Dean Koontz's "Odd Thomas" Series

Ever since reading Flannery O'Connor's literary work, I realized that of all the novels and series that I have read outside of this class only one novel series has truly used the grotesque in such an effective manner as she. Enter in the Odd Thomas series by Dean Koontz.

Dean Koontz, like many of the main characters that we have read in previous novels, converted to Catholicism as a result of his love for his wife, Gerda, who was Catholic. He became more and more intrigued and inspired by Catholicism and finally converted in college. He has become an icon for mystery and supernatural fiction writing, even making it on to the New York Times bestseller list for hardcover 13 times as number one. Now, as he continues to grow in faith and write more popular novels, one can see his faith permeate through his literary work and create such wonderful stories like "Odd Thomas."

Odd Thomas is quite a peculiar character. He can see ghosts and the supernatural in the world around him, offering an insight into the wicked and evil that is present in the world, while simultaneously accentuating  the beauty and wonder of the world and of many people in it.

First reading the starting novel, aptly named "Odd Thomas," I had a hard time diving into the story as I do when reading the work of other well known others authors like Clive Cussler. However, action suddenly appears (quite unlike the Moviegoer) and the rest of the novel becomes enrapturing and quite thrilling. After taking this English course, the Catholic themes and motifs that are present in this novel and the other novels in the series, become very interesting and easy to spot.

So, try this novel. I had a great time reading it, I really enjoyed thinking about it after, and I think you will too. Caution: If you are like me in how I was when I read this, make sure that you allot the next 6 hours, at least, as free time because I guarantee you will not want to put it down until it is finished.


Dean's Faith:
http://www.ncregister.com/site/article/2013

Dean's accomplishments (to name a few):
http://www.deankoontz.com/about-dean/

I Am Legend, I Am Will Smith

The idea of the movie I Am Legend as a Catholic film may not come across many minds. The idea is simple though, a Christ-like figure, Will Smith, all alone in the world. There are many Catholic elements throughout the film including: the family saying a prayer while evacuating the city and the main character denying the existence of God before undergoing a turnaround before the ending.

In the film at the beginning there is a truck with many signs on it that read "God still loves you." Which, at first may seem like a sick joke since there is only one person left in the city and many have been affected by the disease. It comes to be viewed as more of a theme for the end of the film though. The middle parts of the film do not address much Catholicism besides the prayer and a cross on a rear-view mirror. Suddenly though, God is at the forefront of the film. The woman, Anna, comes to the movie and mentions that the world is quieter now, which makes it easier to hear God. The film takes a crazy turn towards religion in the final part of the film.

Will Smith as a Christ-like figure may be difficult to understand without background. He plays a scientist whom is searching for a cure to the disease that has caused the mass evacuation of the city. He is making an attempt to save many people, he is willing to sacrifice himself for the betterment of the remainder of the world. These parallels make Smith a great comparison to Christ.

It's not very clear, but the posters on the
 right say, "God Still Loves Us"

It's a lot to wrap your head around, but upon several viewings of the film, you also will come to realize the Catholic aspects of I Am Legend.

Frank Cottrell Boyce

   Frank Cottrell Boyce: The Modern Catholic Spin on Things

    I really wanted imaginary friends as a kid. The idea of having my own personal somebody seemed quite appealing. I tried to convince my mom once that I had an imaginary friend that looked like a duck. It was a bit of a failure because I couldn’t even convince myself that Ronny was right there—he’s right there, Mom. Sheesh. So imagine my wild envy of people, who had “real” imaginary friends or in the case of Millions’ protagonist, imaginary friends that were saints. So cool. Frank Cottrell Boyce, the British Catholic writer behind Millions, gives those invisible buddies a whole lot more depth and hilarity when he has St. Clare of Assisi crouched quite comfortably in a cardboard fort. Did I mention she’s also smoking a cigar? She’s a regular chimney. When our young hero looks at her skeptically, she glances to the sky and says, “You can do whatever you like up there.” St. Clare is not the only heavenly appearance, other saints pop up and give their opinions and support for the protagonist’s moral dilemmas throughout the novel. My favorite scene involves St. Joseph, but I won’t spoil the surprise.  

