This is an online article from the Christian Research Journal.
When you support the Journal, you join the team and help provide the resources at equip.org that minister to people worldwide. These resources include our ever-growing database of more than 2,000 articles, as well as our free Postmodern Realities podcast.
Another way you can support our online articles is by leaving us a tip. A tip is just a small amount, like $3, $5, or $10, which is the cost of a latte, lunch out, or coffee drink. To leave a tip, click here
The Space Trilogy
C. S. Lewis
(The Bodley Head, 1938, 1943, 1945)
A seminal work in the realm of speculative fiction, C. S. Lewis’s Space Trilogy is renowned for its unique blend of science fiction, theological concepts, and moral philosophy. The trilogy consists of three novels, Out of the Silent Planet (1938), Perelandra (1943), and That Hideous Strength (1945). In these books, Lewis, largely remembered for his apologetics and The Chronicles of Narnia (1950–1956), explores the possibility of extraterrestrial life, morality as it might translate across the cosmos, and the pervasiveness of sin in the context of the human condition — and it all began with a coin toss, and a lesser-known (but not a less important) man named Charles Williams.
Before Lewis and Tolkien became the almost mythical literary figures of the twentieth century that they are remembered to be today, they were two younger, mostly unpublished authors. Lewis, after reading and being quite taken with Charles Williams’s 1931 “theological thriller” The Place of the Lion, as well as David Lindsay’s A Voyage to Arcturus (1920), approached Tolkien with a proposal that they would each write a story that dealt with myth (an idea about which both men were virtually obsessed, at least in their writings). After flipping a coin, it was determined that Tolkien would write about time travel, while Lewis would write a story about space.1
Tolkien’s work, The Lost Road, fizzled out after a few chapters. The story was intended to climax with his protagonist reliving the drowning of Atlantis, which was an extremely popular concept to work with in early twentieth-century fantasy, greatly influencing the likes of American writer Robert E. Howard. The scraps of this idea would be collected and repackaged into Tolkien’s own version of the Atlantis legend when he wrote about the destruction of Númenor in his Middle-earth legendarium. Lewis’s work, however, developed into the first novel of the Space Trilogy.
A New Mythology. Out of the Silent Planet introduced readers to Dr. Elwin Ransom, a veteran of the First World War and a philologist (someone who studies the history of language, with an emphasis on literature) and linguistics professor at Cambridge. Ransom’s backstory closely parallels that of Tolkien, and this detail has led to no small amount of speculation that Lewis based the character, at least in part, on the famous Middle-earth architect.2
Ransom finds himself transported to Mars (called Malacandra), where he encounters the sorns, hrossa, eldila, and pfifltriggi, extraterrestrial beings that he begins to connect with and understand using his skills as a linguist. While on Mars, Ransom uncovers how these alien creatures view the cosmos, and Earth’s unique place in it. In the “mythology” of the trilogy, Earth is called “Thulcandra” — the “silent planet” — after the Oyarsa of Earth (the Black Archon) was “bent” and waged war against the authority of the being that rules the universe, which the aliens call Maleldil, who is, for all intents and purposes, Yahweh.
Perelandra carries Ransom off to Venus (the titular planet), where he encounters a new kind of Eden, complete with a Venusian Adam and Eve, and battles the forces seeking to corrupt it and them — in other words, Ransom is tasked with preventing the Perelandran version of humanity’s fall. Mars and Venus were both popular planets on which to set fantastical stories during the early twentieth century, lending Lewis’s sci-fi tales a decidedly “planetary romance” feel. The novels have more in common with pulp sci-fi tales, like those of Edgar Rice Burroughs’s John Carter of Mars stories and Leigh Brackett’s space operas, than the likes of Isaac Asimov or Frank Herbert.
The third and final novel, That Hideous Strength, takes a surprising turn by putting Mark and Jane Studdock, a husband-and-wife duo, front and center on a dystopian Earth. Set in a post-World War II world, Earth is now under the influence of demonic entities, and Ransom takes on the role of the “wise old mentor” archetype in relation to the Studdock protagonists.
