Book 48, That Summer in Paris (1963) – Morley Callaghan
“It was the fabulous summer of 1929 when the literary capital of North America moved to La Rive Gauche-the Left Bank of the Seine River-in Paris. Ernest Hemingway was reading proofs of A Farewell to Arms, and a few blocks away F. Scott Fitzgerald was struggling with Tender Is the Night. As his first published book rose to fame in New York, Morley Callaghan arrived in Paris to share the felicities of literary life, not just with his two friends, Hemingway and Fitzgerald, but also with fellow writers James Joyce, Ford Madox Ford, and Robert McAlmon. Amidst these tangled relations, some friendships flourished while others failed. This tragic and unforgettable story comes to vivid life in Callaghan’s lucid, compassionate prose.”

Other useful links:
the Wikipedia entry for Morley Callaghan

My thoughts:
I enjoyed this immensely, my favourite of Callaghan’s so far. Callaghan is a great guide to the literary world of the twenties. He was obviously well-regarded by his slightly older contemporaries, including Hemingway and Sinclair Lewis and Ezra Pound and James Joyce. I love his enthusiasm as he meets up with his idols one by one. In between stories of these encounters, he talks about his day to day (or night to night) routine of walking around Paris and discussing literary and other things in the cafés over wine, punctuated by weekend boxing matches with Ernest.

From a coming-of-age, portrait of the artist as a young man in the first part of the book, we move to an older man’s reflection upon the sincere friendship of three men gone awry in the last act. The breakup of the friendship of the three men over something so small and inconsequential was sad and unnecessarily unfortunate. Or, perhaps, according to Morley’s analysis of their natures, unavoidable.

Great, inspirational passages about writing as an art, an interesting description of a renowned time and place with famous people entering and exiting the stage, and a meditation on the vicissitudes of friendship.

Book 35, They Shall Inherit the Earth (1934) – Morley Callaghan
From the back cover:
“This is the story of a father and his son, and a tragic accident that changed both of their lives. It is a story about fate and the terrible and permanent effects of a single decision made in a split second one summer day. It is a story about the lives people lived in Canada in the Thirties–lives marked by the earnest naivety, the financial desperation, and the wild gaiety of the times. Finally, it is a story about conscience–about the moment when one man discovered he could no longer escape the truth about himself. First published in 1934, They Shall Inherit the Earth led to Morley Callaghan’s reputation as a writer of international stature.”

Other useful links:
the Wikipedia entry for Morley Callaghan

My thoughts:
They Shall Inherit the Earth is a kind of Passion play: the protagonist, Michael Aikenhead, commits a sin, suffers, and is finally redeemed (not through God, religion, or political utopianism but through the love of a good woman). As an echo of this main plot, Michael’s father, Andrew, also has a similar experience (his redemption comes from reconciliation with his son which is set in motion by the aforementioned woman, Anna).

Much of the narration is really description of the inner thoughts and feelings of the characters (especially but not limited to those of Michael). However, Callaghan’s sparse style (Hemingway-like) and artificial dialogue creates a sense of distance between the reader and the characters.

The Shall Inherit the Earth presents us with a convincing snapshot of Depression-era northeastern North America (we’re invited to suppose this is Toronto, but it really could be any of the cities in the area). The oppressive weight of widespread un- and under-employment with its wandering, aimless men, impoverished and subjugated women, and the false hope promised by both religion and political ideologies fills the book.

I ended up liking this book in the end (probably because it ended on such an optimistic note), though I found it frustrating and slow at first. The only characters I really liked were Ross and Anna, but neither of them were developed all that much.

One scene that really blew my mind is one in which while Anna is giving birth, Michael is in the waiting room talking to a nun. Instead of asking her if she wants a priest and what religion she is, the nun asks him and when he says he doesn’t know, she gets permission from him to baptise her! Crazy! Talk about infantalization of women. When I told my mum about that part, she said, Now imagine what women had to fight through to get as far as they have. That stuff wasn’t in the law, it wasn’t like they could challenge a law and have it changed. That attitude was just accepted everywhere.

Book 2, Such is My Beloved (1934) – Morley Callaghan
From the back cover:
“One of the great novels of the 1930s, Such is My Beloved recounts the tragic story of two down-and-out prostitutes and the young priest who aspires to redeem their lives. The novel is at once a compassionate portrait of innocence and idealism and an emphatic condemnation of a society where the lines between good and evil are essentially blurred.
A richly textured exploration of love and sacrifice, of innocence and disillusionment, Such is My Beloved, is widely considered Callaghan’s finest novel.”

Other useful links:
the Wikipedia article on Morley Callaghan

My thoughts:
As mentioned in my forum posts, I found Callaghan’s style to be similar to that of Hemingway, whose stories I’m currently listening to on CD. I’m reading Bleak House too, and the contemplation of charity is to the fore in that book as well. I’m sure this book would have been more controversial and certainly timely during the Depression when it was written. Isn’t Father Dowling doing what he’s supposed to be? And this is a scandal because he’s relating with prostitutes. Of course there is irony in the fact that Jesus was criticised in exactly the same way for doing the same thing. It’s interesting to see how little has changed with regard to how women go from being respectable to being prostitutes. It’s not like girls set out to have prostitution as a career, right? Only now, instead of having the option to get out of it if a job or assistance presents itself, many are further trapped by drug addiction. As for Father Dowling, how much of a fool is he? Was he kind of crazy to begin with? Certainly obsessive.

This book would be a good one for a bookclub. There’s lots of meat for discussion, both about the characters & their situations as well as social issues, then and now. Callaghan himself leaves it up to the reader to determine what the story means and how its lessons (if there are any) might be applied in real life. There are questions about the meaning of charity, about the role of institutions (the church, the powerful, the law, the social activists) in the desperation of and assistance towards the poor and dispossesed, about love (carnal, practical, idealistic, spiritual), about women in society…

The novel itself was straight-forward (short too) without anything extraneous–including exposition by the author. Just the facts, ma’am. I generally like a book with more curly-cues (Dickens, anyone?).

I can see why Morley Callaghan is considered such a good writer, and I’m looking forward to more.