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A review by thegbrl
Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
5.0
“Perhaps all our loves are merely hints and symbols; vagabond-language scrawled on gate-posts and paving-stones along the weary road that others have tramped before us; perhaps you and I are types and this sadness which sometimes falls between us springs from disappointment in our search, each straining through and beyond the other, snatching a glimpse now and then of the shadow which turns the corner always a pace or two ahead of us.”
Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited is an elegiac and deeply morose examination of Catholicism through the lens of the yeomanry and nobility, in which Waugh draws on Catholic notions of atonement, suffering, contrition, sanctity and the grace of God. Brideshead Revisited examines the way religion generates alienation and pleasure, against the sullen backdrop of the rapidly declining stability of the interwar period. The disintegration of English nobility and the movement towards modernity and secularism pervade the novel, which maintains an engrossing quality of nostalgia and retrospective longing for a bygone time. The entire text interweaves the motifs of Catholicism and English tradition to create a pensive and atmospheric exploration of human suffering at its most primal forms: longing and moral deterioration.
Most compellingly, the novel introduces readers to a world of extravagance, luxury and opulence, foreign to most. At first they seem to be caricatures, often comedic and unintentionally insouciant or inattentive to the "realities" of life. As the narrative progresses, Waugh succeeds in humanising the characters, showing that they too suffer the same plight; that perhaps all human beings are condemned to suffering until they may be saved by the grace of God. From a theological perspective, the text is both a critique and exaltation of Catholicism in all its forms, expressing the allure of Catholicism in the pre-Vatican II era. Its traditions, piety, and attention to the finer aspects of human existence are certainly most prominent in the novel, particularly when told through the lens of the agnostic Charles Ryder.
Waugh employs a narrative structure similar to that of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby in which Charles Ryder is Nick Carraway, privy to the lives of the upper-class. The demise of the Flytes at Brideshead reinvent the narrative of the end of nobility, and there is plenty of romanticism and resonant description that is both deeply affecting and deeply moving. Despite the text focusing on the experiences of the rich and privileged, Waugh illuminates their plight with the bittersweet “revisitation” through Ryder’s own experience. This third person perspective enhances the tragic undertones of the novel and places the responder in a state of perpetual powerlessness. To an extent, I feel that Waugh is writing from his own memory, treating each page like a photograph, and capturing only what is relevant to that moment. Waugh seems to treat memory with a reverence and respect reserved for the divine, exalting the experience of memory into one that is of supreme importance to the human psyche. Perhaps I have found myself deeply engrossed in the narrative for this reason. Memory is not cemented as a preoccupation, but is infused with the formulation of sentences, creating unity between the text and its features, harmonising subject matter, context, and form.
Waugh’s ability to develop character in the confines of memory is both enthralling and intriguing, as he carefully crafts not only events, but the memories which surround them, becoming one with the very character he has created. This sense of authenticity and reflective understanding between the author and the protagonist mirrors the relationship of both Sebastian and Charles, and Julia and Charles. It seems to me that when an author "actualises" their characters and depicts them in a holistic manner, they are better able to convey the key thematic preoccupations of the narrative with flair and consistency.
Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited is an elegiac and deeply morose examination of Catholicism through the lens of the yeomanry and nobility, in which Waugh draws on Catholic notions of atonement, suffering, contrition, sanctity and the grace of God. Brideshead Revisited examines the way religion generates alienation and pleasure, against the sullen backdrop of the rapidly declining stability of the interwar period. The disintegration of English nobility and the movement towards modernity and secularism pervade the novel, which maintains an engrossing quality of nostalgia and retrospective longing for a bygone time. The entire text interweaves the motifs of Catholicism and English tradition to create a pensive and atmospheric exploration of human suffering at its most primal forms: longing and moral deterioration.
Most compellingly, the novel introduces readers to a world of extravagance, luxury and opulence, foreign to most. At first they seem to be caricatures, often comedic and unintentionally insouciant or inattentive to the "realities" of life. As the narrative progresses, Waugh succeeds in humanising the characters, showing that they too suffer the same plight; that perhaps all human beings are condemned to suffering until they may be saved by the grace of God. From a theological perspective, the text is both a critique and exaltation of Catholicism in all its forms, expressing the allure of Catholicism in the pre-Vatican II era. Its traditions, piety, and attention to the finer aspects of human existence are certainly most prominent in the novel, particularly when told through the lens of the agnostic Charles Ryder.
Waugh employs a narrative structure similar to that of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby in which Charles Ryder is Nick Carraway, privy to the lives of the upper-class. The demise of the Flytes at Brideshead reinvent the narrative of the end of nobility, and there is plenty of romanticism and resonant description that is both deeply affecting and deeply moving. Despite the text focusing on the experiences of the rich and privileged, Waugh illuminates their plight with the bittersweet “revisitation” through Ryder’s own experience. This third person perspective enhances the tragic undertones of the novel and places the responder in a state of perpetual powerlessness. To an extent, I feel that Waugh is writing from his own memory, treating each page like a photograph, and capturing only what is relevant to that moment. Waugh seems to treat memory with a reverence and respect reserved for the divine, exalting the experience of memory into one that is of supreme importance to the human psyche. Perhaps I have found myself deeply engrossed in the narrative for this reason. Memory is not cemented as a preoccupation, but is infused with the formulation of sentences, creating unity between the text and its features, harmonising subject matter, context, and form.
Waugh’s ability to develop character in the confines of memory is both enthralling and intriguing, as he carefully crafts not only events, but the memories which surround them, becoming one with the very character he has created. This sense of authenticity and reflective understanding between the author and the protagonist mirrors the relationship of both Sebastian and Charles, and Julia and Charles. It seems to me that when an author "actualises" their characters and depicts them in a holistic manner, they are better able to convey the key thematic preoccupations of the narrative with flair and consistency.