This book was converted from its physical edition to the digital format by a community of volunteers. You may find it for free on the web. Purchase of the Kindle edition includes wireless delivery.
Mrsgr. Robert Hugh Benson AFSC KC*SG KGCHS was an English Catholic priest and writer. First an Anglican pastor, he was received into the Catholic Church in 1903 and ordained therein the next year. He was also a prolific writer of fiction, writing the notable dystopian novel Lord of the World, as well as Come Rack! Come Rope!.
His output encompassed historical, horror and science fiction, contemporary fiction, children's stories, plays, apologetics, devotional works and articles. He continued his writing career at the same time as he progressed through the hierarchy to become a Chamberlain to Pope Pius X in 1911, and gain the title of Monsignor before his death a few years later.
A very consoling read, especially now with what is going on in the Church. It isn't possible to explain how this book works without giving it away, which would spoil the joy it can give. I liked this better than his more popular, Lord of the World. Although I do not usually find Utopian literature realistic and that was also true here, there was something about the characters which made me more willing to surrender my death-like grip on reality. The description of the contemplative orders in Ireland and how their charism was blended with a desperately needed ministry was beyond beautiful. Highly recommended. Looking for more by Monsignor Benson to read.
Jul. 28, 2018: I did not plan to start reading this. I was looking at it on my kindle and the next thing I know, it showed up as 'currently-reading' on Goodreads. Hmmm... Will have to look into it. It is RHB and cost nothing.
Wow! This was really good! After reading the "prequel", I thought it wouldn't be one of my favorite books, but I decided to just stick it out and it was really worth it!!!!!The main thing that struck me about this book is that we are so saturated in the liberal, humanist society in which we live that we unconsciously are liberals ourselves. We have the same mindset of the main character as he questions a truly Christian society. It is a lesson in Catholic social principles and less sensational than the prequel.
Estamos tan acostumbrados al mundo laico y secular de la modernidad y a su aparente avance indetenible que nos resulta muy difícil imaginar otro, en el que, a diferencia del nuestro, el catolicismo ocupe el centro de la vida social y personal. Es más, a la mayoría de los católicos es muy probable que un mundo así les resulte no solo imposible, sino aún indeseable. ¿Cómo sería el mundo, sin embargo, si, por el contrario, las tendencias laicistas y agresivamente secularizadoras de las ideologías modernas hubiesen sido derrotadas por la fe católica y ésta fuese la matriz en la que se configurara la sociedad humana? Esto es justamente lo que imagina Robert Hugh Benson en Alba triunfante, una sorprendente novela escrita en 1911, unos años después de su obra maestra Señor del mundo (1907). De hecho, Alba triunfante no es la continuación de Señor del mundo, sino una suerte de contrapunto, en el que se muestra qué hubiese ocurrido si, en lugar de imponerse el humanismo ateo moderno, el catolicismo se hubiese constituido en el fundamento espiritual de la sociedad moderna.
La novela se desarrolla en un ficticio 1973 y, como en Señor del mundo, está llena también de visiones futuristas —estilo Julio Verne— de un mundo lleno de grandes progresos tecnológicos y científicos (el autor parece fascinado por la idea de las máquinas voladoras —es decir, los aviones—, hoy tan triviales para nosotros). Pero no es ese el punto más interesante de ambas novelas, aunque les otorga una calidad cinematográfica también muy adelantada para su tiempo. Lo realmente importante está en la profunda visión metafísica, teológica, cultural y aún política que subyace y se expresa en esta narración. La sociedad cristiana que describe Benson ha logrado una síntesis entre la ciencia moderna y la teología, en la que ambas, en lugar de entrar en conflicto, reconocen cada una su lugar y se enriquecen mutuamente, para provecho de la humanidad. Esta complementariedad de la fe y la razón, que es uno de los rasgos más importantes del catolicismo y que fue equilibrada y brillantemente desarrollada y proclamada como esencial al sistema dogmático católico en el Concilio Vaticano I, está muy inteligentemente expresada en esta obra. Esto obedece no a un mero pacto de caballeros o a una forzada tolerancia, como quizás sucede hoy en día, sino precisamente porque en el corazón del universo bensoniano late la convicción de que el dogma cristiano no es un mero “sistema de símbolos” que vehicula contenidos éticos, sino la única expresión posible de la revelación del núcleo último de la realidad y su sentido. Si esto es así, no tiene la ciencia moderna nada que temer de la fe, ni la fe nada de la ciencia. Ni va la fe a hundir a la ciencia en el “oscurantismo”, ni va la razón científica a disolver la fe, puesto que cada una reconoce su puesto esencial en el acceso del hombre a la comprensión de la realidad, que no queda reducida a mero “hecho positivo”.
