The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene

"Hope was an instinct only the reasoning human mind could kill. An animal never knew despair." 

Curse you procrastination! Regretfully, I should have written a review soon after finishing this wonderful novel by my favorite author or at the very least, jotted down some notes because my poor memory is preventing me from writing anything substantial that would even remotely do The Power and the Glory justice. I plan on reading it again in the not too distant future in order to present a proper analysis of the dense complexities and religious theodicy of Graham's text. In comparison to the other three novels that I have read by Greene (The Quiet American, The End of the Affair, and A Burnt-out Case), The Power and the Glory was by far the most depressing, elusive, inscrutable and dare I say it, the least enjoyable reading experience of them all. I wonder if my initial reaction would have proven different if this happened to be the first novel that I have ever read by Graham? Nonetheless, having grown accustomed to his writing style and thematic concerns, I could not help but feel slightly underwhelmed. Don't get me wrong, Graham is still in top form and this novel is easily better than most of the tripe written these days but it will require a much closer-reading to sufficiently comprehend and appreciate the elaborate tapestry of the intricate religious ideologies addressed in the novel. 

Certainly the most deeply religious of Greene's work that I have encountered thus far, the story involves an unnamed renegade Catholic "Whisky-priest" who is being hunted down by local authorities in Mexico for practicing the religion where anti-Catholic legislation is in full effect. Greene is prone to depicting characters struggling with their own morality and faith and in this novel, the whiskey-priest's dilemma is by far the most religiously complex.  The concept of grace along with striving to obtain salvation plague the priests conscious as he travels the severely destitute villages of Mexico to preach the gospel. These communities are plagued by starvation, disease and death. What kind of significant difference can the priest hope to make in the lives of these suffering individuals? He feels that he is nothing but a fraud because of past sins and yet, continues to carry out his religious duties. Overwhelmed with guilt, he even hopes to be caught but still continues to run and hide from the authorities, lead by a Lieutenant who is adamant to purge the country of Catholicism and establish a secular society. Greene could have portrayed the Priest and the Lieutenant as representing antithetical religious ideologies but he is far too intelligent and clever of an author to resort to black-and-white representations of religion -- moral ambiguity is a trademark aspect of Greene's writing. The priest is not the epitome of righteousness and nor is the Lieutenant the embodiment of unprecedented evil. Greene understands humanity with such clarity and his characters are never so unequivocal in their intentions; human beings are flawed and far too complex to be bogged down into rudimentary caricatures of morality. 

One of the main reasons why I find Graham Greene to be such an exceptional author is that he is a master of brevity,  his writing is entrancing in its lyrical beauty and profound wisdom concerning the human condition. I could quote his prose ad nauseum but here are just a few passages from this novel that I found to be particularly remarkable:

"It is one of the strange discoveries a man makes that life, however you lead it, contains moments of exhilaration: there are always comparisons which can be made with worse times:even in danger and misery the pendulum swings."

"How often the priest had heard the same confession--Man was so limited: he hadn't even the ingenuity to invent a new vice: the animals knew as much. It was for this world that Christ had died: the more evil you saw and heard about you, the greater the glory lay around the death; it was too easy to die for what was good or beautiful, for home or children or civilization--it needed a God to die for the half-hearted and the corrupt."  

"It infuriated him to think that there were still people in the state who believed in a loving and merciful God. There are mystics who are said to have experienced God directly. He was a mystic, too, and what he had experienced was vacancy--a complete certainty in the existence of a dying, cooling world, of human beings who had evolved from animals for no purpose at all."  
 
I may not necessarily agree with his religious ideologies and it would be fallacious to label his works as pure propaganda; he is far more interested in exploring the lingering doubt and contradictions towards the Catholic faith as opposed to strictly resorting to bludgeoning the reader to death with dull religious discourse. The Power and the Glory may not be the most "entertaining" of Greene's novels but it is superbly crafted (the convoluted narrative makes sense near the end) and presents such a genuine and empathetic portrayal of religious sensibilities: that tiny shred of doubt leads to bigger questions of searching for the truth to live a meaningful life. What is the answer? I'm under the impression that Greene is intent on highlighting the power and glory of "grace" as a possible resolution to achieve enlightenment. 

Read from June 19 to 21, 2011

Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger

"An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else's."

