Greene's Orient Express

Although Graham Greene is one of my favorite novelists, Orient Express is so far my least favorite novel of is. As an "entertainment" with a similar title as one of Agatha Christie's classics, I expected something more exciting, granted there are some moments which are written as action film scenes. But I suppose my major problem with the novel is the caricatured main characters and the pervasive anti-Semitism where one is not sure if the author agrees.

The middle-aged lesbian who hates men, the virgin chorus girl, the self-conscious Jew, the thief on the run, and the novelist, Savory, are not as interesting as one would like, in spite of the "exotic" settings on a train bound for Istanbul. However, where the novel does approach the more typical 'Catholic' Greene territory, is in the lapsed Catholic Communist, Dr. Czinner (the name is a clue), who seeks redemption after the failure of an attempted Communist uprising. 

His character and his end, in his search for redemption, bring to mind a point made by a favorite intellectual historian of mine about the similarities between Marxism and Christianity. Furthermore, as Christiopher Hitchens's introduction to the edition I read indicates, Greene was likely drawing on his own sympathies for the Left and Catholicism in the character of Czinner, juxtaposing his fate with the ongoing social inequalities and exploitation of interwar Europe.

In that sense, the train, with its various classed cars and compartments, and the numerous references to the peasants, soldiers, clerks, and porters at the various sites along the way, is a portrait of the world in all its vicious social inequities, the passengers forced to engage with those in a setting in which the class, gender, sexual, and national borders are in flux. As one might expect, it doesn't end well for Czinner, Coral's fate is uncertain, but there are glimpses into which the characters' intersecting lives have unforgettably changed each other.

Brighton Rock

Although Brighton Rock is centered on a teenage gangster in the seaside town of Brighton, thematically this novel fits in quite well with Greene's Catholic novels. Rose, in particular, her ability to stand by and love a man committed to damnation regardless of tragic consequences, stood out to the reader as one of Greene's more memorable characters. Ida, as a socially 'free' women driven by Right and Wrong rather than good and evil (the framework of Rose), is a remarkable character in her sexual freedom and autonomy. The contrast between Right and Wrong versus good and evil also demonstrates the murkiness of ethics in a modern society in which religion does not dictate law. Thus, in her own way, Rose's belief in love and fidelity to Pinkie is arguably 'good' even if the actions of the characters are Wrong. Similarly, Ida's pursuit of what's Right, removed from a Catholic ethics, ignores a larger purpose or calling. These opposing conceptions illustrate part of the conflict between Ida and Rose, who though young and naive in her own way, nonetheless clings to her 'Roman' predilection for damnation and heaven. And the suggestion of a Catholic hope for all, despite it all, figures prominently here as in Greene's best Catholic novels, in spite of the ultimate tragedy that awaits Rose.  

Favorite Reads of 2016

1. Howards End
Sometimes the classics are required reading for a reason. Although I only knew Forster for his science fiction short story before tackling this novel, I highly recommend it for its sophisticated portrait of English social relations.

2. A Morning at the Office (Mittelholzer)
Mittelholzer's realist novel accomplishes for Trinidad's social system what Forster did for England.

3. The End of the Affair
Graham Greene resonates with me like few writers. Greene's tale of love and loss is profoundly moving and drew on the author's own affair with a married woman.

4. Neuromancer
Science fiction with literary ambition by one of the genre's great writers. Although the Rastafarians used in the novel's heist were criticized by some, Gibson's vision of the future is horrifyingly accurate in some ways.

5. Billie Holiday: The Musician and the Myth
A serious book on Billie Holiday by one of the greats in jazz writing. Although more of a musical biography rather than a narrative of her life, Szwed takes Holiday's singing seriously as music and art. Published in honor of the centennial of her birth, too.

6. 4 Lives in the Bebop Business (Spellman)
A classic in jazz. Spellman's chapters on Cecil Taylor and Ornette Coleman should be required for anyone wishing to learn more about the social milieu in which avant-garde jazz developed in the 1960s.

7. Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said (PKD)
A totalitarian society envisioned by Philip K. Dick in the 1970s. Hints of his later Christian and religious themes are present, but it's also perhaps his best novel of the 1970s.

8. The Heart of the Matter
Perhaps my favorite Graham Greene novel, this World War II tale of love and guilt takes place in Sierra Leone.

9. The Left Hand of Darkness
Science fiction classic for anyone interested in gender.  You can tell LeGuin’s father was an anthropologist...

10. The Quiet American
The one in which Graham Greene predicted the Vietnam War.

11. The Power and the Glory
Possibly Graham Greene's most beautiful work, this tale of a fallen priest in Mexico almost made me want to return to the Catholic Church. Almost...

