Saturday, May 17, 2025

Review: In This House of Brede, by Rumer Godden

Review: In This House of Brede, by Rumer Godden

by Rich Horton

Rumer Godden was one of the great mid-century British women writers who tended to get ignored a bit because, well, women's fiction (and the tendency to denigrate it as purely middlebrow.) Other examples: Barbara Pym, Margery Sharp, Elizabeth Jane Howard. She was, to be sure, quite successful commercially -- nine books became movies, and her books sold quite well. Novels like Black Narcissus and The River (and their associated movies) remain well respected. Below is the potted bio I wrote the last time I covered Godden:

Margaret Rumer Godden was born in England in 1907, but was largely raised in India (her father was a shipping executive.) She spent some time at school in England, but mostly lived in India until after the Second World War. She ran a ballet school in Calcutta (now Kolkata) for twenty years. She converted to Catholicism in 1968 after many years of study. Ballet, India, and Catholicism are all recurring subjects of her books. She wrote some 60 books -- novels, children's books, memoirs. Her elder sister, Winsome Ruth Key Godden, was also a novelist (writing as "Jon Godden"), and the two collaborated on some memoirs late in life. She married twice, the first time unhappily, the second time much more successfully (though she has been quoted as saying she never really loved any man but Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice!) She had two daughters. She was named an Officer of the British Empire in 1993, and died, a month short of her 91st birthday, in 1998.

That potted bio just above notes her conversion to Catholicism in 1968. The novel at hand, In This House of Brede, was published in 1969. It is set at Brede, a Benedictine monastery for nuns (that is -- not a convent.) Godden herself spent three years living just outside a monastery -- partly to research for this book, but also, I assume, as part of her studying Catholicism. I should note that I myself was raised Catholic, and I often find myself admiring Catholic fiction, particularly perhaps fiction by converts -- Gene Wolfe and Graham Greene are two other examples.

The novel opens with Philippa Talbot, an highly respected member of the British Civil Service, suddenly resigning her position. Many of her fellows at the organization are shocked -- she was greatly admired and clearly going places. But she herself has been planning this for some time, and her boss, Sir Richard, as well as her close friend, McTurk, have been told for years that she intends to become a nun. She had had an affair with the married Sir Richard, and had broken it off (though they remained friends.) We learn that she had previously been married, but her husband died in the War, and her very young son had also died, in circumstances she won't discuss. 

The rest of the book covers about 15 years of her life at Brede -- a couple of years as a novice, followed by time as a junior sister, but -- perhaps inevitably though not without personal struggle -- eventually rising to a position of authority. There is a lot going one besides Philippa's story -- the death of one Abbess and the difficulties the new one has; a serious financial difficulty caused by the old Abbess; issues for several of the incoming novices, which in some cases mean they have to leave, and in other cases are resolved only after torturous personal discovery; the installation of a beautiful new altar; literary works by a few nuns; an effort to help establish a new Benedictine monastery in Japan; intricate examination of the personalities of the various nuns, and their conflicts with each other, the petty jealousies and so on -- plus a slight hint of Lesbianism, and also a side plot about abortion (for someone outside Brede.) We also, eventually, learn the details of Philippa's history.

It's a beautiful novel, really. The characters are exceptionally well captured, the writing is lovely. It's a long book, well over 600 pages in my edition, a 2005 Loyola Classics reprint, though it's probably only some 160,000 words -- long, but not as long as 600+ pages would general indicate. (The book was originally published by Viking -- Loyola Press is a Catholic publishing venture, as the name indicates.) At any rate, for all its length, and despite its constricted setting, it is never boring. It succeeds completely as a description of monastic life, and as a convincing argument for its value. We really do understand that these women are living fulfilled lives, and are variously happy or sad according to their natures and the vicissitudes of their lives. A few events seem somewhat convenient, particularly the resolution to Brede's financial crisis, but so be it. A book much worth reading. 

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