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3.88 AVERAGE
3.88 AVERAGE
I originally gave this book 4 stars, and then had to go back and add another after I couldn't stop thinking about it. Incredible.
via NYPL - A pretty fantastic look at faith and good works, religion and oppression, and how those things impact on people.
Hard to tell if my relative lack of interest and the ages it took me to read this were a failure on the book’s part or just a reflection of how advanced my burnout is. Concentration remains difficult. And anyway I enjoyed this a lot of the time, but it took me quite a while to get through it.
I didn't enjoy this as much as I thought I would.
challenging
dark
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Interesting concept and tense at times. I struggled with it a bit but I’m glad I read it
Every time I read a book by Graham Greene, I become more convinced that he is my top favourite author.
I'm a huge Graham Greene fan. Our Man in Havana is one of my favorite novels, The End of the Affair isn't far behind, and I've been drawn in and deeply impressed by everything of his I've read. This early effort didn't engage me the same way most of his novels have, however. It's admirably ambitious, writing from the perspective of a protagonist very different from the author himself, and in the end this may be why it didn't work for me. Greene's protagonists are usually flawed Englishmen, often leading double lives. This one is about a guilt-obsessed Mexican priest, and he just seems more one-dimensional.
The novel has its moments for sure, but overall seems stylized somehow, and distant, as if we're being held arms-length from the character. Also Greene seems to get stuck in one sombre register the whole time, and for me the result was kind of a slog. I don't know; it's hard to pin down exactly why the book never fully captured me; some part of it may be that I've spent quite a bit of time in Latin American cultures and the people just didn't ring true.
Many classic Greene sentences though, which are alone worth the price of admission, especially this one: "The woman busied herself with small jobs, and as the sun went down the mosquitoes came out, flashing through the air to their mark unerringly, like sailor's knives."
The novel has its moments for sure, but overall seems stylized somehow, and distant, as if we're being held arms-length from the character. Also Greene seems to get stuck in one sombre register the whole time, and for me the result was kind of a slog. I don't know; it's hard to pin down exactly why the book never fully captured me; some part of it may be that I've spent quite a bit of time in Latin American cultures and the people just didn't ring true.
Many classic Greene sentences though, which are alone worth the price of admission, especially this one: "The woman busied herself with small jobs, and as the sun went down the mosquitoes came out, flashing through the air to their mark unerringly, like sailor's knives."
The main character of the novel, a fallen priest, is one of the most compelling characters I have read in a very long time. The novel opens with the unnamed Padre on the run from anticlerical forces in 1930’s Mexico. If caught, he will be executed, as have most his associates been. Losing everything he ever valued, he finds compassion and honor. He is far from perfect, but his flaws make him more human and sympathetic. The priest, and the author, couches this awakening in Roman Catholic terms, but they are much more universal values at work here. One finds, when stripped of all pomp and artifice, that the only thing truly worth anything in the world is one’s value to those around him.
2.5 stars
Okay, I feel bad giving this 2.5 stars, but based on the Goodreads rating system, 3 stars is "I like it" and I just can't say I did. This is the third book I've read by Graham Greene, and either I am just not smart enough to love and appreciate it, or it's just not for me.
I started out listening to this book and after the first 20 minutes, I realized that other than the first 10 minutes, I had no idea what was happening. So I restarted the book and listened and read along. And I was able to make it through maybe the first 3 chapters before pausing (so the introduction of Mr. Tench, the unnamed priest, the lieutenant, Padre Jose, and the Fellows (which includes Coral). I still wasn't sure what was going on, so continued into chapter 4 and learned more about Padre Jose and the woman reading about Juan, the young martyr. The story jumps around at this point and I'm getting a bit confused. So I stop, look up the book on Sparknotes (yes, sometimes I find I have to do this) and try to figure out what I'm missing, if anything. I suppose Graham Green's prose is beautifully written, but I often have to go back and reread because I'm not sure if it's something I should be reading between the lines to figure out.
I ended up taking many breaks on what should have been a fairly quick read because it just wasn't grabbing my attention. Yes, by the time I got to the end, it made me wonder all sorts of things, so does his books make me think? Yes, definitely. And for that, it's good. But I just don't find his books that riveting. Of the three I've read, the one that held my attention the most was The Quiet American. The End of the Affair was heavy, and that took me time to get through because it was so depressing. But there were some achingly beautiful passages in that that made me pause and contemplate. This one? It's supposed to be his best work (arguably), but it just didn't do it for me. I had to work hard to get through it (which is not a bad thing), but all the time I was making my way through the story, I just kept wondering why I was working so hard at it.
