Mary Frances Coady's Blog
September 11, 2014
Every Man Dies Alone
This novel was written in 1946, but wasn’t translated into English until 2009. The title, Every Man Dies Alone, tells you nothing about the book itself. The cover photograph shows a young man and woman just as they are about to embrace. The back flap tells you that the photo was taken in Germany in 1940. Thus the word “dies” in the book’s title takes on a certain resonance and you may see sinister forces in the darkened spaces beyond the young couple.
In an Afterward toward the end of the book, you see photographs of another couple. These are the Gestapo mug shots of a husband and wife whose real-life activities against the Third Reich form the basis for the novel. They were a lower-class, semi-illiterate couple who for three years dropped cards denouncing Hitler in various places around Berlin. The cards were barely legible at times, and they were full of spelling and grammatical errors, but it says something about the atmosphere of terror in Germany at the time that all except a handful of these cards were given immediately to the police, and thus the couple’s attempt at resistance was, in one way, a failure.
In the novel, as in the real-life situation, after the couples’ arrest, the circle of suspects around them widens to include siblings, parents, neighbors, co-workers. Even the Gestapo itself isn’t immune. In fact, one of the surprising things to me was that the Gestapo members themselves were filled with terror lest they make a misstep and find themselves in prison. The author doesn’t spare us the beatings and lengthy interrogations.
On one level, this is a cat and mouse story, on another level it’s the testimony of a witness to the brutality and terror of a regime upon its own population, and on a deeper level, it’s a testament to the moral victory of human decency and goodness. You look at those mug shots and you wonder—would I have had that kind of courage? In an endorsement on the cover, the Holocaust survivor Primo Levi writes, “The greatest book ever written about the German resistance to the Nazis.”
In an Afterward toward the end of the book, you see photographs of another couple. These are the Gestapo mug shots of a husband and wife whose real-life activities against the Third Reich form the basis for the novel. They were a lower-class, semi-illiterate couple who for three years dropped cards denouncing Hitler in various places around Berlin. The cards were barely legible at times, and they were full of spelling and grammatical errors, but it says something about the atmosphere of terror in Germany at the time that all except a handful of these cards were given immediately to the police, and thus the couple’s attempt at resistance was, in one way, a failure.
In the novel, as in the real-life situation, after the couples’ arrest, the circle of suspects around them widens to include siblings, parents, neighbors, co-workers. Even the Gestapo itself isn’t immune. In fact, one of the surprising things to me was that the Gestapo members themselves were filled with terror lest they make a misstep and find themselves in prison. The author doesn’t spare us the beatings and lengthy interrogations.
On one level, this is a cat and mouse story, on another level it’s the testimony of a witness to the brutality and terror of a regime upon its own population, and on a deeper level, it’s a testament to the moral victory of human decency and goodness. You look at those mug shots and you wonder—would I have had that kind of courage? In an endorsement on the cover, the Holocaust survivor Primo Levi writes, “The greatest book ever written about the German resistance to the Nazis.”
March 7, 2014
Surprised by Joy
I had read a lot about "Surprised by Joy", and read parts of it, especially about the terrible experiences in his all-boys' public (i.e. private) school. Now that I'm finished it, the things in this book that stand out for me, besides the famous bus ride that began with Lewis as an atheist and ended with him as a Christian, were:
--the "Lord of the Flies"-like atmosphere in those schools, with categories of students called such things as "House Blood", "House Tart", "Coll Punt".
--the number of friends and contemporaries Lewis refers to, with the added comment, "he was killed too". He came of age during World War I, and served in the British army.
--the "Lord of the Flies"-like atmosphere in those schools, with categories of students called such things as "House Blood", "House Tart", "Coll Punt".
--the number of friends and contemporaries Lewis refers to, with the added comment, "he was killed too". He came of age during World War I, and served in the British army.
January 27, 2014
Suitable Accommodations
I finished reading "Suitable Accommodations", which consists of letters by the writer J.F. Powers, edited by his daughter Katherine A. Powers.
It's a thick book, and I didn't expect to be as absorbed in it as I was, and I was sorry to see it come to an end. His daughter describes it as the family life novel he always intended to write, but never did. There have been many reviews of this book, most of them admiring and generous (one rather meanspirited one was written by Garry Wills and published in "Commonweal").
He was a wonderful letter writer, full of dry wit and with a rather sardonic view of life, of politics, of the Catholic Church. His leaning toward friendship with priests is an intriguing fact about this writer. Priests, in fact, furnished most of the material for his books.
But his family life seems to have suffered. For some reason, he felt himself above having real jobs, even though many were offered to him in the form (mostly) of teaching contracts. He thought that his writing should be the means of support for himself and his family. He was the recipient of a Guggenheim fellowship, a Rockefeller scholarship, and the National Book Award for his first novel, "Morte d'Urban". That book didn't sell well, much to his disappointment. It would be over twenty years before his second novel came out: "Wheat that Springeth Green". It too was nominated for the National Book Award.
It's a thick book, and I didn't expect to be as absorbed in it as I was, and I was sorry to see it come to an end. His daughter describes it as the family life novel he always intended to write, but never did. There have been many reviews of this book, most of them admiring and generous (one rather meanspirited one was written by Garry Wills and published in "Commonweal").
