“A vulture flapped and shifted on the iron roof and Wilson looked at Scobie. He couldn't tell that this was one of those occasions a man never forgets. A scar had been made on his memory, a wound that would ache whenever certain things combined, the taste of gin at midday, the smell of flowers under a balcony, the clang of corrugated iron, an ugly bird flopping from perch to perch.”

“So much of life was a putting off of unhappiness for another time. Nothing was ever lost by delay. He had a dim idea that perhaps if one delayed long enough things were taken out of one's hands altogether by death.”

“Somewhere in the darkness two rats scuffled. The waterside rats were the size of rabbits. The natives called them pigs and ate them roasted. Their name helped to distinguish them from the wharf rats who were a human breed.”

“There were not many people at the club yet. He switched off his lights and waited for Louise to move, but she just sat there with a clenched fist. 'Well, dear, here we are’ he said in the hearty voice strangers took as a mark of stupidity. Louise said 'Do you think they all know by this time?' 'Know what?' ‘That you've been passed over.”

“Why, he wondered, swerving the car to avoid a dead dog, do I love this place so much? Is it because here human nature hasn't had time to disguise itself? Nobody here could ever talk about a heaven on earth. Heaven remained in its proper place on the other side of death, and on this side flourished the injustices, the cruelties, the meanness that elsewhere people so cleverly hushed up.”

************

Wilson has just arrived at a colonial city on the west coast of Africa, resembling Freetown in Sierra Leone where Graham Greene worked for MI6 during WWII. From the hotel balcony he spies Scobie, who works for the British police. The town is a polyglot place of Africans, Indians, West Indians, Syrians, French and British. Scobie has lived inside the grimy port for fifteen years, working in a group of government buildings faintly reflecting the grandeur of empire. Nazi submarines patrol the harbor, a haze of heat oppresses the air. Scobie has been passed over to become police commissioner by a younger man.

Scobie lost his bungalow in the European quarter to a senior, now occupying a house in the flats, a swampy neighborhood where vultures search through piles of trash. His wife Louise joined him before the war and is unable to return to England. She is unhappy with their status, a Catholic who converted her husband, as Greene had been by his wife. Their young daughter died recently and although he is no longer in love he feels pity for her plight. Louise wants him to quit or retire so she won’t have to suffer the humiliation of his not being promoted, yet Scobie wants to stay on to avoid spending all his time with her.

The officer’s club is full of snobs but Louise hits it off with the newly arrived inspector Wilson, as they both are fans of poetry. Scobie encourages their friendship to distract Louise while he tries to secure her passage to South Africa. When a village policeman commits suicide he goes into the bush to investigate, where a local priest worries over the mortal sin. Greene had long held doubts about how a sinner could be cast out by a loving God. As Louise prepares to leave a sense of guilt shifts to her shoulders. Wilson has fallen in love with her but she resists his advances in spite of her having let him kiss her once.

Scobie had borrowed money from Yusef, a black marketeer, in order to pay for Louise’s fare. Wilson, who is angry and vindictive about her leaving, suspects bribery was involved. Scobie begins an affair with Helen, a woman shipwrecked in a naval attack, as Louise unexpectedly returns. Yusef, aware of the affair, begins to blackmail Scobie. Unwilling to break off the relationship he attempts to hide it from her. Without an absolution from the Church he receives communion with Louise. In a state of sin he contemplates suicide, perhaps the most deadly sin of all.

After reading three of Greene’s so-called “Catholic” novels, ‘Brighton Rock’, ‘The Power and the Glory’ and ‘The End of the Affair’, this was my least favorite, but not by much. ‘The Heart of the Matter’ is more concerned with Greene’s doubts about religious dogma than the others. Greene was familiar with bouts of depression, suicide attempts and adultery in his personal life. The gloom is pervasive, conveying the mid-20th century squalor and folly of an African colony. Greene wrote vividly about people and places he had experienced as a traveler and journalist. Later in his life he would describe himself as Catholic agnostic.

************

“The stars on this clear night gave also an impression of remoteness, security, freedom. If one knew the facts, he wondered, would one have to feel pity even for the planets? If one reached what they call the heart of the matter?”

