Blog #9 - That Hideous Strength: Mark, the (Several) Deadly Sins, and Buddhism? - Vickie GG
That Hideous Strength: Mark, the (Several) Deadly Sins, and Buddhism?
Early in the novel, Mark's most prominent characteristic is his deep desire to be an "insider" rather than an "outsider" - to be important and part of exclusive, powerful groups; this I would describe as an interesting mix of the first four of the seven deadly sins: pride, greed, lust, and envy. Maybe all seven would be present if I traced it more closely (?), but these four are enough to say that part of the point of this story is about how a type of conversion experience can help even someone very habitually tied to their deadly sins to eventually act / be better and turn toward virtue.
The narrator's very first glimpse into Mark's mind is such a moment. "you would never have guessed from the one of Studdock's reply what intense pleasure he derived from Curry's use of the pronoun 'we.' So very recently he had been an outsider, watching the proceedings of what he then called 'Curry and his gang' with awe and with little understanding, and making at College meetings short, nervous speeches which never influenced the course of events. Now he was inside, and 'Curry and his gang' had become 'we' or 'The Progressive Element in the College.' It had all happened so suddenly and was still sweet in the mouth" (15).
We also see Mark's pride and (budding) wrath in his reaction when he learned that "it was Dick who insisted all through that you were the sort of man we really wanted" and that he was not hired based on his own "paper qualifications" (17): "the whole idea of his debt to Feverstone in the matter of his own fellowship had been rankling all day" (33).
And yet, not many moments later, Mark is very easily swayed in favor of Feverstone by that same prideful, greedy, and lustful feeling of (supposed) inclusion and being "above" others, "the giddy sensation of being suddenly whirled up from one place of secrecy to another" (my emphasis) (38).
Mark's conversion seems to come primarily through the detachment from his own life (i.e. assuming that he is probably going to die):
"When Mark found himself left suddenly alone by Frost, his first sensation was an unexpected lightness of heart. It was not that he had any release from fears about the future. Rather, in the very midst of those fears, a strange sense of liberation had sprung up. The relief of no longer trying to win these men's confidence, the shuffling off of miserable hopes, was almost exhilarating" (264).
We see a moment later that the process is not linear and that the habitual nature of Mark's "deadly sinning" still tries to wield its hold on him, most especially in the moment he tries to detach from it: "would have attracted him once...suddenly, like a thing that leaped to him across infinite distances with the speed of light, desire (salt, black, ravenous, unanswerable desire) too him by the throat..."many writer's speak of it in terms of lust" (265).
In the end, though, Mark is able to come to some virtue instead of deadly sin, like caring about others (especially Jane) more than himself, which could be seen as the virtue charity or even the goal of actual love / compassion (not a technical virtue, but still pretty boss):
"He would release her...for he loved her now" (379).
But the question that remains for me is why a detachment from one's life would be the catalyst for this type of change from habitual deadly sinner to a virtuous, almost martyr-like individual? While I know C.S. Lewis is Christian and thought Buddhism "the greatest of Hindu heresies," I can't help but think of the Second Noble Truth of Buddhism, and the goals of Buddhism in general. If the cause of all suffering is desire - even the desire to live - then perhaps it is in this moment of finally stopping to desire - to desire approval of others, to desire power, to desire even to live - that Mark is able to finally be at peace and live a virtuous life.
Early in the novel, Mark's most prominent characteristic is his deep desire to be an "insider" rather than an "outsider" - to be important and part of exclusive, powerful groups; this I would describe as an interesting mix of the first four of the seven deadly sins: pride, greed, lust, and envy. Maybe all seven would be present if I traced it more closely (?), but these four are enough to say that part of the point of this story is about how a type of conversion experience can help even someone very habitually tied to their deadly sins to eventually act / be better and turn toward virtue.
The narrator's very first glimpse into Mark's mind is such a moment. "you would never have guessed from the one of Studdock's reply what intense pleasure he derived from Curry's use of the pronoun 'we.' So very recently he had been an outsider, watching the proceedings of what he then called 'Curry and his gang' with awe and with little understanding, and making at College meetings short, nervous speeches which never influenced the course of events. Now he was inside, and 'Curry and his gang' had become 'we' or 'The Progressive Element in the College.' It had all happened so suddenly and was still sweet in the mouth" (15).
We also see Mark's pride and (budding) wrath in his reaction when he learned that "it was Dick who insisted all through that you were the sort of man we really wanted" and that he was not hired based on his own "paper qualifications" (17): "the whole idea of his debt to Feverstone in the matter of his own fellowship had been rankling all day" (33).
And yet, not many moments later, Mark is very easily swayed in favor of Feverstone by that same prideful, greedy, and lustful feeling of (supposed) inclusion and being "above" others, "the giddy sensation of being suddenly whirled up from one place of secrecy to another" (my emphasis) (38).
Mark's conversion seems to come primarily through the detachment from his own life (i.e. assuming that he is probably going to die):
"When Mark found himself left suddenly alone by Frost, his first sensation was an unexpected lightness of heart. It was not that he had any release from fears about the future. Rather, in the very midst of those fears, a strange sense of liberation had sprung up. The relief of no longer trying to win these men's confidence, the shuffling off of miserable hopes, was almost exhilarating" (264).
We see a moment later that the process is not linear and that the habitual nature of Mark's "deadly sinning" still tries to wield its hold on him, most especially in the moment he tries to detach from it: "would have attracted him once...suddenly, like a thing that leaped to him across infinite distances with the speed of light, desire (salt, black, ravenous, unanswerable desire) too him by the throat..."many writer's speak of it in terms of lust" (265).
In the end, though, Mark is able to come to some virtue instead of deadly sin, like caring about others (especially Jane) more than himself, which could be seen as the virtue charity or even the goal of actual love / compassion (not a technical virtue, but still pretty boss):
"He would release her...for he loved her now" (379).
But the question that remains for me is why a detachment from one's life would be the catalyst for this type of change from habitual deadly sinner to a virtuous, almost martyr-like individual? While I know C.S. Lewis is Christian and thought Buddhism "the greatest of Hindu heresies," I can't help but think of the Second Noble Truth of Buddhism, and the goals of Buddhism in general. If the cause of all suffering is desire - even the desire to live - then perhaps it is in this moment of finally stopping to desire - to desire approval of others, to desire power, to desire even to live - that Mark is able to finally be at peace and live a virtuous life.
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