I ran across an interesting passage while finishing up The Great Divorce. It is in chapter nine where a Ghost and a Spirit are talking about meeting famous people in heaven.

" 'But surely in the case of distinguished people, you'd hear?'
'But they aren't distinguished-no more than anyone else. Don't you understand? The Glory flows into everyone, and back from everyone: like light and mirrors. But the light's the thing.'
'Do you mean there are no famous men?'
'They are all famous. They are all known, remembered, recognised by the only Mind that can give a perfect judgement.' "

I thought that this was a great passage. I think that many people (myself included) think of all sorts of famous people that we will meet in heaven. You may have even been asked before "Besides Jesus, who do you want to meet when you get to heaven?" It's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that there may not be any distinctions among people when I get there. We may well be all equals and God, in his perfect wisdom will know and recognize us as such.

in the end of chapter or letter 7, screwtape makes this comment, "Provided that meetings, pamphlets, policies, movements, causes, and crusades, matter more to him than prayers and sacraments and charity, he is ours, and the more 'religious' (on those terms) the more securely ours. I could show you a petty cageful down here..." this reminds me of the ghost in The Great Divorce who was so concerned with proving Christianity that he forgot about Christ. i know plenty of people who do all the religious things but forget about what the religious things are for. i like how Lewis address this issue in both of these books.

I was thinking of how Lewis constructed "The Screwtape Letters," (forgive me, I'm a dorky Lit major) and I thought it interesting how they are all directed towards Wormwood, Screwtape's nephew, but we never read Wormwood's side of the correspondence, and can only surmise what he wrote through Screwtape's letters. Could Lewis be subversively casting the reader as Wormwood? This book isn't exactly a dialogue, it isn't as if we've tapped a wire from Hell and can hear both parties converse. Rather, it's Screwtape soliloquizing on subjects handed to him by some shifty unseen stage hand. What does everyone else think?

In "Til We Have Faces", I thought that it was interesting that the Queen never really stopped to think about here journey to where she is now. So when she found the temple to Psyche by accident, she became so upset at the idea that the priest had the story wrong that she went back to her country at a maddening pace. Just to get there and write this book.
She became driven to make herself believe that there had been no other way in what happened to Psyche, and that it wasn't her fault. That really she had be trying to save Psyche from her maddened state of mind.

On page 89, in the opening part of this conversation, I thought that there was a very interesting line.

'I forgive him as a Christian,' said the Ghost. 'But there are some things one can never forget.'

I thought this was interesting because I makes me wonder if we don't do the same thing. Forgive someone because that is the right and Christian thing to do, but never forget it. We hold on to how we were wronged and never let that person forget what they have done to us. This could also be part of what the Dwarf Ghost was also doing, holding a wrong over someone else's head.

Is this one of the "tricky" sins that we can so easily fall prey to?

We all took the Vanity Ghost to be just that, someone so self centered and that was the reason she was concerned with her looks. When I read it, I also thought of it in another way. What if the reason she doesn't want to be seen, is that the Solid people will really see what she looks like. Not that they don't see her, but I mean really see her, what she is made of and the things that she has done.

Possible she is more afraid of the shame of the things that she has done before and tends to cover it up through the make up and clothes. What made me think along these lines was the argument made by the Solid person.

"Don't you remember on earth - there were things too hot to touch with your finger but you could drink them all right? Shame is like that. If you will accept it - if you will drink the cup to the bottom - you will find it nourishing: but try to do anything else with it and it scalds." (61)

I looked at that as to say that she let her shame fester and build up. Now she is so concerned that people will see her, that she can no longer see the real reason behind this drive to look perfect.

