Hagenart comic 10/25/22

 

 

Now that I’ve thoroughly dissected HP Lovecraft and CS Lewis, we will pivot this high caliber analytic cannon of a blog toward our next target; a comparison of the Star Wars and Marvel Superhero movies. The movies that Martin Scorcese pointedly described as “not cinema”, igniting a firestorm of publicity for the Marvel movies and whatever he was working on at the time, I don’t really remember, but I do remember my appreciation for the sheer snootiness of his comment, and I remember that he and some other directors were concerned about some gloriously worthless and unbelievably snooty cause, something about preserving old movies on original handcrafted plates or something, and someone from Empire magazine interviewed him about it and asked him what he thought of all the superhero movies, probably hoping to get some priceless comment in a comic book store guy voice, and that’s probably the only interview in Empire magazine that people like me will refer to for years to come. 

So are the Marvel movies “cinema”?  I have no idea because I don’t know what that means. Are they artistic? Are they literature? I don’t think so. 

I think the first Star Wars movie is artistic. I think Lucas created a new type of fantasy with it, a re-imagining of the fantasy genre by replacing the medieval outfits with California new age cult robes and replacing the horses with spaceships and laser swords. I don’t think he brought anything new to the sequels, and I think his weird desire to tell an anti-technology parable with movies that glorify a mix of technology and fantasy fatally interfered with his storytelling instincts. He stopped going for the 70’s realism vibe that mixed so interestingly with the fantastic elements in the first Star Wars, maybe I wonder responding to criticism from his pompous film school friends or, worse responding to praise from Joseph Campbell. He needed someone outside his circle to bounce ideas off, maybe. 

Of course I could clear my throat and point at yours truly now, but that would be tacky. We’re here to talk about George and how we could help him, or could have helped him in 1980, after Empire Strikes Back and before the Ewoks. Or maybe the Ewoks existed in his mind at the time and so many beautiful people had called him a genius to his face that he’d already lost it and he wanted to be mentally naked and bare his mind Ewoks and all on the big screen. 

So it’s 1980 and we’ve walked through a time portal with a message for Lucasfilm.  

It just so happens that in a previous post, we had a book, That Hideous Strength, by CS Lewis,  from which we had removed the first six chapters or so, and were kind of left hanging there until now by, once again, Yours Truly. 

It’s all coming together now. The first two Star Wars movies - I’m not going to dignify that prequel Roman numeral crap with a turgid discussion of which came first - will take the place, in a multi-media format, in place of the removed chapters of That Hideous Strength. But whenever Obi Wan or Yoda talk about the force, they add a bit about the macrobes and how the leader of the bad macrobes on earth turned Darth Vader to evil. 

But what about Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra? Totally improved with a judicious injection of laser swords and Star destroyers. Ransom visits Mars with an earth colonial battle fleet, and foments an insurrection after connecting with a mystical guerilla leader named Oyarsa Malacandra, who teaches him the force and gifts him a sweet lightsaber to fight the earthling empire. 

It gets better in the new version of Perelandra. Ransom gets word that a new super Jedi lives on Venus, named Perelandra. She’s green skinned but human in form, kind of a mix of a Yoda and a human. She rides around the oceans of Venus on a floating vegetable mat powered by her force-magic at triple digit speeds. Ransom teaches her to channel her energy for righteousness, but the emperor lands on his personal shuttle and tries to woo her to the dark side. Surprise! She joins the Emperor and kills Ransom in a duel, after Ransom wounds the emperor, who falls in a Venusian lava flow. The green lady rescues the Emperor and he becomes Darth Vader. 

Here’s the twist in the third book, the evil green Sith replaces the Princess in the Star Wars chapters. 

Now get ready for awesomeness - in the Empire Strikes back she’s the one who trains Luke in the swamps of Venus, no Yoda, and after the big reveal of Luke’s father, we’re ready for part three with Jabba and the fight between the rebels and the empire on earth. 

We go Meta at that point: Darth Vader turns out to be George Lucas. He’s the president of several film conglomerates, and also President of the US, and Chief Justice and Speaker of the house, and Secretary General of the United Nations. He’s been making movies about his own interstellar empire! The audacity! 

