ETRB VI: "The Altar Steps" by Compton Mackenzie

The Altar Steps by Compton Mackenzie

One of the joys of auditing a course means that you can head down ‘rabbit holes’ in the assigned reading when they attract your attention, and not have to worry about it. In doing some reading for my Modern Anglican Development class, I came across an article originally published in Victorian Studies on Anglo-Catholicism and homosexuality by David Hilliard. The article made reference to Sir Compton Mackenzie’s Anglo-Catholic trilogy of novels. Down the rabbit hole I went.

Mackenzie is most noted for his comic novels of the 1940s Monarch of the Glen and Whiskey Galore set in Scotland. However, earlier in his career, he was seen as a literary novelist and was greatly admired by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Mackenzie was admird for, among other works, his coming of age Sinister Street novel (in 2 volumes), which were compared to W. Somerset Maugham’s Of Human Bondage. Mackenzie’s Anglo-Catholic trilogy of novels -- The Altar Steps, The Parson’s Progress and Heaven’s Ladder -- are another bildungsroman flavored effort on Mackenzie’s part. The main character Mark Lidderdale is, like Mackenzie, deeply religious. And his development as a burgeoning catholic is charted by the three novels. I found a free online copy of The Altar Steps, downloaded it, printed it out and red it through.

In the opening chapters of the book, it is the late 19th century and Mark’s father James, an Anglican priest, has come to St. Simon’s Notting Hill, an outpost of the Catholic Movement in the Church of England. Fr. Lidderdale is given charge of the St. Simon’s Lima Street Mission. The Lima Street Mission typifies the outreach to working class and poor constituents that was a marked aspect of the Catholic Revival. James Lidderdale falls afoul of the bishop with a Mass of the Pre-Sanctified and a ceremony of Creeping to the Cross on Good Friday, among other Ritualist practices. His conflict with the bishop brings on a bout of rage and self-pity. He rants that his lack of fealty to his vow of celibacy as a catholic priest has caused this downfall, and he rejects Mark and his mother, and leaves for missionary work in Africa.

Young Mark and his mother return to Cornwall, and to the care of his benevolent, more protestant, priest-grandfather. Mark is sent to an uncle to be educated in his private, very evangelical boy’s school Haverton House. After a few years Mark runs afoul of his uncle and what Mackenzie calls “his desiccated religion.” On Whit-Sunday (Penetecost: day of the coming of the Holy Spirit) on a walk in the fields, Mark is drawn by church bells to an Anglo-Catholic parish nearby. Mark is swept up in the piety of his childhood by the Sanctus, the Nicene Creed, and the mystery of the mass. He becomes friendly with the vicar, Stephen Ogilvie, and his mother and sisters, and comes into the Ogilvie family’s orbit for the rest of the novel.

Mark is confirmed at Fr. Ogilvie’s church at Meade Cantorum and decides to become a priest. The vicar tutors him in classics and eventually Mark sits for scholarship exams at Oxford. However, in a fit of self-sacrifice he deliberately fails his exams in favor of a less fortunate student. Still set on the priesthood, Mark makes a vow of celibacy and seeks to occupy his time until he can enroll in theological college and qualify for ordination.

In the ensuing year’s Mark lives and works at an Anglo-Catholic mission much like the one his father ran. Here at Chatsea, Mark is tutored by Fr. Rowley, an avid Anglo-Catholic, and selfless missioner to the poor fishing and merchant marine families of the seaside village. Fr. Rowley is widely admired for his work, and by subscription and exhaustive fundraising, he builds a magnificent parish church in Chatsea. However, a new bishop is unwilling to license the church with its Altar of the Dead, where masses are to be offered for the salvation of the souls of the many dead sailors from the community. This flagrantly catholic practice cannot be sanctioned and Fr. Rowley, much like Mark’s own father, abandons his ministry rather than compromise his principles.

