My mom recently told me that she knew a woman who read Till We Have Faces and said, "If that's what C. S. Lewis is, I don't like him." It is quite different in style than his other books. For one thing, it could almost be said to have been co-authored by Joy Davidman, later to become his wife.
Now, from talking to my mom, it sounds like this woman isn't fond of novels. Maybe she should just read his apologetic books and essays. However, a lot of Christians are confused when they approach this book, and partly because they're confused when they approach the Narnia books. They just may not realize it with Narnia.
The Chronicles of Narnia are not allegories. An allegory is an extended metaphor. Lewis never meant them to be read in that light. However, they have Biblical themes and applicability. Tolkien said about applicability,
"I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence. I much prefer history – true or feigned– with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers. I think that many confuse applicability with allegory, but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author.”
This is more evidenced in The Lord of the Rings. Aragorn is a Christ-figure, but not in the same way as Aslan. Lewis wanted to create a mythical world. In that world he wondered, "How would Christ act? How would he present himself?" The lessons we pull out of it our the ways we can apply it to our own lives.
For example, in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, my favorite line is, "Courage, dear heart." It comes from the Dark Island incident. The reason this line is so personal to me (I have a necklace that quotes it) is because of my own experience with fibromyalgia, depression, and loneliness. I don't think that is what Lewis had in mind. He created an island that epitomized fear. I put my own experiences with fear into it.
And yet Aslan is so clearly Christ that many Christians are confused by this tale of Greek gods. And the gods seem so cruel.
Tonight I was reading The Horse and His Boy to my son. We came to the chapter where Shasta is riding through the mountain in the fog. He feels that something is beside him, but he doesn't know what. He tells this "Thing" of his misfortunes.
"'I do not call you unfortunate,' said the Large Voice." Aslan goes on to explain, "I was the lion that forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you could reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat wakeful at midnight, to receive you."
Shasta didn't know his own story. He doesn't even know his real name at this point. He isn't the unloved son of a fisherman. He is Prince Cor.
And that is the heart of Till We Have Faces. Orual is the narrator of her own story, but she doesn't know her own story. The last few chapters change the whole book.
And that idea is the heart of a Christian's answer to the problem of theodicy. Why is there evil in the world? Why is there suffering? And truthfully, I don't think we really care so much about the abstract. The questions we really want to know is, "Why is there evil in my life? Why do I suffer?" Lewis reminds us that we aren't the best narrator of our own stories. Like Prince Cor and Orual, we complain that we are unloved. One day we will see the Loving Hand that always guided us. Or, as Orual says, "“I ended my first book with the words 'no answer.' I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer."
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