I would wrap up both series with a double wedding of Luke, Han, and the Green Lady, with the audience slash reader still the only ones wise to her big secret. Sequel anyone? Yes, I believe I’ll have another slice -of both streams, please!

PS: I know we never included the superhero movies in our critical discussion - Sequel anyone?

How to RPG the CSL Space Trilogy

 I originally tried to begin this post with the words; “According to my rather indifferently performed internet research, this post will mark the first time a literary work is analyzed by being turned into a role play game,” but the fact that I hadn’t done any internet research at all began to bother me, so much so that I tried to actually do some research, and ended up getting a nasty shock when my first google search result returned a Wikipedia article on “LitRPG” which seemed to be an entire genre based on an idea that I had been congratulating myself for inventing. I did some reading and even found some fascinating sub-genres with Japanese names because they pertain to styles of manga. Eventually I concluded that LitRPG does not quite correspond to my idea but that my idea no longer afforded me any satisfaction and I did not feel like developing it in a post. 

It just doesn’t seem all that neat or original anymore. But anyway, while other people may have turned books into role play games, I would be willing to bet scads of money that no one else has ever even felt an inclination to turn this particular book, Out of the Silent Planet, by CS Lewis, into a role playing game. It would probably suck. The protagonist that you would play doesn’t really do anything adventurous in the book, and most of his character development is learning how awful modern earth civilization is and how much happier and more in touch with everything the primitive seeming martians are. 

So I figure that you would begin the game on the spaceship. You could play Ransom, Devine or Weston, but instead of strength or intelligence points I would give them Earth Pride Points and Understanding, or Ken points.  Their Ken points track how hip they are to what the martians, who are in a state of Grace, are laying down for their gross fallen earthly civilization type souls, and would help them develop their  EP score to 0, so that they are sufficiently ashamed of Earth by the end. Ransom would have a beginning Earth Pride score of 10 (out of possible 20 like DnD), but as a linguist he would have a Ken score of 15. Devine would be a 12 on EP and a 12 on Ken. Weston would be a 17 on EP but only a 10 on Ken. After his trip through the space, Ransom would get to remove one EP point. By the end of the story, when Ransom meets the God of Mars, his EP would be like 1, but Devine would be like 7 because of his low Ken. But Weston would still be at 14 or so on EP because his Ken is too low for EP lowering opportunities. 

You could make a better game out of the next book in the series, Perelandra, because in this book Ransom is already hip to how nasty earth is compared to the other planets but he’s a wimpy professor and has to fight the devil. So the big conflict is whether he can work up the courage to punch Weston, who is possessed by the devil. Also, there’s a Venusian Eve who has green skin and walks around naked, and Ransom has to maintain British indifference to her condition. These twin goals can complement each other by giving Ransom a capacity to transfer his sexual testosterone into violent testosterone. So every time he sees the naked green demigoddess he has to make a saving throw for his British indifference. If he succeeds on the throw he can transfer 1 point of sexual testosterone to his violent testosterone score. Then every time he sees the possessed Weston (who is also naked which probably helps with the BI) talking to his girl he rolls for indignation. The higher his violent testosterone, the better his advantage on these rolls. If he succeeds the indignation roll he can take a swing at the possessed old man.  At that point you can just play the game like a DnD battle.   Both of the pugilists are professors, so strength and constitution would be minimal, as would attack damage. 

I think we’ve made some good progress with the Space Trilogy, but unfortunately the last book in the series, That Hideous Strength, besides being mostly unbearable to read until the end, is also almost completely unplayable, like the dictionary or Doctor Dre (showing my age there). I honestly don’t know what to do with the third. It needs something. If I were a book doctor, I would prescribe radical multi-segment-otomy, the wholesale removal of the preliminary chapters. But we have no organic replacements for those chapters, unless we could draft some master writer, like Charlie Kaufman or Eminem, to provide us with some replacement chapters. But of course they’re busy, and we have a patient on the table with four or five chapters removed, cut open to their binding, desperately in need. We’ll have to provide something. If not a living transplant, a clumsy, crude prosthetic will have to do. 

