and nourish your soul.
In Case You Missed It:
On the Podcast:
Read Along Guides for the the Space Trilogy:
What We’re Reading Now/Next:
March
That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis
April
The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins
May
Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather
A Few Reminders:
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Lewis also mentions that the “serious point” behind this story is the same as an his The Abolition of Man. I do not plan to make connections to that work in these Read Along Guides. Therefore, if you have read Abolition of Man recently, or would like to now in order to connect this work of fiction to that work of nonfiction, go for it and share! Lewis always rewards a comparison of his works to each other.
Forgive the anachronism. I understand that the British pound in 1945 did not look like a 21st century green U.S. dollar. But, I wanted to attempt to make a cheeky connection to Esau’s aforementioned “red stuff.”