finished it. My first criticism was simply that it was too short. I still think that criticism holds, for both practical and artistic reasons. Other criticisms, concerning narrative style (Lewis is always apt to have rather creaking stiff-jointed passages), inconsistentdetails in the plot, and philology, have since been corrected to my satisfaction. The author holds to items of linguistic invention that do not appeal to me (Malacandra, Maleldil â eldila, in any case, I suspect to be due to the influence of the
Eldar
in the Silmarillion â and Pfifltriggi); but this is a matter of taste. After all your reader found my invented names, made with cherished care, eye-splitting. But the linguistic inventions and the philology on the whole are more than good enough. All the part about language and poetry â the glimpses of its Malacandrian nature and form â is very well done, and extremely interesting, far superior to what one usually gets from travellers in untravelled regions. The language difficulty is usually slid over or fudged. Here it not only has verisimilitude, but also underlying thought.
I was disturbed by your readerâs report. I am afraid that at the first blush I feel inclined to retort that anyone capable of using the word âbunkâ will inevitably find matter of this sort â bunk. But one must be reasonable. I realize of course that to be even moderately marketable such a story must pass muster on its surface value, as a
vera historia
of a journey to a strange land. I am extremely fond of the genre, even having read
Land under England
2 with some pleasure (though it was a weak example, and distasteful to me in many points). I thought
Out of the Silent Planet
did pass this test very successfully. The openings and the actual mode of transportation in time or space are always the weakest points of such tales. They are well enough worked here, but there should be more narrative given to adventure on Malacandra to balance and justify them. The theme of three distinct rational species (
hnau
) requires more attention to the third species,
Pfifltriggi
. Also the central episode of the visit to Eldilorn is reached too soon, artistically. Also would not the book be in fact practically rather short for a narrative of this type?
But I should have said that the story had for the more intelligent reader a great number of philosophical and mythical implications that enormously enhanced without detracting from the surface âadventureâ. I found the blend of
vera historia
with
mythos
irresistible. There are of course certain satirical elements, inevitable in any such travellerâs tale, and also a spice of satire on other superficially similar works of âscientificâ fiction â such as the reference to the notion that higher intelligence will inevitably be combined with ruthlessness. The underlying myth is of course that of the Fall of the Angels (and the fall of man on this our silent planet); and the central point is the sculpture of the planets revealing the erasure of the sign of the Angel of this world. I cannot understand how any one can say this sticks in his gullet, unless (a) he thinks this particular myth âbunkâ, that is not worth adult attention (even on a mythical plane); or (b) the use of it unjustified or perhaps unsuccessful.The latter is perhaps arguable â though I dissent â but at any rate the critique should have pointed out the existence of the myth. Oyarsa is not of course a ânice kind scientific Godâ, 3 but something so profoundly different that the difference seems to have been unnoticed, namely an Angel. Yet even as a nice kind scientific God I think he compares favourably with the governing potentates of other stories of this kind. His name is not invented, but is from Bernardus Silvestris, as I think is explained at the end of the book (not that I think that this learned detail matters, but it is as legitimate as
Eldar
in the Silmarillion â and Pfifltriggi); but this is a matter of taste. After all your reader found my invented names, made with cherished care, eye-splitting. But the linguistic inventions and the philology on the whole are more than good enough. All the part about language and poetry â the glimpses of its Malacandrian nature and form â is very well done, and extremely interesting, far superior to what one usually gets from travellers in untravelled regions. The language difficulty is usually slid over or fudged. Here it not only has verisimilitude, but also underlying thought.
I was disturbed by your readerâs report. I am afraid that at the first blush I feel inclined to retort that anyone capable of using the word âbunkâ will inevitably find matter of this sort â bunk. But one must be reasonable. I realize of course that to be even moderately marketable such a story must pass muster on its surface value, as a
vera historia
of a journey to a strange land. I am extremely fond of the genre, even having read
Land under England
2 with some pleasure (though it was a weak example, and distasteful to me in many points). I thought
Out of the Silent Planet
did pass this test very successfully. The openings and the actual mode of transportation in time or space are always the weakest points of such tales. They are well enough worked here, but there should be more narrative given to adventure on Malacandra to balance and justify them. The theme of three distinct rational species (
hnau
) requires more attention to the third species,
Pfifltriggi
. Also the central episode of the visit to Eldilorn is reached too soon, artistically. Also would not the book be in fact practically rather short for a narrative of this type?
But I should have said that the story had for the more intelligent reader a great number of philosophical and mythical implications that enormously enhanced without detracting from the surface âadventureâ. I found the blend of
vera historia
with
mythos
irresistible. There are of course certain satirical elements, inevitable in any such travellerâs tale, and also a spice of satire on other superficially similar works of âscientificâ fiction â such as the reference to the notion that higher intelligence will inevitably be combined with ruthlessness. The underlying myth is of course that of the Fall of the Angels (and the fall of man on this our silent planet); and the central point is the sculpture of the planets revealing the erasure of the sign of the Angel of this world. I cannot understand how any one can say this sticks in his gullet, unless (a) he thinks this particular myth âbunkâ, that is not worth adult attention (even on a mythical plane); or (b) the use of it unjustified or perhaps unsuccessful.The latter is perhaps arguable â though I dissent â but at any rate the critique should have pointed out the existence of the myth. Oyarsa is not of course a ânice kind scientific Godâ, 3 but something so profoundly different that the difference seems to have been unnoticed, namely an Angel. Yet even as a nice kind scientific God I think he compares favourably with the governing potentates of other stories of this kind. His name is not invented, but is from Bernardus Silvestris, as I think is explained at the end of the book (not that I think that this learned detail matters, but it is as legitimate as
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