Fortunately I happen to have crafted some in my spare time

More on Lovecraft and Lewis but with a huge digression on interstellar drama

 It is pleasing to report that I have managed to re-read Out of the Silent Planet, the first book in the CS Lewis Space Trilogy. I hoped to achieve some insights to bring to you, gained in that crucial third reading, but I have nothing.  I can’t even remember a good portion of the re-reading because I kind of blanked out during some of the more tiresome parts where he and all his hrossa and sorns have yet another go at how wicked and crazy and unnaturally evil humans are, and the despicably patronizing main character Ransom just nods like one of those kids in Sunday school who made like they liked church just to annoy other people. 

So really, instead of coldly and dispassionately subjecting the work to razor sharp analysis, I just kept mentally looking at my watch and eating snacks. It looks as if my intellectual capacity peaked in my forties, and my forties are a fond memory now, a hazy and indistinct one. Like Out of the Silent Planet. 

Okay, major confession: 

Halfway through the re-reading I thought about reading Jack Chalker again. I’ve mentioned his books in this blog before, and I don’t care to revisit the shameful nature of the original association between his Well of Souls books and my teenage self, but I still enjoy the epic sweep of his stories, and I believe he tried to do justice by his female characters, if in the manner of a kindly pimp (lots of sexualization, but some of them are smart and can beat people up, like Lara Croft or the women in Marvel Movies). He also explored transformation and gender bending, eye opening stuff to a kid who group up Mormon in Utah, but a gay or transgender person might find his stuff exploitative - actually anyone might.  

Chalker published his first novel and his biggest hit, Midnight at the Well of Souls, in 1977, at the same time Star Wars came out. I find this interesting because In his book, Chalker describes a spacefaring humanity, an interstellar civilization, but that interstellar civilization is a backdrop for his story, a given. Much like Star Wars, he tells a story about people traveling around in spaceships that could just as easily have been about people traveling the ocean in sailboats. The plot does not revolve around how spaceships work, it’s basically a fantasy set over a traditional “sci-fi” background, or a sci-fi skin set over a sword and sorcery tale. 

I think Isaac Asimov might have done this first, with the “Foundation” series, which is about a “galactic empire” in which people travel all over the galaxy in spaceships as casually as we might take a flight to the coast, like it’s no big deal at all. The story isn’t about space travel at all, except that Asimov does insert a paragraph here and there where the characters muse about space travel in a very abstract and philosophical way in verbiage that could just as easily have emerged from the mind of a chemistry PhD living in New York City with a great memory and a fear of flying. 

Asimov knew a lot of science and he certainly knew that “hyperspace” was a plot device, and he knew that if humans ever do send spaceships out of the solar system, that it will take those spaceships hundreds if not thousands of years to go to even the closest stars, and that any galactic empires that might develop would not bear any resemblance to the societies described in his books, unless you took an extremely abstract view of his stories, meaning you took them as a story about an interstellar civilization with the elements tweaked, with the people described as normal humans like us even though they would have to be hundreds or thousands of years old to live through multiple interstellar trips. And of course we now know about genetic engineering and computers and the society changing effects of them. The people and the communities and governments of a civilization that could manage intergalactic travel wouldn’t look like ours at all. They would actually start to resemble the creatures in a Lovecraft story. His aliens don’t resemble humans, and experience time on a much different scale than ours. I think a true representation of these interstellar galactic empires should be a mashup of Star Wars and the Mountains of Madness. Which of course I certainly would set out to write if it weren’t for all that copyright stuff. 

