Recently I had an literary epiphany. Two stories I’d known for decades finally collided with each other in my mind and fused into a new idea: I saw two ways to approach revenge when I contrasted Edmond Dantes with Shakespeare’s Prospero.
The Comparison Catalyst
I’d seen Shakespeare’s The Tempest performed at a theater when I was in high school, but I recently read it again. I was surprised how much of the plot I’d forgotten, not to mention the characters and themes. I’d also read The Count of Monte Cristo in college and forgotten most of it, so I listened to the unabridged audiobook last summer. I couldn’t believe how long it was, but the intricate plot made it worthwhile. Still, I didn’t notice any similarities between the stories.
Then a few months ago, I watched the 2024 BBC adaptationof The Count of Monte Cristo. It wasn’t terrible, but they butchered a 52-hour story down to three hours, thereby reinforcing my life motto: The Book Was Better. Reading The Tempest right after that was the literary catalyst that synthesized my comparison of Edmond Dantes and Prospero. The ideas just clicked. Prospero’s mercy contrasts sharply with Edmond Dantes’ stubborn determination to complete the destruction he started. Both men set out to get revenge, thinking it will bring peace to their bitter hearts. But in the end, only one man is truly at peace.
The Count of Monte Cristo and The Tempest Recaps
If you’re a bit rusty on the plots, here’s my quick review of the stories. In The Count of Monte Cristo, Edmond Dantes is lied about and betrayed by three men. Consequently, Dantes is thrown into a horrible prison for 14 years, and by the time he escapes, his fiancé has married one of his betrayers, and the other two men are rich and successful. However, during his time in prison, Dantes had learned about a vast treasure which gives him unlimited power to recreate himself in French society. He uses his new position to bring humiliation and destruction to his betrayers and their families.
Meanwhile, in The Tempest, Duke Prospero is betrayed by his usurping brother, Antonio, and others. Prospero escapes with his life and his young daughter, but they become stranded on an island for 12 years. While stranded, Prospero teaches himself magic from a book until he finally has a chance at revenge. He summons a storm that sinks a passing ship containing the guilty men, who swim to his island for refuge. After putting them through stressful and difficult situations to test their hearts, Prospero reveals himself as the deposed Duke. They beg his forgiveness, which he grants before throwing his book of magic into the sea and returning home with his daughter at last.
So Many Similarities
There are so many similarities that I wonder if Dumas had The Tempest in mind when he wrote The Count. (Or maybe both were thinking of the Old Testament story of Joseph.) Prospero and Dantes were both betrayed by jealous men who profited from their disappearance. Both become powerful in spite of banishment—one by magic and one by money—and transform themselves so much that their own friends don’t recognize them when they return. Both are intent on revenge to punish the men who robbed them of years of their lives. Both finally get the perfect opportunity to put their vengeful plans into action. But that’s where their paths diverge.
Critical Contrasts
Dantes wants revenge because three men had robbed him of his marriage to Mercedes. But after Dantes’ vengeance causes Mercedes’ husband to kill himself, Dantes still doesn’t marry her. His heart is too cold, and his love for her is overpowered by his hatred of his enemies. He doesn’t stop his master plan until every man and his family have been utterly destroyed—an action that has ripple effects and costs the lives of a series of innocent characters.
Prospero, too, achieves the chance to restore his dukedom by destroying the men who had betrayed him. He settles instead for teaching them a lesson and then forgiving them. He even contrives a meeting between his beloved daughter and the son of his enemy, the king, knowing that they will fall in love. Prospero tests their love and then blesses their union. His dukedom is restored without the guilt of all-consuming vengeance.
Degrees of Hope
In the end, both men long for death but choose to continue living in hope. Dantes had planned to kill himself after reuniting two young lovers whose lives he saved. He knows that one good action was hardly enough to “tip the scales” of the evil his revenge has caused, and he believes he has nothing else to live for. The only thing that stops his suicide is learning that he’s loved by a young woman he had rescued earlier. With more doubt than certainty, Dantes chooses to sail off with her in hopes that her love will redeem him from the guilt of his revenge.
