Next on the LOCKDOWN bookshelf: Robert von Ranke Graves, Goodbye to All That. As his name implies he is half Irish, half Bavarian. As do all halfbreeds and Bavarians he's writing his autobiography in his mid 30s.
Graves wrote this thing in a famous fit of pique from Majorca. The middle part is admittedly cobbled from a novel he was writing in 1917 about the war, but since that novel was roman de clef and, additionally, no good (few writers not named "Stephen King" are any good at 21 years of age) he fixed it up as nonfiction. Much of the rest reads like a suicide-note with a long list of enemies.
Graves at least made the right enemies: pompous asses like Bertrand Russell and - I'm sorry - mansplainers like HG Wells. I keep getting reminded of the intelligentsiya with the hard g. Also I am being reminded of proto-Oxbridge pacificism. Graves becomes disillusioned with the war after the Somme but is, himself, unwilling to sign off as a conscientious-objector.
Graves grew up C Of E and the whole experience has turned him near-atheist. He reports universal contempt for Anglican clergy in the trenches - for whatever reason, the generals protected them and rarely had them fight, which said clergy took as privilege not to fight. I was about to sneer at the No Atheists In Foxholes
meme but then Graves carries on to the Catholic clergy there. The Papists made a point of standing with the ranks, often leading charges. These were heavily Irish and Glaswegian. I guess that's what they do.
That's pretty much all I ask: for a church that fights for her flock. Episcopalian priests won't.
No comments:
Post a Comment