The Power and the Glory

This grim and pessimistic view of the world south of the border during the 1930’s was hailed in the literary world as one of Greene’s best, but it plunges readers into a milieu of racial disgust, religious bigotry, and personal despair. The plot can be reduced to a few sentences, so the bulk of the 220 pages presents exposition and deep introspection it requires many chapters to actually identify the unheroic protagonist, one unnamed “whisky priest.” Hunted by a megalomanic Lieutenant--determined to ferret out the last banned priests in this Mexican state--the shabby, too worldly priest (married and a father of a precocious daughter) is hounded by his own guilt and sense of unworthiness.

Externally the novel deals with a cat-and-mouse game of pursuit—legalized persecution—between a failed priest and an obsessive officer of the law. Various subsidiary characters people the gloomy pages, some of whom appear only at the very beginning of the novel or its end. Other nationalities, such as American (heartless violence) and German ex-pats are represented: But the backdrop of this tapestry of terror is Church vs the secularized State. Internally we witness the priest’s vacillation between honoring his God in sincere humility and struggling to coexist in a now godless country. He alternates fleeing capture with allowing himself to be betrayed; yet he sadly realizes that he is not worthy to be a martyr to any cause or glorified as a hero in anyone’s mind.

Children also appear in this novel as two precocious girls present more emotional conflict; one who has more street smarts than her parents, and the priest’s own daughter whom he meets for the first time. One boy is deeply taken by the story of a boy martyr, and ubiquitous street urchins appear out of nowhere to spy and eavesdrop. The overall tone is blatantly depressing; readers are unsure to wish for the priest to escape or to be betrayed, or ultimately abet his own capture. He himself waffles in his reactions to inexorable, militaristic pursuit. Is he fated to die for having been a poor proponent of Catholicism or merely committing treason by being a good Catholic? It seems that the Power is represented by the Red Shirts, but the Glory (wherever it can be found) seems to belong to a detached God. It is difficult to have faith in oneself, when Faith itself has been proclaimed outside the law. But why does this pocket of Mexico require so many dentists?

Some people go on road trips to amusement parks or beaches and then there are those others that venture into remote places where all hope has died. Ladies and gentlemen, for your next vacation be sure to book Graham Greene Travels!

For several months in 1938, Greene traveled to Mexico to see for himself what the Catholic persecution going on at the time looked like. By all accounts it was bad but among the worst places was the Tabasco region, where under Governor Tomas Garrido Canabal the situation had reached terrifying extremes, resulting in most churches being closed and any priests that weren't summarily executed forced to marry and give up being priests. None of it struck Greene has being pleasant or even palatable and it sounds like his book describing those travels ("Lawless Roads") takes a very dim view of Mexico, bordering on the hostile.

With that said, its amazing how out of all that he managed to come out with a novel that not only is extraordinarily compassionate but also probably his most powerful. What could have been a thinly veiled screed against a situation he at best found intolerable instead winds up being a work that tries to find a bright spot, a thin sliver of hope, in what otherwise is nothing but a dismal situation.

And don't get me wrong, this is not a particularly fun read. Chronicling the travails of an unnamed priest who is trying to get somewhere safe before all the soldiers looking for him find him and give him a one way express ticket to the pearly gates, it's a grand ground tour of broken down villages and barns, of jail cells and forests, of the dead and the dying and those who haven't picked one yet. The priest would like nothing more than to put as much distance as he can between himself and the people with guns, but unfortunately he still feels an obligation to duty and has to keep stopping to say Mass, to do baptisms and confessions, and maybe knock back a drink or two in between to steady his nerve.

Yup, that's right. In what has to rank as a delightful irony verging on the Biblical, not only is he literally the last priest for miles around, but he's not even that good at it, earning his title of "whiskey priest" not because he helps the religion go down smooth and ignite a fire in the belly but because he can drink you under the table and still make you pray the Rosary when you do. But instead of this trait making him endearingly wacky (or potentially giving him a second career as the "the wild cop that doesn't play by the rules" in every 80s action movie) it only makes him desperate and not every popular with the people he encounters, who would often prefer their clergy to not smell like a distillery. Unfortunately, as much as they'd prefer anyone else, he's all they got. And equally unfortunately for him, considering he's a marked man with a price on his head wandering around a area where "poor" is a level of wealth they hope to aspire to someday, they're all he's got.

When I read Cormac McCarthy's "Blood Meridian" some time back, I was struck by his transformation of the frontier into a zone flush with nightmarishly apocalyptic imagery. Here, Greene goes him one better by giving us a Mexico where every single positive emotion has been drained out and painstakingly replaced with nothing but the purest misery. At least in McCarthy's book, as much as it turned into an object lesson of how to run a scalp-a-thon, at least some of the characters involved seem to be enjoying themselves. Here, no one has that luxury and that's what struck me the most on reading it. The priest is in a bad situation, of course, but the villagers aren't doing much better, often getting jailed for petty reasons when they aren't being used as hostages to flush out the priest (and often being shot anyway when that doesn't work). Even the soldiers tasked with keeping order don't seem to be enjoying their jobs so much, either going through the motions because they're tired of trying to find this guy or finding their jobs as much of a miserable grind as you do. People seem to talk in downtrodden monotones, with the detached air of preparing for a loss they haven't experienced yet. Nearly everyone we meet is either trying to tell themselves that tomorrow will be better or has given up on that fantasy entirely and waiting for God to get on with it and bring them to heaven already once its been determined they've suffered enough. Its so bad that people often can't even be bothered with having names, as if that's too much effort (other than the less than cheery subject matter, Greene's insistence on almost no one being named could be a sticking point as its sometimes hard to identify who's talking in a roomful of people that have no names).

Its a bleakly fascinating landscape that Greene creates, one made more vivid by having the stink of hard reality about it. The priest wanders from place to place, tired and hungry but still determined to be a priest wherever he can despite not even in the running for Padre of the Year, attempting to find fragments of grace in all the mud and misery around him. He's greeted warmly by villagers for whom a priest is someone they're sorely missing but he can't stay in one place for very long at the risk of getting everyone around him killed. He meets people who are willing to hide him even they aren't very Catholic themselves, who are curious as to why he's even bothering.

But if the book was merely a litany of unpleasant incidents involving nameless people it probably wouldn't retain the power over the years that it does. But yet there's something noble in the priest's desperation to do his job well even as it gets more difficult in a world where all the colors seem replaced with different shades of grey and black. Once the initial setup is established the book chugs along with the momentum of a stone rolling down a gradually steeper slope, as Greene moves him from place to place, a barn here, a village there, a jail cell twice. Its more than just a change of scenery but a chance for the priest to question what he's doing, to confront his past and size up what little of a future he might have left. Its those quiet scenes with nameless and (in the case of the jail scene, which seems to take place in the dark) faceless Mexicans that resonate more than the moments with the non-Mexicans that he also encounters, a dentist, a teenage girl, a German couple of a different religion. Those people, well intentioned as they might be, are only outsiders and on some level can leave anytime they want. The stakes aren't as high for them, while for everyone else the question of their faith is literally a life and death question. They can leave any time they want, perhaps and so can the priest as well. And yet he can't.

Its the portrayal of the priest that sticks with me the most. A messy failure at the one job he's supposed to have, Greene gives us a man who constantly asks, "Why am I putting myself through this" but his depiction is always sensitive, even if it never shies away from his faults. He doesn't give us a lecture on the glories of Catholicism, but his priest is someone secure in his faith even as he wonders what the heck plan God could possibly have for him. Its a tricky balance to maintain, but Greene manages and never more so in a conversation the priest has with one of the people hunting him . . . unlike other authors determined to make one of the participants look like an idiot, both of them can articulate their stances without coming across as delusional morons, even as its clear that they're never going to agree. Both have the potential to be decent men but are committed to their courses regardless of the consequences.

Which is the heart of the tragedy, of course. A book like this depends on sticking the landing, giving us a realistic ending without sending us tumbling into despair. And for the most part Greene pulls it off, with that creeping sense of inevitability so intense that even the characters seem to feel it. In a way there's only one ending possible for these people . . . too locked into their respective paths to know any other outcome, Greene gives them the ending they deserve while at the same time leaving room for hope through another door, suggesting perhaps what all people with faith already know, that people and their works are finite, that government and buildings are temporary, that pettiness and hatred and injustice cannot be sustained, and when all that ultimately crumbles, we will learn that some things are eternal and will not stay hidden.