For me, I think the ending is what saved it for me. Finally everything comes together, and if I'm interpreting it correctly, I understand what Graham Greene's message was. But I'm looking forward to discussing this at our book club to see if I'm right.
Am I sorry I read it? No, because anything that makes you work at it and gives you things to discuss is worthwhile, and I'm always interested in what others have to say about what they got from a book. I learn a lot that way. Will I be running out to grab another Graham Greene book to read? Not any time soon, lol.
Okay, I feel bad giving this 2.5 stars, but based on the Goodreads rating system, 3 stars is "I like it" and I just can't say I did. This is the third book I've read by Graham Greene, and either I am just not smart enough to love and appreciate it, or it's just not for me.
I started out listening to this book and after the first 20 minutes, I realized that other than the first 10 minutes, I had no idea what was happening. So I restarted the book and listened and read along. And I was able to make it through maybe the first 3 chapters before pausing (so the introduction of Mr. Tench, the unnamed priest, the lieutenant, Padre Jose, and the Fellows (which includes Coral). I still wasn't sure what was going on, so continued into chapter 4 and learned more about Padre Jose and the woman reading about Juan, the young martyr. The story jumps around at this point and I'm getting a bit confused. So I stop, look up the book on Sparknotes (yes, sometimes I find I have to do this) and try to figure out what I'm missing, if anything. I suppose Graham Green's prose is beautifully written, but I often have to go back and reread because I'm not sure if it's something I should be reading between the lines to figure out.
I ended up taking many breaks on what should have been a fairly quick read because it just wasn't grabbing my attention. Yes, by the time I got to the end, it made me wonder all sorts of things, so does his books make me think? Yes, definitely. And for that, it's good. But I just don't find his books that riveting. Of the three I've read, the one that held my attention the most was The Quiet American. The End of the Affair was heavy, and that took me time to get through because it was so depressing. But there were some achingly beautiful passages in that that made me pause and contemplate. This one? It's supposed to be his best work (arguably), but it just didn't do it for me. I had to work hard to get through it (which is not a bad thing), but all the time I was making my way through the story, I just kept wondering why I was working so hard at it.
For me, I think the ending is what saved it for me. Finally everything comes together, and if I'm interpreting it correctly, I understand what Graham Greene's message was. But I'm looking forward to discussing this at our book club to see if I'm right.
Am I sorry I read it? No, because anything that makes you work at it and gives you things to discuss is worthwhile, and I'm always interested in what others have to say about what they got from a book. I learn a lot that way. Will I be running out to grab another Graham Greene book to read? Not any time soon, lol.
Graham Greene is a name I have been familiar with for a long time, but until now, I have not read any of his books. One summer, on a long drive, I listened to a BBC radio play of his book Our Man in Havana, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. But The Power and The Glory is the first of his books that I have read. And according to all the little blurbs that come with my edition, it is his masterpiece.
I am not a religious man, and trials of religious people do not typically move me. There is no exception here for the unnamed priest at the center of The Power and The Glory. I can respect his struggles, and I understand his dilemma, but for the most part I was not moved by his inner religious turmoil. That said, however, I really enjoyed this book and really enjoyed the main character we follow around because even as the book is about the trials of a persecuted priest among persecuted people, it is the people and not the religion that Greene studies and discusses.
When I learned in the biographical sketch at the head of my edition that Greene converted to Catholicism when he was 26, I was very wary about what I was about to read. That knowledge acted like a lens, affecting the way I started into the book, the symbols and lessons I looked around for. That lens fell away as I got a quarter of the way into the book and simply enjoyed the story and the writing. Greene creates crisp, clear, and evocative sentences. He seemingly effortlessly creates a scene with deft description and characters come to life through their dialogue and interaction. I never found myself wanting the scenes to move faster or for the plot to develop quicker, nor did I wish to linger longer. It all moved so perfectly. And then, as I neared the end, as the whiskey priest neared the end of his journey, I suspiciously picked that lens back up and read on expecting one of two things. Either the priest was going to get his absolution and become an appropriate martyr, or he would be denied confession and die ingloriously.
