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millennial_dandy's review
3.0
Our primary concern is to secure the salvation of the immortal souls of men who live as we once did. Our secondary purpose is to remove from the general world those who are ravening beasts and a scourge to God's children. Whenever we achieve the first, the second will necessarily follow. If we fail in the first" -- he gestured toward the dead man -- "we will be deeply grieved, as we are now, but shall not be deterred from accomplishing the second." (p.314)
This is a book that is far more interesting to talk about than to read.
In 'The Retreat', author Jerrold Mundis explores the deadly sin of 'wrath' and its interconnectedness with punitive justice. He invites us to ponder: is retribution more about punishing the wrongdoer, or satisfying the desire of the victim to cause the wrongdoer pain? Overarchingly, 'The Retreat' follows along what some might consider the slippery slope of institutionalizing 'an eye for an eye.'
To bring this rather lofty philosophical question down to earth, Mundis presents the reader with the Order of St. Hector, the fictional patron saint of violent men. The philosophy of the order is outlined in the quote above. To achieve these aims, once in a while, the brothers of the order (who now live at an isolated monastery in upstate New York after being expelled from Europe) seek out an unspecified number of violent men from across the country and trick them into attending a two-week retreat at the monastery.
Over the first few days, each penitent is paired with one of the brothers, and all seems to be as one would expect: sleeping on an uncomfortable bed, rising early, eating little, and listening to oodles of Bible passages. But then...things take a turn into 'Hostel' or 'Martyrs' territory, and the penitents endure over a week of extreme physical and psychological torture at the hands of the brothers of St. Hector.
The goal? Ostensibly to punish them for and cleanse them of the violence they've inflicted on others in order to save their immortal souls and remove them as threats to wider society. At the end of the retreat, one of three things will happen: one, if the brothers believe that you are truly repentant, you get to divine a fitting penance for your sins and then join the order and devote the rest of your life to the cause and to God. Two, if the brothers don't determine that you're a changed man, you have to either agree to execution by lethal injection or agree to be lobotomized and then join the order in a second-class capacity. But no matter what, once inside, no one gets to leave.
Now, here's where it gets interesting.
The penitents at the retreat are bad guys. Like, really bad. The worst. They've committed every one of the most heinous and disgusting and depraved crimes you can imagine (or that Mundis has imagined for you).
Given that, do they deserve what happens to them at St. Hector's?
If you believe in punitive, retributive justice, you would be forced to say yes. And then read about it for over 250 pages. In graphic detail.
And honestly, as someone who doesn't believe in that type of justice, I reckon that might be something those on the other side of the aisle should have to confront, and then meditate on.
But they aren't the only ones that would come away from this book with something to think about.
On the other hand, this set-up raises questions about rehabilitation. Maybe you don't believe in punishing people; you want to help them become better. But then what do you do with people who can't or won't be helped? Is imprisonment and confinement the answer? Certainly, I don't love the idea of lobotomizing people (how would we ever even reliably come up with a fool-proof way to sift out those who can be helped from those who can't?), but then what do you do with such people? Is it the most humane option to offer them confinement or death?
Mundis repeatedly reminds us of the importance of free will and bodily autonomy (well, after the whole two weeks of torture thing) when it comes to the ultimate fate of each penitent. Do choices like those have a place in restorative justice and rehabilitation in our real world?
Certainly, there have been cases of convicted serial killers who either request or accept the death penalty as punishment for their crimes.
There's a lot to chew on on both sides of the argument here.
Another recurring plot point is the mindset of the brothers as they inflict torture on the penitents. The abbot pulls each brother aside at various points to check in with them, asking each if they are inflicting torture because they truly believe it will save the soul of the penitent or because they enjoy seeing the penitent in pain. If the answer is the former, the abbot nods and returns them to their work, but if it's the latter, he commands that brother repent in some painful way. And that's the real throughline in behind the plot; this push and pull between sincere belief that what they are doing is justified and good, and their own secret bloodlust to do these things regardless because, well, these men deserve it.
As I say: it's all very interesting to think about and discuss and ponder as a hypothetical, but do you need to read a 392 page novel to be able to do that?
Maybe there is such a novel that would be worth the hassle, but I'm not convinced it's this one.
This is a horror novel that's trying to do a lot all at once while also going off on this discussion of crime and punishment and redemption and such. It could have been done, it really just needed a solid trim and restructure.
First off, because of the premise, there are necessarily a lot of characters involved in 'The Retreat.' We have all the brothers of the order and its abbot and then we have all the penitents. The first problem, was that Mundis got carried away.
He tries to introduce us to like twenty characters, but only fleshes out about a third of them so that the others float along as names on a page, not people you care about or can even remember. And on top of that, he doubles and even triples up on his architypes multiple times. We get about three 'thug' lads who are all described the exact same way: big and muscular but stupid. And then there are randomly two South American lads, one of whom is a diplomat, but I swear the name attached with that character gets switched twice. And then there's one guy who uses an alias, but is referred to in the third person narration by his real name.
Then there are all the brothers. Did they all need names and little backstories that ultimately all came down to the same thing: before being brothers, they too were all ~bad guys~.
The characters are, for the most part, a mess, in other words. And that, more than anything, really, really was a problem.
The true elephant in the room, though, is the graphic descriptions of violence and torture and bodily fluids and other gore. Is a lot of it purposeful? Debatably. Is some of it gratuitous? Debatably. You're really either going to be ok reading something like that or you're not; there's not much middle ground here, and it's definitely a taste thing.
Overall, though attempts were made on the part of the author to present an interesting and thought-provoking hypothetical, and in spite of some nice prose, the structure and pacing dragged the overall reading experience down.