J.D. Salinger is one of those authors who just "gets me" with his intelligent and philosophical discourse. This novel is overflowing with so many glorious passages that accurately reflect my own personal beliefs but he is far more eloquent in expressing these ideas in prose. For example, Franny expresses her chagrin at the paradox of conforming to capitalist societal norms in order to achieve success: "It's everybody, I mean. Everything everybody does is so — I don't know — not wrong, or even mean, or even stupid necessarily. But just so tiny and meaningless and — sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something crazy like that, you're conforming just as much only in a different way" (26). Salinger's cynical perspicacity is a source of comfort and just resonates me. Catcher in the Rye still remains a personal and sentimental favorite that is responsible for sparking my love for literature during those impressionable teenage years. Holden Caulfield is one of those iconic American literary figures that has influenced generations and in my mind, no novel has come close to perfectly capturing the cynical, neurotic, egotistical and self-deprecating voice of a teenager in all of its heartbreaking pathos. Thus, I approached Franny and Zooey with exceedingly high expectations and Salinger did not disappointment; in fact, he managed astound me once again with his immensely beautiful prose, psychological, religious and philosophical insight into the human condition.

Even though this novel shares many similar characteristics to Catcher in the Rye with its self-conscious and highly stylized prose focusing on a coming-of-age story, it radically differs from the latter by presenting a far more deeply religious family drama. Salinger is meticulous in his writing with a propensity for infusing overwhelming subtle complexities to the story that is difficult to fully absorb and comprehend on a first reading. Initially, the novel left me baffled: what exactly is Salinger attempting to achieve here? The novel's mesmerizing style allows for a brisk read but the richly layered subtext is easy to overlook. Only after  subsequent closer readings will the intricate underlying thematic richness of the text become more apparent. Rarely do I come across an author who uses subtlety in such a fastidious complex way that enriches the story instead for merely aesthetic purposes to create superfluous ambiguity (I'm looking at you Faulkner). Salinger begins in medias res and is not interested in providing incessant  exposition to explain story events. It is mostly through the ironic omniscient narrator and dialogue between characters where the narrative context materializes.

Divided into two sections (respectively titled Franny and Zooey), the first part focuses on Franny Glass, a pensively sophisticated college student who meets up with her boyfriend Lane to attend the Yale football game for the weekend. Ostensibly, their long-distant relationship appears to be satisfactory but it is through a letter she sends Lane that contains subtle hints that not everything is going well between the couple. Lane picks up Franny at the train station and they head to a diner to get some food and martinis. Much of this section consists of dialogue between the young couple and it becomes clear that Franny is unhappy in this relationship because Lane is a pompous and conceited English major who represents everything she despises about people; specifically, those individuals who tend to be phonies and pseudo-intellectuals with bloated egos. She also happens to be undergoing a mental-breakdown stemming from a spiritual crisis caused by reading a Russian religious work that was once owned by her deceased brother Seymour. She attempts to explain the text to Lane but he is far too preoccupied with his own selfish concerns to pay any attention. It is only in the second part where the "Jesus Prayer" becomes increasingly significant to the overall thematic structure of the novel. 

Taking place entirely within the Glass family residence in an upscale New York apartment complex, the second section embellishes an odd narrative framework that is narrated by Franny's older brother Buddy who is interested in adapting his story into a "prose home movie" (47); that is, it introduces Franny's other brother Zooey and mother Bessie as they both attempt to make sense of Franny's sudden psychological breakdown when she returns home instead of spending time with Lane during the weekend. The narrative perspective shifts to Zooey where a fragmented portrait of the Glass family history and the novel's theological implications take precedence. Much of the story is influenced by literary dramatic conventions -- the setting of confined spaces, the use heavy dialogue as Zooey engages in both trivial and profound conversations with his mother and sister. The exaggerated tone and style further establish the sense of drama. Salinger is keen on exploring the nature of acting, especially pertaining to human connections and the role of "performing" specific roles; thus, the tendency to project various facades instead of being genuinely honest about oneself. Not only are Franny and Zooey actors themselves but Salinger goes on further to suggest that the aesthetic of acting carries religious connotations as well; a type of spiritual practice with its own theodicy: "detachment", "desiring" and "cessation from all hankerings" (198). Zooey engages in a complex religious debate with Franny about her improper use of the "Jesus Prayer" where religious doctrine and syncretism are in direct conflict. Why is he so upset about Franny's use of the prayer? For him, one must understand Jesus first and Franny is not being specific enough; she is paying no attention to who Jesus is and what it means to pray to him (169). In essence, she is merely acting out the role of a pious Christian instead of being truly devout in her religious convictions.

