The two saints whose lives Vita Sackville-West contrasts in this double biography were recorded by very different 'the great' and 'the little'. Both women were Carmelites, both canonised and both shared the same name. But whilst Teresa of Avila was aristocratic, intellectual, vigorous and humorous, a Spanish woman of the sixteenth century, Thérèse of Lisieux was a guileless and sentimental figure of the French bourgeoisie. Teresa, the great mystic, is the patron saint of Spain; Thérèse, the humble nun, is probably the most beloved saint in the entire Calendar. The extraordinary rise of the cult of both women is scrutinised.
Novels of British writer Victoria Mary Sackville-West, known as Vita, include The Edwardians (1930) and All Passion Spent (1931).
This prolific English author, poet, and memoirist in the early 20th century lived not so privately. While married to the diplomat Harold Nicolson, she conducted a series of scandalous amorous liaisons with many women, including the brilliant Virginia Woolf. They had an open marriage. Both Sackville-West and her husband had same-sex relationships. Her exuberant aristocratic life was one of inordinate privilege and way ahead of her time. She frequently traveled to Europe in the company of one or the other of her lovers and often dressed as a man to be able to gain access to places where only the couples could go. Gardening, like writing, was a passion Vita cherished with the certainty of a vocation: she wrote books on the topic and constructed the gardens of the castle of Sissinghurst, one of England's most beautiful gardens at her home.
She published her first book Poems of East and West in 1917. She followed this with a novel, Heritage, in 1919. A second novel, The Heir (1922), dealt with her feelings about her family. Her next book, Knole and the Sackvilles (1922), covered her family history. The Edwardians (1930) and All Passion Spent (1931) are perhaps her best known novels today. In the latter, the elderly Lady Slane courageously embraces a long suppressed sense of freedom and whimsy after a lifetime of convention. In 1948 she was appointed a Companion of Honour for her services to literature. She continued to develop her garden at Sissinghurst Castle and for many years wrote a weekly gardening column for The Observer. In 1955 she was awarded the gold Veitch medal of the Royal Horticultural Society. In her last decade she published a further biography, Daughter of France (1959) and a final novel, No Signposts in the Sea (1961).
Interesting to read a book about two women seperated by 300 or so years but united by a common faith written by another woman who didn't share that faith but wrote in a strangely admiring but tongue-in-cheek way. Teresa of Avila has always struck me as a woman you'd want on your side in a crisis or maybe in a particularly competitive game of rugby whereas Therese of Lisieux would be the one who was always picked last or put in charge of the coats. To be honest, having read this book, written during the second world war, I don't think my opinion will particularly have changed. The spanish Carmelite seemed flesh and blood, interesting and a rounded character complete with humour, fire and bad moods...a laugh in other words. The french Carmelite, well i think i would just want to shake her. I know that is probably almost a heresy and i do not doubt her goodness and sanctity but her cloying sweetness would have put my teeth firmly on edge were it not for 100 years of distance. She seems a great example of someone who removed by a century of history, is seen through a haze. I know her autobigraphy is an inspiration to millions, her ' little way ' is the stuff of legend but she still comes across in this book as fairly one dimensional and that makes her oddly unattractive to me. The saints who help me are ones who I can at least imagine having more to talk about than religion. I'd have thought they'd be the ones God would most appreciate too
A compelling, witty, revealing dance of personalities. Vita Sackville-West is surprisingly reverent toward the Catholic faith, and resists sneering at the ecstatic reputation of Teresa. Unfortunately, the Little Flower—that great force of personality—is passed over without any real understanding by the author, blinded by her class prejudices where here confessional tolerance served her so well in regards to the Spanish saint, who would have been her equal in social standing. Rich kids are so predictable.
An interesting take on two popular saints who share a name and each has a considerable following. They were both in the same religious order but were so very different: the hyper-intelligent and rather intense Spaniard with the gentle French child. I consider myself well-informed on both, having read many of their writings, but I still learned some things.
Witty and perceptive. Unfortunately there is some use of national stereotypes and a condescending whiff of Anglo-Saxon superiority that is uncomfortable to read today.