Duty, duty, duty. It will do you in.

Good God, I thought Greene's A Burnt-Out Case and The End of the Affair were the biggest heaps of Catholic guilt until I read this. Because religion is not my bag I tend not to care much for books about people struggling with questions of faith and sin and such, but Greene's books have a more universal appeal, I think, insofar as they point out the hyprocrisies that go along with adhering to inherently impossible strict moral codes. Those things do appeal to me, and, as usual, Greene addresses those issues with great depth of feeling and insight, in addition to providing us with one of the most complex studies of a marriage I've encountered in literature.

I'll leave it to those who get paid tenured professor's salaries to ferret out all the meanings related to blood and redemption and communion and such. For about halfway through I was full-on in favor of giving this five stars, but then as the fall of the protagonist, Scobie, proceeds apace the thing started to play a bit like a '40s movie melodrama, which only makes sense because Greene was a film critic and film screenwriter and probably was well aware that this would make it to the big screen (which it did, in the 1950s).

I have to give complete kudos to my girlfriend, Erin, (who was reading this simultaneously with me) for predicting well in advance where this story was going, both in its general arc and in certain telegraphed particulars. This is her first Greene, and it's a little disconcerting that the author's foreshadowings were more obvious to her than to me, especially given that I've read about a dozen of the guy's books by now. At its best, this is possibly Greene's greatest novel, probably a well deserved part of the Modern Library top 100 novels list. It's not my favorite Greene; for that see The Comedians (which turns out to have great similarities to ...Heart... and The Quiet American (ditto).

This is one of three Greene novels that the Catholic Church was not happy with, the other two being "The Power and the Glory" and "The End of the Affair." The books were considered immoral and casting the Church in a bad light. Some clerics wanted the books officially condemned.

The setting of the novel is based on Greene's time as an intelligence agent in Freetown, Sierra Leone, which Greene described as a "God-forsaken hole."

The character, Louise, in the book is modeled after Greene's wife, Vivien, who was an intellectual and an omnivorous reader, but always insecure about her social station. Greene said she had a "saintly" quality that he admired, but which proved uncomfortable to him. This is reflected in the Scobie character, trying to appease his wife and even sending her away at her request, but also looking for ways of escape, which he sought in prostitutes and an affair.

Not surprisingly, Scobie, like Greene, struggles with issues of faith and morality set against his actions. The end of the book reflects an impulse that Greene had throughout his life, going back to his unhappy school days in England.

In a review by Evelyn Waugh, a close friend of Greene's and fellow Catholic, he wrote:

"There are loyal Catholics here and in America who think it the function of the Catholic writer to produce only advertising brochures setting out in attractive terms the advantages of Church membership. To them this profoundly reverent book will seem a scandal. For it not only portrays Catholics as unlikeable human beings but shows them as tortured by their Faith. It will be the object of controversy and perhaps even of condemnation."

The book was a bestseller in England, did well in the U.S. (including a Book of the Month selection) but was banned in Ireland. One Catholic critic pronounced it "a vulgar success."

They had been corrupted by money, and he had been corrupted by sentiment. Sentiment was the more dangerous, because you couldn’t name its price. A man open to bribes was to be relied upon below a certain figure, but sentiment might uncoil in the heart at a name, a photograph, even a smell remembered.
…
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.
…
Father Rank clapped the cover of the diary to and said furiously, ‘For goodness’ sake, Mrs Scobie, don’t imagine you—or I—know a thing about God’s mercy.’
‘The Church says …’
‘I know the Church says. The Church knows all the rules. But it doesn’t know what goes on in a single human heart.’

It’s 1943, and Major Henry Scobie is an English Catholic serving in an unnamed West African country that’s probably Sierra Leone. He’s the Deputy Commissioner of Police and he’s known for his honesty, piousness, and trustworthiness. But his wife Louise is lonely and deeply unhappy, and only more so when Scobie is passed over for promotion to Commissioner, which would have forced the other women to accept her into their circle. She wants to leave and live in South Africa until Scobie can join her on leave, but Scobie lacks the funds to book her passage. Having already broken one rule by burning a Captain’s contraband letter rather than turning it over to the authorities, Scobie decides to bend another and accept a loan from Yusef, a Syrian businessman and diamond-smuggling criminal. And that decision leads to another and another until Scobie is faced with the choice of hurting everyone around him or accepting literal eternal damnation.