Este es el elemento de la obra de Benson que me parece más relevante y actual y que apunta justo en la dirección de una de las carencias que están en la base de la debilidad que muestra el catolicismo contemporáneo: estamos tan embebidos en una suerte de positivismo materialista y humanista ambiental, que pareciera que los creyentes, muy en el fondo, no nos tomamos realmente en serio la idea de que los dogmas de la fe cristiana no son “simbólicos” (en el sentido moderno de que algo simbólico no es real), sino que son la expresión racional de verdades ontológicas, metafísicas de aquello que es último, fundamental, de la realidad. Hemos olvidado que, en cristiano, lo simbólico es sacramental, es decir, hace presente de manera real aquello que en sí mismo es lo más real de la realidad. En los últimos decenios, un cierto y absurdo desmedro de lo dogmático en favor de lo ético ha terminado —de manera bastante sutil y hasta inadvertida para los creyentes— por reducir el cristianismo a una suerte de ética filantrópica e incluso ha operado una especie de “protestantización” del catolicismo, cuando no en una politización radical-izquierdista del mismo.
Esta distancia entre nuestro mundo y el universo de Benson, donde la ortodoxia no era sinónimo de cerrazón e inmovilismo mental, hace que la lectura pueda resultar incómoda y a veces hasta irritante para nosotros, lectores ilustrados de un mundo que de moderno pasó a nihilista. Sobre todo, cuando nos enfrentamos a la manera en que Benson resuelve el problema de la relación entre la política y la fe en un hipotético mundo ambientalmente católico como el que describe. No quiero abundar mucho en este punto, puesto que no quiero robarle al lector la propia experiencia de la extrañeza, que me parece esencial para el disfrute de la lectura de esta novela. Pero sí es bueno aclarar que hay que entender el propio universo mental de Benson, que es un inglés converso de finales del siglo XIX y principios del XX, monárquico y que desea hondamente ver a su país reconciliado con Roma. Hay que decir que en este difícil asunto, sin embargo, Benson está muy claramente consciente de la diferencia entre el dogma católico y las formas políticas. Y también a su favor, hay que decir que vale la pena leer con atención —justamente si uno tiene convicciones liberales y democráticas— sus observaciones críticas a los modelos políticos modernos, ya que apunta en la dirección de uno de sus problemas fundamentales, aún no resuelto: el problema de las fuentes de la legitimidad política. Es muy interesante también ver cómo Benson, en este punto, acusa muy bien las tensiones internas —que pueden ser muy agudas e inquietantes—, que se presentarían para la Iglesia y los cristianos en un mundo donde ésta fuese, de alguna manera, triunfante.
