Greene's Catholicism: Life, death, betrayal and sin in 'The Power and the Glory'

It has been almost three weeks since my last post, thanks to a pretty horrible situation with a laptop repair shop. But, here it is! Enjoy!

 I came to this novel with very high expectations, having loved every syllable of Greene's work that I have read thus far. I did feel, however, that there was a much darker undercurrent in this actually fairly short piece. Greene's own peculiar attitude to life was very much evident; the cheapness of life juxtaposed with the strength of the need to keep living. Earlier in his career, Greene separated his books into 'entertainments' and more serious 'novels', upon which he felt his career was to be judged. 'The Power and the Glory' is one of the latter, and it certainly feels it! It is a dark novel, with far more questions to ask than answers to offer. The nature of faith and sin, the definitions of good and evil are all topics explored, all the while veiled in a mist of foreboding. This novel, while perhaps not among my favourites by Graham Greene, is certainly an enjoyable read and surprisingly easy to progress through, given the heavy nature of the subject matter.

 To begin with, it is important to explore a brief overview of the context of this novel. President Plutarco Elás Calles oversaw Mexico from 1924 until 1928 and presided over the worst persecution of Catholics and clergy in the history of the nation, including the killing of hundreds of priests. A rebellion against the harsh measures began in 1927, resulting in even more deaths. By 1935, 17 Mexican states were without any priest at all. In the introduction to the Vintage Classics edition, 2002, John Updike states that the novel is set in the state of Tabasco, although it is never named. Incidentally, this is where the violence was at its worst.

 Graham Greene’s relationship with Catholicism was interesting, to say the least. He converted to the religion in 1926, after finding that the reasons to disbelieve in God were becoming fewer and fewer during his discussions with a Friar Trollope. His initial curiosity in the religion stemmed in part from his desire to marry a Catholic woman, Vivien Dayrell-Browning. Greene’s own uncertainty and religious doubt is echoed by his characters; indeed, they are usually his most believable.

 Greene certainly does not shy away from extreme topics in his writing. In this case, he examines the definitions of good and evil. On page 127, the Whiskey priest exclaims, “Thieves, murderers… Oh, my child, if you had more experience you would know there are worse things to be.” From here, one is led to wonder what these things are and, if we are to follow Greene’s gentle lead, Padre José becomes the perfect example. He is not only a bad priest (and Catholic) because he has married under the pressure of the state, but he is also, it could be argued, a bad person. He is a coward, he is selfish and he is weak. Twice he fails to be of help to the Whiskey Priest, and both times he seems whiny and spineless. Compare this, then, to the bravery and determination of the peasants whom the priest meets during his travels. Admittedly, they are motivated by fear of their religion to sacrifice themselves for the priest and spend the last of their money on baptisms and mass. However, they show an ability to blindly follow what they believe in, right into the valley of death, while Padre José abandons his religion and also his people. Ultimately, he loses all dignity and becomes a laughing stock.

 Mr. Luhr, whom the priest meets late in the novel, is a Lutheran with a deep disgust for Catholicism, not dissimilar to that of the lieutenant. On page 159, Mr. Luhr informs the Whiskey priest that he and his sister “don’t hold with your church, father. Too much luxury, it seems to me, while the people starve.” Luhr does, however, shelter the priest for nothing and gives him all the help he is able; in that sense, he embodies the true meaning of Christian charity and goodness. The priest, meanwhile, proves Luhr right in the reader’s eyes when he drinks the money the peasants gave him for religious services. In spite of this, it appears to be faith that makes one good in the eyes of God; for all the sympathetic moments had with the lieutenant and Padre José, they are not good men. It is the continued faith, no matter how futile and tragic, of the people in the face of suffering that compels them to stretch out the hand of kindness. Perhaps, then, this is what makes the lieutenants’ brief moments of mercy so poignant – he is motivated by pure human goodness, as opposed to fear of a faith that, as Mr. Luhr puts it on page 162, “like people to read the bible,” thus perpetuating their fear and servitude.

 The journey of the Whiskey priest towards safety is futile from the offset (it is, ironically, his religious duty that always hold him back). This journey is mirrored throughout the novel by an equally futile spiritual journey towards redemption. The priest struggles always to reconcile the drunken act of sin he has committed and his obvious repentance of it, with his primal love for its fruit: his daughter. His search for forgiveness is constant; at one point he thinks, “what a play-actor I am. I have no business here, among good people”. – p.165. The priest’s inability to repent fully destroys him, spiritually. Interestingly, it appears to be the priest’s reluctance to sin that prevents him from handing himself in, or encouraging others to betray him, as opposed to any desire to stay alive. The juxtaposition of the need to keep living and the cheapness of life is fascinating. On page 23, the anonymous husband tells his wife, “If we don’t like the church, well, we must leave it.” To this, his wife replies, “I would rather die.” The husband summarises an important theme of the novel when we replies, “Oh… Of course. But we have to go on living.” No matter what they are faced with, all the characters must do just that. The theme of life’s cheapness and apparent lack of value is described in this passage: ‘“A man like that,” the lieutenant said, “does no real harm. A few men dead. We all have to die. The money – somebody has to spend it.” p.17. Even Padre José, who chose to renounce his holy life to live sinfully, ‘thought with envy of the men who had died: it was all over so soon.’ – p.23.

