Redemptor Domus [Kindle Edition]

I admit I stumbled across this book as a result of vanity. It had similar "tags" to my own book. I wanted to see what other boarding school stories were like.

I found something wholly different from my own novel. The author has written a dark and depressing story. Well, I say that, but I have to confess I have no idea whether it is depressing to the end. I just couldn't read more than about half of it (and that was a major struggle).

The writing is not all that bad. It is not one what might call "good". The author is far too keen to show off his wide vocabulary and far too reluctant to tell his story plainly, in words his readers might understand rather than admire. Strangely, for someone who is obviously eager to convince the reader that he is frightfully well educated, he doesn't know what the word "unique" means and he hasn't worked out when to use "fewer" rather than "less". But, on the whole, his writing style is not positively dire. The book is written in the style of a clever sixth form boy in a minor grammar school: someone who, as he matures, might achieve a lot.

But the real problem is the endless rhapsodising about the wonders of the naked bodies of boys. There are passages, quite near the start of the book, which, I have to say, appear to have been written with the aim of exciting paedophiles (paedophiles who know as many long words as the author does). Of course, I know that isn't what he actually intended. I assume he felt it important that we should understand how paedophiles think and decided to give us a look into their minds. But, for most of us, those passages are simply disgusting.

You will say that I am a prude, that it is important that authors should write books which give a genuine insight into the minds of evil people. But I'm not sure you're right about that. I would have thought that it would be quite possible to write a story about child abuse in a Catholic school in the 1940s without getting as excited as the author does about how beautiful the boys are. And the abuse is on a scale which simply never happened. Photographing boys' bottoms before and after canings and requiring boys to go off, at night, to be "felt" by paedophiles who pay the school for the privilege just would not have happened. Some priests and others working in such places did awful things to boys. But they didn't set up businesses attracting paying customers to join in. And those who enjoyed caning boys certainly never risked using cameras.

No, this is not a pleasant book to read. So, why, you ask, do I give it three stars? I think it must be because I guess it contains an interesting story. What was in the brief case? I will never know, because I can't take any more of the eulogising of boys' genitalia. But I would like to know, and those of you with stronger stomachs will discover the answer.

Charles

I usually read thrillers, crime and business books. Occasionally I pick up something like a Jodi Picoult and I've recently really enjoyed The White Queen by Philippa Gregory. On that basis I wasn't entirely sure whether I would like this one! I was asked to review it for the local magazine that I publish so I dutifully got down to reading it and...although I sometimes found it heavy going (there were a few words that I'd not come across before - and I like to think that I have a large vocabulary!) I really enjoyed it.

The book really captured the spirit of the time and described the relationships and tensions really well. It is quite a dark book although full of contrasts of emotion. One of the themes is about the corporate punishment inflicted on the boys at the school, often for the Catholic masters' entertainment - it is implied - and some sections of the book are quite upsetting on that basis. But this contrasted with the other main theme of the loving relationships between some of the boys. Not in a sexual way, at least not physically, the book explores the natural growth of close relationships between the boys in a protective way given the environment that they were in at the school.

And the ending is full of drama, and very gripping!

Like Mr Otis's alleviating invention, this novel really does work on several levels. Going up, it's a 50-kleenex weepie, an engaging whodunit, a hot-bed of symbolism, a Pandora's box of subliminal fears and - ultimately - a spiritual challenge. A lot to take in on first ascent. It's also a paradox.

It's written largely from the innocent perspective of three very junior boys at a Catholic boarding school.The action takes place on the North Wales coast, 1946 to 1950, and the plot is particular to that place and time. So far so good, but when I encountered such Bunyanesque characters as Foul Mouthed Frank, The Bold Contemner and a boy who fashions hangman's nooses, I soon twigged that Chase wasn't rewriting the Greyfriars Annual! He wisely makes the imagination do most of the work; his more graphic passages might be considered, well, `problematic'.

If you're an apprehensive Catholic take heart, RD is neither an indictment nor an endorsement of `faith' education, it's merely the necessary platform for the plot. It also allows Chase to introduce brushes with the occult. The tale is one of deliverance from both moral and real danger - but at terrible cost. The pacey narrative is pregnant with foreboding throughout, leapfrogging over episodes of excoriating poignancy as the drama accelerates towards its epic climax.

The paradox is Chase's studied detachment from his ultimate message, a detachment evidenced by an angular writing style replete with quirky leitmotifs and occasional injections of seemingly incongruous humour.

I found RD to be a very dark journey - but it's a journey towards the light. Five stars.