Till We Have Faces

I recently finished "Till We Have Faces" by C.S. Lewis. I was told by several individuals before I began reading the book that it was their favorite novel. I now understand. After I finished I noticed two things that remained in my mind.
The first is how disgusting and dreadful sacrifices are. "Hateful to Ungit, is it? Why does Ungit not mend it then? She's had bulls and rams and goats from me in plenty; blood enough to sail a ship on if all were reckoned" (45).
The second was Orual's complaint against the gods. As she began to read the complaint she understood that she knew the real answer all along. As she unrolled her book, "It was written all over inside, but the hand was not like mine. It was all a vile scribble - each stroke mean and yet savage, like a snarl in my father's voice, like the ruinous faces one could make out in the Ungit stone" (290). She had in fact written the book but she immediately recognized why and what the problem/solution was.