Graham Greene is known as a “Catholic novelist” even though he objected to that description. I mention that because this book is one of his four novels, which, according to Wiki, source of all wisdom, “are the gold standard of the Catholic novel.” The other three are Brighton Rock, The Heart of the Matter, and The End of the Affair.

Like many other Greene novels, this one is set in a down-and-out environment in a Third World country. (Third World at least at the time Greene visited: Mexico and Africa in the 1930’s and 1940’s; Haiti, Cuba and the Congo in the 1950’s.) Greene’s travels around the world (including a stint as a British spy in WW II) informed many of his novels. This one, The Power and the Glory, was based on his travels in Mexico in 1938; The Comedians, Haiti; A Burnt Out Case, the Congo; Our Man in Havana, Cuba, and The Heart of the Matter, Sierra Leone.

Greene hit his literary stride in writing set in these destitute countries marked by starvation, disease, political tyranny, graft and corruption.

In this novel the focus is on anti-clericalism in Mexico in the 1930’s. Greene’s publisher specifically paid for his trip to Mexico for this purpose in 1938. Anti-clericalism has a long history in Mexico related to the Revolutions in 1860 and 1910 and the Constitution of 1917 which seized church land, outlawed monastic orders, banned public worship outside of churches, took away political rights from clergy and prohibited primary education by churches.

By the 1930’s the persecution of clergy had reached new heights, varying in each Mexican state depending upon the political inclinations of the governors. In Tabasco state, on the southernmost curve of the Gulf of Mexico, persecution was the worst and it’s likely the geographical setting of the story. We’re in a place of subsistence farming and banana plantations, days from any city by walking, mule or water. Churches here were closed and many destroyed. Priests were forbidden to wear garb or even conduct masses and many were forced to marry. The persecution escalated to the point where priests were hunted down by police and executed without trial.

On to the story: Our main character is a priest on the run because there is a reward on his head. He's not dressed as a priest but his diction and decorum as an educated man give him away. Just about everyone he meets assumes he’s a priest on the run.

But he’s a “whiskey priest,” addicted to his wine. He has also fathered an illegitimate child. At one point he meets his 7-year old daughter for the first time. Everywhere he goes crowds of peasants beseech him to perform a mass, conduct weddings and baptisms. Depending on his level of fear, sometimes, in despair, he ignores them and moves on; other times he conducts the sacraments. Sometimes he calculates how much he will charge for baptisms and how many bottles of wine the receipts will buy him. Because of his drinking, his illicit liaison, and his fear of death by firing squad, he feels unworthy of his role. He’s human.

We have other characters of course. A dentist, cut off by WW II from contact with his family in Europe, despairs of ever seeing them again. A precocious 13-year old runs the family plantation for her incapacitated parents. She hides the priest for a time. We have good cops/bad cops in pursuit of the priest; some want to see him killed and some try to help him. The priest can’t trust anyone --- an offer of help may be a trap to get the reward on his head --- a huge sum in this backwards, destitute world.

A few quotes:

He walked slowly; happiness drained out of him more quickly and completely than out of an unhappy man: an unhappy man is always prepared.

[A man talking to his wife] It’s not such a bad life…But he could feel her stiffen: the word “life” was taboo: it reminded you of death.

The woman began to cry – dryly, without tears, the trapped noise of something wanting to be released…

Of course, a classic.

I first heard about this book in a graduate level Latin American survey course. I kept it in the back of my mind and finally got around to reading it years later. The professor had described it glowingly and subsequent references to it that I came across were all very positive. Consequently I really looked forward to reading this book.

I was extremely disappointed.

Published in 1938 I would say that overall the book has aged badly. It is overly dramatic, even emotionally silly in parts. The plot is insipid. The Mexican characters are not Mexican but European with a little Mexican airbrushing. The indigenous people are portrayed as one-dimensional simians.

I read that prior to writing the book Graham Greene spent a total of eight weeks in Mexico. It sadly shows. He has little understanding of Mexico. I can't understand the continuing hoopla surrounding this work. If you want to read some decent fiction about early twentieth century Mexico try something by B. Traven.

Is this Graham Greene's singular masterpiece? Arguably, yes.
The story is relatively straightforward. The Church has been outlawed in Southern Mexico (for philosophical reasons that provide material for several thought-provoking conversations), believers have been executed, and a single priest, one who loves whiskey and has a major sin chalked up on his scoreboard, has outlasted the rest. In his attempt to escape the region, the self-proclaimed whiskey priest encounters a variety of characters- some who support him and seek Confession, some who are interested in the reward money his capture would bring in, some who are intrigued by his belief in unseen forces- and these encounters provide drama and provoke debates about the role of religion in society.
One of Graham Greene's least complicated novels, "The Power and The Glory" ranks as one his best, simple and direct in a way that opens the reader to endless literary possibilities. I would argue that if you only read on Graham Greene novel, this should be the one.

The Power and the Glory is a beautifully written novel produced by a master prose stylist who knows that profound insights, eternal truths, and the ambivalent nature of our moral world are best rendered accessibly, in ways that all readers can readily follow. First published in 1940, Graham Greene's novel pits the justice sought by the Mexican Revolution against the traditional teachings of the Catholic Church.

The Church was and remains a conservative force in the Third World and elsewhere, it's typically unspoken alliances with the forces of reactionary repression and exploitation guarantee its continued existence and largely unchallenged influence regarding political issues that can be reckoned in religious terms. Oft-made decisions to leave worldly matters of justice, fairness, and equity to the profane political realm defined by differences in material and social power serve the status quo well. In the meantime, the Church nominally restricts itself to the search for eternal salvation through fostering adherence to narrowly construed religious strictures governing personal morality, and the Church is rewarded accordingly. Who knows, perhaps the Iron Curtain would still be standing if the nations of the Soviet Union had sought an accommodation with the Church. After all, there is nothing new about ideologically contradictory alliances in pursuit of mutual survival.

The Power and the Glory is set in the 1930's, during the long-running Mexican Revolution. Led by Madero, Villa, Zapata and other still-revered revolutionary heroes, this was an uprising of the Left. Its proponents were irrepressibly hostile to the traditional paternalistic and grossly inequitable organization of Mexican society. They sought equity and self-determination in the material world, a place of unspeakable poverty and suffering for all but the privileged few, priests and higher Church officials among them.

As a result, the revolutionaries sought to abolish religious teachings and practices. Their efforts were sometimes clumsy and of dubious value, for example requiring that all who had been priests get married, and making wine and other alcoholic beverages illegal. So much for communion wine. In addition, however, the Revolution was seeking to eliminate the dissolution and chemically engendered escapism that made many Mexicans unreliable compatriots.

As portrayed in The Power and the Glory, the material aims of the Revolution were not even crudely approximated. Too many of those who ostensibly served the Revolution did so in a perfunctory and self-serving way. High officials in the military and the national police were ineffectual, indifferent, and simply corrupt.

A conspicuous exception was the young Lieutenant in Las Casas whose spit-and-polish military demeanor betokened a powerful commitment to the Revolution and its aims. The Lieutenant's hostility to the Church was as strong as one would expect of a politically astute indigenous Mexican of Indian heritage who came of age during a time when the social and cultural wherewithal of Catholicism were in the service of the wealthy elite, completely ignoring the plight of the poor. The Lieutenant was also, however, a man of intelligence and good judgment who understood that even his nemesis, the so-called Whiskey Priest, was not without inoffensive qualities and posed no real threat to the Revolution.

Greene's protagonist, the otherwise unnamed Whiskey Priest, personified the evils of a religious denomination that was protected by the state. In a perhaps exaggerated form, the Whiskey Priest represented the Catholic Church as the revolutionaries understood it: corrupt, exploitative, hypocritical, and an enemy of the Mexican people. The most interesting and wonderfully insightful struggle in Greene's treatment of these revolutionary times occurs within the mind, heart, and soul of the Whiskey Priest.