Prospero, however, is sure of his joy. He is heading home, his daughter is deeply in love, and his dukedom is restored. Even so, before he leaves the island to resume his old life, he says that every third thought will be of his grave. Why? Not because he regrets the extent of his revenge, like Dantes. Instead, I think he’s just tired. Done with magic, he throws his book of spells into the sea. He’s lived to see his fortunes restored and his daughter happily married. What more could he wish for? Prospero is content.
They say there are only a handful of plots in the world. Isn’t it fun to see how different authors spin them into stories that are so similar and yet profoundly different? I’ll be on the lookout for more “mashups” in my reading, and I hope you will too.
Proof number 793 that I’m an old soul: I resonate with a poem that laments the evils of progress…from 100 years ago.
On my latest reading of C.S. Lewis’s The Pilgrim’s Regress, I came across this powerhouse of a poem in the last chapter. He hooked me with the very first line, but it took me a few more passes to get a better grasp of his overall pattern and meaning. I assure you, it was well worth the effort.
WAIT!
I saw you trying to sneak off when I mentioned that the poem took a little effort. …What? You were just going to grab your reading glasses and thinking cap? All right, carry on.
Since you’re all in, let’s start with a short synopsis of each stanza and then ever-so-briefly unpack the poem to see not just lament but also hope. Here’s my synopsis:
1: Skyscrapers and cities—Creation is dead, but God will recreate it. 2: Social Media and entertainment—Thought is captive, but God will free it. 3: Science and progress—Earth is changed, but God is changeless.
And here is Lewis’s masterful poem:
Iron will eat the world’s old beauty up. Girder and grid and gantry will arise, Iron forest of engines will arise, Criss-cross of iron crochet. For your eyes No green or growth. Over all, the skies Scribbled from end to end with boasts and lies. (When Adam ate the irrevocable apple, Thou Saw’st beyond death the resurrection of the dead.)
Clamour shall clean put out the voice of wisdom, The printing-presses with their clapping wings, Fouling your nourishment. Harpy wings, Filling your minds all day with foolish things, Will tame the eagle Thought: till she sings Parrot-like in her cage to please dark kings. (When Israel descended into Egypt, Thou Didst purpose both the bondage and the coming out.)
The new age, the new art, the new ethic and thought, And fools crying, Because it has begun It will continue as it has begun! The wheel runs fast, therefore the wheel will run Faster for ever. The old age is done, We have new lights and see without the sun. (Though they lay flat the mountains and dry up the sea, Wilt thou yet change, as though God were a god?)
…Wow, right? My first thought was, “I couldn’t agree more,” which was shortly followed by, “What would poor Lewis think about artificial intelligence and smart phones?” But that’s a discussion for another time. For now, let’s take a quick peek at each stanza and celebrate the hope that God offers to a broken world.
1: Skyscrapers and cities—Creation is dead, but God will recreate it.
The scars of human “progress” mar countless landscapes, and skyscrapers scrawl the sky with the lie, “Metal trumps nature.” We’ve killed so much of creation, and there’s no going back. Like Adam’s apple, the choice is irrevocable.
But there’s good news today just like there was in the Garden. God didn’t reverse time and prevent the fall; instead, he looked forward to the day He would undo sin’s effects and resurrect what had died. As with salvation, so with creation. God will remake the world, and it will be even better than we could imagine.
2: Social Media and entertainment—Thought is captive, but God will free it.
“Harpy wings,/Filling your minds all day with foolish things,/Will tame the eagle Thought…” Oof. Guilty. In ancient myths, harpies (huge, loathsome bird-women) came and snatched the food from hungry warriors, leaving their filthy stench and refuse behind. Lewis saw the same being done to quality content and deep thought, leaving only stupefying amusement or trashy thrills behind. And this was before the internet!
But again, there is hope. Thought is a caged parrot, but God will free her. God purposed Israel’s bondage in Egypt and its release to the Promised Land. He can unlock the cage of social media, Hollywood, and AI; He can restore Thought to its former majesty.
3: Science and progress—Earth is changed, but God is changeless.