Mark decides to be an itinerant preacher, and eventually lands in one of the newly refounded Anglican monasteries. The Order of St. George struggles to pursue its mission when its founder and leading light must constantly travel, preach and fundraise. It is meant to be a mission to sailors, but must close its portside priories and retreat to its mother house to await brighter days. The novices and monks are by turns truly devout and foolishly distracted by the ethereal ceremonies of monastic life and profession. At the end of the novel, Mark leaves the order and rededicates himself to his priestly vocation.

The novel brings to life the conflicts that arose out of Anglo-Catholic revival in Anglicanism as they confronted the movement’s second generation. Mark’s own father and his mentor Fr. Rowley both seek to bring pastoral comfort to their poor communities through Anglo-Catholic liturgy, and catholic theology and piety. Both men are eventually countered by short-sighted, conservative bishops who tout the letter of ecclesial law, and ignore the enormous good that these priests are doing.

The Anglo-Catholic social ministry is foremost in Mackenzie’s view of the movement. The author has great approbation for the devotion these men had to the poor communities that were often the only one’s that would accept their theological and liturgical catholicism. Fr. Rowley’s devotion to his Altar for the Dead, and the deep meaning it held for his parishioners who scrimped and saved to build it, is profound and moving.

Anglo-Catholic monasticism is given less praise as the fictional Order of St. Paul is made to seem at best misguided and unsuccessful, and at worst frivolous. And our hero Mark makes mistakes along his way to spiritual maturity. In an hilarious episode, he attempts to kidnap an evangelical MP’s son and spirit him away to an Anglo-Catholic vicarage where he can be safely converted to the catholic faith and practice. His effort is discovered and thwarted, but we see the sometime overlap and interplay of ecclesial and secular politics.

As the novel concludes, in a nice turnabout, Mark has learned that he is to be ordained, and his first reflections are on what he will preach the next Sunday -- not on what vestments he’ll wear or rituals he’ll enact. Mackenzie clearly has a high regard for the seriousness of the Catholic Movement, and great sympathy for it. His novel’s chief value for me was its from-the-inside view of the Anglo-Catholic movement. One comes to feel some of the sincerity and piety of the movement’s proponents along with the indignation they feel at evangelicalism efforts to thwart their piety and devotion. The bright line that divided evangelical and Anglo-Catholic practice

The next two novels in the trilogy are not available online, and are only available from out-of-print book websites for upwards of $100. But I’ve located copies at Columbia’s library, for which I have borrowing privileges. Stay tuned for reviews of The Parson’s Progress and Heaven’s Ladder.

ETRB V

I no longer apologize for reading mysteries when given the chance. Not since I discovered some years ago that most of my Literature professors set aside Austen, Dickens and Shakespeare at term's end and spent their summers engrossed in some of the better written, literary crime fiction out there. Here are some recent mysteries well-worth a place in your beach bag:

In The Woods by Tana French

This one is a winner all around. French is a first time novelist and she deliveries a intriguing, interesting plot and characters in this first outing. The characters are so well drawn and believable. The male protagonist is one of the best written by a woman since Pat Barker's Regeneration trilogy. He must investigate a murder that is strikingly similar to a crime he survived when just a child. A crime the details of which he has suppressed. French handles this coincidental plot device deftly, and you never feel 'set -up' or that the plot is a bit too neat or cute. The psychological insight into the crime and those affected by it is spot on, without seeming preachy or Oprah-esque.

The relationship that develops between the two detectives, Ryan and Maddox, is enveloping. The novel is as much about that relationship as it is about a crime. And you find yourself as interested in their interplay as in solving the crime. Even the auxiliary characters are indelible. A few weeks after finishing the novel, I'm still moved by the character of the murder victim's dance instructor, who appeared only twice in the narrative. French's description of her reaction to the death of her student is moving without being maudlin or over-written. I hope Ryan and Maddox return in French's next book. I'll await a sequel with bated breath. My rating: E E E E

Christine Falls by Benjamin Black

John Banville (here writing as Benjamin Black) is a beautiful writer and a recent Booker Prize winner for his novel The Sea. I read his Untouchable almost a decade ago and I still recall images and descriptions from it. His prose is not showy or overt. As you read and a turn of phrase, image, or unfamiliar adjective comes along, you stop and reread a line or two, and realize just how well-crafted every sentence is.