12. Camp Concentration
Disch was one of the more literary practitioners of science fiction and this classic tale is both harrowing and suspenseful.

13. The Transmigration of Timothy Archer
In terms of its prose, this is by far Philip K. Dick's best novel and his only work with a fully developed woman protagonist.

14. Middle Passage (VS Naipaul)
Although much of Naipaul's rants and screeds about the 'Third World' are misleading or dishonest, I find his first travel book, commissioned by Eric Williams, to be his best since it describes his 'native' region, the West Indies.

15. The Lathe of Heaven
LeGuin's most phildickian novel. Highly recommend the first film adaptation, too.

16. Black No More (George Schuyler)
For fans of satire and the Harlem Renaissance. Schuyler is a personal hero of mine.

17. An Island Is A World (Selvon)
An early masterpiece from Sam Selvon. Very autobiographical and true to its title.

18. My Bones and My Flute (Mittelholzer)
Ghost story that is suspenseful, engaging, and frightening by one of the best writers to ever come out of Guyana.

19. Letters Between a Father and Son (Naipaul)
Intensely personal correspondence between Naipaul and his father and Naipaul and his sister, Kamla. Reading these letters will soften any criticism of Naipaul as a writer or person.

20. Dr. Futurity (PKD)
Time travel, colonialism, mixed-race people, and more from this adventurous and fun PKD novel. 

The End of the Affair

Graham Greene's The End of the Affair is Catholic guilt somersaults for a lapse Catholic reader. Much like his novels set in more exotic locales, infidelity, guilt, love, relationships, and events of a more momentous impact such as World War II figure prominently, but this is perhaps, the most intimate account of doomed lovers struggling with love, faith, and morality in a bourgeois setting, with both God's love (agape) and human interpersonal notions of love battling it out. Although I prefer Greene's non-Britain settings, it was refreshing to see his somewhat expected character types in London during the War as the backdrop for a conflict of epic scale (God's existence, what does it mean to love another person or experience the love of God) just as the humor and autobiographical elements of the novel reveal more of Greene's comic sensibilities and willingness to perhaps mock himself however lightly. Even someone writing about romance and the search for human connection knew how to use humor effectively in this carefully and richly worded novel, imbued with so much meaning that even some of the superstitious Catholic 'miracle' hints can be forgiven. 

The Quiet American

What I love about Graham Greene is his perceptive nature and penchant for being in 'hotspots' before they blow up. Sure, one doesn't have to be a prophet to have foreseen some of the conflicts of the Cold War and colonialism, but Greene's The Quite American shares with Our Man in Havana an intuitive understanding of imminent political and social change. Sure, American intervention in Vietnam long before the Gulf of Tonkin incident was probably predicted by others as early as the mid-1950s, but Greene saw the wasteful Vietnam War in postwar American hegemonic foreign policy, even when masked by American "innocence" (or, perhaps, naivete, as embodied by Pyle). This concern with US foreign policy was self-evident in The Comedians and Our Man in Havana, but this highly cinematic novel littered with references to America's eternal adolescence, articulate this particular postwar British perspective better than The Comedians.

 

 And Vietnam was perhaps the best setting for this shift to decolonisation and US hegemony, especially as the Americans were prepared to ascend as Britain and France lost their empires. This is why Ishiguro's Remains of the Day came to mind while reading this, despite their vast differences in setting and characters. Nonetheless, Ishiguro's novel captured that withering might of the British Empire, whose sun finally began to set, within the metropole. As Robert Stone's explanatory introduction states, Greene came from such a family that was invested in the Empire, and hence the ambivalence on the US and its encroachment in the colonies, or, to be even more direct, Pyle taking away Fowler's "native" woman, Phuong. Naturally, it being Greene, Catholicism is a consistent undercurrent in the novel's portrayal of war, crime, guilt, and redemption, as well as a witty sense of humor and bitter barbs against the US. I loved it all. 

Graham Greene's Diamonds From Sierra Leone

Graham Greene's The Heart of the Matter is another masterpiece of his Catholic novels, all of which I hope to finish. Much like James Wood's useful introduction to the brilliant novel indicates, Greene's Catholicism was often of an anti-institutional kind that can appeal to Protestant tastes or people of all faiths. The Heart of the Matter accomplishes this just as well as The Power and the Glory, and the Freetown, Sierra Leone setting is used quite well here. While Greene's depictions of the local population, especially the Africans and Syrians, could be seen in a 21st century light as racist or questionable, there is a genuine love and concern for all residents of that "Tower of Babel" in Scobie, and, by extension, Greene himself. 