      If you consider yourself far too grown up for a child-directed, saint-infused escapade then you may want to skip Boyce’s novels and check out the movie/television screenplays that he has recently put together. In 2008, he wrote “God on Trial” for the BBC. It describes the radical story of Jewish Holocaust victims putting God on trial for murder.  While the film makes some rather shattering denunciations of God, apparently it failed to shake Boyce’s beliefs. After he prepared and wrote the screenplay, he said,  “How could [my faith] be vanquished by sitting in a room reading some books about it, when I was reading the words of people who had been through that and come out with their faith burning in them?”

If you would like to watch "God on Trial," it's available in its entirety on youtube. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7XCnJBTfZM

Source

<http://www.scotsman.com/news/frank-cottrell-boyce-keeping-the-faith-1-1088475> 
<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7XCnJBTfZM>

Pass the Wine

Pass the Wine

Film Review of Julian Jarrold's Brideshead Revisited

             Perhaps because my expectations had been brought so low by popular opinion, I was fully propped up and ready to loathe Julian Jarrold’s Brideshead Revisited. But for the first half hour, I almost liked it. Sumptuous and green, the Oxford and Brideshead of Charles and Sebastian’s summer lets the light hit them in such a way as to turn the stones magical and nearly transportal.* As Charles whips by his pompous cousin Jasper, he happily ignores his relation’s “wise” words and enjoys the company of Sebastian, who offers him a life of idyllic proportions. Little details were carefully included in the first scenes that as a reader of the original novel were deeply appreciated. The skull in Charles’s room at his father’s home sits in the window, a reminder of Charles’s attempts at being a thoughtful college boy. The immense size of Sebastian’s apology note to Charles serves to emphasize his childlikeness. Even Julia’s severe haircut comes straight from the pages, and the immense collection of wine and champagne that Sebastian and Charles happily guzzle fit quite contentedly in what I imagined.

            But there is a distinct moment when the director and screenwriters seem to have lost their grip on the story of Brideshead. When the collection of characters moves beyond Sebastian and Charles to adding the rest of the family, the story begins to lose its power. Don’t get me wrong. I think that in physical attributes the actors look very much how I imagined the characters. Emma Thompson as Lady Marchmain captures the essence of elegance with her silvered curls and direct gaze. Bridey, I would still happily punch in the face. With Cordelia, however, I would like to unleash some holy vengeance upon whoever thought to destroy her character. In a story desperately in need of levity, someone saw fit to destroy perfectly good satire and dialogue. Cordelia may be a strange little creature, but there was no reason at all to make her a dislikeable, mousy presence. This trio piles out of their shiny car between the fountain and Brideshead, and something is immediately off because Sebastian very clearly expresses his dislike and discomfort. The audience is automatically set up to dislike them all, and they are given no opportunity to understand the other characters or care for them—an emotional connection burned.

            Now there is the matter of Julia. I didn’t mention this earlier because I was so enamored by the prettiness of the first half hour, but the screenwriters made what I considered at first a forgivable mistake. Then I realized an hour or so in that the mistake was about to push Evelyn Waugh’s carefully crafted love story into gushy territory. The novel is a flashback bookended delicately by the present day narrator Charles. The movie does commit to the flashback, but instead of going straight to the college days, it skips to the middle of the novel when Charles sees Julia again. Whatever, I thought, seeing Julia on the ship is not terribly inaccurate. But it took watching the movie in its entirety to see how that additional flashback is practically a red herring in terms of the original story. By showing Julia before Sebastian, I paid less attention to the relationship between Charles and Sebastian and was constantly trying to pick apart the moments between Charles and Julia. It was too easy to write off everything that happened between Charles and Sebastian as a phase. And it’s not like Charles’s and Julia’s relationship was exempt from distortion either. When I mentioned Hollywood's gushiness earlier, I wasn’t kidding. Some jerk actually gave Charles and Julia the oh-so-tearful conversation of, “But when we kissed—.” “Charles, please.” “Why? It was wonderful.” “I know….but I have no choice.” Seriously. The book's relationships were so much deeper than the movie could portray, and by cutting up Waugh’s dialogue for the sake of brevity and not clarity, the conversion of Charles’s can hardly be believable. He may dip his hands in the water, stare at the flame of the chapel candle, and barely smile, but it makes almost no sense without those Catholic conversations, struggles, and grace-filled love.