 Greene himself had a dangerous relationship with life, even attempting suicide. Take especially this passage from Updike’s introduction: ‘An escetic, reckless, life-despising streak in Greene’s temperament characterised among other precipitate ventures, his 1938 trip to Mexico.’ It is Greene himself, I believe, that makes his novels so difficult to analyse: on the one hand, there is an overwhelming abundance of rich material, while on the other hand, he is simply too much of an enigma. There is still so much more that could said on this novel but for now I shall leave it here. My final word is that I would recommend Greene’s novels to anyone, especially Monsignor Quixote, one of my all-time favourite novels.

 Feel free to leave a comment with any feedback or points of your own. Thanks for reading, - K

Prejudice and impeded relationships in E.M Forster’s 'A Passage to India'

‘“Why, the kindest thing one can do to a native is to let him die.”’ – p. 24. So says Mrs Calendar, in just one of the many examples of casual racism that litter this novel. While I think it would be missing out a lot to state that this work is purely a novel about racism, this theme is so very clearly evident that it cannot be ignored. Rather, I would argue that it is a main theme and also one of the many prejudices used to demonstrate the ways in which our differences, and our attitudes towards them, can influence and impede relationships with others. Sex/ gender, class, age, and religion are all differences which lead the characters in this novel to feel a certain disdain, fear or antipathy towards one another, even whilst at the same time themselves suffering from some form of prejudice. It is these ideas that I found myself becoming embroiled in and would like to explore further.

A Passage to India has been a wonderful read, especially so because of the way in which it is open to interpretation from many different schools of thought. I came away from it reluctant to put it down, full of praise and, perhaps most importantly of all, warmed by a damn good STORY!

 

Clearly, when looking at the issue of race in this novel, it would be inane to point out the obvious examples and bemoan the characters for their lack of insight and humanity. I would prefer to have a go at looking at the issue of race from another angle. Racism is a very important theme in A Passage to India; many of the outrageous comments are made in passing, and within the confines of places or groups of individuals which one might consider safe, as they should in theory all agree. Due to Ronny’s absolute outrage when he realises his mother is speaking about an Indian when she conversationally mentions a meeting with Dr. Aziz, he thinks angrily, ‘Why hadn’t she indicated by her tone of voice that she was talking about a native?’ –p. 27. Ronny is scandalized, and also a little fearful. In fact, this fear is a serious undercurrent of the casual racism voiced at the Club; the fear not only of the natives themselves, but also of any white English person who has an opposing view. This idea develops later on, through the character of Cyril Fielding.

The Club itself serves as a safe haven for the English men and women – a place in which they are totally separate from the Indians, a state of affairs perfectly well accepted, it would seem, by everyone. Dr. Aziz, for example: ‘“Indians are not allowed in the Chandrapore Club, even as guests,” he said simply’. – p.20. Throughout the novel, I did feel a sense of ‘impending doom’, as it were; the feeling that something bad going to happen and that all of this hatred for each other could not simply continue festering. After all, the heat was coming…

 

It did occur to me at one point to consider whether or not this was a ‘protest novel’; Forster himself was a pacifist and a humanist, with many years of experience in India. Indeed, many believe that he was in love with an Indian man. However, I gave this idea up after a while, as it became apparent that Forster was not simply writing about how bad things were for Indians living under British imperialism. While this was something he touches upon, quite clearly, I believe that Forster shows a disdain for all exclusive systems or hierarchies, be it that they are based upon sex, religion or class. In fact, the parallels drawn between the British class system and the Indian caste system are quite interesting.

Fairly near the beginning, Adela’s impending marriage, and the restraints it would place upon her (as it did upon most middle class married women in this period), fill her with a sudden dread. This passage, for example, ‘In front, like a shutter, fell a vision of her married life [in India]. She and Ronny would look into the club like this every evening, then drive home to dress; they would see the Lesleys and the Calendars and Turtons and the Burtons, invite them and be invited by them, while the true India slid by unnoticed.’ – p 42. As the novel progressed, I began to consider whether or not the incident in the caves (to be precise, Adela’s perception of the event), could be in a way a reflection of her feelings about her marriage. The concept of being owned by a man and also by an oppressive society, coupled with the oppressive nature of the caves themselves, could easily have been a factor in what happened, if not a clear bit of symbolism.

