Till We Have Faces

A beautiful, engaging, and compelling retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche, Till We Have Faces became a favorite book for me after the first read.  I could read it again and again and find new nuggets of meaning to pull from its pages.   The characters are dynamic and vivid, and the story is complex, filled with symbolism, and is ultimately so human that I couldn't help but be drawn into the story on a deep emotional level right from the start.  It caused me to ask questions about how we know what/who we are, what we want, how to be grateful for the ways in which we've been blessed (in all areas - not just those that seem 'easy' to recognize), and most importantly about the ways in which we fail to understand 'love' from a perspective that is wholly unselfish, a perspective of what is truly best for those we love, which can sometimes be so difficult to recognize, acknowledge, and act upon.  It also caused me to ponder over the masterful self-deceivers that we humans are, how we justify our actions in so many complex ways without ever fully acknowledging it to ourselves, and how we must learn to grasp the power of thoughts and words - of our conversations with ourselves and with others about the choices we make.  That honesty has so much to do with learning to understand our own motives, thoughts, actions, and desires in the relationships that we treasure.  I could go on and on, especially with regards to how the above affects our relationships with deity, but I'll stop here.  There are multiple insights and treasures to be found among the pages of this unique and inspiring novel.

A favorite quote, and the quote from which the book draws its name:

"Lightly men talk of saying what they mean.  Often when he was teaching me to write in Greek the Fox would say, 'Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words.' A glib saying.  When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about joy of words.  I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer.  Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean?  How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?"