*I just made up this word. If there is any question as to what it means, please ask.

Suggested Reading: The Sun Also Rises (Ernest Hemingway)

Hey everyone,

After class today I did a little brainstorming trying to think of a great book by a Catholic author that we didn't touch on in class. I'm a huge fan of Hemingway, and I honestly cannot believe that he didn't cross my mind and that I had to brainstorm at all. (He was a convert to Catholicism during his first marriage to his wife Pauline, though he did leave the faith--friends of his after his suicide said he had "funny ties" to his faith) If you get the chance, a book called 'The Sun Also Rises' is really great. It's kind of Fitzgerald/Great Gatsby-esque in some ways, but a great book nonetheless. It's about Paris and the 'lost generation' (Binx Bolling, anyone?) dealing with this guy named Jake Barnes who is this expatriate journalist living in Paris. He's impotent following an injury in WWI, falls in love with this girl but there's no real chance of a lasting relationship, etc. Anyway though, the book is full of bullfights, anti-semitic remarks, prostitutes, etc. All of the things that make for great Catholic reading (kidding. totally kidding). Oh, I think I forgot to mention that it's actually split into three books, much like Brideshead Revisited.

Enjoy!

Lost in translation...

When thinking about how to break up the blogs for Shusaku Endo, we came up with the following topics: life and biography, his relationship and experiences with Catholicism, etc. Well, I am the “etc.” category. And how fitting! This blog post will talk about the supplemental reading assigned for tomorrow – or as I tend to write it in my planner, “Read Silence for tomorrow, etc.”

Before delving into the supplemental reading piece, it seems like maybe we should no a bit more about the author. The author happens to be Endo’s wife, Junko Endo. Well, after a trusty Google search, here is what I came up with about the life of Junko: she studied at Keio University, where she met Endo, they were married in 1955, and together they had a son in 1956. And that’s about it. Unfortunately, there is not too much information readily available about her life and scholarship. Fortunately, we do know that she actively wrote about Endo’s literature and defending his works after his death.

She authored the supplemental reading in response to an article by Father Yoji Inoue. The original article was published in an issue of Kaze (Wind), a Christian magazine, which meant that it likely reached a number of Christians that had already read Silence and cherished it. Junko knew that she had to correct the assumptions of Father Yoji Inoue and prevent his anecdotes from spreading like wildfire in a community that respected the literary works of Endo. Though they were the thoughts of an American priest, his bold statements and propagation of the message surely would have caught the eyes of many.

Who would have thought that one simple translation could make such an impact on how the story was interpreted? When I read the passage myself, I was confused as to why the fumie would be commanding Rodrigues to trample on him. I even entertained the idea that Rodrigues was hearing demonic influences that were encouraging him to apostatize. And that is not so uncommon in Catholic teaching – take Judas or any of the Bibilcal characters that Jesus casts demons out of, for example. However, after reading the article by Junko I now realize that when accounting for this translational error, the message of the fumie takes on an even more Catholic understanding. For if the original text in Japanese reads, “You may step on me.” instead of “Trample! Trample!”, then the actions of Rodrigues should be viewed in a different light. In that light, we see that the fumie or the voice of Jesus is reaching out to Rodrigues in his suffering. In response to the differences in translation and possible meanings, Junko writes:

“Some advise me to ask the English translator to revise the passage. Others maintain that the word "trample" more powerfully expresses the profound love of a mother who is ready to forgive even the harshest deed of her child. In the view of the latter, "Trample!" conveys the tension in that scene better than would weaker constructions such as "You may step on me." I have not formed a conclusion yet.”

 Personally, I think that the “You may step on me” gives a more Catholic understanding. In these words, Christ clearly offers himself for the sake of Rodrigues, just as He taught his disciples He would:

"For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him." – John 3:17

A Catholic understanding holds that the Passion of Jesus was saving grace enough for our sins, and Christ continually outdoes himself every time He offers himself for the sake of our well-being. Rodrigues ironically experiences this through his own apostasy.

