Out of the Silent Planet

“‘Weston! Weston!’ he gasped. ‘What is it? It’s not the moon, not that size. It can’t be, can it?’

‘No,’ replied Weston, ‘it’s the Earth.’”

The revelation that Ransom has been abducted into space takes the novel from the relatively ordinary to science fiction, all in the breath a sentence. The preceding few chapters have established a sense of normalcy, so this discovery allows the reader to feel Ransom’s shock upon realizing he has left Earth.

“We have learned how to jump off the speck of matter on which our species began; infinity, and therefore perhaps eternity, is being put into the hands of the human race. You cannot be so small-minded as to think that the rights or life of an individual or of a million individuals are of the slightest importance in comparison with this.”

This quote encapsulates Weston’s philosophy: progress for progress’ sake and progress over everything. Ironically, though he professes his ultimate goal to be the furthering of the human race, he does not care how many individual humans are harmed in pursuit of that goal. Despite his proclaimed humanitarianism, he has no qualms about making Ransom a human sacrifice, and he is willing to completely exterminate the intelligent creatures of Malacandra.

“No: space was the wrong name. Older thinkers had been wiser when they named it simply the heavens—the heavens which declared the glory—the

‘happy climes that ly

Where day never shuts his eye

Up in the broad fields of the sky’

He quoted Milton’s words to himself lovingly, at this time and often.”

Aboard the spaceship, Ransom rejects the modern, scientific perception of space. He begins to believe that the “older thinkers” were right in comparing space to the Christian concept of the heavens, a holy and paradisiacal place. Ransom cites the 17th-century poet Milton, who is most famous for his epic poem, Paradise Lost, the retelling of the biblical Fall of Man.

“His mind, like so many minds of his generation, was richly furnished with bogies. He had read his H. G. Wells and others. His universe was peopled with horrors such as ancient and medieval mythology could hardly rival.”

Lewis takes a jab at popular science fiction, implying that it has given society a distorted image of the unknown. With Out of the Silent Planet, he offers an alternative contribution to the genre, one that invokes spirituality and contradicts the idea that other planets are home to “primitive” creatures and need to be saved or colonized by humans.

“He noticed, too, that even the smallest hummocks of earth were of an unearthly shape—too narrow, too pointed at the top and too small at the base. He remembered that the waves on the blue lakes had displayed a similar oddity. And glancing up at the purple leaves he saw the same theme of perpendicularity—the same rush to the sky—repeated there.”

The strange, Malacandrian shapes that pique Ransom’s interest signify the planet’s physical place in the universe as well as its figurative proximity to heaven. Ransom’s description of the shapes recalls the spires often found on church buildings, representing the strong spirituality shared by all the planet’s inhabitants.

“It was more than curiosity. It was like a courtship—like the meeting of the first man and the first woman in the world; it was like something so beyond that; so natural is the contact of sexes, so limited the strangeness, so shallow the reticence, so mild the repugnance to be overcome, compared with the first tingling intercourse of two different, but rational, species.”

This is the first moment in which Ransom overcomes his fear of Malacandra’s inhabitants. Lewis portrays the meeting between Ransom and the unfamiliar hross as a natural connection, once again evoking biblical imagery by alluding to the story of Adam and Eve. The description indicates a core similarity between hross and human despite their vast physical differences.

“But the real revelation in his understanding of the hrossa began when he had learned enough of their language to attempt some satisfaction of their curiosity about himself. In answer to their questions he began by saying that he had come out of the sky. Hnohra immediately asked from which planet or earth (handra). Ransom, who had deliberately given a childish version of the truth in order to adapt it to the supposed ignorance of his audience, was a little annoyed to find Hnohra painfully explaining to him that he could not live in the sky because there was no air in it; he might have come through the sky, but he must have come from a handra.”

Ransom assumes that the hrossa are intellectually inferior and is surprised to discover that they consider him the same. This humorous moment shows that both human and hrossa are guilty of harboring incorrect assumptions about one another based on their limited information. However, it is Ransom’s linguistic investigation—his scientific curiosity—that leads to his eventual communion with these strange creatures.

“‘He is not hnau,’ said the hrossa.

‘What is hnau?’’ asked Ransom.

‘You are hnau. I am hnau. The pfifltriggi are hnau.’”

The concept of hnau highlights the essential similarities between the rational species of Malacandra and Earth. By classifying all thinking creatures as hnau, the inhabitants of Malacandra reject the idea that any one species is superior. Ransom slowly learns to accept this unity as he outgrows the human idea that one species must reign supreme.

“At last it dawned upon him that it was not they, but his own species, that were the puzzle. That hrossa should have such instincts was mildly surprising; but how came it that the instincts of the hrossa so closely resembled the unattained ideals of that far-divided species Man whose instincts were so deplorably different?”