Finalmente, hay que decir que quizás haya una debilidad en esta novela, comparada con Señor del mundo. Y es que ésta última es, teológicamente, más verosímil. Justamente porque relata ficcionalmente lo que es el contenido de la escatología cristiana, tal como aparece en los textos del Nuevo Testamento: en el fin de los tiempos (que no es algo que va a ocurrir solamente en algún oscuro punto del futuro, sino algo que se inauguró ya con la muerte y la resurrección de Cristo: es justo el tiempo en el que estamos desde hace dos mil años), la Iglesia va a estar en lucha con el Anticristo, que aparecerá incluso como triunfante. Según la Escritura, la victoria final de la Iglesia tiene un carácter esencialmente escatológico. No es que Benson se desdiga de eso, naturalmente: el principio anticrístico sigue presente y activo en Alba triunfante, y las tensiones que se harían presentes a la conciencia cristiana en un mundo católico subyacen a la narración, inquietando al protagonista y al lector. Pero el curso real de la historia parece confirmar más bien la profecía de Señor del mundo que las nostalgias y las esperanzas de conversión del mundo que animaron a Benson a escribir Alba triunfante. No obstante, ambas novelas conforman un gran díptico que tiene que apreciarse en su integridad, para entender la grandeza de la visión de Benson y su muy pertinente convicción de que en la Iglesia católica se preserva y transmite —con toda su fragilidad— la verdad profunda del mundo y de la vida.
La edición castellana tiene una excelente introducción de Sergio Gómez Moyano, cuya lectura recomiendo a quienes deseen informarse sobre Benson y su obra.
I'm afraid to have to say I did not like it. Written at the dawn of the 20th Century, it envisions life in the latter half of that century, on the proviso that Catholicism is adopted by all, and utopia comes to the world. Forgivable details include dwelling on the views from airships, which must have seemed exotic at the time. It is also very verbose, and for every relevant development, you get a page or two of scene setting. But I can look past that. What I can't overlook is that in trying to paint a picture of theocratic Utopia, Benson unwittingly paints a picture of theocratic hell. The perfect scene into which the antichrist can step in, and have a turnkey empire handed to him. You can tell that he felt uncomfortable with certain details, in the way he tried to finesse them. For instance, executions are not mandated by the Church, but by the state. The Church still judges the perpetrator guilty of heresy, however. Benson makes both the state and the guilty justify the execution, on the basis that society may execute who it needs to, in order to protect its foundation. And if that foundation is the faith, then those who endanger it are a mortal danger to it. This is so prominent, that it almost comes across as the reason for writing the book. Needless to say, this is problematic to those of us who hold that the foundation of the state is rightly subordinate to the rights of the people. And where it is not, almost anything can be twisted into a mortal threat to the state.
It should be said that Benson, later in his life, either had second thoughts, or caved to popular pressure, and admitted that he did not want society to actually look like this.
All in all, I am disturbed that so many rate the book so highly.
This book did not make nearly as much of an impression on me as did Lord of the World . In its defense, it is probably far more unrealistic to the modern reader than it was to those of Benson's day, as our society has gone very much downhill since then. It is, at this point, almost laughable to imagine the world of this novel coming to pass. (What's that you say? Bitter? l? I don't know what you're talking about, I'm sure.)
Even apart from that, I found the plot far less compelling than those of Benson's other works. The plot device of the good Monseignor's memory loss (to say nothing of the book's ending) seems rather too pat and obvious. The climax, indeed, was pretty gripping, and I found the characters' sojourn in Ireland (now converted to basically a massive contemplative monastery) quite interesting, but on the whole, I would only recommend this to serious fans of Robert Hugh Benson and those depressed by Lord of the World .
It took me a little while to get into this book, and I think that might have some to do with adjusting to his style of writing. Once I was able to adjust, though, I found his writing to be very beautiful and thoughtful. I love how he described the settings, the complex thoughts and feelings of Monsignor Masterman, and especially the subtle details of interactions between characters. The author did a fantastic job of writing (and making the reader FEEL) the tension present in many of the final scenes. I loved the story, and I absolutely tore through the last 200 pages. Also, I appreciate the ways in which he wove apologetics into the story. The author expressed very well how the main character wrestled with that world so new and unfamiliar to him. I could identify a lot with Msgr. Masterman’s character!