Yes, he is guilty of the sins attributed to him and still more. As a priest he was no danger to the reactionary regime served by the Church, but he also failed to meet the modestly comforting, even if ultimately self-deceiving, spiritual needs of his parishioners. He had no political agenda, but he had gluttony, drunkenness, and sloth, and he fathered a daughter in a brief, almost accidental and seemingly passionless departure from celibacy with a peasant woman.

Ironically, however, it is the priest's encounters with ordinary people living in poverty and without prospects that manifests his destiny. As a priest, he has an obligation to love all members of the human race deeply, spiritually, and uniformly in a contemporary emulation of Christ himself. However, the Whiskey Priest, as he seeks to recover his lost decency and come to terms with his vocation, realizes that he can never love anyone as much as he loves his illegitimate daughter. Though she despises him and taunts him mercilessly, the child's welfare and happiness are of greater concern to him than anyone or anything else.

For most of us, this would be readily understandable: we love our children above all others. But for a man trying to return to priestly righteousness, this is selfish and worldly, cause for continuing anguish.

Similarly, being hunted by the police for what he is and for minor offenses such as possession of brandy, he spends a night in a crowded and unimaginably filthy Mexican jail. In spite of the filth, stench, and undisguised carnality of the place, he feels comradeship with the other prisoners, whether they be murderers, rapists, petty offenders, or prisoners-by-mistake. They are genuine, needful, and hostile in honest ways. A sharp contrast to the ostentatious piety, the sterile and indifferent sanctimoniousness of officials of the Church.

That the Church is corrupt and corrupting becomes unmistakably clear when, after he is released and seeks refuge in the north, he is asked to briefly adopt the role of a priest once again. Almost immediately the false piety and unquestionable sense of moral rectitude return. He again, for a day, becomes a personification of the bastion of false conservatism and ally of political reaction that was his Catholic Church.

The Power and the Glory is a brilliant novel that raises questions and offers insights not to be found elsewhere. Whatever his failings, the struggle of the Whiskey Priest with himself is powerfully instructive, and he is one of the most interesting protagonists to be found in 20th Century literature.

The very best books are those that are most difficult for me to review--it is difficult to avoid sliding into the clichéd descriptions that too often are attached to mediocre works, and which would actually dim the luster of those that are superior. It is also difficult to express exactly why the very best are the very best--it cannot be just excellent style, or craftsmanship, or compelling stories and characters; it is something that is more than the sum of its parts, and while there is no shortage of clichéd phrases for this aspect of the very best as well, the only really truthful thing I might be able to say about them is that rather than engaging only my emotions--as pleasurable as that might be--the very best books shed light on how I see myself in the world.

THE POWER AND THE GLORY is mostly straightforward, and simply told--Greene uses few literary flourishes. It is the story of a Catholic priest--a 'whiskey' priest and father of an illegitimate daughter besides--who is hunted by the representatives of a state which has outlawed the church, and passed a death sentence on any who continue to perform the sacraments. Pursued throughout the countryside, he is drawn inexorably closer to his fate by his responsibilities as intermediate between God and man, while at the same time tortured by his failings.

The setting of the novel--a period between the world wars in rural Mexico--is surely an influence as well, but the tone of POWER AND THE GLORY reminds me of another hopeless, helpless man convinced he is beyond redemption; that of Geoffrey Firmin, the alcoholic consul from Malcolm Lowry's UNDER THE VOLCANO. And it is also true that in both of these books, the authors have managed to inspire an affinity with these characters within me, an affinity that challenges the easy assumptions I make about the nature of the world, secure as I am in a cocoon of security and plenty. Yet if that were all there were to these books, then I don't believe they would have the lingering impact that they do.

Obviously the two novels diverge--Lowry's goes on to its painful conclusions, while Greene's offers yet a modicum of hope to this problem of existence, though it may not be the sort of hope one would wish. It is the sort of hope that demolishes individuality, destroys free will, and subsumes all our efforts into a cruel hoax. And that, Greene seems to be saying, is the way to redemption.

Or not. Though this novel challenges me, it is likely that it will either challenge others in ways that are meaningful to them, or else it will not penetrate deeply enough to disturb the core beliefs of still others. Regardless, I'm convinced that this is one of THE great novels of the 20th Century, underrated while many other popular selections continue to be promoted over it. Obviously, highly recommended.

Everyone, it seems, has read this extraordinary novel in high school or university. I did way back in the Fifties, and loved it then...but perhaps for Greene's impeccable use of language, of metaphor.

Then in 2000, I moved to Mexico and learned far more about its history - all the stuff that was suppressed by the ruling PRI. Just last year, 2011, I started gobbling up everything on the Cristero wars, and what the peasants went through...in other words, the Inferno and Purgatory of our sad little anti-hero. I'm in no way a Catholic, but decided the best way to understand "The Power and the Glory" was to do so in the light of 21st Century Mexico.

What an extraordinary revelation! Of course the Church was as brutal as the Government, but when you understand that taking away the ONLY thing these poverty-stricken people had in their lives was no different from what the Chinese did to Tibet. People argue that old Buddhist Tibet enslaved women, suppressed creativity, etc. etc. and that the Chinese actually liberated the country by destroying the temples. Sad and nasty arguments!

I came from Catholic Montreal where the State and the Church were joined at the hip in an unconscious, corrupt union, and in a way, that's what Greene's dealing with here. This is anything but propaganda as one reviewer says. The whiskey priest is on his own miserable journey, filled with as much regret, doubt and old-fashioned sin, from lust to hypocrisy, as any of us. The Church is as much a metaphor as is the State - metaphors for the eternal struggle of opposites that goes on in the heart of every thoughtful person. Redemption is not the property of the Vatican...it washes through all spirituality and myth.
My word to all who consider the book out-dated, and to all those ex-pats who've moved to this amazing country: reading it in our safe little First World was ridiculous. Read it NOW while you witness the turmoil - LIFE - eating itself around you. Do the author's ghost a favour.

In the post-Christian world, faith is, for unbelievers and honest believers alike, absurd on the face of it, if for the believer, also nonetheless real. Thus, many people regard the idea of a "test of faith" at best a quaint relic and at worst nonsensical. There was once a time when believers prayed to be tested, even unto death; for the saints, the test of faith was the Cross that each follower of Christ aspired to bear. That was a long time ago; most believers nowadays pray, "Please Lord, don't test me." Modern martyrs are not looking to die; they become saints against their inclinations.

The main character of Graham Greene's "The Power and the Glory" is, despite a seriously tarnished halo and against his own self perceptions, a saint. Never named but for his revealing sobriquet, "the whiskey priest," the protagonist is a suffering cleric who, after living in relative material comfort and with social respectability, finds himself tossed into a topsy-turvy world where all things Catholic are reviled. Despite his weakness for alcohol and his having fathered a child, he perseveres in his religious calling, in his service to the people and to the Church, bringing the faithful the sacraments, counsel, and whatever other consolations that he can provide, at great personal risk. Despite his grave personal failings, he ultimately remains a good priest.

"The Power and the Glory" is set during the period of anticlericalism in early 1920s Mexico. The government of a province controlled by socialist revolutionaries attempts to destroy a Church that, not without reason, represents for them a corrupt class of privilege: churches are closed, priests are forced to marry, and those who refuse to submit to the new order are killed or forced to flee. The whiskey priest takes flight moving from village to village within the province, serving underground Catholics by celebrating secret Masses and hearing confessions. The priest's Christological peregrinations echo Jesus's wanderings in his three-year public ministry.

The story's antagonist, the "Lieutenant," who leads the province's anticlerical purge, devises a ruthless plan to capture the priest by executing at random a man from every village that harbors him. Uncowed, the villagers nonetheless bravely continue to give the priest refuge as the Lieutenant closes in on his prey.

"The Power and the Glory" is a relatively short book--the Penguin edition runs just over a couple of hundred pages--and yet is immensely powerful both on the level of pure storytelling and as religious expression: It is a sobering tale of what it really means to be a martyr. Graham is a genius at plumbing the spiritual dimensions of his protagonist. As the story advances, you recognize the ultimate goodness of the priest so that when he eventually appears to escape you are elated; then, shortly after, you watch with chagrin as the priest quickly slips back into old expectations of privilege. You think, wait, did "the whiskey priest" learn nothing from his sufferings? At the story's wrenching, and yet ultimately hopeful conclusion, you realize that he remains a good, albeit weak, human being--like most of us who are unlikely to face such a test of faith, if, by grace, we saints are fortunate to have faith to begin with.

