More books that influenced and changed my ways of thinking

I discovered C.S. Lewis when I was in my early teens, when I read his sci-fi adventure series The Space Trilogy (aka The Cosmic Trilogy), which was comprised of Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength. The discovery of Lewis was for me a true gift, because I later discovered that he also wrote books having to do with spiritual themes and the difficulties of life. He wrote The Screwtape Letters, which is one of the books (published in 1942) that has stayed with me to this day. It is a satirical Christian apologetic novel dealing with the relationship between two demons, Screwtape, an experienced senior demon and the head demon of Hell, and Wormwood, an inexperienced junior demon who is trying to recruit his first soul to Hell. Wormwood is schooled by Screwtape via a series of letters in which Screwtape tries to impart his wisdom as to how to tempt humans such that they end in Hell. The descriptions of the landscape of Hell and of who is found there and why, made a huge impression on me. I remember reading it and being amazed by the genius of Lewis' writing. It is a novel that will definitely make you think about the ideas of sin, hell, heaven, temptation, evil, and the actual sins that humans commit that threaten their souls. 

A Grief Observed is another book written by C.S.Lewis, published in 1961, following the death of his wife Joy Davidman from cancer. It is an honest, raw exploration and description of his grief and despair at losing someone he loved very much. It details his doubts about his faith and his anger at God about losing her, as well as his understanding that he is but one of many who has suffered in this way. I read it when I was in my early twenties; by that time, I was no stranger to the realities of illness and death of loved ones. It is a book that I recommend to others who have lost loved ones to illness and death. Lewis wrote many other excellent books dealing with spiritual themes, among them Surprised by Joy, Mere Christianity, The Great Divorce, The Four Loves, and The Problem of Pain. I recommend them all. 

My mid-twenties brought with them major life changes, none of which were particularly happy. But as often is the case, the painful occurrences in life are the ones that help to bring about necessary change, and that was the case for me. But before that happened, I experienced a lot of doubt, anxiety, and internal conflict. I don't remember how I found out about The Meaning of Anxiety by Rollo May, published in 1950, perhaps it was via my father who thought highly of his writing. All I know is that the book was immensely helpful in changing my way of thinking about anxiety; it made me realize that anxiety preceded change and that it was part of the process of change, not necessarily something to be avoided. May was not talking about crippling anxiety, rather about a kind of free-floating anxiety that is part of the human condition. Reading his book was a life-changing experience for me. 

I discovered Henry James when I was in my twenties. His novel, The Portrait of a Lady, published in 1881, is the story of Isabel Archer, a free-spirited young American woman who inherits a lot of money and who subsequently finds herself trapped in a prison of her own making--marriage to an egotistical and mean-spirited man who loves her only for her money. Her suffering is compounded by the fact that there were two men who really did love her and whom she turned down as suitors, choosing instead a man who did not love her. It is an interesting novel in that it reflects James' exploration of the psyche of a young woman who loses her independence gradually and who becomes a pawn in the schemes of her husband and his mistress. His description of her marriage to this man will make your blood run cold; I have never come across a better description of a bad marriage, and this from a man (James) who never married. Recommended reading. 

When we were young, there were some books that we were told we could not read or that were kept from us because they dealt with adult themes (mostly sexual in nature). Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H.Lawrence was one of those books. It was first published privately in 1928 in Italy; after publication of the unexpurgated version in England in 1960, it was considered obscene for its frank description of the sexual relationship between a married upper-class young woman and the gamekeeper on her husband's estate. Her husband had become paralyzed from the waist down following a war injury (that occurred after they were married) and subsequently would not pursue any sexual relationship with her. He did encourage her to discretely take a lover so that she could produce an heir for the family, something she was initially reluctant to do. I did not find the book to be obscene in any way, unless you get hung up on the language used between the lovers. It was clear to me why the book was considered so groundbreaking in its presentation of sexuality. Lawrence was clearly interested in depicting a sexual relationship between a man and a woman that was physically pleasurable and spiritually satisfying. His viewpoint was that this type of relationship was possible and desirable, and that it formed the basis of real love. Not surprisingly, that view did not sit well with the moral gatekeepers at that time. Some aspects of the novel are controversial, but in my opinion, it is not the frank sexuality portrayed, rather the mores of the time--encouraging a wife to take a lover to produce an heir, the refusal of the husband to engage in any sort of sexual activity with his wife so that she could become pregnant, the physical (and ultimately emotional) abandonment of the wife by the husband, and her eventual abandonment of him. Both plodded on in a loveless dead marriage until the wife could no longer do so. It is an amazingly liberating novel to read, even by today's standards. 

CS Lewis and A Grief Observed

CS Lewis wrote A Grief Observed after the death of his wife, the American poet and writer Helen Joy Davidman. It is a book that is well worth reading. He offers his personal insights into the mystery that is grief, what it did to him and how it made him feel and act. Some of what he says resonates with me, like when he talks about how difficult it is to focus or to start anything. Or running on autopilot at work. Lewis became impatient with people who said that death doesn’t matter or that there is no death. But I am not impatient with people who say that to me, because I know that they are just trying to do and say the right thing, and it isn’t really possible to do that. There is no one right thing to say to someone who has lost a loved one. It is not easy to talk about death or to deal with it in our society. I appreciate their caring and the thoughts involved. 

Here are some excerpts from his book, A Grief Observed:

• We cannot understand. The best is perhaps what we understand least.
• Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.
• It is hard to have patience with people who say, ‘There is no death’ or ‘Death doesn’t matter.’ There is death. And whatever is matters. And whatever happens has consequences, and it and they are irrevocable and irreversible. You might as well say that birth doesn’t matter.
• I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process.
• For in grief nothing 'stays put.' One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?
• Feelings, and feelings, and feelings. Let me try thinking instead.
• Do I hope that if feeling disguises itself as thought I shall feel less?
• Grief ... gives life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn't seem worth starting anything. I can't settle down. I yawn, I fidget, I smoke too much. Up till this I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness.
• No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.
• And no one ever told me about the laziness of grief. Except at my job--where the machine seems to run on much as usual--I loath the slightest effort. Not only writing but even reading a letter is too much.
• At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in……
• Aren't all these notes the senseless writings of a man who won't accept the fact that there is nothing we can do with suffering except to suffer it?