The Heart of the Matter starts a bit slowly as it introduces the main characters: Scobie, Louise, Wilson, Yusef, and Helen. But once Scobie begins his slow slide into corruption, the tension quickly builds. The writing is great, with deep observations sprinkled throughout. In some ways the story here is very subtle, with key actions occurring obliquely and/or off page. But the story is not subtle about religion generally and Catholicism specifically. Scobie wrestles deeply with trying to reconcile his sincere belief in eternal damnation if he does not repent his sins with his human unwillingness to stop sinning. It’s an interesting, affecting portrayal of that level of spiritual devotion (though, given how the book ends, not exactly one that would make a person want to be more devout).

The Heart of the Matter is not a flawless book. Like I said above, it starts a bit slowly. Also, it was published in 1948 about life in a British colony in 1943, so prepare yourself for racism and racial slurs (including a healthy dose of the n-bomb). Still, it’s a good story. It reminded me of  Appointment in Samarra, a dark comedy with a similar ‘one mistake leading to a chain reaction ultimately ending in tragedy’ storyline. But this book is far more religious and far more serious, which makes it a tougher but perhaps more rewarding read. Recommended.

Hace poco leí “Una muerte en la familia”, de Jame Agee, un magnífico libro en el que, entre otras cosas, se pone en cuestión la eficacia de la religión como consuelo frente al dolor por la muerte de un ser querido, e incluso se sugería que en tales situaciones la religión podría ser más un problema que una solución. Como bien dice Fernando Savater, las religiones son como el vino: hay a quién le sienta bien y hay a quién no. Este es un libro sobre alguien al que la religión no le hace ningún bien y, aunque es lo último que desearía, se convierte en el causante del sufrimiento de otros. Al igual que en el libro de Agee, parece que “El revés de la trama” es un reflejo del conflicto interior que, similar al de su protagonista, vivió Graham Green.   
 
Este relato sobre el camino de perdición que irremediablemente recorre el subcomisario de policía Scobie, un hombre íntegro y católico ferviente, lo sitúa el autor en una colonia olvidada del Imperio británico por la única razón –pienso yo, los nativos son únicamente parte del paisaje- de entrelazar la morosidad de su prosa y la desesperación del protagonista con el clima del lugar: un calor agobiante y disuasorio de cualquier movimiento innecesario (“Nada se perdía aplazando las cosas. Tenía la tenue idea de que si uno las aplazaba el tiempo necesario, quizá la muerte acabase por arrebatárselas totalmente de las manos”) en el que compiten el constante zumbido de los mosquitos con el repiqueteo insufrible y eterno de la lluvia, un clima, en fin, “para la ruindad, la malevolencia, el esnobismo, pero que algo como el amor o el odio hace perder la cabeza a un hombre.” Un ambiente dominado por las molestias, las intrigas y la mezcolanza de razas y procedencias que imponen una guerra lejana pero siempre presente y que me más de una vez me ha traído a la mente esa gran película titulada “Casablanca”.
 
Pero que nadie se confunda, la novela no está al nivel de la película de Curtiz, ni Scobie tiene el poder seductor de Rick, ni ninguna de las dos mujeres que completan el triángulo amoroso del relato de Green tienen el encanto de Ilsa, ni el conflicto interior del protagonista grahamiano es tan atractivo como el del cínico y amargado Rick. Nada hay de cinismo en las agrias reflexiones de Scobie, ese pobre hombre, enamorado del fracaso -“Sé un fracaso para que pueda quererte de nuevo”-, angustiado por la felicidad de los otros, de la que se siente totalmente responsable –“Toda víctima exige devoción”-, y atormentado por su catolicismo que le proporciona todas las respuestas pero que es incapaz de explicar el porqué de las preguntas y el propósito de Dios al enfrentarle a ellas o al permitir que el diablo en forma de comerciante sirio le tiente con su meloso arrobamiento hasta hacerlo caer en su perdición – “La desesperación es el precio que uno paga por imponerse una meta imposible”-. Un conflicto que, aun narrado con la habilidad literaria de Green, llega a hacerse repetitivo y un tanto incoherente.