What do you think about the different translations? Was Rodrigues just livin’ on a prayer (and hoping he was at least halfway there?) that he was doing the right thing or did he know that God was reaching out to him to ease his suffering through the fumie?

P.S. - I couldn't resist the Bon Jovi temptation. Apparently, it was the theme for the day. Enjoy!

----

Sources:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shusaku_Endo

http://www.enotes.com/sh-saku-endo-criticism/endo-shusaku

New American Bible: The Catholic Youth Bible

But, did he really apostatize? -- Silence, Part III

Here we are at the end of the novel, and the question I have been tossing around in my mind is - Did Father Rodrigues really apostatize? I don't think the answer is as clear cut as some of us would like. At least I know it is not as clear cut as I would like. And what about the rest of the story? What are we to think happened to him after page 191?

Of course, there is direct evidence that he did apostatize. Very clearly Endo writes,

"The priest raises his foot. In it he feels a dull, heavy pain. This is no mere formality. He will now trample on what he has considered the most beautiful thing in his life, on what he has believed most pure, on what is filled with the ideals and the dreams of man." (p. 171).

According to the New Advent Catholic Encyclopedia, Rodrigues meets the criteria for apostasy in a general sense. Specifically, this source says, "The word itself in its etymological sense, signifies the desertion of a post, the giving up of a state of life; he who voluntarily embraces a definite state of life cannot leave it, therefore, without becoming an apostate." Some might argue that his actions were only to save the other Christians and that his actions did not mean anything. However, in the same breath, one could argue that another man was charged with denying Jesus and the faith just on word alone. And here we have Peter, yes the first Pope of the Catholic Church. However, before he was entrusted with the keys to the Kingdom, he blatantly denied Jesus even after professing up and down that he would never do such a thing. I think Endo wants us to draw the link between Peter's denial of the faith and the apostasy of Rodrigues, as he says,

"The priest placed his foot on the fumie. Dawn broke. And far in the distance the cock crew." (p. 171).

The cock crew to mark both the denials of Rodrigues and of Peter. Jesus knew that Peter would deny Him. He did not say to Peter at the Last Supper, "Oh, Peter you'll probably say that you don't know me later tonight, but I know that you are just kidding. #justkidding #YOLO." No, Jesus clearly tells Peter that when the cock crows he will have denied him three times - plain and simple. Rodrigues did deny the faith and apostatize - plain and simple.


However, if that was the end of the story for Peter, then we would not have had the first Pope. If that was the end of the story for Rodrigues, Endo would have had a pretty depressing story. Just as Peter found a renewed way to look at his relationship with Jesus after His Passion, death, and resurrection, so too does Rodrigues have a new perspective on his faith after his apostasy. Let's take a couple of steps back to where Rodrigues swore, "No matter what happens never will I apostatize." (p. 99). While that was a brave and noble thought at the time, the reality of his situation was that he would be faced with a terrible decision between keeping his own faith and saving the lives of others. Flash forward to the end of the novel, after his apostasy. Through his though times and conversations with God about his silence, Rodrigues comes to realize that,

"He loved him now in a different way from before. Everything that had taken place until now had been necessary to bring him to this love." (p. 191).

In order to grow leaps and bounds in his faith, Rodrigues had to stumble and fall along the way. Though perhaps by the letter of the law, he was an apostate priest, but in his heart of hearts I find it hard to believe that he truly renounced he faith and gave up hope for the promises of God. But then again, he did go back on his word and stomp all over the fumie. So what do we think -- once and apostate, always an apostate? Or is it more important that when we fall from grace we learn from our mistakes and then come to realize the true presence of the Trinity in our lives? For the sake of Rodrigues' soul, I hope it is the latter.


You decide.
---
As a complete side note, if you are not sure about the forgiveness offered to all and the importance of keeping the faith through though times, one wise man said:

Mother mother tell your children
That their time has just begun
I have suffered for my anger
There are wars that can't be won

Father father please believe me
I am laying down my guns
I am broken like an arrow
Forgive me
Forgive your wayward son

...

