The story begins with the narrator in gray town, confused about where he is and what is happening. He soon finds himself on a bus with several disagreeable people on the way to, well he's not exactly sure. After traveling up for some time, they finally alight in a beautiful, green country. "Then, suddenly we were at rest. Everyone had jumped up. Curses, taunts, blows, a filth of vituperation, came to my ears as my fellow-passengers struggled to get out." (p. 19)
As he journeys into the unknown country, he is able to observe the interactions of his fellow passengers with the residents of this heavenly land. It soon becomes clear that the passengers are ghost-like, ethereal and unable to handle the reality of the new place. Simply walking on the grass is painful as the blades pierce the airy feet. Lewis uses these various encounters to point out the myriad ways in which we prefer our sin (and hell) to the promise of life, if life means letting go.
We first meet a "Big Man" or Big Ghost as the case may be. He has lived a good life, under his own strength, and he is surprised to meet a Solid person whom he knew in life to be a murderer. Of course this makes no sense, that a "good man" should be living "down there" in Grey Town, while a murderer lives in paradise. After demanding the same rights as the solid, Len, he is told, "Oh no. It's not so bad as that. I haven't got my rights, or I should not be here. You will not get yours either. You'll get something far better. Never fear." (p. 28) Of course this kind of nonsense makes no dent on the Big Ghost.
Next we overhear a modern, religious fellow who meets a shining spirit who apparently "became rather narrow-minded towards the end of [his] life." (p. 34) The heavenly guide tries in vain to convince his friend that his liberal beliefs were wrong, and not even honestly attained. They came as a result of "writing the kind of essays that got good cards and saying the kind of thing that won applause." (p. 37) But the intellectual simply cannot bring himself to believe that there are any definitive answers in regards to spiritual questions, despite the evidence right in front of him. For him the mental aerobics overwhelmed any desire to discover truth. Yet he declares it a "stimulating and provocative" conversation, and says good-bye. (p. 44)
While heading off to explore more, the narrator sees a ghost, who came determined to plunder the heavenly riches so as to make a killing back in Grey Town, try to steal a golden apple. The ghost's lack of gravitas, and the sheer reality of the apple combine to make the task impossible. Yet he will not desist. The last we see of him shows him bracing himself anew for the agony and continuing on.
We next run into a "Hard-Bitten Ghost." This man see through everything. It's all a scam. There's nothing truly new or interesting. He even dismisses Heaven. "That's their little joke, you see. First of all tantalize you with ground you can't walk on and water you can't drink and then drill you full of holes [with rain]. But they won't catch me that way." (p. 56) Soon, he too goes off, presumably towards the bus and a return trip to Gray Town.
Soon, we encounter a female Ghost, running as best as she is able, from a Spirit. Although the Spirit assures her that the pain will dramatically lessen the further into the country they go, towards the mountain, the woman will have none of it. She simply cannot bare to be seen in the state she is in. Her vanity will not allow it. "'Friend,' said the Sprit, 'Could you, only fora moment, fix your mind on something not yourself?'" Apparently she cannot.
Deep in confusion, our narrator meets George MacDonald, the Scottish author and minister. He promises to answer the questions and provide some clarity on what we are witnessing. He explains that we are watching the damned on holiday. They are given an opportunity to make a different choice. Should they relinquish their sin, they can stay in the heavenly abode. Sadly, few choose to do so. To our narrator's ears, this sounds heretical. Yet, as MacDonald tells it, the choice to stay or go only confirms a choice already made. For those that return to hell, their life, even on Earth, was always Hell. For those who choose to stay here in the heavenly foyer, "The Valley of the Shadow of Life," and move towards Heaven itself, all of life will have been Heaven, including the time spent in Gray Town. Now quite confused, our man asks, "'Well sir,' I said, 'That also needs explaining. What do they choose, these souls who go back (I have yet seen no others)? And how can they choose it?'" (p. 71) It is at this point that we learn, "There is always something they insist on keeping even at the price of misery. There is always something they prefer to joy... There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, 'Thy will be done,' and those to whom god says in the end, 'Thy will be done.' All that are in Hell choose it." (p. 71) Suddenly the narrator realizes how the Ghosts, not only do not want to live in Heaven, they want to bring Hell into Heaven. Conscious of their own decay, they sought to spread it and destroy whatever good they believed they could not have. He watched them "spit and giver out in one ecstasy of hatred their envy and (what is harder to understand) their contempt, of joy. They voyage seemed to them a small price to pay if once, only once, within sight of the at eternal dawn, they could tell the prigs, the toffs, the sanctimonious humbugs, the snobs, the 'haves', what they thought of them." (p. 82)
At the end of this conversation, the ghost of a famous artist appears. He, too, will return to Grey Town. The thought of giving up his fame and reputation is simply too much. Never mind that he is "already completely forgotten on Earth." (p. 87)
Suddenly another conversation resounds and we are shown a woman arguing with her mother-in-law. Apparently in life, her husband, Robert, had failed to live up to her ever expanding expectations. Despite all her hard work and nagging, she completely failed to make much of the man. Even worse, she was shown no gratitude. Eventually alighting on the perfect plan, take Robert away somewhere and finally make a man of him, she rages, "'I want Robert. What right have you to keep him from me? I hate you. How can I pay him out if you won't let me have him.'" (p. 95) Having towered up "like a dying candle flame" she snaps suddenly and is no more. (p. 95)
Next we encounter a most painful meeting. A woman has met her brother, but is disappointed that it is not her son sent to greet her. Her son died at a young age, and she is distraught at the separation. Unfortunately her love had consumed her. "The instinct was uncontrolled and fierce and monomaniac... The only remedy was to take away its object. It was a case for surgery." (p. 100) This mother's sin was her all-consuming identification as a mother. Ultimately her love was too small. She could not truly love her son because she could not truly love anyone.
