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| First Written | 1937 |
| Genre | Fiction |
| Origin | UK |
| Publisher | Studio Kirkland |
| My Copy | Part of the Charles Williams Library collection! |
| First Read | July 23, 2018 |
Descent Into Hell
Descent Into Hell is probably the *best* novel by Williams - it's the fullest statement of his weird-but-compelling ideas about the Christian life, and also brings together more than a few of his obsessions. Plus, it's a spooky page-turner!
In this one, there's an amateur play being produced in a newly-built suburb. One of the actresses is haunted by her doppelgänger, a military historian is seduced by a succubus of his own creation, a nice old lady just might be an ageless witch, and a construction worker who committed suicide when the suburb was being built is haunting the neighborhood. There's also... TIME TRAVEL. In the meantime, the play must go on!
Noted on July 23, 2018
“She said, still perplexed at a strange language: "But how can I cease to be troubled? will it leave off coming because I pretend it wants you? Is it your resemblance that hurries up the street?"
"It is not," he said, "and you shall not pretend at all. The thing itself you may one day meet-never mind that now, but you'll be free from all distress because that you can pass on to me. Haven't you heard it said that we ought to bear one another's burdens?"
"But that means-" she began, and stopped.
"I know," Stanhope said. "It means listening sympathetically, and thinking unselfishly, and being anxious about, and so on. Well, I don't say a word against all that; no doubt it helps. But I think when Christ or St. Paul, or whoever said bear, or whatever he Aramaically said instead of bear, he meant something much more like carrying a parcel instead of someone else. To bear a burden is precisely to carry it instead of. If you're still carrying yours, I'm not carrying it for you--however sympathetic I may be.”
Quoted on December 12, 2019
A man cannot love himself; he can only idolize it, and over the idol delightfully tyrannize - without purpose. The great gift which the simple idolatry of self gives is lack of further purpose.
Quoted on December 12, 2019
Pardon... like Love, is only ours for fun: essentially we don't and can't.
Quoted on December 12, 2019
From mere physical stress he whimpered a little now and then, but he did not change his purpose, nor did the universe invite him to change. It accepted the choice; no more preventing him than it prevents a child playing with fire or a fool destroying his love. It has not our kindness or our decency; if it is good, its goodness is of another kind than ours. It allowed him, moving from shadow to shadow, cautious and rash, to approach the house where he remembered to have seen the rope.
Quoted on July 23, 2018
It may be a movement towards becoming like little children to admit that we are generally nothing else.
Quoted on December 12, 2019