In my opinion, Benson's book "Lord of the World" is a greater work. It is, as his introduction to this book states, pretty depressing. However, I think it addresses the natures of man and the struggles met by the Church (namely, sinful Christians) with a much more accurate portrayal. This text, with its idealism, led me to struggle reading through some of the passages. I think the most interesting aspect of this book is Benson's conception between the difference between the moral actions Church and Christian society. I'm not quite certain that I agree with him, but I do find the dichotomy he sets up to be fascinating to consider.
Un libro sorprendente. Fue escrito en 1911. La trama tiene lugar alrededor de 1973. Se trata pues de una novela futurista que describe un mundo convertido al catolicismo. Merece la pena descubrir el tipo de ciencia al que se llega, la organización social de los países y qué se hace con los que no quieren ser católicos. Literariamente no es tan perfecto como su antítesis, Señor del mundo, pero vale la pena dejarse sorprender.
I found this book exciting at the beginning, a bit of a slog in the middle, and exciting at the end. Benson effectively speculates on how the entire world could come under the dominion of the Catholic church, but that grand narrative is an effective macrocosm of the individual soul, and by the end I found the literary unity I was missing toward the middle. Not everything he presents is brilliant, but much of it is. I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to think about the relationship between Church and society in a more sophisticated way.
I wouldn’t say this is the best of Benson’s books, of what I’ve read, but it’s all the same a good one. The story doesn’t really grip you until the end; much of the first three quarters of the book is setting up the exciting closing sequence—and speaking of a variety of topics.
While not exciting, obviously, these topics I would say are very relevant today, at least in their own way. Religious freedom and the Catholic alternative, and what the latter might actually look like in a modern Christendom. This was an excellent one for me to hear discussed, since like all Americans it’s in my blood to react to a political system that not only refuses religious liberty, but even exerts force to preserve the practice and purity of the one religion founded by Christ.
The proper understanding of the union of Church and State is also addressed by Benson in the midst of the story. Not only is this improperly caricatured by the current American narrative, but it also exists in our mind as a sort of unattainable dream. We’ve never seen in before, and we have a hard time knowing what it should look like in concrete. Seeing it play out in novel form gives a little more reality to this dream that we have.
Benson calls the liberals of the day Socialists, and reader comes to find out that they are much like many of us Americans—who are convinced that democracy is the only viable political system. The difference is that in the story, the world at large has come to accept that it has been tried and found wanting, since it universally resulted in tyranny. Sound familiar?!
The ending I will speak nothing of, but I found the idea fascinating that the main character could not comprehend a Church that was not persecuted and crippled…and how he came to understand that nonetheless the Church was ever ready to suffer, if not as a body, then in certain individuals who were ready and willing to give the ultimate sacrifice—as even he himself was in the end.
Mons. Benson may disappoint me, but his work is far from mediocre.
To say clearly, "The Dawn of All" is a mixed bag for me. The initial hook was gripping, being a loss of memory that make us ask: "What's happening? Where are we? Who's the protagonist?" Indeed, it's a good plot device for worldbuilding and info dump, which informs most of the story. We begin avid to know that world in which Mons. Masterman wake up. It's a world in which Christianity triumphed and Christ reigns socially everywhere. But this whole premisse can only do much. The plot meanders seemingly with no other goal than to heal the protagonist's illness, travelling through that Catholic world until the third act, where real conflict and stakes begin. Until there, it's a slog. I was able to predict the ending about halfway through the book, thinking it would be the only satisfying one, and I wasn't wrong. When it came, it hit me, doing a full circle moment that was really clever. Also, the last plot twist with the priest was a little heartwarming.
The ending redeemed the book as whole for me, but I can't overlook it's flaws.