Faith: you know you're gonna live thru the rain
Lord you got to keep the faith
Faith: don't let your love turn to hate
Right now we got to
Keep the faith
Keep the faith
Keep the faith Lord we got to keep the faith

- Bon Jovi 

 Maybe these words inspired Rodrigues to come back to The Way, The Truth, and The Life =].

---

Sources:

http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/01624b.htm

"Un-Modern Catholic Doubters?"--Silence, Part II

I'll admit, reading the first few chapters of Silence gave me the chills. Sitting well-fed in my comfortable swivel chair inside a heated and sheltered house, I could not help but be stuck by the magnitude of the faith of the missionary priests. Not just of Rodrigues and his companions, but also the hundreds of Jesuits, Dominicans, Franciscans, etc. who made the same journey before. The reader will notice that Rodrigues also constantly reflects on those who have gone before him, especially in times of danger and hardship.

At the time, I thought the novel--more than any other text we've read thus far--demonstrated most profoundly the wide gap between the often-juxtaposed terms "Modern" and "Catholic." Today in the twenty-first century, the notion of "converting" others to one's own creed is as foreign--and, some might say, as threatening--to modern society as Christianity was to Japanese society in the seventeenth. For better or for worse, belief in a universal and objective truth has today largely been replaced by a particularistic and subjective belief in tolerance as the highest truth.

The opening pages of Silence demonstrate that this juxtaposition between "Modern" and "Catholic" is relevant even within the Church. The "un-Modern" Rodrigues and his missionary cohorts would have never traveled halfway around the world and endured such hardships if they did not truly believe that by their work they were saving souls that would otherwise be eternally lost.

Now, however, after reaching page 153 in the book, I see my thesis weakening as fast as Rodrigues’ faith. Page by page, the priest’s once black-and-white distinction between believers and unbelievers—equivalent, perhaps, to my distinction between “Modern” and “Catholic”—is becoming gray. Rogrigues increasingly begins to ask himself questions he would have previously only expected from unbelievers. After witnessing his Christian companions undergo hauntingly-silent martyrdoms, Rodrigues goes so far as to ask:

Did God really exist? If not, how ludicrous was half of his life spent traversing the limitless seas to come and plant the tiny seed in this barren island! How ludicrous the life of the one-eyed man executed while the cicada sang in the full light of the day! (p. 138)

Over time, Rodrigues’ doubts extend even to believers. After his agonizing conversation with former Father Christovao Ferreira, heroic Jesuit superior of Japan—now Sawano Chuan, apostate author of a book refuting Christianity—Rodrigues begins to question even the sincerity of the Christian converts.

“And supposing the God whom the Japanese believed in was not the God of Christian teaching…”

“You are denying the undeniable.”

“Not at all. What the Japanese of that time believed in was not our God. It was their own gods. For a long time we failed to realize this and firmly believed that they had become Christians.” (p. 147)

Indeed, Rodrigues’ once-unshakable faith has been shaken. His once-unbreakable spirit is in the process of breaking. And, worst of all, his once-glorious God has been silent.

Rodrigues knows what is happening as much as we do. While we may not be able to guess the exact details, I think we all know what is coming. It is only a matter of time, and for this reason I cannot imagine an ending to Silence that is anything but heart-wrenching.

'The Tree of Life' Movie Review

Several months back I saw The Tree of Life, written and directed by Terrance Malick with a friend. I know a few of you have seen it, but I think it’s a confusing film for anyone that watches it.

It’s more impressionist painting than film, but I was personally completely taken with it. As I was walking out of the theater, the usher could tell I was stunned. He told me people walk out of that movie either saying “it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen” or “I couldn’t stand it” and they leave early. I was definitely in the first category.

I think more than anything, the opening line best captures the heartbeat of the film:

“The nuns taught us there were two ways through life—the way of nature, and the way of Grace. You have to choose which one you’ll follow. Grace doesn’t try to please itself. Accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked. Accepts insults and injuries. Nature only wants to please itself. Get others to please it too. Likes to lord it over them. To have its own way. It finds reasons to be unhappy when all the world is shining all around it. And love is smiling through all things.”

