Charles Williams (1) (1886–1945)

I am a huge fan of Charles Williams. “All Hallow’s Eve” is a flawed but brilliant masterpiece. For me this was not as strong as the magnificent “All Hallow’s Eve.” But with “Descent Into Hell,” too many sentences read as solipsistic labyrinths of incoherence. The gestalt that pulled “All Hallow’s Eve” together couldn’t overcome the muddle of “Descent Into Hell.” It seemed like the idea for “Descent Into Hell” was never fully formed and that came across in the execution. I feel like it needed a vicious and ruthless editor.

That being said, it IS Charles Williams and, while the wording is cumbersome instead of dazzling, there are flashes of brilliance—such as his characterization of Gomorrah.

It took me two reads to fully grok All Hallow’s Eve; I may need another read-through for this one as well … I’m just not sure it’s worth it.… (meer)

This is a most curious book. The miraculous Stone of Suleiman becomes the focus of desire for the varied cast of characters, most of whom seek to exploit it for wealth or power, some more selflessly than others.

I was struck by the echoes of the novels of G. K. Chesterton: the ancient Persian and his Muslim piety (expressed, though, in Williams's own spiritual language) is more than faintly reminiscent of the old-fashioned Muslims-through-Western-eyes of GKC's Flying Inn, and the small-town mayor who finds himself speaking to the government on behalf of the Common Man also seems a Chestertonian figure. Less surprising were the resonances with C. S. Lewis's That Hideous Strength, on which Williams's influence has long been acknowledged: the Arglay/Tumulty struggle is not a million miles from Ransom/Devine. Arglay's bizarrely intimate asexual relationship with his secretary recalls Williams's own romantic but chaste dealings with a succession of young female assistants. His hieratic aloofness (like Lewis's Ransom, trespassing across the line between paternal and patronizing) is perhaps also the author's, though his thoughts on law and language may rather reflect those of his friend Owen Barfield.

There are some aspects which would interest the thoughtful science fiction fan: some paradoxes of time travel are carefully dissected, and there is a fascinating description of what it might be like for one person to direct the thoughts of another (as distinct from simply taking control of their actions). The nature of faith is also touched upon (at one point Arglay decides to believe in God, as a sort of working hypothesis). The resolution should, perhaps, not be as unexpected as I found it; the spiritual thrust of the book leads inexorably away from the imposition of corrupt will upon the source of power, and towards sacrificial submission to the divine nature. MB 23-x-2007 (review transferred from discarded edition 2022)… (meer)