But I will provide an illustrative discussion of a future member of an interstellar species:

To begin with, they would have to be equipped with internal radios/smartphones, so they could communicate in the vacuum of space. This means they would have metall in their skeleton, in order to provide maximum reception and transmission capability. So obviously, we’re talking robotic skeletons with data storage capacity, vastly augmented memory and intellectual ability. Obviously this would entail greater strength and durability, but at the expense of weight. So we could give this future human a much thinner skeleton. Next, let’s talk tentacles and antennas. I’m envisioning a set of antennas and intermediate tentacles on the top of the head, replacing the useless hair so prized by primitive humans. Next, a tentacle instead of a tongue, and jointed mandibles for more efficient chewing.  I think almost anyone would agree that a third set of limbs would be tremendously helpful. These should be long enough to reach the ground, so you could use them for locomotion or use the finger tentacles on the end like extra hands. Next, a long prehensile tail and a pair of wings. The wings would actually be tentacles with a little rocket engine on each tip. And an extra eye to see in infrared. And metallic scales as skin. This human would run on electricity instead of food, but we’ll definitely keep the stomach in order to house useful bacteria. This human should not require oxygen, but just as with the stomach, the lungs will be kept in order to store useful chemicals in gaseous form. 

Of course by now you might be thinking that this creature might look strange or repellent to us.  Picture this creature as the cast of Star Wars. Darth Vader would look comparatively benign. 

But that’s not all. The ships these creatures would ride across the galaxy would not look anything like the movie set spaceships, where people sit in what looks like a couch from a winnebago and talk or play space chess for a few minutes while someone flips a “hyperdrive” and they teleport to wherever they want to go. These ships would take hundreds or thousands of years to go to other stars. Nobody could sit on a couch and wait it out. They would have to be cryogenically frozen if they wanted to physically make the trip. Or, hear me out, they could make the trip as a hologram. Their thoughts would be downloaded into a transmitter and sent in a radio transmission to a receiver on a planet a hundred light years away. I picture holographic starships, beamed across interstellar space, carrying a host of holographic passengers. Once at the destination, they could rent a solid body or float around in holographic form. And of course they would be a copy of the original, who would still be hanging around on earth. 

Try and work through the plot of Star Wars or the Foundation series after these adjustments

Programming unlocked

I remember that I have promised several times to continue my discussion slash literary review of HP Lovecraft and CS Lewis, and of course I have not done that yet because I haven’t performed the crucial and required re-reading of the Space Trilogy by Lewis and some selected stories by Lovecraft. 

In the meantime and before I launch my own comic book version of Lewis’s Perelandra, I’ll take a minute to discuss computer programming or “coding” as the kids and cooler old people call it. I’ve been learning this computer programming thing for a few years now, and I’ve made some stunning progress, specifically I have already created my own future calculator.  Not a Future Value Calculator, a Future Calculator. 

In the How To Program books they usually show you, in one of the early chapters, how to write a Future Value Calculator that will calculate interest on a loan. They probably figure that anyone who is going to learn computer programming will most likely be getting a sweet job and buying a huge house very soon and will most def need to figure out what kind of huge mortgage payment they’ll have to fork over each month to live in that huge house.  

That didn’t really pertain to me so I kind of lost interest in the Future Value Calculator and instead I thought, “I’d much rather determine  the actual future than just the future amount of some sleazy loan. “ Then I tossed the programming book into the trash and began to devise an electronic tarot card reading program and fished the programming book out of the trash and slowly over the course of months and indescribable frustration I created Hagentarot, a tarot card reading that will predict your future (within a reasonable percentage of accuracy) using nothing but JavaScript, which is a programming language for web pages, specifically for images and buttons. Please take a moment to experience Hagentarot now. The reading does not take long and it will change your life. 

In which case the reading wouldn’t be very accurate, would it? I may do a version 2.0 where it doesn’t change your life so much that it affects the accuracy of the reading, that’s a tricky one.

I had a sort of a vision when I began the project, of what the tarot reading would look like and how it would work. Needless to say that beautiful vision did not quite make it into reality. Computers are cruel and uncooperative, but as you age you become inured to failure and disappointment, resigned to defeat. You don’t cry when the candy gets snatched away. You just move on patiently to the next bright wrapper, living for the brief spark of residual hope you feel when you gaze upon the bright colored crinkliness. 

Obviously, since we’re talking about web pages, I also learned some HTML and CSS along the way. Even as a 50 year old who fondly remembers the Atari 2600 Superman game, I didn’t have much trouble with HTML. 

