Place of the Lion (original 1931; edition 1979)

This novel is certainly the least accessible of Charles Williams' novels I've read so far. Principal characters discuss matters like Neoplatonism and angelology in ways that I understood, but would likely mystify the general reader. There is also a little plot sloppiness: for example, trains become inoperable, and then a character takes a train on the allegedly impassable line, with no explanation of how it was restored. The conclusion lacks plot closure in some important respects, with the cause of the book's central crisis never really explained, despite the exposition of how it becomes mystically resolved.

The central concern of The Place of the Lion is a class of theriomorphic "Celestials" that answer to the denotations of Christian archangels, Platonic ideas, Gnostic archons, and so forth. These are somehow unleashed on the countryside by a minor theosophical organizer named Berringer, and they proceed to sow terror and ecstasy among the locals. The first two Celestials to emerge are the Lion and the Serpent, as manifestations of archetypal Strength and Subtlety.

Although the characters overtly reference Plato and Abelard, the theology central to the book's plot is very much that of Pseudo-Dionysius, with the protagonist Anthony Durrant prosecuting cataphatic mysticism, while his complementary character Richardson is engaged in a severely apophatic aspiration. Gnostic elements are also conspicuous; the philosophy graduate student Damaris Tighe takes the role of the inferior Sophia in a redemptive process that also makes Anthony Durrant into a possessor of the Holy Gnosis.

A friend recently pointed out the class-constrained character of Williams' diction (which he finds off-putting), and I did notice that this novel was not only fully as class-conscious as the other Williams I've read, but that the omniscient third-person narrator seems to assume and validate class prejudices more often than overturn them.

On the whole, I enjoyed this book, but I found it to be the weakest of the author's books I have yet read.

See Charles Williams at From Word to Word

Once again, Mr. Williams fantasizes the eruption of eschatological events into the ordinary life of the provincial British bourgeoisie. The result is something like the literary offspring of the mating of P.G. Wodehouse with the Book of Revelations. One thing that is rarely discussed, though, is the strange brand of comedy that ensues. For example, picture a young woman sitting at her breakfast table and pondering the remarkable events of the previous evening: A giant pterodactyl, which seems to incarnate the essence of her own self-centeredness and bears something of a resemblance to Peter Abelard, has attempted to assault her by smashing through her bedroom window, ultimately destroying the upper stories of her house while virtually obliterating her father in the process. In the nick of time, she is saved from complete physical and spiritual annihilation by the arrival of her boyfriend riding a unicorn and with an enormous eagle resting on his shoulder. Little wonder she seems distracted as she butters her toast!
I agree with other reviewers who note that a passing familiarity with Plato's Ideals is really all the philosophical preparation a reader needs to jump into this novel. However, a little extra reading regarding Abelard's take on "universals" might add a little extra spice - since Abelard is the subject of the heroine's (the pterodactyl girl) doctoral dissertation. I'd suggest the article "The Medieval Problem of Universals" in the online Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. ( )