Key, however, is the book’s function as a work of Christian, or theological, science fiction, much in the same way that The Chronicles of Narnia is theological fantasy.
There are dragons, friendly seahorses, gods, demons, intergalactic fruits, Morlock-esque cave monsters and far more beyond. Venus – or, rather, Perelandra – is visualised with such vivid imagination that it is hard to do justice to the depth and breadth of Lewis’s creations in a single review. The narrative is fuelled by the conflict with Professor Weston, his academic opponent who ends up occupying a role of far more Biblical proportions (according to Wikipedia, he may be a caricature of none other than Cecil Rhodes). There is speculation that he is at least partly inspired by Tolkien himself, who was, of course, a philologist by trade. Wells’s Time Traveller than Flash Gordon, prone to several pages of philosophizing and wayward, multi-directional intellectualisms. Elwin Ransom is a Cambridge philologist and, inexplicably, a traveller in space. But no matter: it’s an interesting book, if not an especially readable one. Lewis’s opening words proved true: despite Voyage to Venus (otherwise known as Perelandra) being a sequel, I had little trouble in following the story and grasping the rich galactic mythology, though I’d have no doubt experienced greater emotional investment had I known (and read) its preceding instalment. All the human characters in this book are purely fictitious and none of them is allegorical. This story can be read by itself but is also a sequel to Out of the Silent Planet in which some account was given of Ransom’s adventures in Mars – or, as its inhabitants call it, Malacandra. I was intrigued to read what more flowed from his pen. Tolkien, but in my head, he was just the creator of Narnia. I’ve always known Lewis as a friend of J.R.R. Like many, I grew up on a diet of The Chronicles of Narnia, owed predominantly to the advent of the films, always being a little confused about the fictional chronology, learning from church that the tales were resolutely Christian allegories. I own a voluminous number of books, partly because I am predisposed to purchasing anything which looks at least vaguely titillating and stimulating – in this instance, some worn old sci-fi from C.S.
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