The greatest book you've never heard of

If you're like most people, you probably know C.S. Lewis as "the guy who wrote the Narnia books."  He did indeed write them, as well as reams of pretty incredible theology and apologetics.  For most of my life, these were the only works of his I had read, until a friend at Bible school told me about a lesser-known title of his, the enigmatically named Till We have Faces: A myth retold.

First off, that title.  Wow.

If the title alone does not make you want to read this book, you might as well stop reading here, because nothing I can say about it will, either.  I would say you'll figure out the meaning of the title once you've finished the book, but that's being a little generous.  I've read this book roughly 2.3 million times and it's taken me that long to start piecing it together myself.

(Then again, perhaps I'm not the sharpest pencil in the case.  For example, even though I sometimes like to think of myself as an "intellectual" who "understands deep themes in art and literature," I am not always quite so "with it" as I like to believe.  Case in point: the first time I watched Arrival (one of the best sci-fi films of all time - fact, not opinion), my wife listened patiently while her "very smart" husband "explained" the ending to her.  Once I closed my mouth, she then explained to me what had ACTUALLY just happened and I was like "Oh.  Yeah.  Right.  That's what I meant.  Totally."  Quickly changes topic.)

Whatever the case, if you're reading this post right now there is a very good chance that you've never read or even heard of Till We have Faces and therefore it has become my duty to point you in that direction.  If the title hasn't convinced you, consider the opening line:

                                I am old now, and have not much to fear from the anger of gods.

For all of you who have withered your minds on Dan Brown and Twilight, that weird ringing in your ears that you're hearing right now is the sound of actual literature.  You may experience some pain while the gunk is being cleansed out.

Now, this is where I would normally insert a brief summary of the book, together with a collection of witty thoughts about it (like this).  But this book is literally IMPOSSIBLE to summarize.  Really.  I have tried.  Many, many, times.  It's actually one of my favourite activities on long, solitary drives: try to summarize Till We have Faces in my mind (again, I am not making this up - it's a symptom of the disease known as nerdus introvertus.  There is no cure, and even if there was, I wouldn't want it).

Here's a brainwave - to make the summary easier, I'll try talking it out to a cheese-loving imaginary friend called Bob, who has the gift of encouragement.  Here we go!

Me: "Ready, Bob?"

Bob: "Go for it, Jon! You can do it!"  Stuffs handful of cheese curds in mouth.

Me: "OK, so Till We have Faces is about a princess named Orual.  Actually, she's a queen by the time she writes the book (it's written in the first person), but she starts off as a princess.  So, she's getting old and is reflecting on her life and is thinking about all the ways in which the gods of her country, which is a fictional land called Glome (but is kind of located in our real world because there's a Greek guy in the story, so it's sort of pseudo-historical that way), anyway, she's reflecting on how the gods have wronged her in various ways, most of which center around her relationship with her younger sister, who - Bob?"

Bob: Snoring.

Me: "Bob!!  Wake up!  I haven't even explained the basic PREMISE yet, let alone the actual PLOT!"

Bob: Spilling cheese curds on himself: "Wha- wait - what- oh, oh, hey Jon!  Keep on going!  You're doing great!" Dumps more cheese curds in mouth.

Me: "Um, Bob?  Is that healthy?"

Bob: NOM NOM NOM

You get the idea.  That's pretty much how it always goes.  So, instead of me trying to summarize the book to you, I'll let you read an excerpt instead.  There are so many I could have chosen, but this will at least give you a taste of the beauty between these pages.  The speaker here is an old pagan Priest, explaining the difference between what he calls "Greek wisdom" and the power of his own darker gods:

"I, King, have dealt with the gods for three generations of men, and I know that they dazzle our eyes and flow in and out of one another like eddies on a river, and nothing that is said clearly can be said truly about them.  Holy places are dark places.  It is life and strength, not knowledge and words, that we get in them.  Holy wisdom is not clear and thin like water, but thick and dark like blood."

Now, wait until your ears stop bleeding.  Then, go get yourself the book.  Cheese curds optional.