As we’ve discussed in class, the meaning of Grace is hard to explain, and often (and easily) misunderstood. I happen to think that quote to be the best articulation I have ever heard to describe the indescribable.

I’ve seen several of Malick’s films, but I’ve never been taken with a film the way I was taken with The Tree of Life. In short, it contemplates human existence from the standpoint of eternity—all in 2 ½ hours. For me, the most provocative sequences were the origin of the universe, the development of life on Earth, and the end of time. At the beginning and end (alpha and omega) there is a flickering flame that can only represent the creator. And at the beginning, there is a boy who whispers to God, asking questions like “Where are you?” and “What am I doing here?”

Again, because many of you have not seen the film—“here” is Waco, Texas sometime in the 1950’s.  The main family is Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien and their three sons and is highly stereotypical of America in the 50’s, very “Leave it to Beaver” like. If you’re anything like me, you’ll find that the world of neatly trimmed lawns and decorous houses set back from shaded streets is a world you think you know, just as you’d recognize right away the family whose life takes up somewhere around an hour and a half of the film. I get a sense that Mr. Malick is very fond of the world of his childhood. He depicts it as an idealized glimpse of a lost Eden. I also get the idea from the film that Malick believes that the loss of innocence is not a single, particular event in history but rather something that happens in every generation to every individual. However, oddly enough this is a universal pattern that repeats itself in circumstances that are unique every time. I think if I were to try to classify the film into a genre, I would call it a “Coming-of-age/childhood perception/fall into knowledge that signals childhood’s end” type of story.

I found the most confusing thing about the story (besides the plot in general) to be keeping the various family scenes straight. The film sort of revolves around a guy named Jack O’Brien (Sean Penn)—someone first introduced as a middle-aged architect who is very much haunted by death because of his younger brother who died many years before. And the opening scenes are of Jack’s youth, introducing his parents (Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain), and the grief from the loss of their son casts a major shadow of sadness over everything that follows. After that, there is a scene of an underwater house and a young boy (Jack, I presume) swimming toward the sunlight at the top, and then he is an infant in his mother’s arms. And then a brother arrives, and then another, and the world makes room for them.

If you’re confused by my review, that is totally understandable. The film is incredibly complicated but stunningly beautiful, in my honest opinion. Perhaps part of Malick’s point is that not everything has to make sense, or can make sense. But I can't think of a single other film that is able to convey the development of a child’s mind with such beauty. I related really strongly to the film based partially on my own story. I could feel the tension and tenderness within the O’Brien marriage, about the frustrations that dent their happiness, and the volatility of bonds between siblings.

The Tree of Life definitely stands alone in the film world. I can’t think of any other movie to compare it to. And, I cannot honestly say that all parts of the film are coherent, or that it all makes sense. I do, however, have faith that sometime between now and the end of time it most certainly will.

Shusaku Endo's Enigmatic Catholicism

I received baptism when I was a child...in other words, my Catholicism was a kind of ready-made suit...I had to decide either to make this ready-made suit fit my body or get rid of it and find another suit that fitted...There were many times when I felt I wanted to get rid of my Catholicism, but I was finally unable to do so. It is not just that I did not throw it off, but that I was unable to throw it off. (1)

A Japanese Catholic living in a country that was then--and remains now--less than one percent Christian, Shusaku Endo's faith was anything but conventional. This demographic statistic, in fact, is perhaps the driving force behind Endo's spirituality as a Catholic and is accordingly reflected in his career as a novelist. In particular, Endo was constantly haunted by Christianity's thoroughly Western nature, and by extension, its seemingly incompatible relationship with traditional Japanese culture.

Whether Endo's sensitive relationship with Eurocentric Christianity was due to personal disillusionment with the West or rather resulted from prolonged frustration over his Japanese contemporaries' apparent disinterest in Christianity is a legitimate topic for debate. But it is well-known that, feeling isolated in Japan on account of his Catholic faith, Endo initially welcomed eagerly an opportunity to study abroad in France. According to Quolibet Journal's Brett Dewey, "Endo hoped that the culture-Catholicism of France would offer him a sort of spiritual homecoming." However, the experience turned out to be profoundly disappointing and, in a way, severely depressing:

"As a Catholic in Japan, Endo was always the outsider, and from the start of his studies in France, he became keenly aware that he was everywhere a stranger.  He suffered in Japan on account of his faith and in France due to racial prejudice and the overwhelming humiliation of what it meant to be Japanese in post-war Europe.  These pivotal years would serve as the touchstone for perhaps Endo’s finest novel, Silence." (2)

Indeed, it is in Silence that Endo muses on what he saw as the unconquerable hopelessness of being as equally unwanted in the Christian West for being Japanese as he was in the Japanese East for being Christian. The image of Japan as an ideological "mud swamp" is a constantly-reoccurring theme, both throughout the novel and in its critical analysis. In his preface to Silence, Sophia University's William Johnston reflects--in a way not unlike Father Rodrigues' own reflections within the novel--on the apparent failure and eventual fate of Christianity in Japan. The Hellenistic representation of the Faith, he writes, "had not allowed [the Japanese] to take into the depths of their being the Christianity that was presented to them. If this Christianity had been less incorrigibly Western, things might have been different." (3)

Endo himself writes:

"This problem of the reconciliation of my Catholicism with my Japanese blood...has taught me one thing: that is, that the Japanese must absorb Christianity without the support of a Christian tradition or history or legacy or sensibility...No doubt this is the peculiar cross that God has given to the Japanese." (4)

Filled with zeal for the Gospel, but prevented by context from effectively spreading it, Endo's life as a Japanese Catholic in many ways parallels his characters' lives as European missionaries. Unable to overcome the cultural differences at the root of these spiritual struggles, Endo ultimately turned to writing to put words to his country's ideological plight. Ironically, then, it is Silence's immense popularity in Japan that most threatens to undermine Endo's thesis. As one critic asks, "If Japan cannot understand Christianity, how has it been possible for Mr. Endo to write such a novel?" (5)


Sources:
(1)  Shusaku Endo, Interview with Kumo Magazine, Preface to Silence, p. xv.
(2)  Brett Dewey, "Suffering the Patient Victory of God: Shusaku Endo and the Lessons of a Japanese Catholic." Quolibet Journal.
(3)  William Johnston, Preface to Silence, pp. xv-xvi.
(4)  Shusaku Endo, Interview with Kumo Magazine, Preface to Silence, p. xvi.
(5)  Yanaibara, Asahi Journal, Preface to Silence, p. xviii.

Thoughts on Silence: P. 1-47

Well, Silence definitely has a different feel from any of the other novels we have read this semester. I really like how Endo intertwines both fictional plot/characters and history, making the story all the more compelling. The novel begins with a brief background on the “Christian” situation in Japan, but from the start readers are exposed to the confusion that the Church is facing with regard to Japan. This confusion is caused by lack of communication, which has been non-existent following the mystery of Ferreira’s disappearance. Enter Sebastian Rodrigues, Francisco Garrpe and Juan de Santa Marta, three young priests determined to find their mentor (Ferreira) and continue the work those before them have started.

I know this was mentioned in class, but Silence definitely has a lot in common with The Power and the Glory. Kichijiro appears to resemble the half-caste man, the priests identify him as a potential Judas from the very beginning. So far, Kichijiro has fulfilled all of his duties and is making quite a case for being a good Christian (despite denying his association with Christianity until on Japanese soil), but the novel is still young. I’m not quite sure how I feel about Kichijiro. He wants power in the Christian community the priests are building in Goto, but has shown in the past that when put under pressure he will deny his faith. Is it fair to assume this is still the case? I’m not sure, but for some reason I’m not about to nominate Kichijiro for Jiisama.

As for the priests (the two that made the journey), I see them as “innocent” versions of the whiskey priest. Innocent, because they really don’t yet know what they’ve gotten themselves into; it’s one thing to think about spreading the good news in a hostile nation, but quite another to actually face persecution. The priests have very good luck in the beginning, which builds up their confidence, but (as we see in the last bit of reading) reality sets back in when the presence of the guards reminds them of the very real danger.