 

I will come back to the strange notion of ‘the real India’ later on, because for now I want to have a look at Forster’s views on the patriarchy. Dr. Aziz is actually, I found, not a particularly sympathetic character; he is equally as prejudiced and unpleasant to people as the Englishmen, when it comes to servants and Hindus, and has some pretty patriarchal views on women. Take, for example, his first meeting with Mrs Moore and Adela Quested, ‘Beauty would have troubled him, for it entails rules of its own, but Mrs Moore was so old and Miss Quested so plain that he was spared this anxiety.’ – p. 62. Here we have an example of a man feeling intimidated by female beauty; mistrusting of its ‘rules’. Later on, the cultural differences in perception of beauty come to the forefront, when Dr. Aziz ‘analyses’ the body of Adela. ‘Adela’s angular body and the freckles on her face were terrible defects to his eyes… his attitude towards her remained entirely straightforward as a consequence.’ – p.62. Aziz, as a heterosexual man, could not treat a pretty woman ‘as a man’ and therefore could not take her seriously. Later, we are told that, ‘it enraged him that he had been accused by a woman who had no person beauty; sexually, he was a snob.’ – p.227. However, while Dr Aziz is unpleasant, he is at least real, and it is here that we see Forster’s true genius – creating these incredibly real, loveable, despicable, human characters.

 

Class (or caste) distinctions are also very clearly represented in A Passage to India. There are examples from the members of the Club, as well as Aziz himself: ‘He detested ill-breeding’ – p.53. In a strange way, Aziz and Ronny are quite similar – both are supportive of a classist patriarchy, even if they do not agree on matters of race and religion. Religious tension is also presented in A Passage to India; on page 96, Mr Haq states that, ‘“All disease proceeds from Hindus”’. It’s interesting to see these prejudiced opinions stated so freely and conversationally on both ‘sides’.

 

I’d just like to reference a very interesting passage in Critical Theory Today by Lois Tyson: ‘Jack Babuscio argues that gay sensibility has something to offer everyone: the relevance of its insights is not limited as some critics believe , to the gay community… [Tennessee] Williams’s heroines are Williams himself in drag, so to speak, expressing his own anxieties about being gay… Williams’s experiences on the margins on mainstream America, as an object of ‘fear, suspicion and, even, hatred’, gave him a privileged position from which to understand the conflicts of human life’. From this, I was led on to analyse the many forms of prejudice Forster examines in A Passage to India. While Forster was, of course, a closeted homosexual, the feeling of being on the margins of society, as Williams was, would have been present, and I would argue also gave him the ability to understand other forms of prejudice in a way which those existing within the realms of White/ Straight/ Male Privilege could not. I have also been wondering if perhaps the sexism, racism and classism looked at in this novel could in some way be ‘standing-in’ for an examination of homophobia.

 

Adela is obsessed with attempting to discover the ‘real India’. I read somewhere (I’m terrible, I never remember to note down where I read things) that Forster himself did not like the idea of a ‘real India’. Indeed, it is Adela’s hunt for this false notion that we are led to believe has some link with the incident in the caves. Take this, for example: ‘In her [Adela’s] ignorance she regarded him [Aziz] as ‘India’, and never surmised that his outlook was limited and his method inaccurate and that no one is India.’ – p.65. ‘[Adela] placed him on a pinnacle which he could not retain’. – p.66.  Forster never treats Adela unkindly as a character, despite disagreeing with the naivety with which she approaches India. In fact, while all of the characters are treated with compassion by Forster (even Ronny!), it is really only Mrs. Moore and Mr. Fielding who hold similar views to Forster. This novel is really a complete exploration of the prejudices and ridiculous notions that people of all colours and creeds hold, and of how they are nothing but impediments to relationships.

Adela does begin her time in India with the best of intentions, calling up those who she feels are unfair or rude. Mrs Moore attempts to do the same. I came to feel that throughout this novel it is the circumstances of Imperialism that create the attitudes people hold and exacerbate the problems that come about. ‘… the net Great Britain had thrown over India’ – p. 14 express this perfectly; the oppressive social situation, the oppressive heat the oppressive caves – all symbols of the bubbling melting pot which eventually erupts into a social catastrophe. 

 

I have tried not to give too much away about the plot here, as I really do think that this novel needs to be read to understood. All I will say, though, is that it is a true work of genius and a piece I will most definitely revisit. Very much looking forward to seeing what is said about this in my new book club and will hopefully report back.

Thanks for reading!

-K