But then I had to learn about CSS, which is the code for the appearance of the web page. I say “learn about” because after months of effort, patiently typing in values in “em” and “%” for “padding” and “margin-left”, and seeing the results, or more often than not with CSS, seeing no result at all, I came to the conclusion that CSS just doesn’t really work, that I knew CSS fairly well and that while it can perform some amusing tricks, it’s in beta testing still, not something a professional would ever rely on without the mediation of special patch code kept in secret files in Iceland by the Swedish guy who invented the Internet. But then I saw this website, CSS Lace, where someone created a painting out of CSS. It only works if you view it in Chrome. 

If you’ve never heard of CSS or tried to learn it, you wouldn’t even look twice at this image. It would be another flash of colors that you swipe by on the interwebs without a thought. 

But if you’ve tried to learn CSS, and you find out it they used CSS to make it, you will know it as satanic wizardry. Something inside me went pop when I saw it, and I knew that I might learn about CSS, but I would never know it.

Hagenart comic 04/10/20

Hagenart comic 01/07/20

Unexpected treat; CS Lewis HP Lovecraft mashup

I actually have a grand plan in mind for the CS Lewis and HP Lovecraft series, wherein we delve into some wild theories about their inner mind and homosexual tendencies and all that spicy stuff, but before we do that I have to re-read the books again.  But before I do that, I believe it’s time for a mashup, wherein we attempt to tell a short story as if the two of them got together for some kind of literary retreat in 1925, when Lovecraft was falling apart financially and about to leave New York, and Lewis had just become a professor at Oxford. For the purposes of the mashup, in this scenario they get married. Why? Because it seems to me that the differences in the philosophies of the two of them would ordinarily make it extremely unlikely that they could ever willingly collaborate, but people tend to overlook all types of differences if they have romantic feelings for someone, so I believe they would have fall in love and get married in order for the mashup to happen. After getting married they live in England where Lewis can support them, since Lewis in reality had a far better job than Lovecraft did.
And they write a story together:

Something Hideous Came Out of the Silent Planet
I write these sentences supine, lying in a bed in the Miskatonic University Center for Invalids and Convalescent Scholars. The daily effort to lift pen to paper drains the last vestiges of my waning strength, yet a fierce desire to warn the public of the threat from within, while seeking to protect and advocate for the furry peoples of Malacandra, impels me to my painful, remorselessly damaging daily toil.
For the Reader’s sake I will attempt to organize and cohere my tangled memories into an understandable narrative.
To begin: My name is Elwin A Ransom. I am a professor of linguistics at Magdalene College, Miskatonic Campus. Until recently, I had been immersed in my studies and my teaching duties, living my quiet, inoffensive life, writing the occasional short story about magic elves and sharing them with close friends and never dreaming that I would someday visit another world where I would meet ghastly aliens that turned out to be Anglicans and perfectly reasonable if you overlooked their tendency to be a bit judgmental and a kind of purposeful abtrusiveness that set me on edge at times but I’m not really a people person and I’ve come to terms with that.
My adventures began when I - against my better judgement - accepted an invitation for late tea from an old schoolmate who I ran into at a tavern whilst on a walking tour of New England. He claimed to live on an estate, which turned out to be true, with his friend , a genius named Weston, which turned out to be only partially true. The estate was an old mansion, filthy in a grand old way, one of those old houses that looks as if it had somehow enjoyed more weather than any of the houses around it. Weston turned out to be a sociopath, but not in an interesting-conversation-over-bottle-of-wine sort of way. I was drunk enough to misconstrue his offer to show me “the spaceship” and follow him into the backyard, where I passed out. I came to on the spaceship, on route to Mars, if you can believe it. Pretending to have Stockholm Syndrome to get their guard down, I cooked a delicious lasagne, with the unintended result that my old friend Devine developed reverse Stockholm syndrome and tried to set me free immediately, and Weston developed Oslo syndrome, consuming so much pasta that he could not fit through the kitchen doorway, in effect kidnapping himself. At this point Weston admitted that they had planned to sell me to the native Martians for meat, which is what atheists do. Devine said he was sorry and told me I could go and tried to push me into the airlock. We fought, but the ship crash landed on Mars at the exact moment that my knee liberated his front teeth. “Take that, Dicky!” I shouted, and regretted it instantly. I spent my first day on a new planet trying to think up a better line. Eventually I sought Devine out after dinner and shouted “Welcome to Mars, Dicky! Love, the Tooth Fairy!” I tried to kick his mouth again, but he dodged and heeled my instep, dropping me like a sack. We stopped speaking after that, except for making fart noises whenever Weston asked for help moving supplies. Weston eventually produced a pistol and motioned me into the nearby trees, where we met several inhumanly tall, monstrously countenanced creatures who intoned unnerving syllables in a ghastly, unknown language. Sensing that my end credits were commencing to roll, I resolved that my screams would haunt these abominations to the end of their unearthly days.

