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222 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 1, 1942
Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one--the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts...Luckily, he has his Uncle Screwtape to consult. Under Screwtape's gentle guidance, Wormwood hopes to bring another soul to their Dark Father.
Your affectionate uncle, Screwtape.
It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things into their minds: in reality our best work is done by keeping things out.While I do not fully agree with everything said in this book, I do think that this was an absolutely fascinating look into the small ways that corruption reaches out to us in everyday life. Those little things build up and if they are allowed to fester, will certainly turn into something more.
The more often he feels without acting, the less he will be able ever to act, and, in the long run, the less he will be able to feel.There was just so much religion and philosophy packed into such a neat little package - I'd highly recommend reading it just once. Even if you are not particularly religious, the wisdom that C. S. Lewis imparts is applicable to all areas of our lives and this is certainly one of his better novels.
When they have really learned to love their neighbours as themselves, they will be allowed to love themselves as their neighbours.
“It is as if a royal child whom his father has placed for love’s sake, in titular command of some great province, under the real rule of wise counselors, should come to fancy he really owns the cities, the forests, and the corn, in the same way as he owns the bricks on the nursery floor.”This book is a goldmine of veiled satire and I chuckled at the expressions, if not always at the latent intentions. Most of, what I call lyrical sarcasm, emanates from the failures of Wormwood and the wise senior never fails to pull him up. While explaining him the nuances of “Unselfishness”, he says:
“A woman means by Unselfishness chiefly taking trouble for others; a man means not giving trouble to others." And he suffixes it with, “She’s sort of woman who lived for others – you can always tell the others by their hunted expression.”However, for all the chinks in “His” armour that Screwtape so vehemently drills into Wormwood’s head, there are certain things he himself cannot fathom and hence, cannot overcome. He admits that the power of love, which flows freely from “His” altar, is a puzzle Evil’s years of research have failed to crack. It is a kind of impregnable shield; a sort of ultimate immunity. The simple pleasures of life like reading a book, drinking tea or taking a stroll uplifts humans’ spirits to such insurmountable levels that reaching them becomes a distant dream; conquering them, then, gets out of question. There is also an all-numbing admission of “His” influence when Screwtape writes,
“As you ought to have known, the asphyxiating cloud which prevented your attacking the patient on his walk back from the old mill, is a well-known phenomenon. It is the Enemy’s most barbarous weapon, and generally appears when He is directly present to the patient under certain modes not yet fully classified. Some humans are permanently surrounded by it and therefore inaccessible to us.”I am not giving away what culminates at the end, not because it would foil interest but because it is not significant.
It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things into their minds; in reality our best work is done by keeping things out. (p. 16)
There is nothing like suspense and anxiety for barricading a human's mind against the Enemy. He wants men to be concerned with what they do; our business is to keep them thinking about what will happen to them. (p. 25)
It does not matter how small the sins are provided that their cumulative effect is to edge the man away from the Light and out into Nothing. Murder is no better than cards if cards can do the trick. Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one -- the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts. (p. 60)
Now you will notice that nothing throws him into a passion so easily as to find a tract of time which he reckoned on having at his own disposal unexpectedly taken from him...They anger him because he regards his time as his and feels that it is being stolen. (p. 112)