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Title: The Ball and the Cross DNF@10%
Series: ———-
Author: G.K. Chesterton
Rating: 2 of 5 Stars
Genre: Christian Allegory/Mysticism
Pages: DNF @29
Words: DNF @8K
★★☆☆☆
This review is written with a GPL 4.0 license and the rights contained therein shall supersede all TOS by any and all websites in regards to copying and sharing without proper authorization and permissions. Crossposted at WordPress, Blogspot, & Librarything by Bookstooge’s Exalted Permission
Title: The Man Who Was Thursday: A Nightmare
Author: G.K. Chesterton
Rating: 2 of 5 Stars
Genre: Christian Allegory
Pages: 215
Words: 58K
| Synopsis: |
From Wikipedia
In Victorian-era London, Gabriel Syme is recruited at Scotland Yard to a secret anti-anarchist police corps. Lucian Gregory, an anarchistic poet, lives in the suburb of Saffron Park. Syme meets him at a party and they debate the meaning of poetry. Gregory argues that revolt is the basis of poetry. Syme demurs, insisting the essence of poetry is not revolution but law. He antagonises Gregory by asserting that the most poetical of human creations is the timetable for the London Underground. He suggests Gregory isn’t really serious about anarchism, which so irritates Gregory that he takes Syme to an underground anarchist meeting place, under oath not to disclose its existence to anyone, revealing his public endorsement of anarchy is a ruse to make him seem harmless, when in fact he is an influential member of the local chapter of the European anarchist council.
The central council consists of seven men, each using the name of a day of the week as a cover; the position of Thursday is about to be elected by Gregory’s local chapter. Gregory expects to win the election but just before, Syme reveals to Gregory after an oath of secrecy that he is a secret policeman. In order to make Syme think that the anarchists are harmless after all, Gregory speaks very unconvincingly to the local chapter, so that they feel that he is not zealous enough for the job. Syme makes a rousing anarchist speech in which he denounces everything that Gregory has said and wins the vote. He is sent immediately as the chapter’s delegate to the central council.
In his efforts to thwart the council, Syme eventually discovers that five of the other six members are also undercover detectives; each was employed just as mysteriously and assigned to defeat the Council. They soon find out they were fighting each other and not real anarchists; such was the mastermind plan of their president, Sunday. In a surreal conclusion, Sunday is unmasked as only seeming to be an anarchist; in fact, he is a proponent of state power like the detectives. Sunday is unable to give an answer to the question of why he caused so much trouble and pain for the detectives. Gregory, the only real anarchist, seems to challenge the false council. His accusation is that they, as rulers, have never suffered like Gregory and their other subjects and so their power is illegitimate. Syme refutes the accusation immediately, because of the terrors inflicted by Sunday on the rest of the council.
The dream ends when Sunday is asked if he has ever suffered. His last words, “can ye drink of the cup that I drink of?”, is the question Jesus asks St. James and St. John in the Gospel of Mark, chapter 10, vs 38–39, a rhetorical question intended to demonstrate that the disciples are wrong to covet his glory because they are unable to bear the suffering for the sins of the world for which he is destined.
| My Thoughts: |
Man, how I have changed in 20 years. Much like my review of The Napolean of Notting Hill, I found that this time around I did not enjoy this book by Chesterton nearly so much as I did in my early 20’s. Part of that is that I’ve been exposed to a much wider school of Christian Apologetics and Thought but another part is that I am now comfortable with myself in what I like or do not like.
And the fact of the matter is that I do not like Chesterton’s style. It doesn’t mean it is good or bad but that I simply do not like it. I suspect I would not have liked him as a man either though and thus the good/bad debate has to be thrown out. Plus, I don’t like poetry and Chesterton starts the book off with a poem.
I have now read enough to figure that Chesterton is most likely not for me. I’m going to try one more book by him just to be sure but am not holding out any hope that he’ll suddenly change and become an appealing author to me.
This review is written with a GPL 4.0 license and the rights contained therein shall supersede all TOS by any and all websites in regards to copying and sharing without proper authorization and permissions. Crossposted at WordPress, Blogspot, & Librarything by Bookstooge’s Exalted Permission
Title: The Napoleon of Notting Hill
Series: ———-
Author: G.K. Chesterton
Rating: 3 of 5 Stars
Genre: Absurdist Fantasy
Pages: 203
Words: 55K
| Synopsis: |
From Wikipedia & Me
The dreary succession of randomly selected Kings of England is broken up when Auberon Quin, who cares for nothing but a good joke, is chosen. To amuse himself, he institutes elaborate costumes for the provosts of the districts of London. All are bored by the King’s antics except for one earnest young man who takes the cry for regional pride seriously – Adam Wayne, the eponymous Napoleon of Notting Hill.
The books ends many years later after Wayne initiates a city wide war and has changed how people view their countries again. The king finally realizes Wayne was taking his little joke as serious as sin and is both appalled and astounded.
| My Thoughts: |
When I read this back in ’01 I read it as simply a funny story devoid of all external meaning or even internal meaning. I enjoyed it tremendously back then.
This time around, having read more of Chesterton and having more life experience, it was obvious that Chesterton was writing his ideas into the story. Unfortunately for me, they all went sailing right over my head. Nothing written here held any deeper meaning for me and whenever it was obvious that Chesterton was talking through his characters, what was actually said was so convoluted, so “artistic” (I say that with a sneer, not in a good way), so papered over with his own cleverness that any meaning was lost to me.
If you’re going to tell a story, tell a story. If you’re going to preach, write a non-fiction book. I am one of those people who can look at a great painting and all I see is a collection of paint blobs, no artistic merit or something transcendent that moves the soul. If I was a Dickens story, I’d be the villain who cuts down the beautiful forest to put up housing for 100 people while the hero, a drug addled, wife abusing, useless scum of an artist waxes poetical about the loss of his muse.
It comes down to me simply not understanding one bit what Chesterton was trying to say with this story. I would consider this a better book if he’d just told a story about a crazy king and someone who took him seriously, and the hijinks that ensued. Instead there is war, death and a return to tribalism.
I am not hating my time with Chesterton but I have to admit, I was really hoping for a bit more enjoyment out of my time with him. Well, I’ll keep on chugging on.