This is one of the first moments hinting at Malacandra utopian quality and its freedom from Earthly evils. Ransom’s assumption—that the hrossa are a primitive specie—is fully subverted by the revelation that they are instinctively peaceful and monogamous, ideals that humanity chases but cannot attain on a large scale. Ransom wonders why humans have strayed so far from these ideals; the answer is later given at Meldilorn when Oyarsa tells the tale of the Bent One.

“‘There I drank life because death was in the pool. That was the best of drinks save one.’

‘Which one?’ asked Ransom.

‘Death itself in the day I drink it and go to Maleldil.’”

Hyoi’s words exemplify the hrossa’s attitude toward death. Rather than dreading it, they view it as a natural part of life and do not fight its inevitability. When Hyoi is later killed by Weston and Devine, he calmly accepts his death without struggle or anger.

“‘I like the hrossa,’ said Ransom a little stiffly. ‘And I think the way they talk about death is the right way.’

‘They are right not to fear it, Ren-soom, but they do not seem to look at it reasonably as part of the very nature of our bodies—and therefore often avoidable at times when they would never see how to avoid it.’”

So far, Ransom’s only idea of death on Malacandra comes from the hrossa, who neither fear nor avoid it. Augray offers a slightly different perspective—the séroni believe that while death is natural, it is desirable to avoid it before its rightful time. These contrasting opinions show that that the hnau of Malacandra are able to live peacefully despite ideological differences.

“‘Where was Oyarsa when all this happened to the harandra?’

‘Where he is now.’

‘And he could not prevent it?’

‘I do not know. But a world is not made to last for ever, much less a race; that is not Maleldil’s way.’”

The Malacandrian acceptance of death goes beyond an individual level. The hnau know that their species and planet will eventually come to an end. They consider this not a tragedy but a natural part of existence. Their acceptance of their eventual extinction allows them to live in peace. This attitude contrasts Weston’s desperate and futile search for a way to preserve humanity forever, which causes him to resort to violence.

“The grace of their movement, their lofty stature, and the softened glancing of the sunlight on their feathery sides, effected a final transformation in Ransom’s feelings towards their race. ‘Ogres’ he had called them when they first met his eyes as he struggled in the grip of Weston and Devine; ‘Titans’ or ‘Angels’ he now thought would have been a better word.”

This is an important moment in Ransom’s developing perception of Malacandra. When he first landed on the planet, he found the séroni ghastly, an opinion fueled by his suspicion of their evil and bloodthirst. Now that he knows that they are kind, however, he sees them as magnificent and holy. Ransom’s shift in perception shows his openness to changing his opinion and accepting even those parts of Malacandra that initially repulsed him.

“They were astonished at what he had to tell them of human history—of war, slavery and prostitution.

‘It is because they have no Oyarsa,’ said one of the pupils.

‘It is because every one of them wants to be a little Oyarsa himself,’ said Augray. ‘They cannot help it,’ said the old sorn. ‘There must be rule, yet how can creatures rule themselves?’”

The séroni conjecture that Earthly strife results from the absence of an oyarsa—a unifying and guiding spiritual being. They state that in the absence of such a figure, humans try to become their own gods. Lewis uses this exchange to critique the secularization of society and stress the potential benefits of spiritual guidance.

“He knew before his guide told him that this was Meldilorn. He did not know what he had expected. The old dreams which he had brought from Earth of some more than American complexity of offices or some engineers’ paradise of vast machines had indeed been long laid aside. But he had not looked for anything quite so classic, so virginal, as this bright grove—lying so still, so secret, in its coloured valley, soaring with inimitable grace so many hundred feet into the wintry sunlight.”

Ransom is surprised to find that Meldilorn looks like many of the classic earthly portrayals of paradise. Although Lewis never explicitly parallels the unnamed Malacandrian religion with Christianity, moments like this heavily imply the likeness. The dramatic contrast—of this natural Edenic scene with the idea of “some engineers’ paradise of vast machines”—emphasizes human limitation in the face of a divine creator.

“He stood back and drew a deep breath preparatory to tackling some of the mysteries in which he was engulfed. Malacandra, then, was Mars.”

After Ransom has spent so long spent on the unknown planet, this realization abruptly gives his journey more familiar context. The connection of Malacandra to the familiar image of Mars lends a realism to the novel, which might otherwise feel too fanciful for real life application.

“‘With us it lies very deep and hard to get and those who dig it must spend their whole lives on the skill.’

‘And they love it?’

‘I think not…I do not know. They are kept at it because they are given no food if they stop.’