Personally, one of the most remarkable and emotionally moving moments in the entire novel takes places near the end when Zooey enters his dead brother Seymour’s old room that he once shared with Buddy; a holy place where he undertakes a religious ritual before entering. Placing a handkerchief over his head (a substitute for a yamika perhaps?), he venerates the room of his two older brothers. He notices beaver-boards of panels with a plethora of quotations from Seymour and Buddy’s favorite theologians, artists and authors. These existential and religious quotes further emphasize the novel's own religious philosophies pertaining to both doctrine and syncretism. Zooey discovers Seymour's diary and reads a passage describing the celebration of a birthday party that his family throws for him involving a vaudeville act and it is full of overwhelming joy and love but also contains immense sadness. Salinger is so skilled at creating such pathos with subtle nuances.

Franny and Zooey is one of those novels that I can't wait to revisit it again and unravel its many mysteries. Literature does not get much better than this, folks.

This novel is part of the Classics Club Challenge.

Read from June 17 to 19, 2011

Martian Time-Slip by Philip K. Dick

After having read several excellent novels by the consistently brilliant Philip K. Dick, Martian Time-Slip turned out to be the first disappointment of his large oeuvre that failed to leave any indelible impression on me. Oddly enough, I have grown to enjoy PKD's uneven rambling prose because it is often counter-balanced by bizarre and always fascinating concepts along with deeply profound religious and philosophical ideas. Ironically, this novel is actually contains a narrative structure and style that is far less jarring than his other works but ends up being the least noteworthy due to the familiar subject matter that comes across as a weak rehash as opposed to giving new form to these ideas, which he is able to achieve with some of his best novels including A Scanner Darkly, Ubik and A Scanner Darkly. Mental illness, reality, gnosticism, salvation, drug abuse, time and death are all important concerns for PKD, which constantly crop up in his novels but with Martian Time-Slip, many of these ideas are drastically undermined by the thin story and dull characters. 

Taking place during the early colonization period of Mars, a repair man named Jack Bohlen crosses paths with a powerful Union representative and his mistress who all find their lives influenced by a strange autistic child named Manfred who seems to hold the answers to the future. To make troubles worse, Jack suffers from schizophrenia and Manfred has the ability to time travel and bring others with him. Colonial life is difficult with water being scarce and people desperately suffering from loneliness with housing establishments being scattered amongst the harsh arid environment. Seriously now, this premise is brilliant with so much potential for greatness but the story never fully materializes towards a satisfying conclusion. There are also some other sub-plots involving secondary characters but they too are rendered inconsequential. On a more positive note, Dick does provide some interesting social commentary regarding the evils of  capitalism, colonization and the flawed education system. Furthermore, the overt sexism and racial bigotry are a tad excessive and laughably passé although I suppose one must take into account that the novel was written during the 1960's. Despite my unabashed love for this author, I can only recommend this novel to hardcore PKD fans.

Read from June 07 to 17, 2011

I'm baaaaaack...

Either play the game, or get played. Ya, feel me?

Not that anyone noticed, haha. I took a little mini-break from reading to pick up more shifts at work and have been full absorbed by HBO's The Wire, which is now my favorite show ever. An epic mosaic of Baltimore with strong political and social convictions as the government and police try to deal with the increasing violence spurned by the dominant drug trafficking and gangs battling over street corners. The show's sense of moral ambiguity is one of its many noteworthy aspects because nothing is ever black and white. Who are the real good and bad guys here? Are the cops and law enforcement more corrupt than the actual criminals they are trying to apprehend? There is something genuinely authentic and raw about the documentary-like film-making style that effectively captures a sense of intimacy unlike many of these cop dramas on television like C.S.I. which tend to be overly-stylized, entirely formulaic and lack any significant substance. The Wire is riveting in its drama and very entertaining but also contains plenty of humor despite the serious subject matter. It deals with relevant social and political issues in such an intelligent and complex way that produces plenty of discussion. In terms of narrative, creator David Simon and his co-writers have eschewed from keeping each episode self-contained as is a common feature in many network crime shows: There is a crime, the detectives solve it and it ends. Rinse and repeat. The Wire is unique in that it is one long story and each episode builds the story filled with many sub-plots and fascinating characters that are all connected in some way. The narrative and character progressions from Season 1 to 5 is utterly remarkable. The Wire sets the bar so high as to what television shows can achieve in terms of sheer story-telling and scope, rendering the majority of other shows as utterly pedestrian and worthless. 

Ok, getting back to literature. I finished reading PKD's Martian-Time Slip so expect a review in the next few days. I also picked up a bunch of new books from my favorite book store today:

Total: $10. Such a score!

Teaser Tuesdays!

It's that time again! Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly meme held by MizB from Should be Reading.

Anyone can play along!

•  Grab a book you are reading.
•  Open to a random page and pull two sentences.
• Post the book title, author, and page number.
• No spoilers, please.