Whilst hardly an anti-colonial novel and lacking the socialism of Camus, whose The Plague is compared to Greene's novel by Wood, Greene is a better writer with a magical combination of humor, accessible prose, subtle and unsubtle phrasing and metaphors, and a deep commitment to Christian values in ways a secular leftist would approve. A tale of love, loyalty, faith, and humanity's struggle to know humankind is a universal struggle, and Greene's setting during World War II in a "white man's grave" colony bring this to the fore. Naturally, some may object to the image of Africa in Greene's imagination (sometimes reminscient of Conrad, perhaps), but with a closer look, Greene's story could just as easily be set in postwar London or Northampton, especially in the battle for love, intimacy, selflessness and pity between men and women, white and black, Allies and  Axis, neutrals and colonials. Scobie's own Christ-like action at the end and good intentions bring to mind the unnamed whisky priest of his other famous Catholic novel, as both must confront guilt and the consequences of their actions, hoping to find some redemption. 

I only wish Ali, Scobie's "boy," and other African characters were given equal consideration or focus for a inclusive narrative on Freetown during World War II. As indicated in the novel and Greene's real-life experience during the War, obviously espionage, smuggling, submarine attacks, local unrest, and a corrupt colonial police and bureaucracy existed, yet we see nothing of the "wharf rats" or the numerous "mammies" who populate the city, only offered rare glimpses into their thoughts and world. And what of the West Indians, the Indian fortuneteller, or Tallit, the Syrian Chrsitian rival of Yusef, who disappears from the novel rather abruptly? Perhaps what Greene's novel needs is a response or counternarrative, maybe along the lines of Kamel Daoud's The Meursault Investigation, for a fuller picture of Freetown during that time. 

The Power and the Glory

Graham Greene's The Power and the Glory is one of those rare novels with such spiritual import one is left breathless after finishing. Reminding me of Philip K. Dick's masterpiece, The Transmigration of Timothy Archer, Greene's thoroughly Catholic tale of a Mexican priest on the run is essentially Christian, just like Dick's late work. Both also share a devotion to agape as the reservoir (and goal?) of Christian meaning and faith, done to excellent effect in both works. Just as one character chooses compassion over enlightenment in Dick's novel, here the unnamed Mexican priest, returns to certain death to fulfill his duty and try to love everyone as he loves his grave sin. Greene's novel also brings to mind the problematic ways in which leftist insurgents and governments, pursuing the same goals, in the end, as the Catholic Church, can also harm or exploit the population in which they claim to be fighting for. No one is left unscathed in this touching tale, and much like the life of the saints or Christ himself, there is always redemption or redeemable aspects of the unfavorable characters, including the lieutenant hell-bent on killing the unnamed priest, the last Catholic cleric left in a state whose socialist government banned Catholicism.  Furthermore, the ambiguous loose ends of the novel, which another novelist may not have succeeded in pulling off, contribute to the text's core themes of the community, aided by the novel's shift in characters, as the decisions made by a few reverberate throughout the province as the "whiskey priest" lives on the run. In short, a brilliant novel that Catholics and non-Catholics alike can enjoy, be mesmerized by, and appreciate the Mexican setting. 

Our Man in Havana

Graham Greene's hilarious Our Man in Havana is both more humorous and entertaining read than The Comedians, but doesn't exploit the Cuban setting as effectively Port-au-Prince in the other famous novel. Maybe it reflects my own greater familiarity with Port-au-Prince than Havana, a city I have never visited, but Havana does not come to life as easily here as Port-au-Prince and Duvalierville in Comedians. Sure, the famous nightclubs, the Paseo, and Havana's whorehouses and gambling dens (and the many pimps, bootblacks, and crooked cops) are key to the story, with the Batista regime tumbling, yet something was amiss here. That said, Greene's novel manages to fuse comedy with prescient visions of the importance of Cuba in the Cold War and the imminent Cuban Revolution, and all through a tale of sheer absurdity poking fun at the British Secret Service! Anyone who romanticizes pre-Castro Cuba should read this entertaining novel just for an idea of the volatile period of Batista or the institutionalization of Havana's existence as entertainment for tourists. Oh, and Captain Segura ain't got nothing on the macoutes of Duvalierist Haiti. 

Hotel Oloffson

I had the great fortune of finally seeing this famous hotel for myself recently. The beautiful gingerbread mansion features many beautiful rooms, a nice little bar, and the beautiful mural in the main hall where RAM performs. Alas, I did not have the pleasure of hearing RAM there, but to walk around this famous hotel that inspired Graham Greene's The Comedians was of great significance to me. Here is another photo, where RAM performs on Thursday. 

The Comedians

"...it's astonishing how much money can be made out of the poorest of the poor with a little ingenuity." 

