C. S. Lewis - Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold

‘Til We Have Faces’ is C.S. Lewis’ retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche.  For those who may not remember, the myth (in dramatic abbreviation) is roughly thus: Psyche was an astonishingly beautiful woman, so beautiful that she provoked the jealousy and ire of Aphrodite herself.  Aphrodite sent her son, Cupid, down to Psyche, to scratch her with his arrow and Aphrodite would then arrange to have Psyche fall in love with something vile.  However, Cupid, upon seeing Psyche for himself, fell in love with her (either because he was startled into scratching himself or because she was simply so beautiful), and refused to do as he was bidden.  Instead (and maybe after much other mythological activity), he took her back to his palace where she lived in luxury.  During the day, Cupid flew about, deploying love arrows, and, at night, he visited Psyche.  However, he visited only in darkness, and would not allow her to see his face or know his identity.  Psyche, presumably because she had it pretty good, was OK with this.  However, she got lonely, and asked that her sisters might be allowed to visit her, and Cupid reluctantly agreed.  Psyche’s sisters were flown in (don’t ask), and, envious of her life, poisoned her mind against Cupid, and convinced her that he must be horrific to hide himself so.  She ought, they explained, sneak a lamp into their bedroom one night, and, after he fell asleep, shine the light on his face.  If he’s not monstrous, he’ll understand, was the logic.  When she did this, however, and saw that her husband was the hottest thing on the planet, Psyche was consumed with desire, and accidentally spilled hot wax from the lamp on him (like you do).  This woke Cupid, who was angry and cast Psyche out.  Now at the mercy of Aphrodite, Psyche must carry out three impossible tasks to meet her husband again.

The details of these tasks is less than important at this moment.  ‘Til We Have Faces’ is told from the point of view of one of Psyche’s older sisters, Orual.  It is set in the fictional and ancient city of Glome, and Orual, Psyche, and Redival, the third and (in this retelling) totally unimportant sister, are princesses of Glome.  When the people start to pray to Psyche as the incarnation of the goddess of love, her priests demand that she be sacrificed to the god of the mountain.  Orual, her ugly, jealous, and adoring older sister, goes to the mountain to save her.

I love C.S. Lewis.  I have respect for him both as a writer and as a thinker, both religious and psychological.  ‘Til We Have Faces’ is one of his more psychologically-oriented works.  Orual is ugly, has always been ugly.  Having lost her mother early and not being close to her younger and prettier sister Redival, the birth of her half-sister Psyche, stunning from the moment of her birth and endlessly good natured, gives Orual purpose.  Psyche and her Greek tutor Fox are Orual’s family, and she is jealous of them, loves them desperately and frantically.  When Psyche is sacrificed on the mountain, Orual is almost killed by her grief.  However, when she discovers Psyche, alive and well on the mountain, when she finds that Psyche is happy without her and doesn’t want to come home, Orual is furious, betrayed.

I think that Lewis is at his best when he’s looking at how we cloak our own deepest faults in virtue.  Orual is, in her own mind, a slave to love, devoted to her sister and her mentor, a martyr.  She believes that she means the best for the people around her.  We, however, can hear, even from her own voice, her monstrosity, her toxic possessiveness.  ‘Til We Have Faces’ is the story of Orual’s long life of wisdom and suffering.

However, and as much as I enjoyed the story of ‘Til We Have Faces’, I don’t think that his writing was as beautiful here as it can be.  Lewis can be a really wonderful prose stylist, but he has adopted a plainer style here, probably meant to be in imitation of Greek translation, which, while easy to read and not without a pleasing simplicity, just doesn’t hold a candle to something like ‘The Screwtape Letters’.  ‘Screwtape’ was amazing for clarity of both ideas and writing; ‘Til We Have Faces’ is beautiful for the person it betrays, in all her strengths and imperfections.

It’s a quick read, and an easy one, and it’s too short to ever be boring.  It also isn’t a religious text: while it does dwell on whether or not the Goddess is real, on whether reason or faith is the “right” path to wisdom and interpretation, ultimately, the divine is taken for granted, and it is what faith inspires in us that interests the author and the text.  My only recommendation is that interested parties who are not familiar with the myth read it quickly (it’s on Wikipedia).  I genuinely believe that knowing the original adds something to the book.  It’s a beautiful, wise, and sophisticated story, even if it isn’t his best.  Recommended.