Kanakaberaka wrinkled his nose. ‘Then there is not food in plenty on your world?’”

The pfifltriggi mine gold because they love creating intricate artwork. No power is associated with the precious metal beyond the joy of creating, so Kanakaberaka is shocked to hear that gold is a source of Earthly violence and oppression. The difference in the two planets’ treatment of gold highlights the bent nature of humanity.

“It was not always so. Once we knew the Oyarsa of your world—he was brighter and greater than I—and then we did not call it Thulcandra. It is the longest of stories and the bitterest. He became bent.”

Oyarsa explains the many differences between Malacandra’s utopian society and Earth’s broken one when he tells the story of the Bent One. The tale parallels the story of Lucifer’s fall from grace, tying in with the underlying Christian themes throughout the novel. Under the influence of the Bent One, all humans are instilled with a broken morality, an allegory of the Christian concept of original sin.

“They stumped along on narrow, heavy-looking feet which they seemed to press into the ground with unnecessary violence. And now their faces were becoming visible as masses of lumped and puckered flesh of variegated color fringed in some bristly, dark substance… Suddenly, with an indescribable change of feeling, he realized that he was looking at men. The two prisoners were Weston and Devine and he, for one privileged moment, had seen the human form with almost Malacandrian eyes.”

After months spent on Malacandra, Ransom has become so unused to the human body that the sight of his fellow humans momentarily frightens him—compared to the tall, thin, heavenly bodies of the Malacandrian creatures, Weston and Devine look monstrous. Their physical bodies betray their figurative distance from the heavens.

“‘We kill him,’ he shouted. ‘Show what we can do. Every one who no do all we say—pouff! bang!—kill him same as that one. You do all we say and we give you much pretty things. See! See!’

To Ransom’s intense discomfort, Weston at this point whipped out of his pocket a brightly coloured necklace of beads, the undoubted work of Mr. Woolworth, and began dangling it in front of the faces of his guards, turning slowly round and round and repeating, ‘Pretty, pretty! See! See!’”

While Weston’s tactics for getting what he wants—intimidation and bribery—might have worked on Earth, they are ineffective on Malacandra. To creatures who neither fear death nor desire material wealth, Weston looks ridiculous. The scene is shot with irony; Weston and Devine believe any extraterrestrial life must be inferior or “primitive,” yet the Malacandrian environment exposes Weston’s fundamental barbarism—that is, his treatment of sentient beings as means to an end.

“Through his knowledge of the creatures and his love for them he began, ever so little, to hear it with their ears. A sense of great masses moving at visionary speeds, of giants dancing, of eternal sorrows eternally consoled, of he knew not what and yet what he had always known, awoke in him with the very first bars of the deep-mouthed dirge, and bowed down his spirit as if the gate of heaven had opened before him.”

Upon first hearing the song of the hrossa, Ransom dismisses it as rhythmless gibberish. After living among them and learning their language, however, he appreciates the overwhelming spirituality and beauty of their song. This moment symbolizes his complete acceptance of Malacandra’s inhabitants and religious tradition.

“‘And see what come!’ interrupted Weston. ‘You now very few—shut up in handramits—soon all die.’

‘Yes,’ said Oyarsa, ‘but one thing we left behind us on the harandra: fear. And with fear, murder and rebellion. The weakest of my people do not fear death. It is the Bent One, the lord of your world, who wastes your lives and befouls them with flying from what you know will overtake you in the end. If you were subjects of Maleldil you would have peace.”

Although the hnau of Malacandra will eventually die out, their lives are free of the strife that plagues the human pursuit of immortality. Oyarsa informs Weston that the human fear of death is due to the corruption of the Bent One. If humans followed a unifying godlike sprit like the hnau of Malacandra do, they too would be delivered from their fears. With this statement, Lewis makes a case for the benefits of spiritual devotion.

“His confidence in Oyarsa’s words about the eldila increased rather than diminished as they went on. He saw none of them; the intensity of light in which the ship swam allowed none of the fugitive variations which would have betrayed their presence. But he heard, or thought he heard, all kinds of delicate sound, or vibrations akin to sound, mixed with the tinkling rain of meteorites, and often the sense of unseen presences even within the space-ship became irresistible. It was this, more than anything else, that made his own chances of life seem so unimportant. He and all his race showed small and ephemeral against a background of such immeasurable fullness.”

Ransom no longer feels that seeing is believing. He has full faith in the presence of the eldila despite their invisibility. He now finds his own self-preservation unimportant. He has been redeemed from his bentness, and he embraces the Malacandrian understanding that death is not something dreadful. Ransom’s newfound faith confers a cosmic paradigm shift, and he now sees the proper, creaturely status of humanity: “small and ephemeral."