And so on... it’s a special thrill to read the collaboration of these Gand masters!

More on CS Lewis and HP Lovecraft

So last week we began a series on CS Lewis and HP Lovecraft
Usually when people publish a blog post on a topic, they draw upon years of professional experience and study, or upon painstaking research on the subject they wish to discuss. I’m saying this in a knowitall tone, as of if I’m an expert in these things, but I just recently found this out, in the last few days or so actually, because It did not occur to me to research the subject I wanted to write about until after I had attempted to write about it, that is until I re-read what I had written and found it to be paragraph after paragraph of utter nonsense without any discernible point. Appalled, I dug out the CS Lewis space trilogy and the Lovecraft compilation, and also searched the web to see what smart people had already said about CS Lewis and HP Lovecraft.  
I read some interesting stuff, all apparently written by Christians who ultimately disagreed with Lovecraft but still said nice things about his stories. Lovecraft depressed them, they all said, and then Lewis talked them away from the window. I completely agree with their immediate emotional reaction to reading Lovecraft, his stories will leave you with a feeling of queasy disquiet, and then Lewis inevitably reassures you. But his reassurance only works if you’re religious, it’s all about how god will take care of the scary stuff.  And so I have to wonder how come those religious people got depressed by Lovecraft at all. Don’t you have to find his point of view compelling to find it depressing and scary? 
If you believe in God, how can you be frightened of ghosts and spirits?   But if you believe in God, but are also frightened of supernatural gibberish, you may like to have protective mental walls around you, and Lewis paints a beautiful wall of stained glass with renaissance scenes all around the universe.  Wherever you go in his stories, you’re still in church. I do not personally like that feeling. My memories of church are of groaning inside while I  struggled to stay awake during the interminable sermons. No matter how compelling I find the imagery of his worlds, I find myself repeatedly disappointed by his mental cloistering of his own stories. But for a religious person, that is an intelligent religious person who reads and therefore probably thinks about things from time to time, I believe this cloistering is a comfort, a shelter. 
Lovecraft seems to completely understand the terror of ideas. His narrators often express a desire not to know what they have discovered. But Lovecraft was not his narrators, and he couldn’t possibly have agreed with that sentiment, since all the monsters in his stories came out of his own head.  What his narrators found horrible and uncanny, he may have found magical and beautiful.  His protagonists often end up embracing their monstrous, otherworldly fate. The narrator in Shadow over Innsmouth speaks euphorically of his future life as a grotesque fish-person, in the ending passages. The narrator in Mountains of Madness speaks of the Old Ones as fellow creatures, as “men, of a sort.”  And he waxes euphoric over the achievements and civilization of the “Great Race” in the Shadow Out of Time. It’s actually a little disturbing how sympathetic he is with aliens who switch minds with creatures against their will, but there’s an undeniable joy in his writing, a delight with the ideas for their own sake. I think Lovecraft secretly found the universe to be a much more wonderful place than he let’s on in his stories. But in his fiction he’s always speaking in character as the narrator, and his narrators are basically 19th century gentlemen, who see the world through a very moralistic lens.  Was that Lovecraft? It seems to be part of him, but he had an uncanny side, a side with tentacles dripping ichor and and scaly skin and multiple staring eyes.