As they walk on, they encounter a Ghost with a lizard on his shoulder. Unfortunately the foul-mouthed creature won't keep quiet and it's clear he won't do in this heavenly place. Therefore the Ghost has decided to return home. At that moment a flaming Spirit appears offering to kill the lizard. There ensues a struggle as the Ghost begs the angel to deal with the beast in a more humane manner. Finally, there is an agreement to kill the thing. The pain of the flames sear the Ghost, but soon both he, and the lizard are reborn: He as a Solid person and the lizard as a beautiful stallion. Together they gallop off to the mountain. An epiphany ensues as our narrator realizes that if any of the Ghosts will but submit that which is holding them back, it will be reborn as something beautiful.
Hearing a river, the two proceed towards that and find themselves in the middle of a grand procession. Clearly a person of grand importance is being escorted through the land. Almost unknown on Earth, Sarah Smith of Golders Green has attained particular glory in this celestial land. She, however, is coming to meet her Ghostly husband. We are first introduced to a giant Tragedian with a tiny man on a string. However, it soon becomes clear that it is the dwarf keeping the giant on a chain. The giant is, in fact, a type of ventriloquist's dummy, a facade created to impress. Sarah Smith implores the little man to let it go, to be his real self. Unfortunately he cannot let go of his sense of victimhood and betrayal. He simply MUST demand pity. Sarah begs him, "Stop it. Stop it at once...[Stop] using other people's pity, in the wrong way. We have all done it a bit on earth, you know. Pity was meant to be a spur that drives joy to the help misery. But it can be used the wrong way round. It can be used for a kind of blackmailing. Those who choose misery can hold joy up to ransom, by pity." (p. 131)
After the pair, consumed by their misery, simply disappear, Sarah continues on her merry path. This discordant note strikes our man as somehow wrong.
'Is it really tolerable that she should be untouched by his misery, even his self-made misery?''Would ye rather he still had the power of tormenting her? He did it many a day and many a year in their earthly life.''Well, no. I suppose I don't want that.''What then?''I hardly know, Sir. What some people say on Earth is that the final loss of one soul gives the lie to all the joy of those who are saved.''Ye see it does not.''I feel in a way that it ought to.''That sounds very merciful: but see what lurks behind it.''What?''The demand of the loveless and the self-imprisoned that they should be allowed to blackmail the universe: that till they consent to be happy (on their own terms) no one else shall taste joy: that theirs should be the final power; that Hell should be able to veto Heaven.'
'I don't know what I want, Sir.'
'Son, son, it must be one way or the other. Either the day must come when joy prevails and all the makers of misery are no longer able to infect it: or else for every dn ever the makers of misery can destroy in others the happiness they reject for themselves. I know it has a grand sound to say ye'll accept no salvation which leaves even one creature in the dark outside. But watch that sophistry or ye'll make a Dog in a Manger the tyrant of the universe.' (p. 135)
Wondering why the Spirits couldn't venture to Grey Town to make their case, MacDonald explains that they are too large and would never fit. This confuses our author until MacDonald leads him to a tiny crevice in the ground. That, he explains, is where you will find Hell. Astonished at the thought of this, the narrator details the long journey it took to arrive in Heaven. Apparently the entire journey was simply becoming big enough to experience it. But it felt infinite. "And yet all loneliness, angers, hatreds, envies and etchings that it contains, if rolled into a single experience and put into the scale against the least moment of the joy that is felt by the least in Heaven, would have no weight that could be registered at all." (p. 138) For the damned are not just tiny, they are less than nothing, so shut up as they are. "Only the Greatest of all can make Himself small enough to enter Hell." (p. 139)
This book is such a joy to read. It encapsulates so much theology and so much mystery in a way that it easy to read and yet plummets the depth of thought. It convicted me as I declare my self-centered love and demand the pity of others. I cannot wait to tell C.S. Lewis, face-to-face, of the joy his little book brought me.
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