What do you think?

some more thoughts from The Great Divorce. did anyone else think of someone they knew or at least had met that reminded them of pretty much every ghost character in the book? there was the woman who thought too much of herself, the guy who was religious but thats it, the dwarf who tried to guilt trip everyone (who hasnt right?), and the mother who had the wrong idea about love. i could think of at least one person for every character and it kinda scared me to think that they honestly will hold on to their junk like that. obviously if they were in that situation i cant speculate about what they would have done compared to the ghosts but theyre personalities are very similar.
reading this book made me more energized about witnessing to those people in the hopes of at least getting them to think that Christ as the right idea because who knows if they will have a chance like in the book after they die? maybe energized isnt the right word, i probably wont beat anyone over the head with a BIble saying, "youre a sinner, youre a sinner" but im concernced and more eager to show them Christ through my actions and words after reading The Great Divorce. any thoughts?

a couple of thoughts i had when finishing up The Great Divorce.
1. the idea of hell being "less real" than heaven. when i really start to think about this idea, it makes more and more sense. God, who created everything and is the ultimate reality is in heaven, so of course heaven would be a real place. where as hell is thought of as the absence of God so that also makes sense that it would be not as real as heaven. does anyone have any ideas on what "not as real as heaven" would be like?
2. hell being smaller than heaven. i dont really have much to say about this other than i just think its an interesting thought. does anyone else have any comments on this idea?

This goes back to Monday's class discussion where someone brought up Tolkien's elves and how they differ from other fairy stories. I actually read something about that in my biography of Tolkien by John Garth. Garth mentions that Tolkien in his poetry and short stories actually started out with the elves being these tiny, little beings. Fragile and small like in most other fairy stories. But this all changed when he was inspired to write a short story called "The Fall of Gondolin" where the elves actually have to defend the city they built from Melkor and his Orcs. In order for the elves to accomplish that--Tolkien logically changed their size to roughly the same as humans. After this he became quite fond of the idea that elves were actually larger beings than the other fairy stories said they were and kept them human sized for the rest of his creative works.

I hope that was interesting for some of you who had wondered about that progression in Tolkien's thought.

I've been thoroughly enjoying The Great Divorce and have been pondering a couple of passages.

The first one is on page 39 where one of the Spirits is talking to a Ghost about redemption. "All that is over. We are not playing now. I have been talking of the past (your past and mine) only in order that you may turn from it forever. One wrench and the tooth will be out. You can begin as if nothing had ever gone wrong. White as snow. It's all true, you know. He is in me, for you, with that power -I have come a long journey to meet you. You have seen Hell: you are in sight of Heaven. Will you, even now, repent and believe?"
I thought this was a very interesting passage because I was raised in the belief that their is no redemption after death and that you choose where to go before you die.

The second passage is on pages 43-44 and one of the Ghosts is talking about what Jesus and Christianity would have been if Jesus had been more mature when he died.
"He would have outgrown some of his earlier views, you know, if he'd lived. As he might have done, with a little more tact and patience. I am going to ask my audience to consider what his mature views would have been [...] What a different Christianity we might have had if only the Founder had reached his full stature! I shall end up by pointing out how this deepens the significance of the Crucifixion. One feels for the first time what a disaster it was: what a tragic waste... so much promise cut short."
Did anyone else find this Ghost's speech wacky? When Jesus came to earth he was fully God and fully human, so I don't think his views would have changed. And without his death on the cross, we would have no hope for salvation. What do you guys think?

Just some random thoughts about Lewis and Tolkien's different portrayals of war in their books.

Both Lewis and Tolkien had firsthand experience of WWI, but it seems to me that they came back from war with differing views. The battle scenes in the Chronicles of Narnia are very much downplayed (they're missing the blood and gore of battle) and are more focused on how the characters have matured and are able to fight this battle. Tolkien's representation of war seems more realistic. The battle scenes are very detailed and are gruesome. I realize that Lewis was writing a children's story and Tolkien was targeting an adult audience, but I still think that the differences are interesting. Maybe Lewis was aiming to portray his battles as spiritual battles. I really don't know. Does anyone else find this interesting?

An initial thought on THE GREAT DIVORCE...

So, I just started reading this wonderful fantasy today, and I'm eating it up. AND I am laughing (of course, I would be) as well. Let me explain why.

There are so many common phrases and sayings that we use in everyday conversation which are in fact a commentary on heaven and hell. I believe that C.S.Lewis intentionally (very intentionally) included many of these "phrasings" in his book.

Here are a few example (JUST from the first few chapters!):

1. "'What the hell are you doing?' shouted the Intelligent Man, leaning roughly across me and pulling the window sharply up. 'Want us all to catch our death of cold?'" (17).

