This is probably one of the most interesting and important books I've ever read.
Let me say first that (in spite of the tag-line) it actually has almost nothing to do with devils, or "demon possession" as such. I suspect it was billed as "A True Story of Demon Possession" in order to boost sales. It's lamentable for several reasons. One is simply that it misrepresents the book. I mean, if you're looking for something that deals with actual demon possession, or a piece of lurid fiction dealing with similar subject matter, this book probably isn't what you're looking for. And, if you're NOT interested in demon possession, the tag-line will keep you from reading the book. But I think the worst thing about it is that sales need to be boosted to begin with. This is a book that should be read. I mean, it's too bad more people haven't read or even heard of it.
It deals with actual events, that's true. It also deals with an alleged case of demon possession: that is also true. But it's not what it sounds like. A certain corrupt priest (Urbain Grandier) offended some people in high places, and ultimately he was accused of witchcraft and blamed for the "possession" of a convent full of Ursuline nuns. The possession was more likely hysteria. The sorcery charge was bunk, and most of the people involved understood this to be the case. So, on the face of it, the book is about the disastrous mix of Church and State in early 17th Century France. But that's not really what it's about, either. I mean, to bill it as a history book or a book about politics would be equally misguided.
Huxley uses this particular episode from history as an entry into a larger discussion about spiritual life. What is spirituality? What motivates it? He calls it self-transendence, and offers an in-depth discussion of some of the principles that are common to most religions. Not the simple stuff: I mean, it's not like he's just saying "most religions say that murder is wrong." He's talking about the need for an awareness of God, for the "Divine Ground" that unites everything, and the way that faith and works play into our attempts to connect to that awareness.
He discounts nothing. It's interesting, because at times he makes ironic or even sarcastic comments, and that's normally the refuge of a weaker writer, a writer who sneers at the world, dismisses the very idea of demon possession (or even plain old spirituality) as quaint fantasy. Huxley isn't dismissive. He cites well documented psychic phenomena (ESP, for example) as evidence of a world beyond the strictly physical world as we understand it. If it's possible that the human mind can tap into another mind, then those minds must share something on some non-physical level. One can not, therefore, rule out the possibility that a will (or an intellect) can exist on a non-physical level. There is no reason to believe that all such wills (that all "entities" existing outside the physical world as we know it) are well meaning and nice. Whether or not they're "demons" proper is sort of beside the point.
In case you're thinking this is all sort of dark, I should mention that he spends a lot of time emphasizing the positive (what he calls Original Virtue, rather than Original Sin). Original Sin he defines in terms of the human capacity for evil, Original Virtue, our capacity for good.
In case you're thinking this is all sort of flaky, I should mention that he also devotes considerable attention to psychology and psychiatry, as well. It's not as though he buys the idea of a spritual world without first exploring the possibility that some spiritual experiences are actually manifestations of mental disorders.
He also devotes considerable attention to matters of law, doctrine, et cetera.
At any rate, I'm not doing the book justice. There was no point at which I felt as though I was in the midst of a load of spooky b.s. It's never less than well researched and well reasoned. And it's sort of about everything. Politics, religion, spirituality, psychology, philosophy, history, society, art, justice, responsibility, sexuality, nature: everything. And it's all framed by this fascinating story about this priest and this convent and the political and personal intrigues that came together surrounding them.
The Devils of Loudun was first published in 1952, I think, and when I finished reading it, I thought about all the stuff I read in school, the critical theory that's come out of the academic community and the religious and political discourse that's come out since 1952, and I just felt like something had gone terribly wrong. That all that discourse is so pinheaded and narrow-minded. That there was this flash of intelligent thinking about the world in this book, and that somehow it's been neglected, that the conversation went in some other direction, and we've been in darkness ever since.
Maybe I just haven't read enough.
Probably I haven't read enough. But I've read a lot, and I've never run into anything quite like this before. It's brilliant. I cannot recommend it more highly.