One of the important things to do when reading any work of literature is to ask, either as you move along or upon completion of the work, why the title may have been chosen. This often helps the reader to tie the work together. Sometimes this answer is easy, as when the title simply reflects the main character's name or some obvious theme in the book. In Graham Greene's masterful work The Power and the Glory, the answer to this question is not nearly so obvious. How can a book have such a title when its pages lead the reader, from beginning to end, through the squalor and poverty, the ignorance and barbarity of the anti-clerical oppression in Mexico: through the filthy streets, shacks laden with bugs, dysentery, toothaches, firing squads and despair? The ugliness is relentless, and if there is any power and glory to be found, one has to search hard for it.

The story centers on a hunted animal, also a Catholic priest. He is the last priest known in the area who has not either fled or submitted to the anti-catholic laws, and the governor in this Mexican state wants him captured. There is no doubt that if he is found, his fate will be like that of many others--death before a firing squad. He is pursued by a persistent lieutenant, a man whose anti-clerical extremism is rooted in his childhood experiences of hypocrisy in the Church. He believes that the world will see justice only by destroying what he sees as a false faith that deludes the people. For him, the priest is merely a symbol of this oppressive system, and throughout most of the book--until he finally comes face to face with him--he fails to see the priest even as a fellow man.

This manhunt gives the work its constant tension, as the priest confronts his very natural fears and flees from village to village interacting with the faithful, many of whom have not seen a priest in years. The authorities decide that in order to find him, they will round up hostages from the villages in which they think he might be hiding. These villagers are to be shot one by one, in an effort to force the people to betray him. They suffer in silence; the richness and simplicity of their faith is striking and moving. They hunger not only on account of Mexico's crushing poverty; they hunger for the "Body of God," the little Host, the one great hope in their miserable condition, a hope that depends upon a Catholic priest, however unworthy--even this "whiskey priest," as he is known for his love of the bottle. No persecution and no law can take away this relentless desire the peasants have for their God. The Church may physically be driven out, but it leaves a void in the human heart that nothing else can fill.

The fleeing priest is therefore burdened with the agonizing knowledge that the faithful are dying for him--that his capture would put an end to this misery--yet he has a duty to carry on. He fails to recognize the depth of his own faith and the deep sense he has of his duty to others, to which he is always true. He has been driven from a life of comfort and respectability to the depths of agony and shame. All the while, the reader is permitted to stand back and watch, to contrast the man with his own judgment of himself. The work opens as the disguised priest prepares to escape the area by boat but is called away to help a child's sick mother. It comes to a close with a parallel act that likewise pits his sense of duty against his best interest as he is brought back to the dangerous area he had fled in order to offer confession to a dying murderer. After the priest's own despair, he has learned true love, and he sees value even in the life of one so vile.

Everything that made him what he was before the persecution, a priest with soft hands that the women and children kissed in deference, his possessions, his voice of authority and his sense of self-worth--all of this is gone. He is stripped, much like Christ, of everything he has. As he is hunted, he is forced to leave behind even his little Mass kit, a treasured gift from his former parishioners. He saves only one small shred of paper as a reminder of his past; even the clothes he wears are not his own. The people in the village where he once ministered are frightened when he comes. He comes unto his own, but his own receive him not, at least not willingly, because they are afraid.

He confronts his own daughter, who was conceived in a lustful moment with a local village woman some years before, and she too rejects him. Here again he realizes his duty, this time as a father, and weeps for his lost child, one whose soul is bitter and already sadly lost, even in her youth. She has never even developed the "habit of piety," which is referenced several times in the book as the act, so to speak, of "going through the motions" of religion. The priest, for the most part, has lost this habit, except for his unrelenting sense of duty. Toward the end of the work, he calls for the one other priest in the area, Padre Jose, to hear his confession, a priest who surrendered to forced marriage and the accompanying scandal in order to avoid being shot. The cowardly cleric refuses to hear the confession, and so the "whiskey priest" lacks even the sacrament of his forgiveness, spending the night alone, except for the companionship he has with a bottle of brandy. He is completely without human consolation or company, and he laments his unworthiness. He wishes that God had sent the people a real saint and not a wretch like him--even as all human considerations, even his fear of pain, fade away in his desire for God.

The reader's principal task then is one that the student of philosophy will, at least in theory, be familiar with--to determine what is left of the essence when these accidents are peeled away, one by one. As the little old frail shell-of-a-man stands before his enemies, unable even to chant the motto of the Mexican martyrs, Vivo Christo Rey, what remains of him? And what is there that is powerful or glorious in this little hell-like spot in the universe? While it may seem that Greene is ridiculing the "habit of piety" as a mere guise of true religion, it becomes clear as the work goes on that this "habit" is a foundation upon which saints and even martyrs may be built, a habit that commands one to do his duty, even without giving the reason. Suffering gives this habit depth and new dimension; it builds upon it, but it does not destroy it.

The answer regarding the purpose of the title is hinted at in several places--including once almost half way through the work, just after the priest hears the confession of a fevered man who offers to guide him to a nearby village--but its full impact is not realized until the end. On the last page, in the last paragraph, the reader sees the one ray of hope for which, I believe, the entire work was written. It is present in one little gesture of a child, a little boy who throughout the work has been skeptical and bored by the almost inhumanly pious stories told to him by his mother, stories that seemed to him unbelievable. He is, in this sense, the very image of the antagonist lieutenant when he was young. The real and present example of the hunted priest causes a change in the boy that represents a hope for all of Mexico--including the lieutenant--and which, I believe, explains the work's title. To know of it, you will need to travel the forests and villages of Mexico with this despairing and repenting drunkard and priest; you must see Christ kissed by Judas and crucified again.

The Power and the Glory, while perhaps not for everyone, is a gripping work that looks into the soul of a hunted man who is wounded by the realization of his own imperfection, a man whose faith begins as a "habit of piety" and later is forged in the cauldron of immense suffering into a profound experience of love that will move the reader. I highly recommend it to anyone who has the stomach for it.

Graham Greene presents the story of a priest and his trials and tribulations in a Mexican Socialist state where Catholicism has been outlawed, priests are executed, and the mere possession of a religious article results in imprisonment and hard labor. In the midst of this turmoil we find a self-professed "whisky priest", the last priest in his state, on the run from authorities. The state has turned its peasants against the church through propaganda and terror. The current reality for the priest is one where most shun him and refuse to help. And when he does have the opportunity to perform a religious ritual, there must be constant surveillance of the police, for once in police custody he will be shot.

Greene does a brilliant job of allowing the reader to enter the priest's innermost thoughts. This is not a typically pious priest. He is a drinker, a fornicator, and an absentee father. He comes to grip with the reality that he is a "bad priest" and laments the fact that he cannot do more to help. Indeed, he realizes that it was his pride and sense of self-importance that prevented him from leaving the hostile state. He is filled with self-doubt and self-loathing. Even as he awaits his execution, he never considers himself a martyr, but merely a failure who will meet God with "empty hands."

However, the priest may be too self-critical. His religious duties and devotions are a powerful force that brings him back into harm's way when the opportunity to escape persecution is open to him. Indeed, after an arduous journey across the rain-soaked jungle mountains into a safe state, he nevertheless journeys back into the hostile state to hear the confession of a murderer he has never met, knowing full well that this is a trap from which he will not escape. It is this sense of duty and inevitable death that lifts the priest above the morality of the villagers and his captors. Although he may not be a typical martyr or saint, he does hold considerable power with those he meets, although he may not realize it. Indeed, this "whiskey priest" has changed the lives, subtly or directly, of scores of people he has encountered.

Although Greene, a devout Catholic, portrays the priest an imperfect sinner, I would not call this book anti-Catholic, as did his contemporaries in the church. The priest is certainly not perfect, and has fathered a child, but he can still be a useful minion of God. Greene shows that even those with weaknesses and past sins can still achieve glory in life. Through the eyes of others, Greene shows how this self-loathing priest has done more than he could ever imagine.

Overall, this is a superb book and a fine addition to any reading list.

