That Hideous Strength 1: the Setup

Beginning our first-ever Readalong: here’s the Introduction.

The action takes place at three fictional locations: Edgetow, a university town similar to Cambridge, but smaller; St. Anne’s-on-the-Hill, a nearby village; and Belbury, a village in the opposite direction, currently undergoing a process of modernization.  Much of it, especially at the beginning, concerns University politics, so it helps to know that the University of Edgetow is composed of four separate colleges, each with its own emphasis and administration.   Bracton College is the one that will concern us, because of the characters associated with it.  In these first four chapters Lewis, like any good novelist, is introducing his major characters and moving the conflict elements into place—like setting up a chessboard and marking out a strategy.  The problem for contemporary readers is, he takes an awfully long time to do it and assumes a literary and history background that most Americans don’t have.  So here, with the help of notes obtained from the Lewisiana website, are a few pointers.  Forgive the long post; subsequent one should be a little shorter!

CHAPTER ONE: SALE OF COLLEGE PROPERTY

1.1 Jane Tudor Studdock, a thoroughly modern young woman of the 1950s, is at the beginning of a marriage that will probably be less than blissful.  The words she recalls in the first paragraph are from Anglican Book of Common Prayer, the traditional ringing tones of which contrast sharply with Jane’s “improved” attitudes.  She’s not a believer, but Anglicanism was the state religion (still is) with some authority over civil institutions like marriage.  The clash between tradition and fashion sets Lewis’s theme, and Jane’s disturbing dream puts the plot in motion.  She and her husband Mark will be the contrasting poles between which the action will shift and build.

1.2 Mark Studdock is intent on advancing his academic career.  He’s a sociologist, a relatively new field of study at the time, and Lewis doesn’t seem to think much of it.  Mark’s conversation with Curry shows how the academic world (then and now) is obsessed with position: the whole point is levering oneself into a cushy sinecure where you can collect a handsome salary without doing a lot of work.  Henry de Bracton (ca. 1250), for whom Mark’s college is named, was the author of a book on common law, in which he argued that secular authority is subject to the law (divine as well as secular).  This also plays into Lewis’s theme.  If you haven’t read Out of the Silent Planet, it’s important to know that Dick Devine (Lord Feverstone), whom Curry mentions as the one who got Mark his position, is the same Devine who accompanied Drs. Westin and Ransom on their trip to Mars.

1.3 This is a lovely section that you can feel free to skip, because there’s a lot of history and atmosphere that you may not be susceptible to at this point.  Suffice it to say that Bragton Wood, a small enclosure within the college, is redolent not only with history but with mystery, as the location of “Merlin’s well.”  Merlin is not just a character in the Arthur legends, but the character around whom the legends collected.  The earliest references to him (ca. 800AD) suggest that he had no father, giving rise to the rumor that he was the devil’s son.  More of this later.

1.4 Lewis draws this chapter out so long it’s like you’re sitting in on an actual college meeting!  But it’s worth reading for the clever way that the college “progressive” element maneuvers the fellows into voting to sell Bragdon Wood, a sale they would never have approved on a straightforward vote.  This section also introduces the National Institute of Co-ordinated Experiments, or N.I.C.E., the collective villain of the piece. (Lewis obviously named the Institute with the acronym in mind, but it’s worth a mention that the UK’s National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence, a division of its National Health Service, also takes the acronym NICE.)  Why does the N.I.C.E. want Bragdon Wood?  That’s the question . . .

1.5 Introducing Dr. and Mrs. Cecil Dimble, sympathetic characters who already have a connection with Jane.  They happen to live on Bracton College property, though Dimble teaches at another college, and they have recently learned that their lease is not being renewed, no telling why.  Notice how the tension is growing (why are things changing so fast in this sleepy little town?), and how the Arthur legend comes up again in the conversation over tea.

CHAPTER TWO: DINNER WITH THE SUB-WARDEN

2.1  Non-olet is Latin for “it doesn’t stink,” ascribed to Emperor Vespasian’s reference to tax proceeds from public toilets.  The Sub-warden, remember, is Curry; the college bursar (treasurer) is Busby: two Bracton hot-shots who will be edged out of prominence as Lord Feverstone circles like a shark around Mark.  Notice his mention of Dr. Westin, the antagonist of Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra.  The “respectable Cambridge don” is Dr. Ransom, hero of those books. Feverstone’s talk of “taking charge of our destiny” is exactly what some contemporary scientists mean by taking control of evolution.  The theme is coming clearer now, and Mark will not be able to claim that he wasn’t warned.

2.2 and 2.3 Jane has another dream; her fear grows even as she despises herself for it.  Mark is totally out of his element with her.  It might be a minor spoiler to say that we’ll see them together only one other time (briefly) during the course of the novel, and it’s interesting analyze their relationship here: what are the danger signs you see?  Have you noticed anything similar in couples you know?