"Despair is the price one pays for setting oneself an impossible aim. It is, one is told, the unforgivable sin, but it is a sin the corrupt or evil man never practices. He always has hope. He never reaches the freezing-point of knowing absolute failure. Only the man of goodwill carries always in his heart this capacity for damnation"

God, I love Graham Greene. It’s no great secret that most of the books I read are by American authors, so on the occasions that I need a bit of Englishness, I seek sanctuary in Graham Greene. It’s terribly English, all pink gins and polite/banal conversation. And The Heart of the Matter is terribly Catholic too. I was raised in a very strict Catholic household (my parents, like Graham Greene, were Catholic converts) and no matter how much you lapse you can never shake off the feeling of guilt or the fear of eternal damnation. That is the heart of the matter. Graham Greene doesn’t have the fire and brimstone of Flannery O’Connor, he’s more about despair and contrition.

Based in a West African colony during WW2, Major Henry Scobie is a senior policeman who prides himself on being incorruptible. His Catholic faith and honesty help him navigate a loveless marriage.
“The trouble is, he thought , we know answers – we Catholics are damned by our knowledge”
The symbolism throughout this claustrophobic novel is wonderful: broken Rosary beads, vultures, rusty handcuffs, sweat and storms. Things get interesting when Scobie commits a mortal sin by breaking one of the 10 commandments, and both his moral judgement and his life go into free fall.
“There was no hope anywhere he turned his eyes: the dead figure on the cross, the plaster Virgin, the hideous stations that representing a series of events that happened a long time ago. It seemed to him that he had only left for his exploration the territory of despair”
It’s a colossal piece of writing. The final 50 pages rank amongst the best I've ever read. Graham Greene's attempt to understand religious despair and theological fatalism are just astonishing .

Poor Scobie. This is pure tragedy but I still enjoyed it. Great intrigue and I love Greene's dialogue. I wish I had not know the end.

SO, Miss Gennese, whoever you are, thank you for writing the ending on page 94. Thank you for the obvious and ridiculous observations. Thank you for circling the words vulture, grey, and sea on every page. Thank you for the numerous other observations that I would rather have not read. At least half of your script was illegible and generally I was able to turn a page while ignoring your bright red ink.

This is the last time I buy a used book that has been written in. I bought this book in Blythe, CA and I am guessing that you are a teacher of some sort, as your comments made me think of someone attempting to note important sections to ask students. I do not think you enjoyed the book. Maybe you passed away and your books were dispossed of. Maybe you didn't think twice about giving away a book that ruins the ending for the reader. I've learned my lesson.

Since I read The Quiet American after seeing the movie, and I knew the ending of this book, I would really like to read a Greene novel with a surprise ending.

This poor asshole, stuck in Africa with a wife who doesn't love him, a job going nowhere and this pathological religion. He says he wants to be alone but the minute his wife leaves him he starts an affair, and promptly turns it into the same muck his marriage was, and then he throws a total shit fit over going to confession because he has no intention of quitting his affair, and that's definitely not cool with God as he knows Him, and you can see the pickle he's in.

The thing with Graham Greene is that he has so much sympathy with the pickle. He has this essential misunderstanding about God: he thinks that it is hard, and the struggle to reconcile your actual life with what you think God thinks it ought to be is a terrible battle that deserves empathy. This is ridiculous, of course, everyone knows that the point of God is to bash people over the head with it and be a smug hypocrite.

It's that bottomless sympathy - and Greene knows it himself because he totally had an affair in Africa in real life - that makes him special, and one of the

Best Christian writers ever
5. Jonathan Edwards
4. Machado de Assis
3. Marilynne Robinson
2. Graham Greene
  - Not the Bible, if you don't think that book could have used an editor you should seriously try reading it.
1. Milton

His refusal to judge poor Scobie's shitty life makes it possible to read this book on two entirely different levels, both equally effective. For me, as an atheist, it's just excruciating to watch this schmuck crucify himself for no reason. For a religious person who might have some idea about sin, maybe you might identify with his conflict. Either way, the essential message is the same: believing in God sortof sucks.

3.5 stars.

While Graham Greene tends to be a little wordy for me, I did enjoy this book much more than The Quiet American. I was slightly disappointed though that when the story began speaking of suicide, I knew immediately how the book would end. Four stars.