2. "'Oh me? i shall be met in a moment or two. I'm expected. I'm not bothering about that. But it's rather unpleasant on one's first day to have the whole place crowded out with trippers. Damn it, one's chief object in coming here at all was to avoid them!'" (22).

3. "'Don't you know me?' he shouted to the Ghost: and I found it impossible not to turn and attend. The face of the solid spirit--he was one of those that wore a robe--made me want to dance, it was so jocund, so estabilished in its youthfulness. 'Well, I'm damned," (this one's my favorite-I laughed out loud, then felt guilty) said the Ghost. 'I wouldn't have believed it. It's a fair knock-out. It isn't right, Len, you know...'" (26).

4. "I thought there'd be some damned nonsense" (30-31).

I love it! I find it clever. In incorporating these everyday expressions, C.S. Lewis in THE GREAT DIVORCE (of Heaven and Hell) is simultaneously calling into question their true meaning. Do we realize why we are saying when we "damn" it? What the Hell are we doing? ha ha

Since we were talking about Lord of the Rings last class period, I went back to my copy and did some rereading of some parts I had marked down as interesting. One of those things was the chapter with Tom Bombadil, who unfortunately, was not included in the films. Here's the part I'm talking about, the four hobbits are at Tom's house and Frodo shows Tom the ring and actually hands it over to him:

"Then Tom put the Ring round the end of his little finger and held it up to the candlelight. For a moment the hobbits noticed nothing strange about this. Then they gasped. There was no sign of Tom disappearing! Tom laughed again, and then he spun the Ring in the air---and it vanished with a flash. Frodo gave a cry--and Tom leaned forward and handed it back to him with a smile. (chapter In the House of Tom Bombadil pg. 132-133)"

The Ring had no effect on Tom at all! It's true that Tom is very ancient and master of the wood, but what kind of power does he actually hold that prevents the Ring from weaving its usual spell on him? At the council of Elrond they briefly talk about this, but I don't think any conclusion was made. Has anyone read anything else by Tolkien that might explain this strange character and his mysteriousness?

The following quote, from C. S. Lewis' letter to Fr. Peter Milward (September 22, 1956) is something interesting I found regarding Tolkien's “Lord of the Rings” Trilogy – especially with regard to the fact that we are to read the essay to which Lewis alludes in this letter.

Lewis writes: “Tolkien's book is not an allegory – a form he dislikes. You'll get nearest to his mind on such subjects by studying his essay on Fairy Tales in the 'Essays Presented to Charles Williams.' His root idea of narrative art is 'subcreation' – the making of a secondary world. What you wd. call 'a pleasant story for the children' wd. be to him more serious than an allegory. But for his views read the essay, which is indispensable.” (I am assuming that “wd.” stands for “would.”)

Interestingly, Tolkien himself also states something of his “dislike” of the allegory form – in a statement that I think is a bit peculiar considering that so many people point to the LOTR Trilogy as being an allegory itself (compare this with some of the "story versus allegory" discussions we have had of C. S. Lewis' “Chronicles of Narnia”).

Tolkien writes this in the forward (I, xi . . . I think that is how it is to be referenced) to the Ballantine edition of the Lord of the Rings trilogy: “I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence. I much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers. I think that many confuse 'applicability' with 'allegory'; but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author.

“An author cannot of course remain wholly unaffected by his experience, but the way in which a story-germ uses the soil of experience are extremely complex, and attempts to define the process are at best guesses from evidence that is inadequate and ambiguous.”

Anyway, it is just something more to think about . . .

This might be something interesting about another character or two (depends on how you look at it) in “Descent into Hell” by Charles Williams . . . though what the full significance (or lack thereof, as may be the case) of this may fully entail, I am not quite sure.

In chapter four (pg. 63 of my edition), Pauline is telling Stanhope that she would like to know her “name” for her part in Stanhope's play. Stanhope's reply is, simply, “I was thinking of something like Periel. Quite insignificant.” (Personally, I think a name like “Periel” sounds anything BUT insignificant. At the very least, it sounds a bit obscure . . . though I do happen to like the sound of the name: obscure, “insignificant,” or not.)