As Banville enters the mystery genre, he brings along all his literary skills and Christine Falls is yet another beautifully written novel. That said, the novel, as a mystery novel, is surprisingly conventional. Banville/Black's tale is based upon the phenomenon of the Magdalen Laundries; which are now well known through film, a Joni Mitchell song and other sources. So the setting for the mystery seems recycled, not fresh, really. The plot takes us from Ireland to Boston, and I expected a bit of an existential riff on the connections between the two cities. Didn't get it, per se.

There are breathtaking descriptions, wry observations, and interesting, even compelling characters. Most impressive is Quirke, the main and said to be recurring character. This is a well written, literary mystery that interests and repays the reader's effort. But somewhat conventional, all told. Critics often say that the first in a series of mystery/crime novels is often a bit of a disappointment. The writer may not hit his/her stride until the characters have spent more time under the pen. Perhaps here too. I do await the next Black mystery, but not with baited breath now reserved for Tana French’s next novel. My rating: E E E

The Naming of the Dead by Ian Rankin

If you're an Ian Rankin fan, then you never miss an installment of his Detective John Rebus series. Done and done. After the other two mysteries, I found myself clipping through Naming at a pretty quick pace. I know the author and the characters, so there was less to learn as I read. Rankin in a dependable author in the best sense. He knows his Edinburgh setting well, yet is able to make it interesting each time out.

His greatest challenge here is to wrap his crime narrative around the G8 summit meeting in Scotland in 2005 which abutted the July 7th London tube and bus bombings of that year. No small challenge for a British writer whose audience is too well aware of both events. Rankin is nothing but deft in creating a crime narrative that explicates but does not interfere with the very recent history in his novel. We learn a great deal about Scottish politics, the British left and the police attitude toward public protest as the plot unfolds. Not a small feat to pull off in a familiar setting with a well-trod detective protagonist. I'll be picking up the next Ranking installment if just to see how skillfully he will manage to keep it fresh as this series continues to mature. My rating: E E E

ETRB IV

Portrait of an Unknown Woman by Vanora Bennett

Ok, this one suckered me in -- I admit it. But I'm ashamed of what I fell for. The cover, for one. In a book buying spree, I spotted this at Barnes & Noble and immediately twigged that the cover was taken from a Hans Holbein painting. A short perusal proved me right. It's a detail of Holbein's group portrait of the family of Sir Thomas More (at right). A few years ago I read Peter Ackroyd's excellent biography of More, so I was intrigued. Turns out that the novel is based upon the portrait in part. It seeks to tell the story of one of More's adopted daughters featured in the portrait about whom very little is known.

Ok, ok -- my interest is peaked, and I'm on a bit of a post-semester, give me something fun to read buying spree, so I picked it up. I was hoping for a sort of The Other Boleyn Girl kind of light, but reliable historical fiction set in my favorite era. Plus it involved Holbein's portraits from the Tudor period, some of which I've seen at the National Portrait Gallery in London. What could be better, eh?

Well, I wound up being pretty disappointed. Portrait is one of those historical novels that gives its characters much too much of a modern sensibility. Characters have an interior life and sociological expectations that are much more 20th century than 16th century. The More family was extraordinary, but not that extraordinary. Additionally, the writer resorts to one of my pet peeves, which seems to show up all too frequently in historical and mystery fiction. She advances her plot and storyline by having her characters "think out loud" in the text. So connections between plot points and events are given to the reader as a particular character's interior monologue. I think this is lazy writing, as if Hans Holbein or Margaret Clement would, in the 16th century, have carried on such a linear, narrative-supporting thought processes. And as if the 21st century reader can't do his own thinking while reading. So,you're reading and long and come across incredibly detailed character thought narration that contains totally non-random, carefully organized plot/character details that the author couldn't get into the narrative more artfully. I hate it when that happens!