2.4   Mark motors to Belbury, N.I.C.E. headquarters, with Feverstone: “a big man driving a big car to somewhere where they would find big stuff going on.  And he, Mark, was to be in it all.”  Already we’ve seen Mark’s hunger to be in the inner circle, a lust that goes back to high school for almost everybody—I can certainly sympathize.  Incidentally, Lewis’s description of the sights may go on too long here, but I love his hinting at the ineffable potential of passing scenery: it’s like peeking into lighted windows as you walk by them.  Belbury might have been based on Blewbury, a village south of Oxford that became the site of the first  nuclear reactor in Europe.

CHAPTER THREE: BELBURY AND ST. ANNE’S-ON-THE-HILL

3.1 and 3.2 Out of the frying pan, into the fire, though Mark recognizes only that, as he did at Bracton, he must find his way to the real power source again.  He is first introduced to John Wither, Deputy Director of N.I.C.E. who can’t seem to direct a cogent thought.  William Hingest, whom he knew at Bracton, strikes the first sour note.  Crosser and Steele are the kind of mediocre talents that bureaucracy thrives on, and Professor Filostrato may be one of the inner circle.

3.3  At St. Anne’s, Jane meets Camilla Denniston (whose husband was mentioned in 1.2 as Mark’s rival for his fellowship), and Grace Ironwood, to whom she forms an immediate dislike.  Why?  What is it in Jane’s character that reacts negatively to Miss Ironwood’s?  The passage she reads in the parlor, beginning “The beauty of the female is the root of joy to the female as well as to the male . . .” has been the subject of speculation for those who know Lewis was a medieval scholar–what obscure text did he lift this from?  The answer, apparently, is none: he wrote it himself.  From a letter dated 1956: “The passage is, so far as I know, my own invention, influenced, I think, by Coventry Patmore [whoever he was!].  I am not now sure that it is very relevant in its place.”  But he’ll return to the theme later.   Jane’s maiden name is, of course, the family name of a royal house beginning with Henry VII and ending with Elizabeth I.

3.4  Mark’s introduction to “Fairy” Hardcastle, one of Lewis’s more vivid characters.  She’s chief of the Institute’s police, and why should a government institution need its own law enforcement?  That should raise questions right away, as it does for Dr. Hingest, but Mark falls in with the line that the work is too vital, though controversial, to lack protection.

3.5  The real trouble begins.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE LIQUIDATION OF ANACHRONISM

The title is a mouthful, referring to modernism’s goal of purging the past with its obscure symbolism and burdensome rules.

4.1 and 4.2  The N.I.C.E. is demonstrating the swagger of Nazi hordes from the recent war.  Mrs. Dingle’s description of their mowing down the woods compares to the murder of the trees from Narnia’s Last Battle.  I’m intrigued by her question, “do human beings really like being happy?”  A lot of us certainly enjoy being angry, or feeling put upon (speaking personally).

4.3  Mark shares a morning stroll with the Reverend John Straik, whose presence at the Institute is a mystery.  Isn’t modern science supposed to root out fire-and-brimstone religious fanatics such as this?  I can’t think of a contemporary parallel to Straik (can you?), but he’s not the only one to mold the image of Christ to his own inclination.  Softer forms of Christianity have played in to hands of power often enough, as the National Church did in Hitler’s time.  Notice Mark’s acute embarrassment “at the name of Jesus”—love it!  The name of Jesus was, is, and will always be offensive.

4.4  Foul play; your suspicions should be raised.  I love the last paragraph!

4.5  All Jane wants is “to be left alone.”  This was Lewis’s own desire, as described in Surprised by Joy.  Is it a reasonable expectation?

4.6  The proposed “liquidation” of Cure Hardy reflects what is going to happen to Bracton Wood.  It goes on a little too long; you can get the sense by skimming.  Some redeeming aspects of Mark’s character emerge here (and a good thing too; major characters need to be somewhat sympathetic): what are they?  Notice how his field (sociology) concentrates on group identity rather than individual, exactly as political correctness does today.

4.7  This scene is just devastating: the college progressives have sown the wind and now reap the whirlwind.  Notice how Mark is being maneuvered from afar—the inner circle he craves membership in is treating him like a chess piece.  The last line wrings my heart, even though I have no clue who Henrietta Maria was, and when she cut her name with a diamond.  What matters is that something precious and irreplaceable is being destroyed.

On to Part Two.
Also, I’ve begun a series on The Abolition of Man, which was published around the same time as That Hideous Strength and parallels the same themes.  Reading one sheds significant light on the other.