What is intriguing is that, from this point on in the book – as much as I can recall – Stanhope does not talk to Pauline without calling her anything other than the title he has given her, “Periel.” Even when he says “good-bye” after this original “christening” (for want of a better term) he does not say “Good-bye, Pauline,” but “Good-bye, Periel” (pg. 65; emphasis added).

Another example of this is on page 149 (towards the end of chapter eight), when Stanhope urges Pauline – “Periel” – to carry the fear of her ancestor who was burned in the fire, regardless of the fact that this ancestor had died hundreds of years before. Soon after, Stanhope sends Pauline back to her immediate task (i.e. her role in the play), saying, “To your tent, O Periel” (pg. 150). Another such reference is located towards the end of chapter nine (pg, 173-175).

Why would Stanhope do this, do you think? Is he just using the name “Periel” for Pauline because he gave the new name to her and he likes it, and possibly as a term of endearment? Or might there be more to it than this . . . ?

I have a suspicion that I would like to present to the group concerning Charles Williams' DESCENT INTO HELL (which I am thoroughly enjoying by the way, I like creepy)...

First off, I feel I should warn you that I tend to pay very close attention to details, so I am always mindful of the way an author phrases things and the words they choose. As a result, I often run the risk of over-analyzing or reading-too-much into things. That being said, this passage comes from Wentworth's first encounter with "Not-quite-Adela":

"As he came nearer he was puzzled again, as he had been by the voice. It was Adela, yet it was not. It was her height, and had her movement. The likeness appeased him, yet he did not understand the faint unlikeness. For a moment he thought it was someone else, a woman of the Hill, someone he had seen whose name he did not remember (pg.82)..."

After reading this sentence, I instantly thought that "the-new-and-improved Adela" could very easily be Mrs. Sammile in a different form, who I feel qualifies as "a woman of the Hill." On page 57, Mrs. Anstruther informs Pauline and the reader, that no one is quite sure where Mrs. Sammile lives exactly, but we do know that she does, in fact, live and roam (or prey in my opinion) on the hill. From what we know of her character: her disappearing-and-reappearing nature, her mystery, and the "product" she is selling ("free" happiness), she doesn't seem to be quite human. I don't feel any human-being could "sell" what she is selling. And the fact that no one can pinpoint the location of her home, makes her less human and more of a wandering spirit.

Mrs. Sammile's offer to give Pauline everything she desires without the troubles of ever having to consider another person (or simply put, a "perfect, totally satisfying, uninterrupted" life within oneself), can be easily paralleled to the sex-devil's rhetoric, which contributes to Wentworth's further descent into himself. Mrs. Sammile and "not-quite-Adela" are essentially offering the same thing...Hell...or a life within oneself, free of everything and everyone that is not oneself. Is Williams informing the reader, quite faintly, that Mrs. Sammile and "not-quite-Adela" are the same character? I like to think so. And if so, what are the implications, if any, of this idea on the rest of the story? Does it really matter if they are the same or if they are distinct characters? Would anything change?


Hmmm....I don't know.

Here is a little extra commentary on Dorothy Sayer's book The Mind of the Maker. I didn't have time during my presentation in class, and thought I would post-it for some easy points and of course for anyone who has any futher interest in the book :) enjoy!


In The Mind of the Maker, Sayers comments on the "common man"’s tendency to view life as a series of “problems” and “solutions.” She feels these commonly used terms have dangerously false implications, for the “problems” of humanity (such as war, unemployment, and death) do not have “predictable, final, complete and sole possible solutions.” Although she admits there are exceptions, which may be properly labeled as such, she stresses the fact that very few exist.

Sayers suggests that instead of attempting to “solve” life’s “problems,” we put our energies to better use by creating a new way of life. She writes:

I conclude that, if other men feel themselves to be powerless in the universe and at odds with it, it is because the pattern of their lives and works has become distorted and no longer corresponds to the universal pattern—because they are, in short, running counter to the law of their nature.[1]

The law of our nature is a natural impulse to create and work passionately, not to simply solve life’s “problems” and achieve a finality. There is not always an absolute “solution” to life’s problems, only a ceaseless and continual call for creative work to be done. The author feels we should view work as an artist, in that we create passionately because we love to do so and because our nature demands it. The author explains that God’s identity as Creator is not meant to make a separate distinction between God and His creatures, but to illustrate a connection, or the “universal pattern,” between the mind of the maker and the Mind of the Maker.

