My 2020 Reading Challenge, read all of C.S. Lewis’s published works, is off to a decent start. The Great Divorce is the third book in for this considerable list.
I loved this book. Certain quotes in it…I want tattooed on me so I don’t forget them. This review is going to be long, detailed, and full of quotes; so a couple things: I don’t want the books to start running together over the year so I lose track of the specifics I enjoyed of each one. This is a book summary for myself, so don’t read it if you plan on reading this and savoring the details for the first time. And when I say it’s long, I mean it’s LONG. I’m about to find out if Goodreads has a character limit for reviews. So if anyone actually reads through, I would be shocked. Kudos to you. But don't feel obligated by any means.
The Great Divorce tells the story of a man in purgatory; I think the author was using himself as the main character. He comes across a bus station taking a group to heaven. The author later describes the place they start in as “The Valley of the Shadow of Death,” so not quite hell. They fly off into space and end up in “The Valley of the Shadow of Life,” so not quite heaven. The main character then witnesses an assortment of passengers respond as they are given the opportunity to remain in heaven or return to hell. Okay, so not completely and theologically sound. But Lewis knew that; it’s meant to be allegorical. Moving on.
Passenger Number One is offended when a murderer who knew from his former life meets him and welcomes him. I will bring you to the land not of questions but of answers, and you shall see the face of God. He’s not happy with the fact that he, someone who lived “a good life” needs forgiveness, the same as the murderer. What rubbish. So he returns to hell where he can be considered better than his neighbors.
Passenger Number Two is horrified to learn that his reasoning and intellect won’t be revered here. Questions are made clear, and the firsthand knowledge of God removes the entertainment of speculation Two is used to being praised for. On Hell and Earth, Two could view himself as omniscient like God because he didn’t comprehend God. In heaven, no one would be amazed by his philosophy. Rather than viewing this as a comfort, Two decides to return to Hell where he will continue to be exalted in his intellectual circles.
Passenger Number Three is jaded. It’s all a scam. All of it. The end.
Passenger Number Four is horrified to learn that she will look different, be perceived as different, and won’t blend in with her old acquaintances as Four adapts to a heavenly appearance. “I wish I’d never been born. What are we born for?” “For infinite happiness,” said the Spirit. “You can step out into it at any moment…” “But I tell you, they’ll see me.” “An hour hence, and you will not care. A day hence and you will laugh at it. Don’t you remember on earth—there were things too hot to touch with your finger but you could drink them all right? Shame is like that. If you will accept it—if you will drink the cup to the bottom—you will find it very nourishing: but try to do anything else with it and it scalds.”
At this point, the main character has an intermission of sorts in which he runs into George MacDonald. I had to laugh because only C.S. Lewis would be so transparent that he would put one of his greatest heroes in a story just to have a hypothetical conversation with him (I REALLY need to read Phantastes). Holy Moses, I wish I had this man’s moxie and willingness to be vulnerable and self-deprecating. But his choice to include his favorite author (or one of them) was spot on. The conversation between the two of them is incredible. Case(s) in point.
“And that is why, at the end of all things, when the sun rises here and the twilight turns to blackness down there, the Blessed will say, ‘We have never lived anywhere except in Heaven,’ and the Lost, ‘We were always in Hell.’ And both will speak truly.”
“The choice of every lost soul can be expressed in the words, ‘Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.’ There is always something they insist on keeping, even at the price of misery. There is always something they prefer to joy—that is, to reality. Ye see it easily enough in a spoiled child that would sooner miss its play and its supper than say it was sorry and be friends.”
“There have been men before now who got so interested in proving the existence of God that they came to care nothing for God Himself…as if the good Lord had nothing to do but exist! There have been some who were so occupied in spreading Christianity that they never gave a thought to Christ. Man! Ye see it in smaller matters. Did ye never know a lover of books that with all his first editions and signed copies had lost the power to read them? Or an organizer of charities that had lost all love for the poor? It is the subtlest of all snares.”
“There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done, and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘THY will be done.’ All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice there could be no Hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires Joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. To those who knock it is opened.”
George MacDonald then becomes a guide of sorts for the main character. Continuing to observe the passengers, Passenger Number Five was a famous artist and abhors that he will not be given an exalted place in heaven.
Passenger Number Six only condescends to agree to come to heaven if she is “given” her husband so she can keep working on him as her project like she did on earth. This was so oddly specific, I can’t help but wonder if Lewis knew a woman like this in real life.