Το πέμπτο μου βιβλίο του Graham Greene. Σπουδαίο και αυτό. Η γραφή, όπως και στα υπόλοιπα έργα του, είναι μεν εύκολη αλλά ταυτόχρονα εξαιρετικά διεισδυτική. Νομίζω ότι πρόκειται -μαζί με το "Δύναμις και η Δόξα"-για ένα από τα πιο «καθολικά» μυθιστορήματα του. Και εδώ ο Γκρην στέκεται και υπερασπίζεται τη τραυματισμένη πίστη του ήρωα του, τις αμφιβολίες του και τα διλήμματα που βασανίζουν τη ψυχή του ... «Η Εκκλησία γνωρίζει όλους τους κανόνες. Μόνο που δεν έχει ιδέα τι συμβαίνει έστω και σε μία ανθρώπινη καρδιά».

Ever since I read "The Quiet American," followed by "The Human Factor," I have counted Greene as one of my favorite authors for his clear, beautiful prose and his uncanny talent for creating a fictional portrait of human emotions that evokes similar sentiments in the reader. With "Heart of the Matter" now digested and ready to stand alongside its brethren on the shelf, my respect for Greene's work waxes all the greater.

The setting in this book makes you feel uncomfortable, and Scobie's outlook on life casts a pall over your thoughts as Greene gradually pieces together a story that decays into a full-blown tragedy. Reflecting on earlier events, I realize now that Greene planted the seed for Scobie's fatal decision at the book's end, and that all of Scobie's actions, following this foreshadowing, were pulled towards this sad end with gravitational inevitability. Did Scobie even realize how much his imagination was impressed--and informed--by a fellow-officer's death? I think he might of known, and thinking this leaves me with an eerie disquiet--as if I could have reached into the page and warned the man.

That depth of emotion is what Greene achieves in his work. I get lost in his stories--not through fancy, but because I am wholly consumed by a place that I can experience with my own senses. Greene's prose and storytelling are remarkable; he is the kind of writer whom I am so very glad to have brought into my own life.

Four stars, because of the quality of the writing. But I am going to disagree with the label that goes with it, that of "really liked it." Because I did not. I feel no affection for this book, and I doubt that I will ever re-read it for many reasons that I will state below. But for those just reading this to get a quick glance about whether they should read it or not: you should, in short. It is worth it. I just would not expect to fall in love.

The book focuses on Major Scobie, a policeman in a British colony of West Africa, where Greene himself spent some time. It's set during WWII, which serves to set up the mood of distrust, fragility and vague apprehension that is to haunt the novel and our hero. Major Scobie is a Catholic, and he is married to a shallow, mild horror of a woman named Louise. Insert her unhappiness, his distance, another woman, another man, and you have your novel right there. Those are the basics. Okay, now I can move forward with this.

The book is essentially a character study of Major Scobie. And in that function, it is incredibly thorough, and makes sure to search into every area of his soul, several times over. We really do see the man laid naked in front of us. Which is appropriate, given that he's meant to be Christ figure (and casts himself in that role several times.). Even one of the priests says that "when people have a problem they go to you, not to me," and bemoans the fact that priests are not as useful as policemen. It's an interesting thought, but in any case. To me, he was an embodiment of abstract Catholic virtues, set out in one man, going about life as the Catholic Church would have you do. This made real sense to me for the first part of the novel, where Scobie is deconstructed very well, and Greene's conceit was quite effective, I thought. He shows us the difference between living your life as a man and living your life as an abstract virtue. Scobie stays untouched by the animal side of humans, the love, the anger, all vice ridden emotions found in the world that are not learned, but come from within. We do not see him exhibit any of these emotions. And honestly, you sort of dislike him for it. He is inhuman, which drives his wife and everyone who knows him crazy, and honestly, it drove me a little crazy too. But. I appreciated it as a message about living in the world rather than living apart from it, untouched by it. Scobie's major motivation is pity and compassion, which is exactly what Catholicism would tell you to do. But it seems so distant, so resigned, that its rather awful. You end in pitying Scobie as much as you do the clearly inferior characters around him. Or at least, I did. Graham Greene peppers this study with a great many insightful observations about death and the attachment that we really have for people, and what love really is.