όλος ο οίκτος σε ένα βιβλίο...Η αλήθεια είναι ότι μου άρεσε αυτη η υγρασία του βιβλιου, το ημιφως μεσα στο σκοτάδι, ο αποικιοκρατικός αέρας...Μου άρεσε πολύ και αυτό το νουαρ που απέπνεε και ο Γκρην σε τουτο το βιβλιο είναι "μαστορας". Ωστόσο γρήγορα άρχισα να εκνευρίζομαι με τον ήρωα (Σκόμπι). Ο Σκόμπι αν και αρχικά μου φάνηκε συμπαθής και ναι θα τον συγχωρούσα για όσα έκανε και στον εαυτό του και στους γύρω του, άρχισε να με νευριάζει... Ίσως φταίει το γεγονός ότι μπήκα σε μια διαδικασία σύγκρισης με το "Η Δύναμις και η Δόξα" που είναι τόσο δυνατό όσο και ο χαρακτήρας του κληρικού και με ένα κείμενο μαχαίρι...Δεν θα έλεγα σε κάποιον να μην διαβάσει Γκρην! Αντίθετα, θα τον προσκαλούσα να το κάνει γιατί ο Καθολικός Γκρήν με τον τροπο που περιφέρει τους ήρωες του δεν τους τιμωρεί απλά...τους οικτίρει και τους μετατρέπει σε μάρτυρες που φέρουν το δικό τους προσωπικό σταυρό. Οι δευτερέοντες χαρακτήρες είναι αποκάλυψη για ακόμη μια φορά με συμπαθέστερη τη σύζυγο του Σκόμπι την Έλεν. Το βιβλιο έχει διασκευασθει απο τον ίδιο τον Γκρην σε ταινια το 1953 με τον υποδειγματικό Trevor Howard, μόνο με διαφορετικό τέλος από το βιβλιο. ΥΓ Εαν σας αρέσει το τζιν δοκιμάστε και τη συνταγη για γνωστο και κλασικο κοκτειλ τζιν, που βρίσκεται στις σελιδες του βιβλιου!

My first Greene. A story that has many layers. Greene delved into a man's psyche to bring out a profound story about love, death and despair.

"The truth, he thought, has never been of any real value to any human being--it is a symbol for mathematicians and philosophers to pursue. In human relations kindness and lies are worth a thousand truths. He involved himself in what he always knew was a vain struggle to retain the lies."

There are a lot of quotable lines in Greene.
He's very good at mapping the territory of despair. His characters are very real, as is the setting. The novel is both cinematic and introspective. I've read only one other Greene besides this one, 'The Power & the Glory', and I found this the more impressive of the two. But perhaps I did not buy/believe the other as much as I did this one; I read it when living in Mexico (where it was set). Of course I was also much younger then.
who knows. But you can be sure I'll be reading many more of his.

[3.5] Greene is always a pleasure to read and I enjoyed his sharp portrayal of a claustrophobic West African colony and its burdened citizens. But the heart of the matter here eludes me. Long-suffering Scobie's love affair with Helen felt implausible and childish. He relates to her as if she is a punishment. His Catholicism causes more pain. There must be an allegory happening here that is over my head. But Greene writes so well!

The Heart of the Matter is a sobering revelation of how impossible it is to navigate life consistently as an honorable and good human being. This, to me, is the testimony of its main protagonist, Henry Scobie.

Fifty-year-old Major Henry Scobie is a highly respected deputy commissioner of police who oversees border security at a British colonial outpost in West Africa during World War II. He has a solid reputation for upholding justice and is deemed incorruptible. Scobie loves his life at the colony even though he is unhappily married to Louise who thrives on being well liked and admired by white folks deemed her social equal. When Scobie is passed over for promotion as commissioner of police, Louise is embarrassed. She is inconsolable until Scobie is able to finance her passage to S. Africa. Scobie’s lack of money precipitates shady dealings with Yusef, a Syrian black marketeer. This uncharacteristic indiscretion compromises his values and jeopardizes his faith as a devout Catholic.

Scobie feels a deep sense of responsibility toward Louise and cannot be happy unless she is happy. He reflects, “If I could arrange for her happiness first, he thought, and in the confusing night he forgot for a while what experience had taught him - that no human being can really understand another, and no one can arrange another’s happiness.” And yet, Scobie feels duty bound against all odds to secure Louise’s happiness. Later, this obligatory loyalty becomes an even greater burden when Scobie falls in love with Helen Roft, a young widow. With profound sympathy, sensitivity, and compassion, Greene exposes his readers to Scobie’s moral dilemmas, emotional and spiritual struggles when Scobie confronts his failings – corruption, infidelity, betrayal.