The Power and the Glory is regarded as Graham Greene’s masterpiece. The story centers on a priest in 1930’s Mexico during a period of extreme persecution of Catholics. The unnamed priest is an alcoholic who is running from the Red Shirts, a paramilitary organization that is hunting down and killing clerics. As the story unfolds we catch a glimpse of the poverty and despair that was Mexico at that time. The Whiskey Priest wanders the countryside trying to avoid capture and death. He interacts with a small girl who, innocently, says she will help him. He interacts with a man who he believes will turn him in to the police for the reward. He is captured and put in jail on a charge of smuggling liquor, but then released. He meets a woman with a dead child and goes with her for two days to find a cemetery. In all of these actions, and others, he is neither hero nor villain. He simply tries to survive and stay true to his beliefs in the face of extreme hostility and danger. By contrast, another priest, Father Jose, renounces his vows in order to save his life. He is in a cemetery when a couple is burying their child and they ask him to say a prayer. Father Jose refuses because he is afraid they will tell and he will be killed. The Whiskey Priest, by contrast, prays and helps people in spite of the danger. At the end he has the chance to escape to freedom but chooses to go back to try to hear the confession of an American who was also hunted by the police. The man refuses and dies and the priest is arrested. The book proceeds to its inevitable ending.

The Power and the Glory raises important questions about humanity and how to live one’s live. The whiskey priest is far from a hero, yet he deals with the difficulties he faces with grace and dignity. This novel is clearly a five star book.

(4.5 stars) Graham Greene's most elaborate and personal examination of the good life--and the role of the Catholic church in teaching what the good life is--revolves around an unnamed "whiskey priest" in Mexico in the 1930s. Religious persecution is rife as secular rulers, wanting to bring about social change, blame the church for the country's ills. When the novel opens, the church, its priests, and all its symbols have been banned for the past eight years from a state near Veracruz. Priests have been expelled, murdered, or forced to renounce their callings. The whiskey priest, however, has stayed, bringing whatever solace he can to the poor who need him, while at the same time finding solace himself in the bottle.

Constantly on the move, the priest suffers agonizing conflicts. His sense of guilt for the past includes a brief romantic interlude which has produced a child, and though he recognizes that he is often weak, selfish, and fearful, he still tries to bring comfort to the faithful. Pursued by a police lieutenant who believes that justice for all can only occur if the church is destroyed, and by a mestizo, who is seeking the substantial reward for turning him in, the desperate priest finally decides to escape to a nearby state in which religion is not banned so that the police will stop killing hostages taken in the villages he has visited.

The police pursuit of the priest is paralleled by their pursuit of a "gringo" murderer, a man so base that he thinks nothing of murdering children, yet the priest even sees value in this man's life, and when the gringo, the mestizo, the lieutenant, and the priest finally come together, Greene's philosophical and religious analysis reaches its climax. For all their faults, the priest is often heroic, the murdering gringo still has a soul worth saving, the mestizo (a Judas figure) offers the priest a better chance to see God, and the lieutenant eventually sees the priest as a human, not simply as a symbol.

Greene's novel is beautifully constructed--intricate, filled with symbols and parallels, yet often sensitive and moving. Though the action moves through an almost unremittingly bleak landscape and the sense of dread is positively palpable throughout, the novel eventually reveals the "power" and the "glory" of faith. In this sense, the novel is as much a philosophical and religious tract--specifically an examination of the Catholic faith--as it is a human story. While some may find the novel dogmatic and the priest's agonized self-examination sometimes tedious, others will find the novel uplifting and inspiring. n Mary Whipple

The Third Man
Our Man in Havana: An Entertainment (Twentieth Century Classics)
The Human Factor (Everyman's Library Classics)

Like Mr. Attenborough, Graham Green has roamed the world. His interests were not primarily plants and animals, but representatives of the human species, often those profoundly flawed. His novels are set in Vietnam, Sierra Leone, Haiti, Cuba, Mexico, and more. His characters play out their drama against these exotic backgrounds, the expatriates and the natives, and almost certainly it is an interaction between these groups that is a dynamo which drives the novel forward. I used to think that "The Quiet American," set in Vietnam, was his finest, but after re-reading "The Power and the Glory," I would rank them equally.

It is pre-World War II Mexico, anti-clerical forces are reigning, and therefore the agents of the Catholic Church are outside the law, often literally hunted, and if caught, executed. The two principal characters are reflected in each noun of the title, a police lieutenant who vows to bring in the last functioning priest in the province. This is the principal thread of dynamic tension that unifies the novel. There is a similar thread within the hunted priest himself. He is considered a "whiskey priest," with a fondness for brandy, and he has a daughter. Does he really want to escape his pursers, or does he believe his capture would be just punishment for his sins? It is a many-faceted issue that is used to explore his character.

Graham also populates his novel with numerous minor characters, mainly part of the human detritus that has washed up in this developmental backwater. There is an American dentist, barely surviving with his antique tools; a steamship captain, his wife and their precocious daughter; and a German-American couple who have opted for Mexico instead of submitting to conscription during WW I. There are also the natives, a "half-cast" who haunts the priest, and a touchingly stubborn Indian woman with her dead infant.

In reading Greene, and particularly such a novel on the Catholic Church, it is important to reflect that according to his biographers, Greene himself was both Catholic, and profoundly flawed. Along with the works of Carlos Fuentes, this is a quintessential book on Mexico, and therefore a vital read for all Americans in particular.

(4.5 stars) Graham Greene's most elaborate and personal examination of the good life--and the role of the Catholic church in teaching what the good life is--revolves around an unnamed "whiskey priest" in Mexico in the 1930s. Religious persecution is rife as secular rulers, wanting to bring about social change, blame the church for the country's ills. When the novel opens, the church, its priests, and all its symbols have been banned for the past eight years from a state near Veracruz. Priests have been expelled, murdered, or forced to renounce their callings. The whiskey priest, however, has stayed, bringing whatever solace he can to the poor who need him, while at the same time finding solace himself in the bottle.

Constantly on the move, the priest suffers agonizing conflicts. His sense of guilt for the past includes a brief romantic interlude which has produced a child, and though he recognizes that he is often weak, selfish, and fearful, he still tries to bring comfort to the faithful. Pursued by a police lieutenant who believes that justice for all can only occur if the church is destroyed, and by a mestizo, who is seeking the substantial reward for turning him in, the desperate priest finally decides to escape to a nearby state in which religion is not banned so that the police will stop killing hostages taken in the villages he has visited.

The police pursuit of the priest is paralleled by their pursuit of a "gringo" murderer, a man so base that he thinks nothing of murdering children, yet the priest even sees value in this man's life, and when the gringo, the mestizo, the lieutenant, and the priest finally come together, Greene's philosophical and religious analysis reaches its climax. For all their faults, the priest is often heroic, the murdering gringo still has a soul worth saving, the mestizo (a Judas figure) offers the priest a better chance to see God, and the lieutenant eventually sees the priest as a human, not simply as a symbol.

Greene's novel is beautifully constructed--intricate, filled with symbols and parallels, yet often sensitive and moving. Though the action moves through an almost unremittingly bleak landscape and the sense of dread is positively palpable throughout, the novel eventually reveals the "power" and the "glory" of faith. In this sense, the novel is as much a philosophical and religious tract--specifically an examination of the Catholic faith--as it is a human story. While some may find the novel dogmatic and the priest's agonized self-examination sometimes tedious, others will find the novel uplifting and inspiring. n Mary Whipple

The Third Man
Our Man in Havana: An Entertainment (Twentieth Century Classics)
The Human Factor (Everyman's Library Classics)

The story is a cruel, tragic tale, imbued on several levels with chronic suffering and guilt. Greene travelled in Mexico in the 1930s, a miserable journey, chronicled in his travelogue 'The Lawless Roads'. During his travels, he found the majority of the provinces in Mexico to be crooked, and anti clerical. In the post 1910 Revolutionary era, under the presidency of Plutarco Elias Calles, anti clerical measures were adapted and organized religion banned. Calles believed that the Catholic Church was responsible for spreading superstition, priests were greedy and corrupt. Many of them were hunted down and shot. Others fled.

