Summer Wishes (Brideshead Revisited p 1-104)
I am almost certain that Evelyn Waugh and Graham Greene got together, had a beer, and decided it would be hilarious to add a close-to-useless British nobody to open and close their most famous novels. They did this entirely to mess with literature students everywhere. Well, maybe not, but they were friends, and I wouldn't put it past them. However, a note for readers , if you would like to spend valuable hours of your life trying to figure out the character of Private Hooper, you're welcome to, there is some interesting symbolism happening there, but he's really not the point of the novel.
Besides the conspiratorial beer chugging with Greene, there's something noteworthy about how Brideshead Revisited came to be written. Waugh, like his protagonist Captain Charles Ryder, was in the army during World War II. During this time, Waugh became very much disenchanted with the military, and in a rather unusual burst of generosity the army offered him a few weeks leave to get his act together. He spent his time in a drab little hotel at a rickety little desk, doing a lot of writing. And rumor has it, he got the whole of Brideshead Revisited with all of its beautiful imagery and detail done in two months. The prologue with the shouldn't-be-famous-but-Waugh-used-him-anyway-Hooper is just a jumping off point, which perhaps enabled Waugh and Charles Ryder a means to start thinking about life and their placement in it, what came before it and what comes after it.
And since I seem to be stuck on the prologue, I should also mention that Waugh finally does throw the reader a bone in the last couple pages by withholding the name of the house that Ryder stands in front of. Waugh, who had let the reader begin to question his authority as a writer through his droll assessment of Hooper, brings the reader back like a snap of the leash when Ryder finally has a reaction. He's tense, anxious, and one can't explain why. Not simply anyway. Otherwise, there'd be no book.
Here is where the magic of youth glitters and dances and pokes fun at us all. Charles Ryder looks back twenty years to his youth, Oxford-bound and ready for the unique fortune of encountering the whimsical Sebastian with his persistently present teddy bear. While I think most adult men do not carry stuffed animals, Sebastian has the unique gift of innocence, and if a teddy bear does not embody child-likeness, I challenge you all to a drinking contest. Oh, and speaking of drinking, the students of Oxford 1920 put UM on St. Patrick's Day to shame every single day of the week. Beer and wine flowed faster than water and were much more eagerly consumed by student and faculty alike. Waugh did not miss a beat when he sent Ryder's cousin to check in on him and give practical advice, which Ryder cheerfully ignores and keeps to his impractical ways.
Drinking together was one of the first bonds of friendship for Oxford students, and Ryder and Sebastian are no exception. However, in their own ways, both of them are sort of oddities at this prestigious institution of higher learning. Ryder comes from a middle class family, so he has no income or authority to recommend him. His father behaves passive aggressively and keeps him distant (sounds a bit like Waugh and his father). On the other hand, there is Sebastian, who comes from a land-owning, respected English family, but he's Catholic, which makes him different. And different at Oxford doesn't equate good, but Ryder sees the beautiful Sebastian as this remarkable escape from the hum-drum loneliness of his middle-classness and virtual fatherlessness.
It is through Sebastian that Ryder encounter Catholics, and let's face it, he doesn't get them. They really are kind of weird. It's summer. Why do all of the conversation always circle back to religion? Sebastian gives off no particular airs of piety, but he baffles Ryder when he describes Catholicism as sounding very "sensible".
"But, my dear Sebastian, you can't seriously believe it all."
"Can't I?"
"I mean about Christmas and the star and the three kings and the ox and the ass."
"Oh yes, I believe that. It's a lovely idea."
"But you can't believe things because they're a lovely idea."
"But I do. That's how I believe" (86-87).
In fairness to Ryder, this does sound a bit odd when considering that these words of faith are coming from the lips of the nearly-always-tipsy Sebastian, but I love these words all the more because they exemplify a desire for goodness, and for Sebastian that's how he looks for God (feel free to argue with me on this).
Sebastian's other family members make appearances of course: the gorgeously pompous Julia, the entirely dislikable Brideshead, and my personal favorite, the precocious and chatty Cordelia. Waugh perfectly captures the raptures of a child Catholic through Cordelia. She waxes on about rosaries, decades, prayers, and a "black god-daughter" baptized for five shillings (94). This rings so true to my ears that music does not compare. She may come off as a little weirdo, but in my less than humble opinion, she's the character that you are most likely to run into, and I love her. Just go hang about a CCD classroom if you don't believe me.
I may sound gleeful discussing Sebastian's family, but don't be fooled by their charm and candor, there is something dark and ominous in their family fracturing. Lord and Lady Marchmain, Sebastian's parents, have lived apart for a considerable length of time, and it is Lord Marchmain's mistress that directs Ryder's attention to Lord Marchmain's considerable talent for hatred and Sebastian's forthcoming alcoholism. The entire family has attachments and opinions on Catholicism. But no one really knows what the future will hold, and they could turn to the faith for comfort--or not. Foreshadowing has a sound as the mistress's voice dips to convey the situation's seriousness, a slow sort of drum roll.
Thus, summer ends for Sebastian and Ryder.
Great comments on the story so far, thanks for getting us started on a somewhat difficult book to read. I like the parallel you brought up between the opening of Greene's The Power and The Glory and Waugh's Brideshead Revisited, noting that both feature a character who sort of represents the average 'modern British citizen' type of figure. In both cases, they come across as rather bland and unaware of any deeper reality, at least at first. For both Greene and Waugh (who were good friends despite being quite opposite politcally), I think this may have something to do with their sense of the emptiness which they saw in a lot of modern life.
ReplyDeleteIn a way, that's the struggle that the characters in Brideshead Revisited have to face as well - they have to learn what in life really matters, and what they ought to put their hope, and their faith in.
I can't get past the characters of Hooper and Mr. Tench - yes, Renee, I am one of those people that would like to analyze their deeper meaning to the story. In the last literary analysis course I had (sadly, AP English in high school), it always seemed that each character had a very distinct and important role in the story. No character left behind! However, I was shocked to hear Tim say in class that Greene was highly criticized for essentially failing to make Mr. Tench a noteworthy character. He could have done much more with him - or not include him at all. Of course I am very curious as to what lies ahead in the story for Sebastian and Charles, but at small part of me wants to see if Waugh throws Hooper to the side like his buddy Green did to Mr. Tench.
ReplyDeleteI had issues with Hooper as well, but it was helpful in class to hear TIm say that we really didn't need to understand him to get the story. I think Waugh did a poor job with that character. And Liz, I agree that it's quite similar to Greene's inability to make Mr. Tench a pivotal character. I think both stories would have lost little if both characters had been omitted.
ReplyDeleteRenee, I like what you said about Sebastian's desire for goodness. It is easy to see him as more of the trouble maker in the story since he is constantly getting wasted and what-not, but I definitely think he has good intentions. His light ideas about religion may seem to suggest he does not actually have faith, but I do believe that this was the struggle he faced throughout the story: to move forward with his life (i.e. lose the teddy bear and make some true relationships). This relationship with God, too, may have been one of the many ways in which he was unable to express himself in a less superficial way.
ReplyDeleteI also didn't understand Hooper and Mr. Tench in the beginning of both novels. They were really obscure and seemed nonessential to the plot. I was pleasantly surprised to see that Mr. Tench did return to "Glory" and see that he was key in emphasizing the key message of the novel. As for Hooper, that guy is out the window in terms of what he is actually doing. All the stories I have read, just as Liz said, have had characters that were doing something for the plot or meaning. Waugh definitely just dropped him as a character of importance as the story progressed.
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