Brideshead Revisited: The Sacred And Profane Memories Of Captain Charles Ryder (Essential Penguin) [Paperback]

Forgive the flippancy of the title, as this is, without a doubt the greatest novel I have ever read. The central theme is that of stringent religious values and breaking away from, or returning to them. I am an extremely committed atheist and Waugh was a fervent Roman Catholic. This surely proves Waughs sublime vision, insight and, above all, his splendidly non-preachy way of writing. Beyond that, it is one of the greatest love stories ever written. We may not mention Ryder and Flyte in the same breath as Rmeo and Juliet, Tristan and Isolde, or Dido and Aeneas, but as a study in humanity (in my humble opinion) they exceed them all. The sheer beauty of Waugh's prose which is, at times, scarcely believable (see 'A blow, expected, repeated, falling on a bruise') is coupled with the outright hilarity of many passages (see the Belgian who feels as if it is his duty to oppose the lower classes everywhere). Amazon also sells (at a rather decent price) the 1981 BBC adaptation of the novel, starring Jeremy Irons and Anthony Andrews, which is unusual in that it is faithful to the letter and the spirit of the novel, and is really rather splendid. The novel, however, remains a towering acheivement, a heart-rending tale of loss and rejection, as well as acceptance and redemption. The finest novel of the Twentieth Century. You owe it to yourself to read it.

Published in 1945, this novel, which Waugh himself sometimes referred to as his "magnum opus," was originally entitled "Brideshead Revisited: The Sacred and Profane Memories of Captain Charles Ryder." The subtitle is important, as it casts light on the themes--the sacred grace and love from God, especially as interpreted by the Catholic church, vs. the secular or profane love as seen in sex and romantic relationships. The tension between these two views of love--and the concept of "sin"--underlie all the action which takes place during the twenty years of the novel and its flashbacks.

When the novel opens at the end of World War II, Capt. Charles Ryder and his troops, looking for a billet, have just arrived at Brideshead, the now-dilapidated family castle belonging to Lord Marchmain, a place where Charles Ryder stayed for an extended period just after World War I, the home of his best friend from Oxford, Lord Sebastian Flyte. The story of his relationship with Sebastian, a man who has rejected the Catholicism imposed on him by his devout mother, occupies the first part of the book. Sebastian, an odd person who carries his teddy bear Aloysius everywhere he goes, tries to escape his upbringing and religious obligations through alcohol. Charles feels responsible for Sebastian's welfare, and though there is no mention of any homosexual relationship, Charles does say that it is this relationship which first teaches him about the depths of love.

The second part begins when Charles separates from the Flytes and his own family and goes to Paris to study painting. An architectural painter, Charles marries and has a family over the next years. A chance meeting on shipboard with Julia, Sebastian's married sister, brings him back into the circle of the Flyte family with all their religious challenges. Three of the four Flyte children have tried to escape their religious backgrounds, and this part of the novel traces the extent to which they have or have not succeeded in finding peace in the secular world. "No one is ever holy without suffering," he believes.

Dealing with religious and secular love, Heaven and Hell, the concepts of sin and judgment, and the guilt and punishments one imposes on oneself, the novel also illustrates the changes in British society after World War II. The role of the aristocracy is less important, the middle class is rising, and in the aftermath of war, all are searching for values. A full novel with characters who actively search for philosophical or religious meaning while they also search for romantic love, Brideshead Revisited is complex and thoughtfully constructed, an intellectual novel filled with personal and family tragedies--and, some would say, their triumphs. Mary Whipple

First, let me get the myths out of the way: Charles and Sebastian have a very close friendship, and much has been made over whether or not they were lovers. I think not, but that is quite ancillary to the point of this book.

According to Waugh himself, the book was intended to show the operation of Divine Grace - 'that unmerited and unilateral action by which the Lord draws souls to himself.' This book is no second-rate miraculous conversion experience story - it is not a badly redone version of the Road to Damascus. But this is a religious (not a merely spiritual) book, and to take it as something else is to refer to a different text.

Other reviewers have stressed (too much, perhaps) that this is a social elegy, which it is. Waugh wrote B.R. during WWII, a time of great privation, and he describes in mouth-watering detail the luxuries which were denied him in combat. (He did see military action.) This book mourns the passing of an age of "Great Houses," for lack of a better term - an age of remarkable splendour, and of Roman beauty. Say what you like about its merits vis-a-vis the world which replaced it, after the war - no one can deny that it was beautiful.

That, in turn, leads to perhaps the strongest affirmation which can be made of this book. It is one of the most singularly well-written novels to grace the English language. To call it prose is to do Mr Waugh a disservice. His famous description of Oxford - the meals, where the very tables must groan beneath the weight of the food - his remarkable evocation of Brideshead itself - and perhaps above all Julia's truly haunting break-down in the garden, where she vividly remembers her own childhood and Christ's Passion - these are scenes which will sear themselves in a reader's memory, and which lose none of their luster for the passage of years. They glitter like diamonds on the page.

To conclude, Brideshead Revisited is a story about the Catholic faith, which in England, at least, has always had a unique story to tell, given its own 'fall from grace' and the rise to dominance of Protestant Anglicanism. That is said not to turn away non-Catholic readers: perhaps they will be given a truer portait of this ancient faith by reading such a sublime account of its practitioners. The Marchmains, however, are not saints. They are bracingly sinful, sometimes stupid, and often irreligious. Waugh gives the Church no quarter in this book - no angels appear in any dream, and no holy hermit chastises a sinful character into repentance. To Waugh at least, the Church did not need such tricks to support herself: she had converted him, at least. Though he denied it, Brideshead is in many ways his autobiography - the story of a convinced agnostic who falls in among ordinary Catholics, not saints, and is forever - forever - changed by the experience.