Scobie wears me out. He has a good heart and wants to do what is right. In an episode where he breaks the rules to save the job of a Portuguese sea captain who pleads with him for mercy and appeals to their mutual Catholic faith, Scobie realizes to his dismay that while others had been corrupted by money, ’he had been corrupted by sentiment.’ Scobie is always bothered by others’ point of view. ’Inexorably another’s point of view rose on the path like a murdered innocent.’ What makes this book upsetting is that for all his good intentions, Scobie gets it all wrong, pleases no one, and ends up paying too high a price for trying to fulfil the impossible ambition of living for others. He exasperates me but I feel for him, too.

As always in a book by Graham Greene, there are astute observations on the human condition and nuggets of wisdom and insight. Scobie’s attempt at rationalization in the quote below is worth thinking about:

‘The truth, he thought, has never been of any real value to any human being - it is a symbol for mathematicians and philosophers to pursue. In human relations kindness and ties are worth a thousand truths.’
This is the conviction, I believe, Scobie lives by. Sadly, it seems grossly inadequate judging from the outcome of Scobie’s life.

The Heart of the Matter holds up questions for which there are no easy answers:
Is happiness attainable? And by whom?

Can God forgive a person who does what is wrong when he means to do what is right for the sake of those he loves?

’Despair is the price one pays for setting oneself an impossible aim. It is, one is told, the unforgivable sin, but it is the sin the corrupt or evil man never practised. He always has hope. He never reaches the freezing-point of knowing absolute failure. Only the man of goodwill carries always in his heart this capacity for damnation.’

Scobie is that man of goodwill. He deserves better.

Bu sene okuduklarım içerisinde bir kitaba hüsran diyeceksem bu Meselenin Özü olur. Bunun nedeni de hemen hemen hiçbir şeyini sevmemiş hatta neredeyse nefret etmiş olmam. Temelde bir adamın yaşadığı inanç bunalımı neticesinde giderek yozlaşmasını ve başkalarına mutluluk getirmeye çalışırken yok olmasını ele alıyor yazar ama bunu yaparken tüm bakış açısını Katoliklik üstüne kuruyor. Böylece ortaya günah/bağışlanma ikilisi üzerinden anlatılan temsili bir endüljans hikayesi çıkıyor. Sürpriz kaçırmamak için çok detaya girmek istemesem de kahramanımız Scobie, önce karısı için sonra da sevgilisiyle yaşadıkları yüzünden günah işliyor ve sonunda da bağışlanmak için kendini feda ediyor. Bu tarz inanç sorgulaması hikayelerini genelde severim ama burada anlatılan karakter bana o kadar tutarsız ve mekanik geldi ki ne yaşadığı çatışmaya ne de eylemlerine ikna olamadım. (Kitap üstüne araştırma yaparken George Orwell’ın da benzer şeyler karaladığını okudum ve yalnız olmamanın huzuruna eriştim.)

Acaba kaçırdığım bir şeyler mi var diye kafamda döndürüp duruyorum ama bir türlü başka katmanlara ulaşamıyorum. Savaş üzerinden gideyim deyince hikayedeki savaş, sömürge atmosferi bile sadece dekor amaçlı ve işlevsiz çünkü hikaye neredeyse beyazlar arasında geçiyor. Yolcu gemilerin batırılması dışında savaşa dair herhangi bir işaret yok. Kadın/erkek üzerinden okumak isteyince önemli rol oynayan iki kadın karakterin ikisi de birbirinden karton. Uzun lafın kısası nereden yakalamak istesem orası elimde kalıyor. Üstüne bir de durağan ama yer yer de fazla geveze anlatım eklenince diyecek sözüm olmuyor.

Yazardan daha önce “Aşkın Sonu” romanını okuyup beğenmiştim. Orada da inanmaya dair benzer bir çatışma vardı ancak karakterler daha tutarlıydı. Buradaysa karakterler hem tek boyutlu hem de hayli dengesizler. Üstüne bir de bildik çatışma ve tatmin edici olmayan atmosfer eklenince ortaya çok da tatmin edici olmayan bir eser çıkıyor.