Passenger Number Seven is a mother who allowed bitterness and grief to turn her away from her living children and husband when Seven’s son, Michael, died. She sees heaven merely as a way to see her son again. “You’re treating God only as a means to Michael. But the thickening treatment consists in learning to want God for His own sake.” “You wouldn’t talk like that if you were a Mother.” “You mean, if I were ONLY a mother. You exist as Michael’s mother only because you first exist as God’s creature. That relation is older and closer.”
Passenger Number Eight comes on the scene with a red lizard sitting on his shoulder. The lizard whispers into Eight’s ear constantly, distracting the man. A Spirit offers to kill the lizard, but Eight says it isn’t so bad, and he can ignore it for the most part. The Spirit persists and, finally, the man agrees. The Spirit kills the lizard which rises from the ash as a beautiful stallion. Eight becomes a being prepared to enter heaven and rides the horse away. The conversation between MacDonald and Lewis explains that the lizard is fleshly desire that isn’t evil when turned over to God. Rather, it can be a source of great joy when we give these desires over for God to work with as He will.
Finally, Passenger Number Nine is a small, twisted man leading a tall, thespian man on a chain. Basically, the little man is the true self and the tall, drama king is…well. A drama king. Drama King pretends all sorts of things to control the joy of people around him because he has none of his own. And when his amazing, selfless, Godly wife, who put up with his garbage for years and is already in heaven, tells him that they don’t need one another here…well…he has a meltdown.
“Love,” said the Tragedian striking his forehead with his hand: then a few notes deeper, “Love! Do you know the meaning of the word?” “How should I not?” said the Lady. “I am in love. IN love, do you understand? Yes, now I love truly.” “You mean,” said the Tragedian, “you mean—you did NOT love me truly in the old days?” “Only in a poor sort of way,” she answered. “I have asked you to forgive me. There was a little real love in it. But what we called love down there was mostly the craving to be loved. In the main I loved you for my own sake; because I needed you.” “And now!” said the Tragedian with a hackneyed gesture of despair. “Now, you need me no more?” “But of course not!” said the Lady; and her smile made me wonder how both the phantoms could refrain for crying out with joy. “What needs could I have now that I have all? I am full, not empty. I am in Love Himself, not lonely. Strong, not weak. You shall be the same. Come and see. We shall have no NEED for one another now: we can begin to love truly.”
In response, Drama-King-Who-Has-A-Compulsion-To-Be-Needed-Rather-Than-Love-Others has a royal meltdown. As he melts down, he literally shrinks in stature. And the Lady has the best response ever. “Stop it at once.” “Stop what?” “Using pity, other peoples’ pity, in the wrong way. We have all done it a bit on earth, you know. Pity was meant to be a spur that drives joy to help misery. But it can be used for a kind of blackmailing. Those who choose misery can hold joy up to ransom, by pity. You see, I know now. Even as a child you did it. Instead of saying sorry, you went and sulked in the attic… because you knew that sooner or later one of your sisters would say, ‘I can’t bear to think of him sitting up there alone, crying.’ You used your pity to blackmail them, and they gave in in the end.”
The more of a tantrum the man throws, the smaller he grows. But she doesn’t give in. ”If it would help you and if it were possible I would go down with you into Hell; but you cannot bring Hell into me.” I think I reread that line about twenty times. This perfectly summarizes every proper response we should have to sacrificing ourselves for others. Help as much as we can. Definitely. But we don’t have to set ourselves on fire to keep them warm. We can retain our joy without giving in to miserable manipulation.
Some of the last snatches of conversation between MacDonald and Lewis solidly ended the book.
“All Hell is smaller than one pebble of your earthly world: but it is smaller than one atom of THIS world, the Real World. Look at yon butterfly. If it swallowed all Hell, Hell would not be big enough to do it any harm or to have any taste.” “It seems big enough when you’re in it, Sir.” “And yet all loneliness, angers, hatreds, envies and itchings that it contains, if rolled into one single experience and put into the scale against the least moment of the joy that is felt by the least in Heaven, would have no weight that could even be registered at all. Bad cannot succeed even in being bad as truly as good is good. If all Hell’s miseries together entered the consciousness of yon wee yellow bird on the bough there, they would be swallowed up without trace, as if one drop of ink had been dropped into that Great Ocean to which your terrestrial Pacific itself is only a molecule.”
Amazing book.
I’d rate this book a PG.