Hagenart comic 12/03/19

CS Lewis and HP Lovecraft

Several years ago I purchased an odd book by CS Lewis called That Hideous Strength. I bought it because I had read the Narnia series and enjoyed most of them, and I’d read some of his pro-Christian work like The Great Divorce and the Screwtape Letters, and enjoyed them even though I had long ago stopped going to church or even caring about it and CS Lewis didn’t convince me because once you’ve read Carl Sagan, any Religious apologist just sounds like someone who hasn’t read Carl Sagan. I just realized that Carl Sagan’s initials are “C.S.” Just now, because I was deciding how to refer to CS Lewis. 

I bought it in spite of the hideous front cover illustration which reminds me, looking at it now, of the old English Sci-Fi TV shows like Doctor Who with the great ideas and the terrible special effects that the filmmakers know are terrible and they know you know so they kind of do symbolic special effects that are like signposts that say “this guy is supposed to be an alien, use your imagination and pretend he looks like one.” That’s the cover of That Hideous Strength, with the colored ribbons and what looks like a metal screw plate bracket of some kind hovering over picturesque college-type buildings and phantom chess pieces and and a poster on an easel. The bracket looked like one of those brackets where the screw holes make it look like a face but it’s really just a bracket, but after reading the book I realized it was a actually supposed to be a spirit face, which I liked, and thought it must be representing the devil, because metal bracket faces with screw holes certainly don’t look friendly. But now I’m thinking it might be representing god, who is kind of a super alien in the book. I did a google search to obtain the truth about the cover and failed, but I did get to see some other covers that have been published with the book over the years, some of which I liked better and some of which, unbelievably, I did not. 

Anyway, I purchased the book and eventually opened the book and read it in spite of the cover, and just as you might expect from the hideous cover and the terrible title (really rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?), That Hideous Strength is mostly an unpleasant read. It covers a whole lot of academic politics stuff that almost nobody on Earth could find interesting, inner university doings that probably seemed important to CS Lewis and riled him up and comprised the emotional focus of a lot of his tea time musings but that I skimmed through with rising resentment and anger until I reached the interesting parts in the last few chapters. I would have given up on the book long before but I’d happened to read the author’s note, or the Author’s Lame Apology as I later referred to it, where CS admits that he purposely left the fantasy stuff out of the first part of the book on purpose because that’s the way old timey fairy stories used to be written but nobody notices because they use old timey words like “cottage” and “castle” that used to be normal everyday boring things but you young folk don’t get it because of TV. So after reading that intro I knew that something interesting might happen later, and it did, and it was interesting enough that I later purchased the other two books in the series, Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra, which I loved so much that I forgave CS for the first part of THS. 

I loved the other books because they’re fun and they don’t force the reader to endure multiple chapters of the most uninteresting college faculty in history, but also and mostly for Lewis’s big idea that makes it all worth it and makes you wish he’d not been such a subservient Christian with his stories and loosened up a bit with the Bible-validating that ruined a lot of his stuff. But back to the idea:

Any science fiction slash fantasy story needs one or more great, original, world changing ideas that makes the whole ridiculous and implausible storyline work, and the Space Trilogy, as I believe it is referred to by literary snobs, has the Macrobes, or the Eldils. I think he might have used “Macrobes” in THS, and only as spoken by Macphee, the terrific Scot Professor that made the book so much more bearable. (The only character in the book with an active heartbeat, as far as I could tell). The Eldils are superior alien beings, hyperdimensional energy creatures that Lewis takes great pains to make as non-humanoid as possible, and I found the idea of of angels (and also the gods of classical mythology) as alien superhuman energy beings (made of matter with ‘different movements’, as described in Out of the Silent Planet) to be a very fascinating idea, because it is also very terrifying. The terror makes the fascination. And Lewis seems to get that, because he describes something similar when he talks about the “numinous” in “The Problem of Pain”, the numinous being something that evokes awe and uncanny fear. But he also seems to kind of side step the truth about the feeling. In his passage describing “numinous”, he starts by referring to the fear a person feels when they hear there is a ghost in the next room. The “numinous” sensation is a magnified version of that fear, he describes it as the feeling you’d have if you heard it described as a “Great Spirit”, instead of just a ghost. Interestingly, he uses non-religious terms here to describe these feelings, which are instinctive, although he asserts that these are actually religious feelings. And this is one of those passages where you feel Lewis recoiling from his own mental imagery. Ghosts and spirits evoke uncanny fear in humans, but if you paste a religious doctrinal structure over them you remove the fear, and you also remove a lot of the fascination. Lewis does that with every vivid, spine-chilling, uncanny image he comes up with. So in the space trilogy, he says; “the angels are inhuman hyper dimensional energies, they are great spirits as far above you as you are from a mouse, these entities are also the beings that steer planets, they are called Eldils on other planets, where they rule alien creatures, but we have given them the names of gods. The greatest of them is called Maleldil, He’s a mysterious being with unimaginable...Don’t worry, he’s god. Just go to church”. Really? 