First, the protagonist. I think a "memory loss protagonist" can really work in some instances, but it didn't here. We needed a more sympathetic main character to make all the traveling feel compelling, more like a journey than a boring ride in a volor (even though volors are cool, I'm not arguing this). I was longing to know more about Mons. Masterman, but he ended as "the prelate who lost his memory", as the author himself says page after page. Without further characterization, Mons. Masterman appears to us a fearful, cetic and stressed man, dreadful of a world that looks more like a cold rational utopia than a charity warm Catholic society. To my shock, he seemed right in some instances; or we may feel this because of his lack of knowledge or own prejudiced POV. This is why the book goes from cozy traveling to uneasy feelings to depressing stuff, and the true uplifting part really kicks in about the last forty or thirty pages.
Second, the plot itself. The story would benefit of a more clearly defined goal. For example (not so great a spoiler), we learn about the third part that Mons. Masterman has to work with the Cardinal to establish Catholicism as the legal religion of Britain. So far so good. But the story would be better if we knew it from the beginning, at least more clearly. The reader would think: "OK, he has an illness. He has to cure himself, so he can return to Britain and take care of his obligations. This is a plot promise for the future. I will keep reading, so I can get to that point". But I think it would be even better if the plot revolved around Dom Adrian's trial or, at least, some socialist shenanigans against the Christian order of things. Then there would be the plot unity we find about the third part, where the book really shines.
Third, the utopian part. I read reviews from other fellow Catholics mentioning some uneasiness with respect to Mons. Benson's ideals about Christian society. I feel the same. Do I think Church and State should be devout, obedient to God's precepts and ordained to eternal life? Of course. Do I think the union of Church and State is about harmony between different spheres of power, being one superior and the other inferior, that need to cooperate with each other and submit to one another where right is due? Of course. Do I think Mons. Benson's utopia truly realizes that? In a lot of instances, yes. But I don't think I can agree with all the applications he did. Abstract principles do not change, but concrete things do. Political prudence is the virtue of government, and it's applications can change due to circumstances of custom, cultural tradition, location and so on. The fatal flaw of every utopia is our inability to predict particular applications to every individual nation or people.
Also, in matter of facts, the work tends to miss the crude reality of Medieval Europe. The continent was Catholic, indeed. But there were corrupt people? Of course. There were obscenities in literature and art, and heresies in the universities? Yes. There were bad catholics? A lot. In the life of St. Thomas Aquinas, we read that the benedictine monastery in which the saint spent his early years was sacked by mercenaries. A lot of the monks were killed. St. Thomas's brothers locked him in a tower to destroy his vocation and called a woman to corrupt him. Late in life, he had a vision of one of his siblings in the fires of hell. Also, kings fought Popes and ravaged peaceful lands to conquer territory. If things in Christian Europe cooled down, the Muslims were outside, ready to invade Italy or else. The lesson is simple: even if it was Catholic, the world would be Satan's at least in some respect. I say it, because Fr. Jarvis say at some point that Benson's utopia is medievalist in its scope. Dear reader, do not forget the concrete aspect of the Middle Ages! The answer lies in Catholic principles, not in romanticizing the past.
To conclude, this work is not perfect and I would not recommend to everyone. However, I think it's a step up with respect to "Lord of the World", at least in a narrative sense. In my review of that work, I said it's strength lies in the themes and revolutionary setting. I gave it three stars for being a classic in it's own right, even though the story didn't work for me. However, in "The Dawn of All", the story was better and more cathartic, despite of it's flaws. Indeed, it's profound and requires attention to be understood.
Just so utterly wonderful; about two thirds of the way through, I got a bit fed up perhaps because I couldn't see how this could really develop into a story, and yet by the end you've got a great plot, well executed. Do not skip the epilogue! There's something missing though, which perhaps is unsurprising: children and family life. And there's one thing I really don't like about the utopia: electric daylight in the nighttime. Fr. Benson might be surprised to find we really do have such a thing and it is not at all good.
From the start I should make it clear that I view Robert Hugh Benson as one of the great ‘forgotten’ Catholic authors. The reason for this neglect seems to be that he deals directly with the spiritual life in a manner that many in the English speaking world find disquieting. He can usually be read profitably only by those who have religious faith, and often exclusively by those who are Catholic.