'The Power and the Glory' is based on a fictional version of one such priest, the nameless 'whisky priest', the only one left in his province who continues to practice his priestly duties under the constant threat of capture and execution. Unlike Jesus, however, the priest is an imperfect man. He drinks excessively, he commits adultery. And, perhaps most poignantly towards the end of the novel, he declares that it was pride rather than innate spiritual kindness that compelled him to bloody mindedly remain in the province.

Despite all of this, however, the priest is portrayed as a hero. For all his faults, he continues to practice religion during the worst of times.

The portrayal of Mexico in this novel is the perfect backdrop to the priest's plight. The tone is bleak and gloomy. Vultures, snakes, hyenas, beetles and sharks lurk ominously near the action. Fever is rife, sweltering heat is everywhere, as is thirst, poverty, decay and degredation.

The ultimate message of 'The Power and the Glory', however, is optimistic. The priest, although he does not realise it, has, through his actions, enabled the church to survive. He realises that he has fallen well short of what he considers to be the only thing that is worthy - to live the life of a saint. But in fact he is a saint, albeit a flawed one. It is he, and he alone during this time that enables the glory of the Church to prevail against the repressive power of the Government.

Incidentally, 'The Power and the Glory' was published in 1940. The Vatican wrote to Greene, condemning the novel and asking for revisions, in 1953 leading Evelyn Waugh to utter his famous reply 'They have taken fourteen years to write their first letter. You should take fourteen years to answer it'.

In this novel, Mr Greene portrays various characters in an unnamed southern province of Mexico at the time when the Red Shirts - a Communist party - have taken control. It is well known however that these events took place under Presiedent Calles, elected in 1924, and the infamous atheist Governor of Tabasco, Garrido Canabal.

The central figure of the novel is a nameless priest, a so-called "whisky priest" since this spirit was used during illegal Masses due to the lack of wine. Furthermore, the name attests for a drinking habit with most illegal priests in this tropical, crooked and anti-clerical part of Mexico. The story-line is a succession of harrowing scenes as the haunted priest tries to keep conducting his Masses but the most ironical and corrosive scene is the one in which he must watch a half-caste mestizo, a fiercely anti-clerical lieutenant and a corrupt chief of police drink up a bottle of wine he had bought with his last money for sacramental use.

Graham Greene's sympathy with the poor in spirit and the world's losers is obvious. The whisky priest's descent into illegality and darkness and his simultaneous ascent in martyrdom are spectacular because they so dominate the plot - all other characters have an insignificant importance except that of the lieutenant. The priest's existence seems particularly dogged and doomed not only because of the illegality of his clerical activities but also because he is an alcoholic and has an illegitimate daughter. But clearly the author distinguishes between man and function and this also applies to Father José, a debased priest compelled by the authorities and his own cowardice to marry - a figure of ridicule even to the children of the town.

Finally it is worth mentioning the author's brilliantly built and abrupt scenes and artfully lit images which have a cinematic touch of surreal reminiscent of pictures by Luis Bunuel.

Considered by many to be Graham Greene's best work, "The Power and the Glory" deals with a familiar theme, the power and mystery of faith. In a fictional province of Mexico, religion has been banned, and the last priest is on the run. But he's not the stuff of which martyrs are made--he's a "whiskey priest" who has fathered a child. Now even his people despise him for his sins, and fear the danger he brings to their villages. Too afraid to just give himself up, half-hoping to get caught, the priest wanders from town to town, by chance just avoiding discovery. It's almost hard to see why the government searches for him so avidly.

Mysteriously Greene sets this pathetic character on the road to real holiness. The priest comes to see his past life as petty and complacent, and realizes how much he despised his parishoners and was driven by ambition. At the same time he struggles with his inability to repent of the great sin of fatherhood--against all reason he irrationally loves the dirty little girl he meets only once during his wanderings. But he comes to see God's image in every man, even the despicable character who picks him up on a trail through the forest, who the priest knows will betray him. And he repents of his true sin--selfishness, lack of love and compassion, lack of humility. Although he doesn't know it the priest is a martyr and a saint at the end--perhaps a real martyr and saint cannot by definition realize it. Greene's work is always challenging, and although I read this novel in college I don't think I really understood it at all. But there's a reason this is a masterpiece--it's a thought-provoking work from a true master.

The struggle of the "whiskey priest" so reflects the human struggle we all face. Since there are already many reviews, I'll sum up my thoughts with this from the whiskey priest that if he had only tried a little harder he could have been a saint. The book is the story of the events which help us to understand what he means.

This is really the story of our lives. This human struggle of faithfulness during great and small trials is so intriguing and we all face it in some way or other.

This was a beautiful novel about love, sacrifice, and redemption. As for this book's fine literary qualities, I can't say anything to improve upon what others have written. However, as a Catholic, I was particularly moved by the book's religious themes. I was impressed with Greene's use of the "Whisky Priest" to remind us that God does not use human standards in choosing the agents of his grace. As with Moses (who murdered an Egyptian), St. Peter (who denied Christ three times), and King David (who committed murder to satiate his lust), Greene's priest is a deeply flawed individual. Despite his shortcomings, however, the priest possesses a redeeming quality: an acute awareness of his own wretchedness. This humility before God, I believe, is what allows the priest to cling to his faith where many of his peers have fallen by the wayside. The priest does not presume to defy or doubt God when faced with adversity. Rather, he obediently maintains a "faith working through love"--even when it is mechanical and forced. In fact, it is obedient love for his fellow man that brings the novel to its climax. In the end, we find the sorrowful priest lamenting the fact that he will meet God empty-handed. However, unbeknownst to the priest, his obedience has made an eternal difference in the lives of others (as Greene deftly shows us when finally weaves tangential side-stories together in the denoument). Thus, while avoiding melodrama, Greene is able to convey a powerful Christian truth: In this life we may never realize how God's grace combined with our obedience has influenced the lives of others. This was a dark but ultimately inspiring book and I highly recommend it.

Graham Greene, writing The Power and the Glory, has a written a literary masterpiece with many themes, but one overall point..The Catholic Church is more than the sum of it's people.
Set in Mexico, about the 1930s, this story talks about the Church being outlawed by the state as a source of greed and oppression. The priests are given the options to marry or be shot. We pick up the story when there are two priests left in Mexico, as the others have all been shot or have fled the country. One priest, is a sad and lonely creature, eaten up with guilt over his choice to marry. He hates his state of life, hates his wife, hates the taunts of children, but mostly hates himself for capitulating to the marriage instead of being a saint for God. The other priest, and main character of the story, is the 'Whiskey priest'. The author gives him no name, but tells his story through his interactions with others.
The Whiskey priest is on the run through Mexico. He is a self-described bad priest, an alcoholic, and father to an illegitimate child. Yet, some amount of grace remains in him for he finds himself to be too much of a coward to turn himself in and be shot, which would effectively be the sin of suicide, and yet too good to turn his back on an ill person calling for last rites - even though it means missing his chance to escape the country and the policeman who hunts him.
The story is too rich and complex to describe completely. It's themes are the good people who do bad things, the intentions of people, and the power of God to turn evil to his good purposes. I strongly urge everyone to read this book. It is a slim book with very accessible writing, but the power of it's story will change how you think about the Church, people, and the nature of good and evil forever.

In a Mexican state, which has outlawed religion, an alcoholic priest -- perhaps the last of his number -- travels the countryside to perform religious rites, while the police are usually only hours behind. If they catch him they will kill him. This book, on a basic level, is about that cat-and-mouse game. But it is a far deeper, richer book than that simple plot. Within the plot lines and the characterizations lie depth and meaning surrounding the issues of love, duty, forgiveness -- the whole human panoply. I don't pretend to understand it all. I intend to read it again and perhaps, again, because I can feel the importance of it. Greene is a masterful writer and I don't disagree with those who say that this is the best book he has written and that it is one of the major books of the Twentieth Century.

