Till We Have Faces
C.S. Lewis
number of voters: 5
percentage of voters who finished the book: 100%
highest rating: 9
lowest rating: 3
average rating: 5.6
percentage of readers who expected more from the likes of C.S. Lewis: 100
I am old now, after having attempted to read Till We Have Faces. I have nothing to fear from those who have read and enjoyed this book, so I will speak my mind. I will write what those who worship C.S. Lewis could never write.
Till We Have Faces is, according to its own subtitle, a myth retold; that is to say, the story is based on an ancient myth, that of Cupid and Psyche. Thus, Lewis, that old fox of an author who enjoyed the quality company of such writers as J.R.R. Tolkein, did not actually invent the plotline or the characters; he merely reimagined the setting.
Ordinarily, this would be a fine task to undertake and could result in an exquisite work of literature (After all, are not all stories, since the beginning of time, somehow the same story retold with new faces and places?). However, in Lewis’s somewhat clumsy hands, this retelling is more of a butchering, a dissection from which little can be learned and with few, if any, redeeming qualities (and, we might add, too many parentheticals, such as this one).
And so I will say what some may consider sacrilege: C.S. Lewis, in this case, illustrates his shortcomings as an author. Any compliments we might pay to the story must be given to the originators of the myth and not to Lewis himself; that is to say, those who enjoyed the book enjoyed it only on the basis of the original plotline—the myth—and not on Lewis’s retelling.
Lewis may have been brilliant in the field of apologetics, but he should have left the retelling of Greek myths to his more accomplished companions.
