I've only ever read one Graham Greene story in the linear fashion, a first person sardonic account of White Liberal Writer in Haiti, and remain frustrated; his texts have not been readily digitized, and I am not keen on paying 10 to 30 dollars to get used texts as old as I was during my newborn combat with death in incubation. Deborah Kerr brought her gifts to bear in the 55 The End of the Affair, but Van Johnson is an unpleasant as a whiny and self-righteous author, and I'd rather at the novels themselves, without being able to analyze much about Greene's struggle with conscience and promiscuous satisfaction. Greene pits Catholicism in real world contexts without the special effects of the Madonna appearing as a strobe light effect to take persecuted saints to heaven, and climaxes his plots with credible sacrifices which do not in all circumstances bring grace.
Does it seem I am persuading myself back to my faith?
I am going to be gone soon, and merciless ignorantly cruel fecal bitches like Deborah Horne will win, and destroy my dignity,unless my acumen outwits such fiends, so no, I am simply a would be executioner looking at the moral struggles of a man whose realism about authority precluded the zealotry of Osama bin Laden. How's that for a brief checking in reflection? I'm about to engage in a mammoth struggle with the service sector in this city which I know so intimately, and I'll probably drop dead roaring at local bigwigs who aren't used to being cut down to size, but in between then, I can find Greene at my branch, after Francis returns to the Vatican. I am not sure whether I'm attending the service.
No comments:
Post a Comment