Gave me a lot to think about. A surprisingly good story for one set in a Roman Catholic utopia. The moral dilemma of the story works and flows naturally from the setting. Looking back on this story as a non-Catholic, I don’t appreciate the characterisation of the villainous socialists or the resolution of the moral dilemma, but what else could be expected from a man who was chamberlain to Pope Pius X?
An early twentieth century priests imagines a Catholic world a hundred years into the future. An enjoyable exploration of what the global manifestation of Catholic social teaching would look like, which also questions how we balance our desire to improve this world with the prophetic knowledge that we will be persecuted in it.
Nice counterpoint to Lord of the World. I enjoyed the exploration of how this Catholic utopia would clash with our present day expectations. Subtle nod to the distributist views and subsidiarianism espoused by the Chester-Bloc of the era.
A descriptive absorbing account of a priest who has lost his memory and experiences the consumption of most of the world into a Catholic kingdom in all aspects of life. Wonderfully and powerfully written.
The Dawn of All is Benson's second and less well known novel about the future of the world. His first and more popular work, Lord of the World, pictures a world that has almost completely abandoned religion, specifically Christianity. In The Dawn of All this scenario is flipped, having nearly the entirety of the human race accepting wholeheartedly the reality that Jesus is Lord, and that He reigns on Earth with power through His Church.
I hesitate to call the book either good or bad, but it is interesting to say the least. Through the point of view of one Monsignor Masterman who awakes into this world in a suppon state of amnesia, he goes about the world attempting to make sense of having found the world become a Catholic utopia of sorts. Part one of the book follows the priest as he discovering the wondrous reality that all aspects of society, from individuals to government to the fields of science have accepted without question all dogmas and teachings of the Church. Part two focuses on Masterman having something of a crisis of faith, as he finds several aspects of this modern Church as veritably unchristian, even to the point of being horrifying. The final third I will not discuss here in depth due to spoiler reasons, but deals with confronting the last 'infidels' of the world.
What makes the book interesting to me is that it does not cast this utopian Catholic Church as completely perfect; instead Benson provides some pushback to make the reader think for themselves about the arguments made on both sides on issues discussed, such as the reconciliation of science and religion and most notably the issue of the treatment of those who do not follow the teachings of the Church.
Those who have read Lord of the World may find this an interesting foil to that work. I will note that Benson can be quite verbose in his writing which makes for tedious writing at times; also, he very much loves to discus and explain future technology such as the volors, which can take up a considerable amount of a given page (which is fine Benson, you're allowed to enjoy your hobbies, but wow you love the idea of flying don't you).
If, in ‘The Lord of the World,’ Benson envisaged a hollow system in which the temporal world held all power, including that of determining the religion to be adopted by the individual, and the Catholic Church had fallen to the authority of the State, then in ‘The Dawn of All,’ this is completely reversed, and the Church holds the kind of power unimaginable even in fifteenth century Spain. Yet in a slow-moving and heavily contrived plot, very unlike Benson’s other books, it is argued that The Church, for all its discipline and complete control over matters both spiritual and temporal, is ultimately the Church that Christ Himself had planned, utterly benign and full of loving kindness. Socialism and Democracy, despite popular demand led by a few rabble-rousers, were both doomed to failure and ultimate collapse. The book, in fact, deals more with political science and theology than in a structure in which to frame them.
Whether this is a dystopian novel, or a time-travel fantasy, or the nightmare vision of a dying man is for the reader to determine for himself, but it certainly presents elements of all three. While reading this, one is struck by Benson’s style and richness of language, and the manner in which the dullest of all his books grip your attention. One thing which seems to underscore the irrelevance of plot and character is the person through whom the reader sees the story: he is referred to by name only some half a dozen times; for the rest, even when he is elevated to the rank of Cardinal, he is just ‘the man who had lost his memory.’