He was a wonderful letter writer, full of dry wit and with a rather sardonic view of life, of politics, of the Catholic Church. His leaning toward friendship with priests is an intriguing fact about this writer. Priests, in fact, furnished most of the material for his books.
But his family life seems to have suffered. For some reason, he felt himself above having real jobs, even though many were offered to him in the form (mostly) of teaching contracts. He thought that his writing should be the means of support for himself and his family. He was the recipient of a Guggenheim fellowship, a Rockefeller scholarship, and the National Book Award for his first novel, "Morte d'Urban". That book didn't sell well, much to his disappointment. It would be over twenty years before his second novel came out: "Wheat that Springeth Green". It too was nominated for the National Book Award.
January 13, 2014
Someone
I have just finished reading the novel "Someone" by Alice McDermott.
The novel follows the life of Marie from her early life with her family in an apartment in 1920's Brooklyn. We get to know some of the people who will have an effect on her life--her parents, her future husband, the neighbors (especially those who for one reason or another are wounded either physically or mentally), and, especially, her brother.
The brother, whose name is Gabe, is several years older than Marie. He becomes a priest and then shortly afterwards leaves the priesthood. He then seems to roam through life without accomplishing much, but always, for Marie, he is a source of wisdom and compassion. The most beautiful example of this is in a section that was published a few years ago in "The New Yorker".
My only quibble with the portrayal of Gabe (and of the book itself) is a certain anachronism: in 1930s America, especially in an Irish ghetto such as the setting of this book, it would seem scandalous and almost unthinkable for a priest to leave the priesthood. He would probably be shunned, and even ostracised, and at the very least, those who knew him would be extremely shocked. None of this seems to happen in this book. Everybody seems to accept this character as an ex-priest, even though the setting is the 1930s and 1940s. In real life, such a priest would probably feel the need to move far away to begin a new way of life.
Otherwise, a beautifully written book, and the prose and the voice linger after the last page has been turned.
The novel follows the life of Marie from her early life with her family in an apartment in 1920's Brooklyn. We get to know some of the people who will have an effect on her life--her parents, her future husband, the neighbors (especially those who for one reason or another are wounded either physically or mentally), and, especially, her brother.
The brother, whose name is Gabe, is several years older than Marie. He becomes a priest and then shortly afterwards leaves the priesthood. He then seems to roam through life without accomplishing much, but always, for Marie, he is a source of wisdom and compassion. The most beautiful example of this is in a section that was published a few years ago in "The New Yorker".
My only quibble with the portrayal of Gabe (and of the book itself) is a certain anachronism: in 1930s America, especially in an Irish ghetto such as the setting of this book, it would seem scandalous and almost unthinkable for a priest to leave the priesthood. He would probably be shunned, and even ostracised, and at the very least, those who knew him would be extremely shocked. None of this seems to happen in this book. Everybody seems to accept this character as an ex-priest, even though the setting is the 1930s and 1940s. In real life, such a priest would probably feel the need to move far away to begin a new way of life.
Otherwise, a beautifully written book, and the prose and the voice linger after the last page has been turned.
November 24, 2013
George Orwell: A Life in Letters
I've just finished "George Orwell: A Life in Letters", annotated and edited by Peter Davison. It also includes letters from his wife Eileen to others, and it becomes poignant in her last letters, particularly the very last, when she is making plans for her surgery which she intends to be non-eventful and from which she will recover quickly. It is expected to be a relief for her, because she has been in increasingly bad health for years. Instead, she dies of a heart attack on the operating room table.
And then, when Orwell himself is dying--I found myself cringing in the letters of 1949, in which he is hoping for a few more years of life. Then he gets married and hopes to spend a few months here, a few months there, but in fact he dies in January 1950. He leaves an adopted son of 6, and that is sad as well, although it says in a footnote in the book that his son Richard was brought up by Orwell's sister Avril and her husband, and he seems to have had a happy upbringing.
And then, when Orwell himself is dying--I found myself cringing in the letters of 1949, in which he is hoping for a few more years of life. Then he gets married and hopes to spend a few months here, a few months there, but in fact he dies in January 1950. He leaves an adopted son of 6, and that is sad as well, although it says in a footnote in the book that his son Richard was brought up by Orwell's sister Avril and her husband, and he seems to have had a happy upbringing.
November 6, 2013
The Very Rich Hours of Jacques Maritain
I am currently reading "The Very Rich Hours of Jacques Maritain". It was the cover that first attracted me: a detail from a medieval manuscript.
The book is subtitled "A Spiritual Life" and the author has given Maritain's life the structure of the daily Liturgy of the Hours: Matins, Lauds, etc. I'm not sure if it's a "spiritual life" as such, but it gives a good picture of Maritain's early influences as well as an idea of how he came to influence others.
The author is Ralph McInerny, now deceased, who was the director of the Jacques Maritain Center at the University of Notre Dame.
The book is subtitled "A Spiritual Life" and the author has given Maritain's life the structure of the daily Liturgy of the Hours: Matins, Lauds, etc. I'm not sure if it's a "spiritual life" as such, but it gives a good picture of Maritain's early influences as well as an idea of how he came to influence others.
The author is Ralph McInerny, now deceased, who was the director of the Jacques Maritain Center at the University of Notre Dame.