The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene has earned every bit of its reputation as a Modern Classic. The setting of this book is 1930s Mexico in an era when a pseudo communist revolution is taking place and is pushing out the Catholic Church. After a period of time all of the Catholic priests in the area have been rounded up accept for one man who is known simply as the "Whisky Priest". This book deals with life, religion, government and poverty; however it is the whiskey priest's struggle with his own humanity and value system that has truly stuck with me since reading it. In a sense it is his humanity which both leads to his destruction and his immortality. I can almost guarantee that he will be one of the most memorable characters you have ever read. With quotes like, "a poet is the soul of his country..." How could it not be great??! I am definitely planning on reading more Graham Greene.
Recommended

This is one of Greene's "Catholic" books, and regarded by some as his best novel. The plot focuses on a Mexican priest, hunted by the law for practicing Catholicism in a state where Catholicism is now prohibited.

The priest is a "whiskey priest", searching as much for brandy as for God. He's caught in reflection on his own shortcomings as a priest, unworthy even of being hunted down for practicing his religion since he has, in his own evaluation, failed miserably.

He has fathered a child and left the child and mother. When he visits the village where they live, the law closes in on him, but the mother of his child protects him and hides his identity, adding to his unworthiness scorecard.

(SPOILER ALERT)

His "redemption" is martyrdom, which of course he doesn't believe he deserves. On the brink of freedom, he returns, knowing that he will be captured, and finally accepts the fate of martyrdom, providing the only tie from his inner unworthiness to the outer martyrdom he will achieve.

In comment to the other customer reviews, I do not think that Greene intended any of his books as Christian classics, or intended them to be champions of Christianity. On the contrary, it has been noted that his looks into religion come mainly through the religious conversion he undertook in order to marry his Catholic wife. This book carries strong echoes of this, as Greene creates a character of unique religious composites: a drunken priest, not always as charitable and good as one would expect. Greene investigates PERSONAL faith, not faith as spelled out in the bible, which makes it all the more interesting, and appealing to those of religious and non-religious backgrounds. As in The Honorary Consul, he subtly questions the notion of religion, but ultimately leaves it to the reader to understand what the priest's true beliefs are. It is a struggle and journey of a man who is a priest, and not a Christian classic. Greene undertakes an examination of one of the most f! requently discussed topics, as he does in his other books. Bolstered by an intriguing main character, he creates a stunning tale, but perhaps not as striking as The End of the Affair, in which Greene's love interest is torn away from him by religion.

In a nameless state in southern Mexico, a militantly atheistic lieutenant has declared war against religion. Prayer is outlawed, worshippers are incarcerated, churches have fallen into disuse, and priests are being hunted down and murdered. "The Power and the Glory" is the story of one of the remaining priests who is running for his life and fighting to survive in the hostile environment that was once his parish. There's a price on his head: The lieutenant knows he's out there and is gunning for him.
The priest is not given a name. He is a self-admitted bad priest who has an illegitimate daughter, likes to drink (hence he is called a "whisky priest"), and puts his own interests ahead of the needs of others. When the lieutenant's "Red Shirts" invade villages in which they think the priest has stayed and take hostages when the villagers withhold information on his whereabouts, the priest could give himself up to save these people, but his selfish pride refuses to allow him to suffer the humiliation of surrendering to the Red Shirts. Despite his transgressions, the poor people he encounters in the villages value his presence and expect him to carry out the duties of his office such as performing Mass and hearing confessions.
The priest is trying to escape to a neighboring "safe" state, and along the way he meets a symbolically serpentine two-toothed mestizo (half-caste Mexican) who suspects the priest's identity and is tempted to turn him in for the reward money. Greene plots this novel with a traditional conflict and resolution, so it's inevitable that the priest has a final confrontation with the lieutenant, in which each man eloquently defends his position.
There is a parallel between the events portrayed in this novel and the persecution of the early Christians by the ancient Romans, and therein lies a simple but powerful message: that freedom of religion is a basic human right that should extend beyond geographical and political boundaries.

Great fiction offers readers windows into the shortcomings of humanity and in this venture, Graham Greene stands as one of the 20th century's great exemplars. Yet of this profile author's work, The Power and the Glory stands out for its excellence.

A convert to Catholicism, Greene wrote a number of novels in which his faith played a central role. However, it is a testament to his insight that he saw religion not as a path to human perfection, but rather a way to understand and accept human frailty. The Power and the Glory follows an unnamed "Whiskey Priest," in a southern Mexican state following the revolution. Catholic practice is outlawed. Priests must either marry or face a firing squad. The protagonist, a drunkard and wallower in self pity, flees from the authorities, all the while musing about the absurdity that if they catch him he will likely be canonized a martyr.

The nemesis to this flawed priest, a patriotic zealous lieutenant who sees faith as an instrument of persecution, also stands out as a character both complex and compelling. To his great credit, Greene never offers pat resolutions or easy answers. Rather readers must face grim reality and understand that man's state remains one of perpetual imperfection.

Greene's novel is truly a wonderful read. The dynamic between pro/antagonist is gripping. That Greene can pull off so much tension and suspense in such a tired, dilapidated setting is an achievement in and of itself. Even as somebody who generally prefers traditional heroes, the psychology that Greene imbues his characters with is the stuff of greatness. Recommended reading for anyone looking for a solid novel on the shorter side.

Most Christian novelists aren't out to convert, not to the same extent that random lunatics on streetcorners are, but it's figures like Greene and Flannery O'Connor who have made the best argument, to me, for the validity of the religious life. It's best expressed in a work of art because it's so fragile and abstract. Which is not to say that 'The Power and the Glory' is some kind of one-track propoganda pamphlet; just the opposite. It depicts a complex reality in which the idea of God keeps re-emerging, as the only answer to the bizzare problems the characters are faced with; Greene's strength, and the strength of most great authors, is that they don't have to manipulate reality to get their characters to say what they want them to say. The vision of sickness and longing, ruin and folly; everything somehow points in one direction. I read that Greene claimed this novel to be 'written to a thesis,' and even though it's so much more complex than morality plays like Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, I see that.

Greene's novel is truly a wonderful read. The dynamic between pro/antagonist is gripping. That Greene can pull off so much tension and suspense in such a tired, dilapidated setting is an achievement in and of itself. Even as somebody who generally prefers traditional heroes, the psychology that Greene imbues his characters with is the stuff of greatness. Recommended reading for anyone looking for a solid novel on the shorter side.

Most Christian novelists aren't out to convert, not to the same extent that random lunatics on streetcorners are, but it's figures like Greene and Flannery O'Connor who have made the best argument, to me, for the validity of the religious life. It's best expressed in a work of art because it's so fragile and abstract. Which is not to say that 'The Power and the Glory' is some kind of one-track propoganda pamphlet; just the opposite. It depicts a complex reality in which the idea of God keeps re-emerging, as the only answer to the bizzare problems the characters are faced with; Greene's strength, and the strength of most great authors, is that they don't have to manipulate reality to get their characters to say what they want them to say. The vision of sickness and longing, ruin and folly; everything somehow points in one direction. I read that Greene claimed this novel to be 'written to a thesis,' and even though it's so much more complex than morality plays like Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, I see that.

A haunting story that I continue to consider. Greene tears back facades and causes us to look more plainly at good & evil hearts and consider our own. The effect is often a lot of gray areas. I can usually, like most people I suppose, identify with or "see myself" in the hero of the story. In this case, I can only wish I WAS more like the humble whisky priest. Unfortunately, I mostly see myself in the hypocrites, scoundrels, and cowards that slowly sap him. (Although we do get a revelation of a darker side as things become more comfortable and safe for him. Hmmm). I'm not Catholic, but that is not a block to deeply enjoying this work. Would that anyone, Catholic or not, could could live out this selfless and faithful lesson of love for God and brother. Short but profound. Recommended.

The "Power and the Glory" is arguably Graham Greene's finest book. The story takes place in central Mexico during the early 1930's as the Mexico's Communists try to rid the country of the Catholic Church. A bounty is on the head of the last remaining priest in the state, a nameless destitute drunk. A Federale lieutenant, whose sole mission is to put every priest in front of the firing squad, is on his trail.

The priest is pursued not only by the lieutenant but his inner demons; he doesn't believe he's martyr material nor is he inclined to become one. He is a sympathetic character but the Church he represents isn't. He is torn between survival and priestly responsibilities which lead to an inevitable conclusion.

The underlying irony that Greene points out is that neither Communism nor the Church treat the poor any differently, "institutions" receive the bread and the poor receive the crumbs, except the Church offers the "Hereafter". Although written in 1940, Greene's prose is a joy to read; you become absorbed in this book, are carried away and hate to see it end.