You can hear Lewis’s scorn at the seeming inevitability of progress. The man who thinks science is unstoppable is like a kid who throws a snowball from the top of a hill and expects an avalanche to cover the world. Progress declares, “We have new lights and see without the sun.” In other words, the gods can keep their fire—we’ve made our own. Little do they know, their faith is misplaced.
But Lewis offers one more word of hope: God won’t be outmoded like some human idea. The world may change and destroy itself, but it could never change or destroy its Maker. He is no mere god. He is Creator and Redeemer. He is above our petty self-destruction.
So the next time I’m tempted to feel satisfied with a rusty cityscape, sit and doom scroll through YouTube, or buy into a new trend, I hope I’ll pause a minute and think of this poem. The present always feels like the apex of society until we consider that we’re a mere blip on the radar, just a spark in the wind. Comfort comes from knowing that God is sovereign over it all.
This week I finished re-reading C.S. Lewis’s The Pilgrim’s Regress, and guys—it was thrilling. Seems like an odd description for a spiritual allegory from almost a century ago, but it’s true. I’d read it before, maybe during high school, so I found plenty of stars in the margins from my younger self. But this time around, I added more.
So. Many. More.
The More You Know
What was the difference? A better knowledge of Lewis’s spiritual biography. I’m now familiar with some of the philosophical and moral hurdles Lewis had to reject in order to accept Christianity, and Lewis spends most of this book describing and debunking those hurdles. Even though he writes about them in allegorical terms, I was able to track with most of them because I’d already read his non-allegorical version: Surprised by Joy.
The Pilgrim’s Regress is the first book Lewis published after becoming a Christian, so it was filled with foreshadowing of so many of his later books and thoughts. It was like going back in time and meeting one of your best adult friends as a teenager—you can tell it’s the same person, but the flowers you enjoy in their personality today are still seedlings in their younger self. I had a similar feeling when I read his letters to Arthur Greeves. Simply delightful.
How to Enjoy The Pilgrim’s Regress
I think nearly any Lewis lover could relish reading Regress, but a few preliminaries would increase enjoyment and reduce confusion. Here, in compounding order, is how you can get the most out of this book. Any one of these is a good enough reason to read it, but the more you can stack up, the more you’ll enjoy it.
Love C.S. Lewis.
Know the story of his conversion.
Have a pretty good knowledge of classic and British literature as well as the pervasive schools of thought before and during his day.
Be fluent in Latin and a few other modern and ancient languages that he casually sprinkles in here and there.
Alternately:
Love C.S. Lewis.
Read the afterword that he write to explain his own allegory.
Google anything that feels like a quotation or reference.
Also google anything in a foreign language.
I pretty much took the alternate approach, and it worked out just fine.
Your Mission, Should You Choose to Accept It
If you feel motivated to read the book, then hop on over to ThriftBooks or your favorite book site and nab a copy today. In my next post, I plan to write about a poem from the last chapter of Regress. If you’ve read the book by then, you can sit in the front of the class and wave your raised hand like Hermione Granger.
And, just between you and me, you’ll be my favorite.
Will you despise me if I admit that, while I’ve loved reading since I was a wee child, I’d never been much of a Charles Dickens fan? I know. It’s heresy. He’s one of the greats, and I had tried (from time to time) to love him, but to no avail.
I struggled through A Tale of Two Cities as forced reading in high school and had to teach Great Expectations as a student teacher in college. Then I fastidiously avoided the rest of Dickens’ works after college. I’ve been very ashamed of myself.
But then came Pickwick.
A Felicitous Meeting
A few months ago, I was browsing a used bookstore and saw a short, fat copy of The Pickwick Papers on a shelf of classics. For some reason, I was drawn to it. Was it guilt over my standoffish attitude toward Dickens? Penance for not enjoying A Tale of Two Cities? Justification that the book was only $5? Whatever the reason, I bought it and started reading it.
I hadn’t even finished Dickens’ preface before I used my highlighter—twice! A kinship with Dickens was forming already. His first chapter was entertaining enough, although I think I’d enjoy it more if I were more familiar with the goings-on of stuffy old British club meetings. But since the book was originally published as a serial story in a magazine, I’m not even sure if Dickens knew were the story was heading when he penned chapter one. It was also the first book he’d published, so he was probably just cutting his authorial teeth, as it were.
