Because everyone loves a good story
We chatted last week about C.S. Lewis’ first book in his space trilogy: Out of the Silent Planet. That book is a great launching point (slight pun intended) for the remaining two science fiction books that he published, so I’m sure you spent last week reading it. (Right, guys? …Guys?)
But this week I’m excited to introduce the second book in the trilogy: Perelandra. This book is an absolute gem, and I plan to follow the same structure as before, discussing the influences on the book, what I loved about it, what surprised me about it, where it may daunt you, and why you should read it. Here we go!
As with his other two science fiction novels, one major influence on Perelandra is planetary mythology. Did you know that every planet in our solar system (excluding poor little Earth) was named after a Greek or Roman god or goddess? Most of the book Perelandra takes place on Venus, which was named after the Roman love goddess, and you can see characteristics of this in Lewis’ description of the planet itself. Warm yet volatile; fragrant and fruitful; made up of turbulent water with floating, paradisaical islands; and inhabited with all kinds of exotic plants and creatures…you can begin to imagine Lewis’ perception of a goddess of love. While the other two books definitely include planetary mythology, Perelandra’swhole setting is undergirded by the mythology of Venus.
Another major influence on Perelandra is the epic Paradise Lost by John Milton. (By “epic,” I mean the literary term, not the overused, formerly-popular adjective.) Written way back in 1667, this formal, 12-part poem examines the topics of the creation, temptation, fall, and redemption of mankind. While the poetry and content can be a little dense and daunting at times, it is arguably one of the most well-written and formative works of English literature. It certainly influenced Lewis, who wrote a lengthy preface to the work. After reading Paradise Lost, I began to see how much of Perelandra was influenced by the storyline, logic, and dialogue of the epic. In fact, much of Perelandra could be considered a kind of re-telling of the temptation scenes of Paradise Lost, which is pretty epic. (And yes, this time I do mean the overused adjective.)
As we saw earlier, Lewis described the planet itself like a goddess of love. I really enjoyed seeing what that meant in his mind. To Lewis, apparently, the embodiment of feminine mystique includes shifting tides, sudden darkness, abundant and satisfying fruit, dangerous but alluring islands, and a tropical warmth pervading it all. While Lewis’ view of women in general could be a topic for another day, suffice it to say that his view of Venus was fairly flattering.
But my favorite aspect of the book is the theological and philosophical discussions that take place between the three main characters: Ransom, Tinidril, and Weston. Tinidril is the Eve of Venus—a beautiful, unfallen queen. Weston, who you may remember from the previous book, plays the part of the tempter in the garden, trying all sorts of logic to convince Tinidril to sin. But Ransom, who was the protagonist of the last book, is a new addition to the Garden of Eden scenario. He is the observer of the debates and the defender of the queen, begging her to distrust the lies of Weston. As I read the conversations between these characters, I was enthralled with the lines of logic. While Paradise Lost takes creative liberties about what may have transpired between Satan and Eve, Perelandra uses similar thoughts to describe what could happen if the temptation were to happen on another planet. Would Tinidril succumb as quickly as Eve? We shall see.
I mentioned before the similarities between Perelandra and Paradise Lost, but some of them are so striking that they really did surprise me. I had read small parts of Paradise Lost before I encountered Perelandra, but it wasn’t until I read the whole epic that I realized the extent to which Lewis was paying homage to John Milton with a space fantasy book! It’s almost funny except that it’s so well done.
But I was also taken off guard by how dark and, for lack of a better adjective, how creepy parts of the book can be. If you’ve read Phantastes, by George MacDonald, you maybe able to get a feel for some of the unsettling images and scenarios. Phantastes is another work that had a major influence on Lewis, who said the book baptized his imagination as a young man. It’s not that there’s anything gross, morbid, or downright scary in either of the books. It’s just…unsettling in parts. To list a few examples from Perelandra, Lewis pictures the demon possession of a man, the wanton slitting open of frogs, and the ravages of a dead body still innervated by a demon. Unexpected? Absolutely. But does it fit the story? I believe so. You’ll have to read it and judge for yourself.
If you, like me, aren’t used to following complex lines of logic and argument, you may struggle to enjoy parts of this book. For example, Ransom, Tinidril, and Weston have lengthy discussions about what it means to obey God and whether or not God really means it when He forbids a seemingly-harmless action (like eating the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden). Since Tinidril is perfectly naïve and Weston—possessed by Satan—is crafty, their conversations are fascinating to watch. They may not be easy to follow, but it is certainly worth the effort.
A second daunting aspect could be the creepy parts I mentioned. In fact, you may have already concluded that this book isn’t for you just because of that. But let me tell you, no one is a bigger wimp about scary things than I am. I flat-out refuse to watch scary movies or read scary stuff. Reality is bad enough, after all. Why make matters worse by watching fake scary stuff too?? But when I read Perelandra, and after the initial shock wore off (“Lewis, I can’t believe you can be creepy!”), I found that I’d survived the book just fine.
First, because you may be unlikely to read Paradise Lost in its entirety. Let’s face it: most of us don’t have that kind of time. But Perelandra distills and retells some of the best parts of that epic in a way you’ll really enjoy. And as much as I’d love it if you went and read both of these books, I’d settle for your reading just Perelandra…for now.
And finally, you should read Perelandra because, in my humble opinion, it’s the best one of the trilogy. It’s hard for me to say that because there is so much that I love about each of the three books, but Perelandra combines so much greatness that I have to pin the gold medal to it. It’s short, powerful, and rich, and I know you’ll love it. So go ahead—grab a copy, read it, and let me know what you think! Then tune in next week for our last installment of this series where we’ll discuss That Hideous Strength. See you then!
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