My teaser: "Better to succumb to the schizophrenic process, join the rest of the world. She raised the window shade; the sunlight, with its familiar reddish, dusty tinge, filled her sight and made it impossible to see" (1).  - The Martian-Time Slip by Philip K. Dick

Whenever I am in a reading slump, I can always count on PKD to remedy the situation.

How to Be Good by Nick Hornby

"It seems to me now that the plain state of being human is dramatic enough for anyone; you don't need to be a heroin addict or a performance poet to experience extremity. You just have to love someone."

Oh, Nick Hornby, how the mighty have fallen. There was a time when you were my favorite author and even though I still consider High-Fidelity and About a Boy contemporary masterpieces, everything else I have read by you drastically pales in comparison: How to Be Good follows this inauspicious trend. Similar to my grievances with A Long Way Down, this novel attempts to deal with serious subject matter (in this case, morality and spiritual reverence) but is encumbered by its own unsettled ideologies. Thus, the attempt to provide a thought-provoking religious parable loses all relevance and is rendered moot. What should have been a profoundly insightful and emotionally resonant story about trying to live a meaningful and moral life becomes innocuous and utterly forgettable. Despite the novel's many shortcomings, Hornby's enticing writing style does make it an easy read and for the first time in his career as an author, he is capable of effectively depicting a convincing female first person narrator. Katie Carr is no Rob Gordon or Will Freeman but she is intriguing enough to prove that Hornby is not strictly bound to writing from the male point of view. 

I have always admired Hornby's trenchant witticism and sardonic humor; the empathetic portrayal of genuine human relationships in all of their contradictions and complexities; his introspective and pithy observations of human experience along with an authentic portrait of the 20th and 21st century zeitgeist. How to be Good does possess many of these trademark qualities but is not nearly compelling as expected from an author with such talent. 

As the first book in my participation with Gabriel's challenge, it is with great chagrin that this novel will not be making the shelf and shall be donated. I am under the impression that Hornby set the bar exceedingly high for himself with High-Fidelity and About a Boy that he will be unable to write anything else that can possibly reach the caliber of these two brilliant novels. Oh well, at least we will always have them to remember him by.

Read from June 01 to 06, 2011  

Book Blogger Hop!

My apologies for being late for the Book Blogger Hop party because of stupid work, ugh. Crazy-For-Books hosts this wonderful weekly event on Fridays where other bloggers have the opportunity to connect with others who share a similar passion for literature. It's a great venue for book lovers so please check it out! Question of the week: What is your favorite post from last month and why it is close to your heart?

Oh, that's an easy one. My contribution to Gabriel's Wicked Wednesday where I wrote a short creative writing piece based on A Clockwork Orange and The Sound and the Fury, which can be found here. Technically, this post shouldn't count since it was written on June 1st but I am much prouder of this write-up than anything any of my reviews posted in the month of May. It has been a long time since I have actually sat down and attempted to write any type of fiction and taking on this particular challenge provided me with the inspiration to start writing more often. Thanks Gabe!

My Antonia by Willa Cather

"Whatever we had missed, we possessed together the precious, the incommunicable past."

This was one of those novels assigned in my grade 12 high-school English class that I did not bother to read and in retrospect, I do not regret my decision. If only I had the foresight to not pick it up 10 years later because it was a complete waste of time. I can understand its status as an American Classic within a historical context, but there was nothing within the narrative that struck me as exceptionally memorable. Cather is able to successfully create a vivid portrait of prairie life in Nebraska during the late 1800's to the early part of the 20th century but the interminable descriptions of nature and the rural environment are excessively tedious.

Moreover, the story is exceptionally dull with bland characters. Jim Burden nostalgically narrates his experience of growing up as a young boy on his grandparent's farm and his relationship with the an immigrant Bohemian farm-girl named Antonia. Yawn. The novel's concern with allegory, feminism, sexuality and autobiography vs. fiction would be topics of interest for those concerned with performing an in-depth analysis but I remain much too indifferent towards Cather's novel to engage in such literary criticism. 

Read from May 28  to 31, 2011  

Books to Movie Challenge!

I just could not pass up the opportunity to participate in this exciting book challenge hosted by Two Bibliomaniacs despite my previous commitment to other challenges and my propensity to procrastinate. Nevertheless, I like to think of myself killing two birds with one stone (a cruel idiom if I may say so myself) by taking on this particular challenge considering that I have recently read several novels that have been adaptated into films and was eventually going to watch them anyways. Here is my viewing schedule:

1. Solaris (Soderbergh, 2002)
2. The Big Sleep (Hawks, 1946) 
3. Pride and Prejudice (2005)
4. To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
5. The Prime of Miss Brodie (Neame, 1969) 
6. The Ninth Configuration (Blatty, 1980)

More to come...