And that brings me full circle to HP Lovecraft, CS Lewis’s twisted American cousin (I can say full circle because I mentioned Lovecraft in the title, so don’t even comment on it. Please? Kidding, I really don’t care about commitment...I mean comments! That was autocorrect!). I could list all their similarities like you do with Lincoln and Kennedy, but I’ll leave that as a game for crazy people (hint: start with similarities in their names). I’ll summarize my opinion by saying that whereas CS Lewis, at his best, starts with an eery and compelling image in his mind and labors to describe it to you, and sometimes, unforgettably, succeeds, Lovecraft begins with an eery idea that he hints at, and never even tries to describe, leaving it entirely up to the reader’s mind to evoke. Because he knows that no monster could ever look as terrifying as his central tenet, the big truth of his writing; We are small, and the Universe is old and vast and unfriendly. 

If Lovecraft had written the Space Trilogy, you wouldn’t get the marvelous images that Lewis conjures, and Maleldil would not end up as a Sunday school story. Ransom might survive Out of the Silent Planet with sanity intact, but he would have been a shattered, neurotic mess in the Perelandra, which would have ended with the Un-man in charge of the planet, or possessing the Queen. The creatures of Malacandra might look like Lewis imagined, but they wouldn’t be boring noble savages anymore, and the book would most certainly end with a ghastly sacrifice that the reader would hear about second hand, because of course, it would destroy the sanity of the narrator to describe it. Interestingly, Lewis does describe, vividly of course, a rather horrible possession in the next novel, by no less than the devil himself. But here’s the difference; In Lovecraft’s universe, there’s no god above the devil, refereeing the story and making sure it all ends okay. Lewis makes it clear that his “dark lord” is a rebel against the just and all-powerful Maleldil/God. Lovecraftian gods are completely opaque if not malevolent. We would never know if one was rebelling against the other, and all their actions would appear inscrutably horrifying to the narrator. 

I would enjoy reading Lovecraft’s version of the Space Trilogy, but after I started writing this post, I of course decided to re-read the Space Trilogy, and I realized that it was possible that Lewis might have read Lovecraft, and that his Space Trilogy might be seen as a reply to Lovecraft, a Christian mashup of the Chronicles of Narnia and the call of Cthulhu. He describes very inhuman, hyper-dimensional entities with vastly superior intelligence to ours, and describes alien creatures and landscapes. But every time his protagonist, Ransom, experiences a pseudo-lovecraftian horror to the aliens, it’s analyzed and dismissed as a parochial, simple-minded response by Ransom, and 

he suddenly sees the reality of the alien creatures as beautiful in their own way. 

Lovecraft says “we are small, the universe is vast and horrible and malevolent.”

Lewis replies “Its okay to be small, God’s in charge and he’ll take care of you. The universe is a big beautiful garden of wonder”. 

Lovecraft never got a chance to reply. He died under fairly miserable conditions before the space trilogy was published. I would feel sorry for him, but he said a lot of awful racist things in his lifetime, and fully believed what he said. But he was also miserable and crazy and pathetic. Lewis actually might have been somewhat racist too, actually. He was a friend of Tolkien.  But more later... writing in blogger on an iPad is inscrutably unpleasant