His First and Funniest
I could tell that Dickens really dug into the characters and plot as the chapters went on. In the book, the four main members of the Pickwick Society go out in search of adventure and leisure together (adleisure?), and they find themselves in a wide assortment of scrapes along the way. I loved how Dickens brought back characters that you thought he’d finished with, carried on with running jokes, and developed character arcs through all 875 pages of small typeface. (!!!) It really was delightful.
I also appreciated his political activism throughout the book. Even though this is his earliest published work, his disgust for the legal system and his concern for social justice are just as apparent as they are in books like Oliver Twist (which I did enjoy as an audiobook this summer, at long last). But there were two main aspects that kept Pickwick soengaging that I found myself saying, “Just one more chapter.” My two favorite aspects are Dickens’ characterization and his wit.
A Company of Characters
The book begins with a list of character names and descriptions. The list takes up four full pages! Despite the vast number of characters, Dickens manages to keep them vibrant and distinct through dialect and personalities. Mr. Winkle wants to be seen as a classic British sportsman, but he’s really a poser and a bungler. Mr. Tupman is a hopeless romantic, with emphasis on the hopeless. Mr. Snodgrass thinks of himself as a great poet, even if no one else does. Mr. Jingle is a resourceful conman who keeps turning up in various forms—a true precursor to Count Olaf. Sam Weller is a scrappy boot shiner and philosopher who becomes a most loyal footman to Mr. Pickwick.
And Mr. Pickwick. Dear Mr. Pickwick.
He’s such an endearing old soul. It took me a while to really warm up to his benign, portly character, but by the end I wanted to give him a big hug. He’s honest and sincere, generous to a fault, principled without being pious, and equally ready for travel, fisticuffs, discussion, and supper. Everyone loves him, and so will you.
A Brace of Dickensian Descriptions
But what truly sets Dickens apart is his wit. His humor is so dry, ironic, understated, and British that it gets me every time. He rarely just says something. He thinks of an unexpected and picturesque way of describing it so that you can see it too. I’m a huge fan of British humor, so I’m delighted with the way Dickens peppers each page with wit.
As an example of characterization and wit all rolled into one, here follows a description of Mr. Magnus, a minor character who is breakfasting with Mr. Pickwick before proposing to a lady.
Down they sat to breakfast, but it was evident, notwithstanding the boasting of Mr. Peter Magnus, that he labored under a very considerable degree of nervousness, of which loss of appetite, a propensity to upset the tea-things, a spectral attempt at drollery, and an irresistible inclination to look at the clock, every other second, were among the principal symptoms. “He-he-he,” tittered Mr. Magnus, affecting cheerfulness, and gasping with agitation. “It only wants two minutes, Mr. Pickwick. Am I pale, sir?” “Not very,” replied Mr. Pickwick.
Or even this little gem:
…Mr. Phunky, blushing into the very whites of his eyes, tried to look as if he didn’t know that everybody was gazing at him: a thing which no man ever succeeded in doing yet, or in all reasonable probability, ever will.
Consider Me Converted
Since the whole book is chock-full of chuckles like this, I resorted to flipping to a random, highlighted page and including the quotes above. Trust me, you’ll find plenty more if you choose to read The Pickwick Papers yourself. Which I truly and energetically recommend.
After all these years, I think Dickens has finally grown on me.
Growing up, I heard the gospel (the good news that Jesus came to forgive us) from every angle: from my parents, church, story books, vacation Bible school, evangelists, and even Christian children’s records. Yes, records. I’m that old. But somehow my takeaway was always, “Pray this prayer the right way with enough sincerity, cross your fingers that you did it right, and hopefully you’ll make it to heaven.”
A Conflict of Expectations
I loved my church and family. They never made me feel like I had to dress, act, read, or live a certain way to be accepted by God. Thank God for that! Later on I went to a Christian school and university. Many folks there were kind and sincere. Others came across, in my perception, as shallow and rules-driven without a love for God as their motivation.
