Telling her strange story for posterity, this old queen presents a body of evidence, for her goal is to make a case against the divine. She’s an insular and pragmatic personality, acerbic and capable in the world she rules. However, the book is also the account of the life and reign of Psyche’s sister, Orual, who’s telling her own tale as the aged monarch of an ancient kingdom.
Brilliant-and Bitter-NarratorĮxpressly, Till We Have Faces is a retelling of the ancient myth of Cupid and Psyche. The narrator queen is like a pagan Solomon-a cynical monarch who has seen it all and, at the very last, finds redemption. It’s a novel of hindsight and old age-the wintertime of life. Initially, it’s not a novel of youth, spring, or new things. It was written with the input of his wife, Joy Davidman, who later that year discovered she had bone cancer. Till We Have Faces is the last novel Lewis wrote, published in 1956. I just wanted some authentic light in a dark moment. On this reading of Lewis’s novel, I was in no mood for academic exercises. I had learned of a sudden and tragic event in a close friend’s life just a few days earlier.
But several years ago, I picked it up again, this time reading it in one sitting on a plane flight.
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