I love Benson, but the preface he wrote to this book made me uneasy from the start. Lord of the World was too depressing for his Catholic readers, and so he wrote this book as an optimistic counterbalance.
There's a difference between optimism and utopianism. Utopia can't exist in this fallen world. Every utopian thought experiment I've ever read has struck me as horrifying if carried out in real life. This perhaps less than most, and I appreciate the author's willingness to go there imaginatively, but no: the church is made up of fallen sinful human beings, and a world ruled by the church would not be utopian. I think history teaches us that.
Also considering I know some Catholics who are freaking out right now because they think one world government is on the horizon ... That component of this book struck me as pretty ironic.
Do we expect Christ to reign as king over the world politically and socially before the second coming? I'm not sure this is a theologically sound hope. It seems to me born of equal parts nostalgia for the Holy Roman Empire, and despair in the face of modernity. Neither of these seeks redemption in our lives as they are now.
This is a very boring book, with what I consider terrible theology. I'm not anti-catholic like some, but the focus should be on the redemption brought by Christ, not on the greatness of a specific church denomination. There was no hint of Jesus in this book. His first book, Lord of the World, at least had a point being about 'end times' although equally few references to the Lord of lords. This one seems to have been how great an institution the "church" is, and how we should all revere it. It totally misses the point of 'faith in Christ' if our goal is to be worshiping an institution.
Starts off like Catholic wish-fulfillment (or answering what would the world look like if just about everyone was Catholic?) but it gets more interesting as it goes on. Worth reading.
I have read this book in parallel with Bogdanov's 'Red Star' which I might also give a review soon. I think the problem of so called 'utopia' in these books is the very apparent lack of it. Not to say of course Benson called his book an utopia, its offensive to christian taste to call any kingdom of earth a derivision of perfection. Rather this book is not written in the style it claims which suggests that its an experiment of conjuring a world where the catholic church gets absolute say on worldy matters. While I do not desire to go into overt detail an absolute restructing of mass human relations by the church would not result in a world where our current sociophilosophical bickering would be tolerated or even thought about. Rather the church would aim to make every facet of human life automatic and history immune. The development of states and history would come to a complete halt and we wouldnt need to worry about deriving individual or societal utility from acts of this instutition. Rather the self referring structuring would allow a social situation where the human life would simply come and go and turn eternally impartial and domesticated. Then we would wsit for the return of Christ.
What Benson desires instead is a society where elements and currents of the Catholic church are just able to exercise more muscle in total mundane structures of today. This devalues the book from a worldly utopia into a political fable, which is the kind of effect that Benson in fact, did not desire.
Benson as an Anglican convert to Catholicism approaches both religions like commercial products in a way that no bona fide Catholic from 20th century would experiment with. His conception of both the church and Christ are a bit juvenile and he tries to substantiate this half-detected juveniality by interjecting his own socipolitical thoughts constantly into the temporal instutition. The result is a chimera christianity that doesnt resemble much of anything, it is most reminiscient of the glee which with Huxley's 'Island' is written.
Further annoyance comes from his attempts to reapproach this very obvious (even to him) dissonance by putting us in the shoes of the protagonist who also comes to despise the world which he came to live in. Protagonist which provides us with the only fun parts of the book where he has internal monologues about how any alternative to the world he lives in is a complete farce and yet he is also able to recognize the very flimsy structure this fictional papacy relies on. Benson comes to resolve this center conflict that also lies at the center of his philosophical enigmas with the simple solution of making the church humbler and more humane. This is achieved by Pope making a direct in person appeal to socialists while he risks death when he didnt needed to. This anecdote is supposed to solve the problem of Catholic church appearing beautiful only when its an bleeding animal with blood pulsing through all its veins. For this very simple 'get out of mental incongruency for 1 time only' card that is used- this book is perhaps not worth reading.
A very inspiring book that depicts the Church at its height in a proposed near future. Not a novel per se, but more of a commentary on society and how Catholicism ought to transform it. Lovely book.