This argument is obviously very appealing to me, because I am an artist and I am creative. To others, whose strengths and identity reside in other attributes, this claim may seem exclusive or even offensive. Although Sayers definitions of an “artist” and “creativity,” are broader and unconventional, she is still too quick to belittle “the common man” (as she calls him), for working for the sole purpose of a pay check.

Although it aught not to be so, many people do not have the freedom to do work which is meaningful, because of pressing times or responsibilities. In some cases, working for the sole purpose of a pay check, is not to be demonized, but respected. In addition, not all jobs hold significance, but need to be done nonetheless. Dorothy Sayers is too quick to praise the “creative artist” and belittle the “common man.” Diversity is irreplaceable, and a world full of starving artists would create an entirely new set of problems, even if it would create a new way of life.
[1] Sayers, Dorothy L. The Mind of the Maker, 212.

Just thought I would congratulate everyone on their presentation. Everyone chose a book that was interesting and really encouraged me to read it (if I had the time!).

There was just one more thing I wanted to say about my biography of Tolkien. John Garth did a wonderful job of using Tolkien's creative writings to show the progress of his mythology of Middle-Earth, especially Tolkien's poetry. Tolkien isn't really know for his poetry and I thought the passages of it that Garth selected in his book, "Tolkien and the Great War" did a wonderful job of showing how one idea spread to another until you can definitley see Middle-Earth come into shape. I did my best to show just how much I enjoyed Tolkien's poetry and stress the importance of it in my handout to everyone when I presented. There are some good examples of Tolkien's poetry on the handout, but that is just two examples out of dozens that Garth uses in the book. So if you are intrigued by Tolkien's poetry I suggest you check it out. I found out about this book from Professor Kugler and he recommends the book and I recommend the book, so I think that says something. It's very readable and Garth does his best to example all those things that interested Tolkien and played a role in his creative writings.

Again, thanks to everyone for presenting, I enjoyed hearing everyone talk about the book they chose.

Just a quick question . . . In “Descent into Hell” there are two major parts in which the death of “a God” or “a god” is mentioned. What I am questioning is why God/god is capitalized in one of these parts, but not in the other. Is there a reason or purpose for this apparent discrepancy, or is it simply an error?

The first section to which I am referring is located in the last few sentences of chapter seven: “The groan was at once dereliction of power and creation of power. In it, far off, . . . a god, unamenable to death, awhile endured and died” (pg. 125 in my edition; italics added). This cry is mentioned as being heard by Margaret, the “dead man,” and Pauline.

The other is in chapter ten, in which Pauline thinks of how “the moan of a God had carried the moan of the dead” (chapter ten, pg. 181; italics also added).

I was wondering if, aside from the obvious possibility that this might be a publishing error, Williams might have actually used the capitalization on purpose for some reason. Could it, in some way, be reflecting something of the characters' beliefs (or lack thereof)? Or, more specifically, may it show something of Pauline's own growth from chapter seven to ten? In seven, Pauline had yet to fully accept certain aspects of the “doctrine of substitution” (namely that she must take someone else's fear), among other things. By ten, she has met her doppleganger and has immersed herself into her role in the play . . .

But, the question remains, if Williams is referring to the God, YWH, in these sections, why would he mention this by using the phrase “a God,” as if God is just another god and there might be other gods? (i.e. Why “a” and not “the”?)

A publishing error, or not?

(That actually did not turn out as “quick” as I had originally intended it to be . . .)

Something that has occurred to me, both from discussions in this class and also in my Learning and Cognition class is this: If God is outside of time and the past, present and future are all the same to him, which means Christ is dying NOW, what makes us created in the image and likeness of God? Is it that God does look like us and has always looked like us, or is it that God, out of all His creatures, chose to become man? God became man, to God in the present, and so when He created man, he had already become man, and so created them in this image? But then, where did the idea of what man should be like come from? It's much like the question that can arise when discussing time travel: If a person from the future tells a person from the past about an invention that that person supposed invented, where did the idea come from?