To re-read an old favorite book is akin to being reunited with a close friend after some years apart. The sparks of friendship that fired the warmth of affection are rekindled. Memories are refreshed; anecdotes and events are recalled with renewed joy. Conversations from long ago are resumed as though they were never interrupted. Many of the qualities that bind friends to one another are the same that steer one back to a favorite novel. And the occasions of reacquaintance are often similar. For old friends, a family wedding, class reunion or destination rendezvous may be the catalyst. For a beloved novel, it may be a milestone publication anniversary or the death of the author. Or the impetus may be, as in the case of three favorite classic Catholic novels, publication of a new edition or translation. It so happens that the three I have in mind, all published this year, are also excellent reads for the waning days of summer.
‘Diary of a Country Priest’
Georges Bernanos was not only a fine novelist, but one of the leading public intellectuals of early to mid-twentieth century France. A favorite confidant of French premier Charles DeGaulle, Bernanos helped to shape the trajectory of post-World War II France until his untimely death in 1948. The best known of his several novels is “Diary of a Country Priest,” first published in French in 1936 as “Journal d’un Curé de Campagne,” and translated into English by British scholar Pamela Morris in 1937. Morris’s translation has been criticized over the years for, among other things, its somewhat clunky British idioms, the deletion of several important passages from the original French and, most importantly, a mistranslation of the last words of the protagonist of the novel, the unnamed parish priest whose diary comprises the book.
All these deficiencies are remedied in the outstanding new Ignatius Press translation by Michael Tobin, retired professor of French at St. Thomas More College in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan (federated with the University of Saskatchewan). Tobin restores several pages that were inexplicably omitted by the Morris translation. These passages contain some of the priest’s most acute observations about the moribund state of the Church in early twentieth century France, the theme at the heart of the book. Each time I read “Diary of a Country Priest,” I am reminded of Dostoevsky’s “The Idiot.” The priest in Bernanos’ novel is remarkably similar in disposition and innocent credulity to Prince Myshkin.
The young, sickly priest is thrust prematurely into a disinterested parish of the lethargic French Church. His diary is at once the catalogue of his own spiritual and physical struggles and an account of the cynicism of both lay and clergy alike. But as with, for example, Graham Greene’s “The Power and the Glory” or Evelyn Waugh’s “Brideshead Revisited,” the Church of Bernanos’ novel is richer and steadier than the fickle faith of her inconstant members. Tobin’s new translation makes the novel come alive to the contemporary anglophone reader, renewing my love of this truly great novel. And that corrected translation of the priest’s last words? You’ll have to read the novel for yourself to discover that.
‘The End of the Affair’
“The End of the Affair” (first published in 1951) is my hands-down favorite Graham Greene novel, certified by the many times that I have read it over the years. Thus, I was very pleased to encounter a new edition of Greene’s great novel from Word on Fire’s Classics imprint. It is the story of unrequited love (and hatred), of jealousy, of suspicion and resentment, of miscommunication and misadventure. In other words, it is in many ways a typical love story. But it is the story of (at least) two loves running parallel to one another and, thus, seemingly never to meet. As with Bernanos’ book, the Church is a central figure in “The End of the Affair.” But her presence is less explicit, if more profound in the latter. Greene’s protagonist (a novelist similar to himself) is less sympathetic than Bernanos’ country priest, which makes the story perhaps even more compelling.
Of course, the text of the new edition of “The End of the Affair” is no different from other editions of the book. What makes the Word on Fire edition noteworthy is the high-quality paper, eloquent, sturdy binding, and insightful foreword by Katy Carl, author of the novel “As Earth Without Water” and short story collection “Fragile Objects,” both from Wiseblood Books. Carl tells us that “we must trust that grace can do precisely what its Giver says it can. And we must allow God to make saints of us not for some other time in history but for our own.” This insightful admonition is a lovely summary of the central message of “The End of the Affair.”
‘The Edge of Sadness’
Like “Diary of a Country Priest,” Frank O’Connor’s great novel “The Edge of Sadness” (originally published in 1961) is the first-person account of the life of a parish priest. After being out of print for many years, a new edition of this unjustly neglected novel has been published by Cluny Media.
Set in an unnamed New England city similar to O’Connor’s Providence, Rhode Island, “The Edge of Sadness” is the fictional memoir of a dutiful, pious and conscientious pastor of a declining parish in a neglected part of the city. A recovering alcoholic, Father Hugh Kennedy is unwittingly drawn into the dramatic lives of members of the Carmody family, one of whom is Father Kennedy’s priest colleague, pastoring a prosperous parish on the other side of town. Father Carmody’s family is an enigma that Father Kennedy spends the novel trying to decode. We are the happy beneficiaries of his labor.
The title of “The Edge of Sadness” can account for any of at least three readings of the novel. On one hand, the “edge” might be the sharp peak of a mountain ridge, on which one metaphorically balances oneself, lest one fall to one sad side or the other. In this sense, the person on the edge must continuously struggle to keep one’s balance, while buffeted by wind and weather. Or, the title might be understood as the boundary of sadness, the other side of which is something like its opposite — perhaps joy, happiness or contentment. Finally, the “edge” of sadness might be the sharp side of a wedge, which having insinuated itself into a crevice, cuts open a world of sadness. As with the other two novels above, the reader will have to make his or her own judgment after reading this deeply moving account of the life of a priest.
Like authentic friendship, great literature stands the test of time. New editions of “Diary of a Country Priest,” “The End of the Affair” and “The Edge of Sadness” illustrate the perennial and abiding use of great fiction to uncover profound truths. If you don’t know them, I encourage you to meet them for the first time. If they are old companions, these new editions are invitations to renew your friendship.
