The Power and the Glory   by Graham Greene

Jan 3 - 6, 2006.     A Christmas gift from my loving, book-addict Mother.

This book... took my attention. Engulfed me. -in it's story. It's tale.

The tale is about a, (the last?) priest in a southern region of Mexico, where the Communist regime has been fanatically removing all traces of religion from the society. So, he is hunted, and wanted for Treason, and is in much danger. But, (and this is the interesting point that gives the colour to the tale,) he stays in the area to covertly deliver Religious offices to the people, not because he is a great saint, but... well. It's partly left to the reader to determine what his motive is then. My feeling, is that he felt himself so worthless, useless, and extraneous a human being, that he thought he might as well continue doing what he could for these people who had no one else to administer their religion to them; He didn't see it as such a bad thing if he was caught and executed, so he stayed there, and continued on. It's made very clear, that he doesn't see himself as a saint, or a martyr. He sees himself barely fit for the offices he can perform, and not truly worthy of the cloth at all, in a proper sense.

This is one thing which is interesting about it though: although we're given a clear insight into his mind, and know his thoughts, We are as blind as he is to his true motivations. I ended the book a little irritated, because I didn't understand the WHY, about half of the major decisions he makes. But, thinking over it now, I must admit that he didn't know either; It was just a gut feeling; It... seemed right at the time, although he couldn't think up a single satisfying reason for himself.

I have the feeling that he's actually a very good man, and in the end, he is a true, saintly martyr. -I mean, that that's the impression the author wants to portray about his end. But I'm somewhat more on the side of the character than the author:That he was a drunk, useless, embarrassment to the church. And that though he did all he could, and was as good and virtuous as he was ever able to be, he made but little difference in his world.

I do not agree with his view completely either though; I think he was, indeed, somewhat useless as a priest, and that everyone could have done just as well without him as they did with him. But, it was clear to us, (the readers,) that he is still a most honest, decent man. He is true to himself, and to his God, and to the people he meets. He is not a saint in a religious way, but I find that he Is a saint in a Human way. It is only human to fear death, and to be a coward at times, and to have no control over drinking problems. But judged as a Human, he was a great, great, wonderful man. He is not even thick-headed about his religion: he doesn't block his ears to criticisms of it; He confronts his own doubts about it's validity and social worth. His faith remains unshaken by all of this, but what I find is important, is that he didn't ignore all these arguments against his church, just because he was sure in his faith. To me, this suggests that he was more interested in Finding the Truth, than he was in Knowing the truth. (If that makes sense: It would have been simple for him to think that he Knew, from his years of schooling, and working as a priest. But he was still ready to Learn, even if it proved all he Knew to be wrong.)

So, that's the long, social side which I saw in the book. But the writing it's self also deserves some mention: As I said, it was different, (and I suppose good,) the way that we were privy to his inner thoughts, but not his deeper motivations. And the style was... minimalistic; It never, never gave us extra facts, explaining that this person is the owner of a store, and that person was just married, and this town was called something-or-other. Most of it was written more in the form of "The man walked with two others through the square of the town." -with no introducing the man, the town, or the reason he's walking. But then, we're also given... details that give the tale life; We're told of the dryness of the earth, the other, (unidentified,) people lying in hammocks on porches, and the steamy, fetid air that comes from the river. So, there are a good deal of specifics, but... only of an immediate sort; Of what the protagonist would know and notice at that exact moment. (He never remembers this or that happening in a place. It's only ever what that place is to him then, in the moment.)

That's the thing about the writing style: It's stream of consciousness, only put into paragraphs, and chapters, and made into a nice story. (That's not literally true, but it gives a good feeling for the immediacy of the novel.)