Having been stimulated into dusting off my Graham Greene section by the appearance in theaters of "The End of the Affair", I picked up "Power & Glory" for the first time in probably a decade or so. And learned once again how masterfully Greene can tell not just a story, but one with a lesson in it as well. In the re-reading I find Greene's story here to be, just like the first time, one which a part of me wants to put down at first--who wants to read about a drunken loser of a priest?--but another part insists that I keep going, following the rites and passages the priest (and the reader) keep. P&G allows us a glimpse at the beauty and awful power of redemption and punishment in a relationship with the divine. If one is not humble at the end, then one should start again.

Received by curmudgeonly disfavor, Catholicism is descending from heralded heights because of the representative army of priests who sully their authority by being uncommonly common. The lead character of this book could be considered no different.

Although the unnamed priest - whiskey priest (a term used for a "bad priest" as observed by all and acknowledged by the protagonist to be true ) - may not defile innocent boys whose parents entrust him for most everything, he does drink and debauch like a sailor and leaves his DNA behind in a village, maybe more than once.

As we learn the uncommonly common priest is really a commonly nice guy, we also learn that he is deemed an enemy of the state who must be killed after trial in absentia. Although the church may have trodden on many civilizations over hundreds of years, what was being perpetrated against the Catholic Church in the 1930's Mexico was perhaps worse. The church was being victimized by barbaric leaders who sought to call a frenzy among the illiterate masses by proclaiming a war against religious terror - and if the simple little people failed to cooperate the state begins to execute innocents to impose marshal law and fear of the same among the people. Keep those in fear in deeper fear, and they shall not arise.

As the story progresses, the unnamed priest follows his call to duty instead of seeking safety from the military which mercilessly hunts him. The cat and mouse game will have to end - the military is too large and savvy to succumb to a drunkard-priest. Like the man from whom his religion's book expounds upon in great admiration, he delivers himself onto his persecutors in exchange for his "duty." His Judas is a sickly career criminal (whose crimes include what today's priests are being prosecuted for) who is rewarded by the state. This Judas's life peaks upon his receipt of the reward money for "turning in" the harmless priest who imposes no physical harm upon his fellow man and is truly remorseful for his youthful sins.

This book touches upon Catholicism in a light reminiscent to that found in Willa Cather's Death Comes for the Archbishop and has horrific criminals south of the border which rival Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West All show how good, bad and ugly times were in Mexico at or just after the turn of the century. This book is worthy of classic reference and worthy of those books' company.

A difficult book to get into...slow and dark, with a rather blah main character, a whiskey priest on the run from the government. Greene displays command of his craft, writing wonderful and original metaphors. When the priest is thrown in the prison cell, the novel picks up and the character and humanity of the priest begins to shine through, engaging the reader (me) better. The ending also worked, except for the character of the dentist, which seemed rather superfluous.

The Power and the Glory is just wonderful. Yet it is wonderful in a subtle way, unlike any other book I have ever read. When Greene introduces you to the "Whisky Priest" - you are never told his name - he tells you nothing about him that you do not need to know right then, and then you learn the rest as the priest runs from the atheists with guns (i.e. Marxists) who have taken over the region of Mexico in which he lives. It is almost like being hypnotized - you don't realize it, but the more you read about this poor fellow you become engrossed in his life, you almost become him.

Perhaps the most charming thing about "the priest" - as he is almost ubiquitously referred to - is that he is a bad priest, and although he knows he hasn't lived up to his calling, he makes no pretense about being anything else, anything but a bad priest. He drinks alcohol too much and falters in so many ways (I'll save the details for reading the book). Yet while he never tries to defend his failure to live up to expectations, in the end he is, as Penguin's edition says on the back of the book, "nevertheless impelled toward his squalid Calvary as much by his own compassion for humanity as by the efforts of his pursuers."

Read this book. You will be mesmerized by it.

"The Power and the Glory" takes place in the 1930s in a Mexican province where the Catholic Church and its priests have been outlawed for eight years. Only one man, known only as the whisky priest, remains. He is constantly on the run from the police lieutenant who pursues him relentlessly. At its simplest, this is the story of that pursuit. But, in reality, there are layers upon layers of depth to this story. The priests who have refused to deny their calling, marry, and become ordinary citizens, have been put to death by the authorities and have become martyrs for their cause. The whisky priest sees himself as unworthy of such martyrdom (as certainly most martyrs do) because he views himself a coward, drunkard, and sinner who is unrepentant of his greatest sin, fathering an illegimate daughter that he loves above all else. At times, he rails against the people he serves, believing them to be the reason that his life is in danger, but clearly he loves these people and seeks to bring the sacraments to them for whatever small consolation they may provide for their lives. He is contrasted with Padre Jose who, in order to save his own life, conceded to the authorities, renounced his calling, married, and has become a mockery not only to others, but to himself. The lieutenant pursues the whisky priest out of a personal grudge against the Church, which he saw as a child as the oppressor that kept the common people down and subservient. He is a true believer in the revolution and, like the priest, genuinely loves the people. He can't understand why the people continue to turn to religion when he wants to offer them so much more in the here and now. If the revolution could actually deliver on those promises, the people might, indeed, support the revolutionaries, but the lieutenant apparently fails to see that the revolution has failed so far to deliver anything economically, emotionally, or spiritually to replace what solace the people were able to draw from the Church. Ironically, the two enemies, the priest and the lieutenant, are also the only two people who can truly understand one another.

While this story is as bleak as the landscape within which it is set, what redeems it from being unrelentingly depressing are the glimpses we see of how the human soul manages to find the necessary fragments of hope and consolation to allow us to keep living from day to day, sometimes from moment to moment. Whether the whisky priest finds the absolution he seeks is left to us to determine, although we devoutly hope he does because his quest is that of all human hearts.

Graham Greene wrote this book after a month-long visit to Mexico, which is also recounted in nonfiction form in his travel book, "The Lawless Roads." "The Power and the Glory" ranks among the top ten books I've read. The title could be applied to the writing as well. This book totally embodies what great literature is all about. It deserves to be considered a Classic.

Regardless of what your faith, this wonderfully written novel makes you think as well as tells you a great story. The whiskey priest is a controversial character -- as the other rviews here demonstrate-- but he is nonetheless on of the great characters of literature. This book is absolutely worth reading, if only so that you can judge for yourself.
For those who are interested in understanding more about what Greene rally meant in the whiskey priest's character, try reading his novel Monsignor Quixote, whose main character is a cross between Don Quixote and the whiskey priest.

The "theological thriller" is a category that sounds improbable, but then all great works of art are improbable. In 1940 Graham Greene published what is considered his masterwork "The Power and the Glory", set during Mexico's anti-clerical purges of the 1930's.

Hunted like a fox, the last of priest in a remote state in southern Mexico is the central character in this powerful Christian parable. The huntsman is a proper and correct police lieutenant who is beautifully described as a "small glass of God's love in a bucket of ditch-water." The lieutenant has replaced devotion to the church with duty to the state as his religion. His passion drives him to the point of near fanaticism.

As a religious parable the books is as bold as it is improbable. While we know that brave priests have been murdered for the cause they held dear, the self-described "whisky priest" is not one of them. The martyred priests are nameless abstracts who exist only on the periphery of the story. Flawed and miserable humans take center stage: the mocked Father Jose, the terrified villagers, the drunken and cruel political functionaries. In the midst of this human stain, is the whisky priest. He is a simple man, and as tragically flawed as the rest. An alcoholic coward, he has slipped in despair more than once. Yet convinced of his own damnation, he carries on with his priestly duties despite the hoof beats of the police behind him.

With the exhaustion of the hunted pressing down on him, the priest has abandoned the "innecessities" of church ritual but not his duty to the church. Even when he suspects that his sense of duty is fueled by self-importance rather than love of God.

Greene gathered material while covering the real purges of his travel book, "The Lawless Roads" (1938); this is one of the great books of the 20th century, written by one of its literary masters. The book was condemned by the Vatican for its focus on the misery of the human condition and soul as well as that of persecuted priest. It is no more anti-Catholic than saying that Catholics, priests and all, are no more or less human than anyone else.