Detached from historical contexts, the sudden turn That Hideous Strength takes into dystopian-thriller territory, a markedly different genre from the previous two books in the series, might seem an odd choice. But, in a way, this brought the series full circle, as the book was heavily influenced by the previously noted Charles Williams — one of the writers who originally inspired Lewis, and with whom Lewis had developed a friendship.3 Lewis brought elements of Arthurian lore into the narrative, which Tolkien (like most everyone else who reads the book today) found strange.4 Interestingly, Tolkien and Williams, though on friendly enough terms, frequently found themselves at odds, due mostly to Tolkien finding Williams’s work obtuse and sometimes distasteful — the two men could just never inhabit the same headspace, and therefore made common ground difficult to find. The influence of Arthurian mythology in That Hideous Strength (Merlin, of all people, shows up as a character), was a particular point of tension for Tolkien, who felt that Williams’s influence spoiled the ending of Lewis’s trilogy.5
Regardless, Lewis’s science fiction books, though perhaps not as popular as his other works, bear all the writer’s hallmarks: theological and ethical inquiries, thorough critiques of modernity and secular humanism, the presentation of a universe in which spiritual forces are palpable, shaping the destinies of worlds and individuals alike.
From Sci-Fi to Sci-Phi. Perhaps what makes Lewis’s fictional worlds so compelling for Christians has to do with the basic assumption that governs the existence of the universe within his works — that the Bible’s story is fundamentally true, and all of (fictional) reality corresponds to that. In other words, Lewis “world-builds” as a Christian. Narnia, for example, is a kind of parallel fantasy realm that exists alongside our own, and Aslan is the way Christ manifests to the creatures of that realm. Similarly, the Space Trilogy assumes that the Bible’s story is true and examines the cosmos through that lens.
From this perspective, Lewis is able to examine different moral and philosophical issues that were prevalent in the twentieth century. A central critique of the trilogy, specifically found in That Hideous Strength, is that of a purely materialistic and secularized “worldview” that disregards the possibility of metaphysical (supernatural) reality. The antagonists of the story, those who maintain this worldview, seek to control and manipulate nature through science, with hardly any moral considerations because they have no metaphysical or “spiritual” considerations.
The tendency of modernism to reduce all aspects of human experience to material explanations, viewing scientific progress as the ultimate path to human betterment, takes on a decidedly different flavor than something like Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park (Alfred A. Knopf, 1990), a late-twentieth century work that examines (and warns against) carrying science to its limits.6 For Crichton, bringing back the dinosaurs goes against the “natural order” of things (a secular, humanistic critique of a secular, humanistic philosophy), whereas for Lewis, the manipulation of nature through science transgresses divine decree — it is not what God intended, and therefore becomes a different kind of critique altogether, because the presuppositions at work are fundamentally different.
To keep with the similarities to Crichton, Lewis also takes on a society overly reliant on scientific and technological advancements, where the pursuit of knowledge and power overshadows basic human values and ethics. With Out of the Silent Planet, Lewis questions the ideas of human exceptionalism and the dangers of hubris associated with it. The villains of the story maintain a modern and imperialist mindset, who intend to exploit Mars (Malacandra) for their own purposes, at the expense of Martian societies that are, quite literally, untouched by the fall of humankind. This critiques colonialism and the reductionist view of nature as a commodity, painting it as a stark contrast to the Christian idea of stewarding God’s creation.
Perelandra takes the notion further, featuring a character who represents the extreme ideologies of secular humanism and rationalism, Professor Weston, seeking to bring ruin to an unspoiled world. Weston’s character embodies the cost of divorcing morality from a source of authority that is other than human reasoning, leading to a justification of any means for perceived evolutionary or scientific benefit, and reinforces the apostle Paul’s point about the noetic effects of sin in Romans 1. Also, in That Hideous Strength, the technocratic society that comes to dominate Earth leads to dehumanization and the erosion of moral principles, all under the guise of “progress.” Of course, these are all symptoms of a much larger problem, which is the decay of belief in a higher moral order, which leads to ethics and principles becoming fluid and manipulable, all driven by a kind of spiritual emptiness that underlies secular humanist societies.
From Secular to Postsecular. Living in a postsecular age, characterized by a renewed interest in spirituality and a recognition of its role in both public life and individual experience, Lewis’s Space Trilogy provides more than enough fodder for the cultural apologist. It is no mere coincidence that the Star Wars films have undergone such a widespread resurgence, that superheroes have taken on the role of modern mythological figures, and “shared universes” are all the rage nowadays. People tend to take mythology seriously again, even if the stories we tell are infantilized and appeal only to the lowest common denominator — the result of only a handful of major studios consolidating intellectual properties and producing “blockbusters.”7 In this modern, globalized context, where people seem more interested in the integration of ideas than they were almost a century ago, Lewis’s portrayal of secular humanism leading to moral relativism and spiritual emptiness invites a reevaluation of humanist philosophies.
