Reflections on "The Four Loves" by C.S. Lewis

Read while in the honeymoon, which turned out to be a brilliant choice.

Last year I was fortunate enough to get married. Little did I know that the truly difficult task was still ahead of me, to resolve the eternal question: What to read on the honeymoon? Me and my wife planned a trip to Venice. Luckily enough, our favorite activities are largely complementary. Besides the walks, the food, etc, we both enjoy the stationary activity. She prefers to do oil paintings in the street, and I enjoy reading next to her while she does so. Back to the original question: How to decide what to take? Well, Lewis’ books have been sitting in my library for a while, and the title at least suggested appropriateness for a honeymoon. So I took it - one among four others for two weeks. Little did I know that it was the perfect choice.

C.S. Lewis's "The Four Loves" is perhaps the most popular non-fiction book he wrote in his lifetime, and rightly so. Aside from the theological chapter and introduction, it’s a delightful book that deserves all the praise. Even the final theological chapter is not bad in itself. The book is essentially an essay discussion about four types of love: affection (biological, psychological, etc.), romantic love, friendship, and, of course, the love of God. Lewis examines these loves through several lenses: when they are optimal and when they become "demons." For instance, Lewis discusses the idolization of modern love as something that often falls prey to the "dark gods of our blood."

Each love is examined from both the lover's and the beloved's perspectives. Additionally, he explores the difference between what he calls "need love" and "gift love." The third component, and in my view the most interesting, is how Lewis takes the love we have for nature—our high aesthetic appreciation and admiration for the beautiful things in the world—as a third axis on which love operates. What he undoubtedly drew from the theoretical discussions in aesthetics from thinkers like Shaftesbury finds expression in social contexts. At times, I must note, Lewis's writing in this book is so successful that it somewhat resembles Johnson's prose.

One of Lewis's remarkable skills is his ability to keep the theoretical discussion connected to concrete examples that we can all immediately recognize. For instance, in the chapter on affection, he examines maternal love, its virtues, and when it can become a burden. A humorous example from this chapter that stands out to me is of a mother from the village where he grew up, who at some point passed away from old age. Until then, she “lived for her family,” as she tended to emphasize. Everyone appreciated her, but they lived in the shadow of the care she insisted on providing. Lewis recounts how her family members were, of course, saddened by her passing, but a month or two later, they began to thrive. The men gained self-confidence and vigor. The little girl (who had become a woman) whom the mother always insisted was “too sick to leave the house” even accompanied her to the doctor to validate her various diagnoses (of course, Lewis notes, without allowing the doctor to speak with her too much without her presence)—began to play tennis, and color returned to her cheeks. Affection, Lewis emphasizes, is not a “bad” love but is plainly necessary. It is responsible for much of human happiness in the world. The family environment is the natural place for this kind of love, but it is not exclusive. This is love that we might express towards others out of compassion: love that is least dependent on the specific qualities of its object.

Romantic love receives special treatment from Lewis. He distinguishes between what he calls the element of “Venus,” which revolves around sex, and the element of erotic love itself. Erotic love often reaches extremes of deification, but in Lewis’s view, at this point, it also tends to deteriorate relatively quickly. On the other hand, erotic love itself, when we momentarily detach it from Venus, is the love that leads us to the deepest immersion in the person before us. The correct approach to romantic love, from his perspective, is a humorous one: his case for this is not bad and is based on the Greeks. This is a love that often, when we reach its peak moment, reveals that its object is not available to us. Or that rather trivial circumstances prevent it. With the slightest examination, we can find joy in this love.

Another type of love that Lewis discusses and which I believe deserves special mention is the love associated with friendship. Strauss once noted that one of the most surprising facts about modern philosophy is how little it engages with this subject, which was critical to the political and ethical theories of figures like Aristotle, Plato, Cicero, Plutarch, and others. In this sense, Lewis's enlightening discussion of friendship is like cold water to a weary soul. Not only does he convincingly show that friendship is based on the same kind of delicate appreciation we develop for nature and beautiful things without self-interest, but he also demonstrates why totalitarian politicians typically despise it. The free connection between different people around a common interest they appreciate above all else creates a deep and committed bond among these individuals, one that is also more dangerous than any other kind of relationship. The danger, of course, is that friendship, while essential for a full and good human existence, may itself revolve around matters that are not good. As a side note, today there are more philosophers addressing this topic, but it seems to me that Lewis’s discussion remains unrivaled.

Finally, we have the love of God. This chapter is quite complex, and Lewis—rightly, in my opinion—is most hesitant in it. The fundamental question here is how one can love God, and more importantly, what kind of place this love, which by nature consumes almost everything else, should occupy in our lives. The correct expression of such love, according to him, is through the place that charity holds in our lives. The discussion in this chapter is not without wisdom, but Lewis is clearly outside his element here, even if his insights remain brilliant.

If you have a basic patience for mediocre theological musings, reading this book, for me, is pure pleasure. Lewis’s writing is sharp, clear, filled with insights, examples, literary quotes, and occasionally even historical reflections. Of course, Lewis also finds time to spar with figures like Wilde and Bernard Shaw, which is always enjoyable.