Greene did something I didn't expect and he did it with great skill. The whiskey priest does indeed die without confession, without repenting of his own scenes AND he becomes a proper martyr, believably. There is nothing superhuman in the priest's fate. He does not find God's strength to face his execution. He does not transcend to some higher spiritual level in meeting his death, but it is that incredible humanity that makes his death meaningful. Unlike Christ, the priest is a man steeped in sin, but like Christ, he dies with the sins and confessions of everyone who called on him. He gave his life to hear the last confession, and he did it without seeming ridiculously pious. And his last word, overheard by the dentist, before the firing squad let loose, was "excuse." What a great and ambiguous word! Was he making an excuse for his own behavior, pleading for a stay of execution, or speaking to God as Christ upon the cross, asking him to "excuse" their murdering him, for they know not what they do? In this conclusion, Greene allows tragedy and hope to come together in a beautiful balance. He gives us the ending that the priest becomes a martyr but without it becoming a cheesy tale of morality. Greene gives it all to us, and you cannot ask for a better ending than that.
The thing Greene explores throughout the novel and the priests travels is the difference between the man and the role he performs. The priest can be a bad man, a bad priest, and still do good. He can be the horrible example he fears he is and still bring God to people. There are no wicked characters in this book; and there are certainly no saints. But what the people are like on the inside, what motivates them and occupies their mind, are different from the effect they have on other people and the world around them. The lieutenant is a kind-hearted man who gives money to a struggling man and seeks to eliminate the church for what he sees as the good of the people, but he is ready to execute innocents to reach his goal. The fang-toothed mestizo is another great example of the person and the role being at odds.
Graham Greene is another author that I plan to return too when this experiment is over. I love his writing, his plotting, and his combination of intellect and intuition to create a riveting and rewarding story.
I am not a religious man, and trials of religious people do not typically move me. There is no exception here for the unnamed priest at the center of The Power and The Glory. I can respect his struggles, and I understand his dilemma, but for the most part I was not moved by his inner religious turmoil. That said, however, I really enjoyed this book and really enjoyed the main character we follow around because even as the book is about the trials of a persecuted priest among persecuted people, it is the people and not the religion that Greene studies and discusses.
When I learned in the biographical sketch at the head of my edition that Greene converted to Catholicism when he was 26, I was very wary about what I was about to read. That knowledge acted like a lens, affecting the way I started into the book, the symbols and lessons I looked around for. That lens fell away as I got a quarter of the way into the book and simply enjoyed the story and the writing. Greene creates crisp, clear, and evocative sentences. He seemingly effortlessly creates a scene with deft description and characters come to life through their dialogue and interaction. I never found myself wanting the scenes to move faster or for the plot to develop quicker, nor did I wish to linger longer. It all moved so perfectly. And then, as I neared the end, as the whiskey priest neared the end of his journey, I suspiciously picked that lens back up and read on expecting one of two things. Either the priest was going to get his absolution and become an appropriate martyr, or he would be denied confession and die ingloriously.
Greene did something I didn't expect and he did it with great skill. The whiskey priest does indeed die without confession, without repenting of his own scenes AND he becomes a proper martyr, believably. There is nothing superhuman in the priest's fate. He does not find God's strength to face his execution. He does not transcend to some higher spiritual level in meeting his death, but it is that incredible humanity that makes his death meaningful. Unlike Christ, the priest is a man steeped in sin, but like Christ, he dies with the sins and confessions of everyone who called on him. He gave his life to hear the last confession, and he did it without seeming ridiculously pious. And his last word, overheard by the dentist, before the firing squad let loose, was "excuse." What a great and ambiguous word! Was he making an excuse for his own behavior, pleading for a stay of execution, or speaking to God as Christ upon the cross, asking him to "excuse" their murdering him, for they know not what they do? In this conclusion, Greene allows tragedy and hope to come together in a beautiful balance. He gives us the ending that the priest becomes a martyr but without it becoming a cheesy tale of morality. Greene gives it all to us, and you cannot ask for a better ending than that.
The thing Greene explores throughout the novel and the priests travels is the difference between the man and the role he performs. The priest can be a bad man, a bad priest, and still do good. He can be the horrible example he fears he is and still bring God to people. There are no wicked characters in this book; and there are certainly no saints. But what the people are like on the inside, what motivates them and occupies their mind, are different from the effect they have on other people and the world around them. The lieutenant is a kind-hearted man who gives money to a struggling man and seeks to eliminate the church for what he sees as the good of the people, but he is ready to execute innocents to reach his goal. The fang-toothed mestizo is another great example of the person and the role being at odds.
Graham Greene is another author that I plan to return too when this experiment is over. I love his writing, his plotting, and his combination of intellect and intuition to create a riveting and rewarding story.