**spoiler alert***

Which builds into the second half of the novel, which annoyed the flying fuck out of me, confused me and I'm really not sure if I agree with the premise of it at all. Essentially, Greene has Scobie become involved in an affair with a shipwrecked widow named Helen, who has absolutely no one. It's an incredibly sordid affair like one would expect to see in a soap opera, and Scobie is meant to seem all wrong for the role. He has Scobie motivated by pity for her, has him express that it is the weak, the ugly who demand his allegiance, not the beautiful and the intelligent. So this is what makes him succumb to Helen. And then on top of that, he says that he stays with her out of pity. That it was love in the beginning (which I don't believe, as they never show it at all, but skip forward to the part where he is lamenting how love is over) and then it is about duty and responsibility and keeping her happy because if he left, then she would be in pain, and he doesn't want to cause anybody pain. And then his wife comes back, and everyone tells her about the affair, and then she's in pain. And he can't leave either of them because they need him more than God does. That's a direct quote from him. Which is how he squares it with his sinning conscience, carrying on with the whole thing. And then he kills himself because people who love you forget you the second you die, and then nobody will be in pain anymore, and so he's sacrificing himself for them. I just cannot agree with the whole premise and excuse that Scobie makes for his conduct there. I don't believe he ever knew what love was, I don't believe in his reasoning for why he would have succumbed to Helen in all noble motivations. As a Catholic and a girl who's done it before herself, I can certainly see why you would be attracted to someone out of pity. Why you would feel love for people who need you. Fine. But there were many other ways to help Helen other than screwing her, sir. I don't buy that such a distant guy would have "fallen in love" due to pity. I buy that he stays with his wife out of pity and responsibility. I don't buy the whole affair, so I can't believe in his moral dilemma. Helen is painted as such an awful whore character I cannot believe why he would have been there at all. (We'll get to that in a second.) Then he goes screaming to God over and over again. I get the penchant for drama. I'm Catholic. Yes, it was interesting to try to see a man live exactly as the Church would tell him, and still to be a human being. But I don't buy that it happened to Scobie. I just hate the whole sordid interlude. I know I'm supposed to hate that its so sordid. But I just think that he made Scobie a much less interesting character throughout it, and everyone else involved were mere representations of what he needed to progress along his moral dilemma, not real people.

But. Given that. The last few chapters where he methodically plans his suicide, tries to save everyone the pain around him, quietly goes about his business, and the meditation on what it is like to know that you are leaving the world… that was good. That was heartbreaking. It was that effective quiet whisper of endless pain that I just thought was incredibly skillful and well done.


Okay, I really need to talk about what really offended me in this book though: the terrible misogyny. The characters in this book are horrific. There is an extremely strong Madonna/whore complex that runs throughout it, and is represented by the cardboard cutouts that are Louise and Helen. These women are represented exactly as a man who knew nothing about women but what he read in books would represent them as. Grasping, shallow, bitter, angry, small, but with amazing flashes of insight that awe men!.. and yet they are so childish at the same time, so fragile!.. and then they are so stupid the next second. I hated all the women in this book, and I'm pretty sure Graham Greene did, too. I hated that Louise and Helen weren't women, weren't people, but were mere representations of his moral dilemmas, one dimensional harpies who enacted him scenes, had emotional fits, and generally made his life a living hell. Poor baby man who only wanted peace, but no no, these screeching women just insist upon ruining his life! Women are the root of all evil. If it weren't for them, Scobie would be a perfect Christ angel! No wonder Greene converted to Catholicism, if this was his opinion of women. The Church agrees wholeheartedly. Women must be madonnas who look after your home, to be worshipped, who look after your spiritual well being, and stick by their men when they are unfaithful- i.e: Louise. Or they are lost souls who are ready to fuck the first man who comes by when their hero does not support them- like Helen. They have no inner strength of their own except in those first meetings that drew our hero to them, before they became harpies, like all the rest of women are! The two girls were virtually indistinguishable in their manner sometimes. Maybe that's why I just couldn't get into Scobie's dilemma. The women involved made me want to barf, and his bad taste in them, and his opinions of them as people just revolted me just as much.