As it turns out, the novel builds it's main story line around a bit of a crack-pot theory that some fellow by the name of Jack Leslau has articulated (see http://www.holbeinartworks.org/) about the differences between the two extant versions of Holbein's group portrait of the Mores. The theory (SPOILER ALERT) winds up involving Richard III and the Plantagenet princes supposedly murdered in the Tower of London just before the Tudor rise to power. Richardians will relish this plot line. Historians should and will hate it. The device of the unacknowledged heir to the throne belongs in the 'boy's literature' of a few centuries ago. It's beyond a cliche and altogether too Da Vinci Code-esque. And Bennett doesn't handle this most significant of her plot devices all that well, never really giving a believable account of her hidden heir's motivation for staying hidden.

Towards the end, the novel devolves into melodrama as undiscovered parentages are uncovered everywhere. The notoriously moral More family turns out to be a hotbed of illicit sex and illegitimate parentage along the lines of Footballers Wives. The combination of the hidden heir conspiracy coupled with the everybody's-getting-jiggy-and-no-one's-shooting-a-blank storylines sink the novel under their combined weight of improbability. Vanora Bennett is no Phillipa Gregory, nor is she a Dan Brown. And that makes her truly pitiable and her novel regrettable.

My rating (out of a possible four):

ETRB III

Damascus Gate by Robert Stone

It's hard to know quite what to make of Robert Stone's novel about millenary crazies in Jersusalem. It's an excellent novel, well written, well plotted and complex. It is at times overly complex, but not so as to be impenetrable. It's frequently allusive, and those allusions are spelled out at times, and not at others. You can feel as if you're dissecting a T. S. Eliot poem rather than a contemporary novel with thriller aspirations. Stone comes off as a brilliant, perhaps too brilliant, writer with more to say than necessarily needs to be said.

That said, however, the novel never seems bloated or overwritten. In fact, it is sleek and well edited, even at nearly 500 pages. It's taken me almost a week to read it, and that's unusual, especially given my commuting time these days.

The novel weaves the stories of Christopher Lucas, a somewhat dissassociated freelance journalist, and Sonia Barnes, a red diaper baby cum jazz singer cum Sufi accolyte, with the tales of several drug addicts, psychotics, NGO activists, American right wing evangelicals, and Zionist guerillas. This cast of characters then seeks to bring about their own spiritual renewal, the spiritual salvation of the world, the coming (and/or coming again) of the Messiah, and the rebuilding of the Temple at Jerusalem. Plots are hatched by crazies and political extremists -- which then begin to overlap in both sensational and banal syncronistic ways . Lucas and Sonia fall in love -- or maybe they've just fallen under the sway of an American department store heir and self-proclaimed prophet who has come to believe himself to be the Messiah now that he's off his medication. When the characters and plots begin to intersect, you are surprised at first, but then see that it couldn't have been any other way. Stone may be a highly acclaimed and award winning literary author, but he's no slouch when it comes to crafting a complex thriller of religious and political intrigue.

The novel is best when describing the comings and goings, customs and quotidien ways of everyday Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Armenian and Russian Jerusalimites. You get a real since of how this city at the center of so many worlds has evolved (or devolved) into the near chaos one so often hears about. Critics have called Damascus Gate one of the best novels written about contemporary Jerusalem. That may be true, but in the end, I hope not. The Jerusalem depicted here is one overrun by nutcases, zealots, cynics, manipulators and anti-Semites of every stripe. The overall tone of the novel is deeply cynical, and there is no single sincerely religious character. Everyone is Damascus Gate is either deluded or busy manipulating the deluded to their advantage.