I'll admit that when I first heard of The Comedians I expected some stereotypical trite with a racial bias. Of course, Graham Greene is an excellent writer and well-known figure of English literature, but, as of now, I have only read The Comedians. The beginning of the novel was a little rough, too, since it is set on a Dutch ship leaving the US for Port-au-Prince and it moves at a slow pace. Quickly, however, Greene's novel picks up and unites the various passengers on  the ship in the midst of Papa Doc's terror in 1960s Haiti. Sure, some of Greene's allusions to Vodou and Haitian history are stereotypical and perhaps ill-informed (he makes Henri Christophe out to be some sort of extreme tyrant, applicable to Papa Doc), but through the lens of the protagonist, Brown, Greene has a more nuanced perspective on 1960s Haiti.

During most of the novel's events, Papa Doc's government had lost most ties to the US (the Kennedy administration recalled their ambassador, Haiti and the Dominican Republic were not on cordial terms, and Papa Doc was executing Barbot and flushing out rebels in the mountains and along the border) and is clearly extending 'Duvalierism' and state terror into as many aspects of public life as possible. Corruption is endemic, violence the norm, and regular blackouts define urban life. Greene's Port-au-Prince is one where Baron Samedi, Papa Doc, with the help of Tonton Macoutes, terrorize the population, threaten and steal, kill and maim, while the vast hordes of peasants, beggars, urban poor, etc. struggle to survive. Yet, despite the deep disgust and disdain Greene clearly bears, Brown articulates a critique of US imperialism that allows Papadocracy to thrive: Haiti is a bulwark against Communism. During the height of Cold War politics in the post-Cuban Revolution Caribbean, US support for Papa Doc was inevitable, despite the obvious horrors he subjected his population to. Indeed, the Communist Dr. Magiot also notes the money to be made by US Congressmen and businesses with corrupt Haitian officials, a reality unfortunately quite real in Papa Doc's Haiti.

Despite a perhaps superficial resemblance to Naipaul's truly pessimistic (and racist) A Bend in the River, one can clearly surmise that Greene is aiming for a more nuanced view of a 'third world hotspot' peopled by descendants of Africa. Even if there are at times racist statements by Brown (who also states Haitian women to be the most beautiful of the world) and a certain level of condescension and revulsion (such as when Brown discovers Marcel, a black Haitian, was his mother's lover during her years in Port-au-Prince running the hotel, Trianon, clearly based on Hotel Oloffson), Greene's characters are generally positive and don't assume a perpetual rule of terror and dictatorship. Instead of Afropessimism, one encounters a 'balanced' narrative with a bleak, but hopeful conclusion (Dr. Magiot urges Brown, in spite of losing everything he had in Haiti, the closest thing he has had to a 'home' in his life, to not lose 'faith').

Regardless of the title hinting at the various 'roles' we play in all human societies, how we can all be comedians, this is a novel about two characters shedding all the artificial 'clothing' they have constructed in their lives and utterly 'being' themselves at the heart of it, 'confessing' and accepting life but not living through it as passive observers, not assuming roles and using deceit, but making a stand for something (even if in the case of Brown, the ultimate motives were not initially pure). Thus, in that regard, this is a powerful novel on the human condition, which, obviously, surpasses the insignificant and impoverished island of Haiti. Any attempt at resistance is admirable, perhaps even the foolhardy attempt at a Cuban-styled coup by Philipot and Joseph, led by a man with absolutely no military leadership credentials, or even the naive but well-meaning American couple (who provide some fodder for a wicked sense of humor, since they actually believe that a vegetarian centre could be established in the heart of Port-au-Prince, and seem shocked that 'law and order' in the conventional sense do not operate in Papa Doc's Haiti) who genuinely have 'faith' in the future of humanity, in a world where racial equality, erasure of poverty, and an end to animal cruelty were all possible. In addition, a dark sense of humor abounds in other instances, such as Brown becoming an undertaker in Santo Domingo with Fernandez, a role intimately tied to death and Baron Samedi, the very same lwa associated with watching over the dead (also the lwa Papa Doc was associated with, perhaps suggesting the dual connotations of the lwa as a force for good in contrast with Papa Doc's evil).

In summation, this novel about actors dropping their stage roles, individuals retaining faith, has a powerful message for all, beyond the 'benighted' destitute nations of the world as well as the wealthy. Even the dishonest Jones ultimately became a hero, proving himself similar to Mr. Smith for sharing a similar nature and belief in life. Besides the intriguing plot, the prose is direct and enthralling, giving the reader clear images of 1960s Port-au-Prince, the decline of the Trianon, and the familiar sight of the Tonton Macoute in dark sunglasses. The meta aspects of the novel, as a sort of play within a novel, is a fascinating concept, too. Each character has a role they play in the novel, and another one amongst themselves in their own world, in their relationships with each other, in the fantasies they construct, including the Tontons Macoutes, who don sunglasses to hide their own emotions and fears, insecurities and humanity.