I was thrown for a loop when I heard their stance on certain external expectations about how I should dress, what I should listen to, and how they thought I needed live. I knew plenty of people who loved God whole-heartedly and yet didn’t follow these rules—my parents included. Was my family living in sin, or were my teachers wrong? I spent a lot of time thinking and praying through questions like these.
Shadows of Doubt
But ultimately, my real problem wasn’t in my schools; it was in my heart. I’d been trying to seek God my whole life, had been reading my Bible daily since I was in junior high, and I thought I might be a missionary when I grew up. I’d prayed the “salvation prayer” countless times and had even been baptized in elementary. But when evangelists would come to my church and say, “You can know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re going to heaven when you die,” I always felt both skeptical and sad. There was no way someone could know that for sure. It was all a matter of the sincerity of your prayer, and you could never know if you were sincere enough.
In late high school, I started having questions about God himself. As I read the Bible and saw different facets of God’s character, I liked some of them, and I distrusted others. I started questioning his goodness, and eventually I questioned his reality. That was a dark place to be when I was surrounded by people who really seemed to believe this stuff. So I kept reading my Bible and praying, hoping that I would feel sure about my relationship with God one of these days.
Something I Was Missing
After I graduated from college with a degree in education, God re-routed my life out of the blue: he sent me from Michigan to Texas. I’d volunteered to help with paperwork in a Christian school office for three weeks while I figured out what I really wanted to do. But when I arrived, I fell in love with the people, the ministry, and their unique heart for God. The principal, his brother, and their wives had something I was missing: a joyful, confident, deep, humble, and personal relationship with God. Without doubts. How could this be?
The more I spent time with them, the more I wanted what they had. I extended my three-week stay to a semester, then a year, then another year. My second year there is when God stopped playing around and finally wrecked me. I had a ton of free time after teaching high school that year, and I spent it reading theology books, listening to sermons online, studying my Bible, and jogging while memorizing scripture. Not because I had to or thought I should, but because I wanted to. And God took that opportunity to remake me.
Meeting Jesus
God started convicting me of sin. Like, every little sin toward other people, in my heart, and on my tongue. I’d thought I was a pretty nice person until then. Now I saw my heart in the dazzling light of God’s holiness, and it was nasty. Nothing but pride from top to bottom. God was showing me my deep brokenness, and it shocked me.
The final blow came at Easter. I had been reading all four gospel accounts simultaneously leading up to Holy Week, and I reached the last supper, arrest, trial, crucifixion, and resurrection right at Easter weekend. I remember sitting alone in the sunshine on top of an overlook tower at my favorite nature preserve. Tears were rolling down my face as I finally saw Jesus’ death and resurrection with fresh eyes. He—this man who was God—did this for broken, dirty hearts like mine. On purpose! The Jesus I saw in my little, orange New Testament was someone I’d heard about all my life, but I felt like I’d never met him until that moment. Suddenly, I didn’t just know him; I loved him.
No More Doubts
And from that time on, I knew what people meant when they said, “You can know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you know God.” I did know God. It wasn’t a question; it was a fact. I knew him like I knew my own dad—deeply, personally, for real. God had changed me, melted my heart of stone, and given me a heart of flesh. I knew for certain that I hadn’t changed myself. It was God.
Did I truly “get saved” on that overlook, or had God answered my prayers when I was younger? When was the real time I went from darkness to light? I’m not sure, and I’m just fine with that. God is writing my story, and I’m just along for the ride. My whole life will be a fight against pride, apathy, and just plain stupidity, but God is faithful. I can’t wait to see him some day, and I hope I’ll see you there, too.
Did you make a resolution to tackle more creative endeavors this year? Write that book? Query that agent? Paint that picture? Compose that requiem? Solder that gigantic stained glass window for your second beach house?
The Usual Process
If so, then you know that the hardest part of a creative project is just getting started. But then comes the other hard part of continuing and the additional hard part of getting toward the end and the final hard part of finishing it. Basically, any creative endeavor is hard work from beginning to end. Rewarding and enjoyable, sure, but hard.