But please do read the plot summary and share that much with anyone you can have a good discussion with, because there's a lot in 'The Retreat' to talk about. Perhaps even reflect on. Somewhere quiet and peaceful. A monastery, perhaps…
This is a book that is far more interesting to talk about than to read.
In 'The Retreat', author Jerrold Mundis explores the deadly sin of 'wrath' and its interconnectedness with punitive justice. He invites us to ponder: is retribution more about punishing the wrongdoer, or satisfying the desire of the victim to cause the wrongdoer pain? Overarchingly, 'The Retreat' follows along what some might consider the slippery slope of institutionalizing 'an eye for an eye.'
To bring this rather lofty philosophical question down to earth, Mundis presents the reader with the Order of St. Hector, the fictional patron saint of violent men. The philosophy of the order is outlined in the quote above. To achieve these aims, once in a while, the brothers of the order (who now live at an isolated monastery in upstate New York after being expelled from Europe) seek out an unspecified number of violent men from across the country and trick them into attending a two-week retreat at the monastery.
Over the first few days, each penitent is paired with one of the brothers, and all seems to be as one would expect: sleeping on an uncomfortable bed, rising early, eating little, and listening to oodles of Bible passages. But then...things take a turn into 'Hostel' or 'Martyrs' territory, and the penitents endure over a week of extreme physical and psychological torture at the hands of the brothers of St. Hector.
The goal? Ostensibly to punish them for and cleanse them of the violence they've inflicted on others in order to save their immortal souls and remove them as threats to wider society. At the end of the retreat, one of three things will happen: one, if the brothers believe that you are truly repentant, you get to divine a fitting penance for your sins and then join the order and devote the rest of your life to the cause and to God. Two, if the brothers don't determine that you're a changed man, you have to either agree to execution by lethal injection or agree to be lobotomized and then join the order in a second-class capacity. But no matter what, once inside, no one gets to leave.
Now, here's where it gets interesting.
The penitents at the retreat are bad guys. Like, really bad. The worst. They've committed every one of the most heinous and disgusting and depraved crimes you can imagine (or that Mundis has imagined for you).
Given that, do they deserve what happens to them at St. Hector's?
If you believe in punitive, retributive justice, you would be forced to say yes. And then read about it for over 250 pages. In graphic detail.
And honestly, as someone who doesn't believe in that type of justice, I reckon that might be something those on the other side of the aisle should have to confront, and then meditate on.
But they aren't the only ones that would come away from this book with something to think about.
On the other hand, this set-up raises questions about rehabilitation. Maybe you don't believe in punishing people; you want to help them become better. But then what do you do with people who can't or won't be helped? Is imprisonment and confinement the answer? Certainly, I don't love the idea of lobotomizing people (how would we ever even reliably come up with a fool-proof way to sift out those who can be helped from those who can't?), but then what do you do with such people? Is it the most humane option to offer them confinement or death?
Mundis repeatedly reminds us of the importance of free will and bodily autonomy (well, after the whole two weeks of torture thing) when it comes to the ultimate fate of each penitent. Do choices like those have a place in restorative justice and rehabilitation in our real world?
Certainly, there have been cases of convicted serial killers who either request or accept the death penalty as punishment for their crimes.
There's a lot to chew on on both sides of the argument here.
Another recurring plot point is the mindset of the brothers as they inflict torture on the penitents. The abbot pulls each brother aside at various points to check in with them, asking each if they are inflicting torture because they truly believe it will save the soul of the penitent or because they enjoy seeing the penitent in pain. If the answer is the former, the abbot nods and returns them to their work, but if it's the latter, he commands that brother repent in some painful way. And that's the real throughline in behind the plot; this push and pull between sincere belief that what they are doing is justified and good, and their own secret bloodlust to do these things regardless because, well, these men deserve it.
As I say: it's all very interesting to think about and discuss and ponder as a hypothetical, but do you need to read a 392 page novel to be able to do that?
Maybe there is such a novel that would be worth the hassle, but I'm not convinced it's this one.
This is a horror novel that's trying to do a lot all at once while also going off on this discussion of crime and punishment and redemption and such. It could have been done, it really just needed a solid trim and restructure.
First off, because of the premise, there are necessarily a lot of characters involved in 'The Retreat.' We have all the brothers of the order and its abbot and then we have all the penitents. The first problem, was that Mundis got carried away.
He tries to introduce us to like twenty characters, but only fleshes out about a third of them so that the others float along as names on a page, not people you care about or can even remember. And on top of that, he doubles and even triples up on his architypes multiple times. We get about three 'thug' lads who are all described the exact same way: big and muscular but stupid. And then there are randomly two South American lads, one of whom is a diplomat, but I swear the name attached with that character gets switched twice. And then there's one guy who uses an alias, but is referred to in the third person narration by his real name.
Then there are all the brothers. Did they all need names and little backstories that ultimately all came down to the same thing: before being brothers, they too were all ~bad guys~.
The characters are, for the most part, a mess, in other words. And that, more than anything, really, really was a problem.
The true elephant in the room, though, is the graphic descriptions of violence and torture and bodily fluids and other gore. Is a lot of it purposeful? Debatably. Is some of it gratuitous? Debatably. You're really either going to be ok reading something like that or you're not; there's not much middle ground here, and it's definitely a taste thing.
Overall, though attempts were made on the part of the author to present an interesting and thought-provoking hypothetical, and in spite of some nice prose, the structure and pacing dragged the overall reading experience down.
But please do read the plot summary and share that much with anyone you can have a good discussion with, because there's a lot in 'The Retreat' to talk about. Perhaps even reflect on. Somewhere quiet and peaceful. A monastery, perhaps…
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