A part I found interesting and slightly confusing was the scene where the Sebastian gives the peasants of Goto the beads of his rosary. He makes the comment that, “I supposed it is not a bad thing that the Japanese Christians should reverence such things; but somehow their whole attitude makes me uneasy. I keep asking myself if there is not some error in their outlook” (45). What is troubling Sebastian about the Japanese Christian’s desire for and reaction to his gift?

At one point Sebastian questions the reasoning behind this trip to Japan, which in a way relates to his very vocation. In this part I saw a parallel to the whiskey priest as Sebastian states, “We priests are in some ways a sad group of men. Born into the world to render service to mankind, there is no one more wretchedly alone than the priest who does not measure up to his task” (19). This is a little off-topic, but isn’t this the exact problem that the whiskey priest faced? He found himself so unworthy of his task that whiskey priest felt completely deserted. If he couldn’t live up to his vocation, the priest felt he wasn’t serving people and as a result felt unworthy of God (heaven, etc). (I know we had a big debate on the topic of the priest’s humbleness etc. so I will leave this at that) However in relation to Silence, I think the priests are afraid that they will not “measure up” to the task at hand. Maybe this is one of the reasons they feel called to find out the fate of their much loved and respected teacher, Ferreira. This man shaped and encouraged their faith as Christians and eventually priests, making his (Ferreira’s) apostasy that much more devastating. If Ferreira couldn’t live up to his calling, what does that say for those he taught?

Shusaku Endo: An Introduction

Shusaku Endo was born in Tokyo March 27, 1923. Shortly after his birth, Endo’s family moved to a Japanese-occupied area in China (Manchuria), where they lived until his parents divorced in 1933. Endo then moved back to Japan with his mom, where they settled in Kobe, living with one of his aunts. 

In 1943 he began attending Keio University, but his schooling was interrupted by the break out of war. Endo was prevented from fighting due to poor health, so instead he worked in a munitions factory. During this time he also submitted to various literary journals, one of which he would become chief editor of in later years (Mita Bungaku).

After graduating from college Endo attended Waseda University with the intent of pursuing medicine. However after a visit to the University of Lyons, he then became interested in the work of French Catholic authors and as a result completed a degree in French literature. Endo also spent time teaching college courses at both Sophia and Seijo University.

Although Endo had a teaching career, he was first and foremost a novelist. Along with a few other names Shusaku Endo is recognized as being one of the “third generation”, the third major group of writers following World War II. In 1954 Endo won the AkutagawaPrize for Shiroi Hito (White Men), one of the first stepping-stones in building his reputation as an influential author. Endo was also awarded the Tanizaki Prize for Silence in 1966 and narrowly missed being given the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1994. The next year he was given the Order of Culture, a special honor awarded by the Emperor of Japan to those individuals who have contributed to Japan’s art, literature or culture.

For all of Endo’s success in the literary world, he had quite different luck in that of physical health. When visiting France in 1952 he contracted pleurisy, a disease of the lungs and chest. In 1960 when he returned to France, Endo again caught the disease and spent the next three years in and out of hospitals in both France and Japan. It is also rumored that throughout his lifetime Endo “contracted tuberculosis, underwent thoracoplasty, and had a lung removed” (Wiki).  In 1996, Endo died of hepatitis.

Shusaku Endo married Junko Okada in 1955, and one year later their son Ryunosuke was born. Endo is still regarded as one of “modern Japan’s most distinguished Catholic novelist(s)” (NYTimes). There is a museum in Sotome, Nagasaki dedicated to Shusaku Endo’s life and literature.

Sources:

"Shusaku Endo." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 26 Mar. 2012. Web. 31 Mar. 2012. <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shusaku_Endo>.

"Father Ulick Loring on Shusaku Endo: A Japanese Prophet of East and West." The Ficino Society. 19 Feb. 2010. Web. 31 Mar. 2012. <http://theficinosociety.wordpress.com/2010/02/19/father-ulick-loring-shusaku-endo-a-japanese-prophet-of-east-and-west/>.

Pace, Eric. "Shusaku Endo Is Dead at 73; Japanese Catholic Novelist." The New York Times. The New York Times, 30 Sept. 1996. Web. 31 Mar. 2012. <http://www.nytimes.com/1996/09/30/arts/shusaku-endo-is-dead-at-73-japanese-catholic-novelist.html>.