End opinion: Graham Greene's writing: good, elegant, with quiet insight. Graham Greene's misogyny: godawful.

Graham Greene’s powerful story of morality, integrity, love, betrayal, intrigue, corruption, life changing events and Catholic guilt set in war time Sierra Leone.

This is a great book and only the second Graham Greene that I have read (Brighton Rock being the other). The Heart of the Matter is a powerful, thought provoking and deeply profound novel that works on many different levels. It has at its centre the story of a Scobie – a man of integrity and honesty, a deeply principled police officer and how a series of events changes everything…

I know that there was a film adaptation starring Trevor Howard which I would be interested to see – although fully expect that this may well be the usual sanitised Hollywood version / rewrite to which we have become all too accustomed to?

I would recommend this book to anyone and it makes me think that I really must read more Graham Greene – does anyone have any recommendations?

The Heart of the Matter is a must read and definitely not to be missed.

جان کلام (1948) نوشته گراهام گرین (۱۹۹۱-۱۹۰۴) رمان‌نویس، نمایشنامه‌نویس و منتقد ادبی انگلیسی است.
اسکوبی، شخصیت اصلی رمان رمان جان کلام، افسری بسیار منضبط و پایبند به اصول در یکی از کشورهای جنگ زده ی غرب آفریقا است. وقتی که درخواست ترفیع درجه اش مورد موافقت قرار نمی گیرد، او برای به سفر فرستادن همسر ترشرو و مغمومش، مجبور به قرض گرفتن پول از اطرافیان می شود. اسکوبی، در غیاب همسرش، عاشق و شیدای بیوه ای جوان به اسم هلن شده و زندگی اش پس از این تجربه، به کلی تغییر می یابد. بدهی هایی که باید به طلبکاران خود پس دهد و ناتوانی اش در تفکیک عشق، دلسوزی و وظیفه اش نسبت به دیگران و به خدا، اسکوبی را به سوی سرنوشتی شوم سوق می دهد. توصیف تکان دهنده ی حس ترس توأمان با احترام نسبت به کلیسا و توانایی به تصویر کشیدن انگیزه ها و محرک های انسان و انتقال چنین عمقی از درد و رنج شخصیت داستان به مخاطب، رمان جان کلام را به یکی از ماندگار ترین و تراژیک ترین رمان های گراهام گرین تبدیل کرده است.
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Graham Greene is a superb author. This character piece about Scobie ie beautifully written. Both the main female characters Louise his wife and Helen his mistress are impossible to like. There also is an impression that Greene does not like strong female characters.

The story is set in colonial Sierre Leone where Scobie a police officer is passed over for promotion. He is in a loveless marriage and his wife Louise is a woman who hates where they live. This promotion failure upsets his wife Louise, who is status driven and does not fit into the local expat community. Louise cannot cope with her husband’s failure and begs him to leave and settle in South Africa.

Scobie driven by his self centered wife has to borrow money from a Syrian black marketeer Yusef. Using that money Louise leaves for South Africa. Scobie is happy to be on his own. However, after a shipwreck he begins an affair with one of the survivors. The story also has a sub plot about smuggling and when a letter to Helen his mistress is intercepted by Yusef he uses it against Scobie. This leads to Scobie’s downfall.

The Catholic guilt for me stands out and the end is implausible.

Saying that the vultures on the corrugated roof and the sense of heat, ugliness of Yusef, faithful Ali and descriptive language stands out and the story is a pleasure to read.

Not quite sure what to make of this one. There were some parts I liked, some I didn't. Overall I'd say I didn't like this book all that much, but Greene's writing was strong so I'd certainly try something else by him.