If anything, the books make a good case for moving humanism toward something that is more open to the spiritual dimensions of human existence. It does not, to be sure, get one to Christ, specifically; however, it does provide some common ground for those discussions to begin, and it certainly helps that Lewis’s works begin with the presupposition that the Bible’s story is historical fact. Contemporary anxieties about the abuse of power, surveillance, and the loss of individual freedoms are all front-and-center in That Hideous Strength, which, despite being so different from the rest of the trilogy, turns out to be the most prescient (and that probably says more about Charles Williams than anything else).
Lewis’s Space Trilogy, while not as widely acclaimed as his other works, nonetheless proves to be a significant — if undervalued — contribution to the genre of science fiction, offering a kind of “science-philosophy” approach that leverages the genre’s conventions and tropes to reflect on theological and philosophical ideas.8 His critique of materialism, technocracy, and moral relativism, through a narrative that assumes the fundamental truth of the Bible’s claims, provides a unique and interesting lens through which to view the universe and our place in it, especially when read in light of the innumerable works of that largely oversaturated genre today. Lewis’s work is different by virtue of being genuinely Christian in its assumptions, and that is no small thing for the cultural apologist to consider.
The trilogy also gains new relevance in a postsecular age, especially in a world increasingly fascinated with mythology and the integration of diverse narratives. The Christian apologist should see this as an opportunity — a chance to get one’s foot in a door that is slowly, cautiously creaking open once again, after having been shut for a large part of the last century.
Cole Burgett is a graduate of Dallas Theological Seminary and the Moody Bible Institute. He teaches classes in systematic theology and Bible exposition and writes extensively about theology and popular culture.
NOTES
- Diana Pavlac Glyer, The Company They Keep: C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien as Writers in Community (Kent, OH: Kent State Univ. Press, 2007), 58–59.
- Matt Mikalatos, “Bent but Not Yet Broken: C. S. Lewis’ Out of the Silent Planet,” Reactor, September 8, 2021, https://reactormag.com/bent-but-not-yet-broken-c-s-lewis-out-of-the-silent-planet/.
- Charles A. Huttar, “How Much Does That Hideous Strength Owe to Charles Williams?,” Sehnsucht: The C. S. Lewis Journal, vol. 9, issue 1 (2015), https://digitalcommons.georgefox.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1321&context=cslewisjournal.
- Caleb Crain, “What We’re Reading: Charles Williams,” New Yorker, March 14, 2013, https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/what-were-reading-charles-williams; Sørina Higgins, “Lewis’s Arthuriana,” The Oddest Inkling, August 7, 2015, https://theoddestinkling.wordpress.com/2015/08/07/lewiss-arthuriana/; Brenton Dickieson, “Why Is Merlin in That Hideous Strength?,” A Pilgrim in Narnia, January 14, 2015, https://apilgriminnarnia.com/2015/01/14/merlinths/.
- Of all the Inklings, Williams was perhaps the most obsessed with the Arthurian cycle, with the Holy Grail (the Graal, as he referred to it) playing a central role in his own novel, War in Heaven (1930). For a detailed look at Williams and the Arthurian myth, see Joe H. McClatchey, “Charles Williams and the Arthurian Tradition,” VII: Journal of the Marion E. Wade Center, vol. 11 (1994), 51–62, JSTOR link accessed June 3, 2024, https://www.jstor.org/stable/45296242#:~:text=Over%20and%20over%20again%20Williams,Swinburne%22%20(%20City%20187).&text=not%3F,in%20preparing%20Logres%20for%20Christ.
- For a genuinely good analysis of Crichton’s subversive and brilliant original novel, see Sean Guynes, “Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park Is a Terrible Masterpiece,” Reactor, January 11, 2022, https://reactormag.com/michael-crichtons-jurassic-park-is-a-terrible-masterpiece/.
- For a rare, deeply mythological film made “for adults,” check out Tony Gilroy’s Academy Award-winning 2007 masterpiece, Michael Clayton.
- Perhaps the closest thing to a contemporary version of this kind of story would be Michael D. O’Brien’s Voyage to Alpha Centauri (Ignatius, 2013).