Stone's most recent book has just come out. It's called Prime Green and it is a non-fiction account of his days on acid and on the bus with Timothy Leary and other Sixties figures. The man has lived many lives, it seems. I'm not sure how his deep knowledge of the Middle East was gained, but the disallusioned hippie stance is evident throughout Damascus Gate.

All in all, I liked Damascus Gate. I don't think I'll be quick to pick up more of Stone's work, if only because it can be work to get through. But it's a well written and entertaining work, if not, for me a particularly beloved one.

My rating:

another issue of the ETRB

The Cutting Room by Louise Welsh

Welsh hopes to invest the crime novel with literary pretensions and she does so in the excellent first novel. The book was a NY Times Notable Book of the Year and received lots of accolades. It can also be classified as one of the new(ish) Scottish Noir novels that give us a Caledonia of crime, grime and drunks. Cutting Room is quite good - a quick read if you care to, but go too fast and you'll miss some of the well-crafted sentences and beautiful and darkly drawn imagery. Rilke, a somewhat shady autioneer, discovers some unseemly material in the attic of an estate his auction house has been asked to liquidate in a hurry. He seeks to get to the bottom of the graphic images he's discovered and in so doing drags us through the Glasgow antiques world via some rough figures and the still seedy side of Scottish gay life. All in all, a good read with some quite memorable characters. Nice to have a gay lead character that's not a paragon of oppressed virtue or political correctness. Welsh's second novel presumably deals with crime as well -- it's an account of Elizabethan Playwright Christopher Marlowe's last three days before his untimely death in a pub in Deptford (see also Anthony Burgess's A Dead Man In Deptford.)

My rating for The Cutting Room:

Inaugural Issue: E Train Review of Books

I'm making up a few hours of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) at New York Presbyterian Hospital this week and next -- and that means lots of time on the E train to and from the hospital. And lots of time to read. And blessedly, I can read fiction, mysteries, histories... whatever I want til the end of the month and the beginning of the Easter term. So, I'll be 'publishing' here in installments my reviews of my subway reading:

R. F. Delderfield's To Serve Them All My Days
A great read if you like this sort of thing. Takes place in a fictional English boys' boarding school. The protagonist is a WWI vet suffering from shellshock. The boys and commonsense headmaster help him to heal and to find a purpose in life after the horrors of war. Serve Them is an excellent example of the genre of 'public school' novel. The boys and their high jinks are at times hilarious, and the character of the veteran-now-school teacher is well drawn. There's a surprisingly frank and open treatment of unmarried sex in the novel, which suprised me given the era it covers, but not so surprising when one notes the publication date: 1971 I believe. I give it 3 stars -- might even try to rent the old Masterpiece Theatre dramatization of the novel if we ever get a snowy weekend in New York. I've read quite a bit of fiction that takes place entre guerres. (Pat Barker's Regeneration trilogy and Charles Todd's Ian Rutledge novels, for example.) I'm interested in the effects of WWI on Europe and Modernism. IMHO it was the horrors of that war that initiated the modern European disdain for religion. I'm not sure why, but Serve Them was compelling and moving in parts. I guess you could file it under: They Don't Write 'Em Like That Anymore and call it a day. I really loved it and could hardly put it down.

I'm giving it:

A. N. Wilson's My Name Is Legion
Wilson's one of my favorites. After reading Legion, I'm determined to make it through his entire catalog. This novel is what they call a 'biting satire' of the Fleet Street newspaper world. A world Wilson knows well from his days as editor and columnist at the Evening Standard. This novel weaves a satirical tale around a crusading Anglican priest, a corrupt African regime, a Murdoch-esque newspaper owner and a schizophrenic West Indian teenager. Quite a tale and very funny and all too sad at the same time. Wilson is a bit of a literary brainiac and historian who spent a year preparing for the priesthood in the good ole CofE before devolving into agnosticism. He's known for his snarky commentary in British newspapers. I've read his biograhy of the apostle Paul and his history of the Victorians -- both excellent! He's that rare author with more than one area of expertise, but with a consistently expert and interesting style.

My rating: