[Lewis] saw the journalists and literari of London and Bloomsbury as a vast literary bureaucracy. These “apes,” as he called them, were people who were really mocking the true and literary function of inventing new kinds of perception. His Apes of God is a Rabelaisian satire of their goings-on. One has only to dip into sections like “Lord Osmond’s Lenten Party” or to visit the arboretum of the higher Lesbian Apes to get an immediate sense of his gigantic masquerade.