Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis
Prompt Fill: 2x Older Than You (I'm 21, the book was first published in 1956)
In this timeless tale of two mortal princesses- one beautiful and one unattractive- C.S. Lewis reworks the classical myth of Cupid and Psyche into an enduring piece of contemporary fiction. This is the story of Orual, Psyche's embittered and ugly older sister, who posessively and harmfully loves Psyche. Much to Orual's frustration, Psyche is loved by Cupid, the god of love himself, setting the troubled Orual on a path of moral development.
Set against the backdrop of Glome, a barbaric, pre-Christian world, the struggles between sacred and profane love are illuminated as Orual learns that we cannot understand the intent of the gods "till we have faces" and sincerity in our souls and selves.
I should preface this by saying that it's not because this book is a 5/5 to me that I don't have some issues with it, though admittedly they are few and—perhaps because I loved the book so much, made them appear—less relevant in the grand scheme of things.
I had never read anything by C.S. Lewis before. I was very surprised when I realized the C.S. Lewis I was reading about was, in fact, the guy from Narnia (which I've never touched besides maybe glancing at the living room TV while the first—is there a second?—movie passed on the regional family afternoon program). It doesn't really appeal to me. All I know about Narnia is that it has the lion and it has the wardrobe, and that it's also very Christian. Which, fine, if a little intriguing.
What surprised me even more, however, was when I, a few chapters into Till We Have Faces, went to log it on my Goodreads—and realized one of the tags for the book on the app was "Christian". Not only that, though. Right beside it were "Christian Fiction" and "Christianity", which, a little redundant if you ask me, but again, fine.
I'm not really a religious person. Despite my parents identifying to some degree with Christianity, they also dived into other religions, as most Brazilians do—you'll find the most devout Brazilian Evangelist also partakes in Umbanda practices without them even realizing. I can barely say I was raised Christian is what I'm trying to say. Maybe the more appropriate course of action would be to affirm I was raised by people who believe in God, the Biblical God, the Lord Almighty.
The reason I'm saying all this is because Till We Have Faces is a greek myth retelling, set during pre-Christian times the summary lovingly refers to as "barbaric". As someone who isn't nor was Christian, it reads as a beautiful and touching story of the love that devours and hurts and kills and never stops being love. It's a pretty fucking good book. And while I read it I could understand where the Christian imagery came from at times (mostly when I was purposefuly trying to look through that lens), but it was never strong or clear enough (which i guess really fit the motif of the piece) for me to understand why, at least on Goodreads, it was such an emphatic point (they tagged it thrice!).
And yeah, I know Goodreads sucks, whatever. I'm migrating to Storygraph anyway.
Until the literal last paragraph, where, Spoiler Alert, our protagonist experiences a sudden shift in perspective and finds, at last, our Lord. I can't really say I disliked the ending, but I can say that the last paragraph felt... selfish, I suppose. Until that last point, we have all the resources and means to interpret this story—which, again, is beautifully told—about loss, grief, love that devours and consumes, jealousy, love which is maternal and fraternal and romantic and platonic all at the same time, which is then dropped in the sake of One Correct Interpretation. And I suppose it does make sense with what Lewis is trying to do: rewrite a myth, give the "correct" version of events some light. But I don't like it. I don't think it fits. I think it makes his story pay a price it never owed to anyone other maybe than himself.
My beef isn't that it is Christian, my beef is that it being rushedly undeniably Christian (only in the last fucking paragraph) makes the story worse. I still love it a lot. It still means much to me, especially the hopeful note in which it ends, and I appreciate the spirituality more than I thought I would. "Lord" is what bothers me, I suppose. It, ironically, devours and consumes the multitude of meaning and resonance the story could have—and has, to me, still—to give place to One God—which, to be completely fair, I don't doubt Lewis loves.
Maybe I'll give it a 4.5/5 after all.