I’m not a painter or a stained-glasser. I’m just a writer, and not even a very noteworthy one at present. But my creative process probably looks a lot like yours, whatever your artistic passion. There’s the dry spell (interminable), the eventually glimmer of an idea (infinitesimal), the fight to find time and motivation to write those first few words, a wee bit of progress, the loss of steam, the slump where I consider trashing it all, and either the teeth-gritted determination to finish (phew!) or else the grinding to a halt of the whole hair-brained scheme (more likely).
A Better Motivation
I hope that sounds completely foreign to you and your exemplary work ethic. But if it sounds like someone you know—or someone you’ve been—then don’t lose heart. We’re all in the same boat from time to time. The good news is, we don’t have to keep paddling it up that self-defeating stream. We can turn the canoe around. Or jump ship. Or stop using the boat metaphor. Regardless, we can replace bad creative habits with good ones.
Yes, but how? To answer that question thoroughly and humorously, I offer to you this article from the Rabbit Room website. Writer and painter Kate Gaston describes how to tug against the resistance that slows our creative momentum. She describes the problem in a relatable way, gives an example of how she jumpstarted her motivation for painting, and ends with several ways to simply sit down and get to work. I know you’ll find it as helpful as I did!
Suggestions for Success
As a teaser, here are just a few of her suggestions: First of all, start with small, manageable goals. Like, teeny-tiny goals.
“Just like a bite-sized candy bar leaves our lizard brains ravenous for more sugar, tiny victories give our delicate egos a micro-dose sense of accomplishment. This, in turn, gives us courage and confidence to try again. Baby steps, y’all.”
Next, identify the time of day when you’re feeling most creative, and make a bit of time to work then.
“At first, you might only manage to carve out a scant amount of time. That’s okay. Like I said, sometimes it’s helpful to start with ridiculously achievable goals. Grab that low-hanging fruit, baby. The ten minutes you set aside for work today will be the kernel from which your productivity grows.”
Don’t forget to make your workspace attractive to you. Comfy chair? Stash of snacks? Good lighting? Do it all.
“Next, and this is a big one for me, woo yourself to the physical space…. Find all the things that trigger your brain toward creativity, and then unapologetically do them.”
And finally, give yourself a break sometimes.
“Rest, beauty, and time spent trustfully dwelling in the goodness of God fill us to the brim with the richness and soulfulness which enable us, in turn, to do that deep work we are called to do.”
So how about it, friends? Armed with the suggestions from Gaston’s article, will you join me in the fight against creative entropy? We may still lose a battle from time to time, but with our determination, we shall win the war.
I ask them to take a poem and hold it up to the light like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem and watch him probe his way out, or walk inside the poem’s room and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski across the surface of a poem waving at the author’s name on the shore. But all they want to do is tie the poem to a chair with rope and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose to find out what it really means.
Did you take a poetry class in college? Or maybe a literature class that included some poetry? If you did, I’m sure you can picture it as the setting of this poem: lots of opinions, confidence, and determination without the mellowing effects of age. Poor Collins.
Two Roads Diverged…
He says there are two common approaches to studying poetry: observation and interrogation. The first lets the poem speak for itself, and the other brutalizes the meaning out of it. If left to my own devices, I probably tend toward the latter. I like to dig deep and squeeze meaning out of every part (though not usually with a garden hose). While there’s nothing wrong with mining the depths of poetry, I think Collins is right—that may not be the best introduction to poetry.
The Better Path to Poetry
Instead, Collins wants us to discover truth and feel delight. His various examples invite us to approach a poem with the curiosity of a scientist or naturalist. He wants us to observe it, experience it, and let our senses explore it.
Most importantly, he reminds us to enjoy it! Feel the thrill of skimming across it quickly without sinking deep, deep, deep into syntax and nuance. There’s a place for that too, but not right away. The title of the poem, after all, is “Introduction to Poetry.” Delight should be the starting point of study.
If we’ve learned anything in our year of sampling poems on Past Watchful Dragons, let it be this: the first objective of poetry is to experience and enjoy. So journey forth on poetic explorations of your own, my friends! Just be sure to leave the hose and bring the water skis.
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