Brideshead Revisited by Eveyln Waugh

Throw away your image of a reading group meeting on soft sofas and comfortable surroundings, sipping Frascati and nibbling twiglets. Picture instead a stark conference room, (albeit generously provided by British Energy) where this particular Group meet to discuss the book of the month over a trusty sandwich and a cup of tea.

As you will judge from the reviews below, Brideshead Revisited was a book which people either loved or detested. Whereas in most discussions the Group tends to move toward a safe, middle ground consensus on the books we have read this was not the case with Brideshead Revisited. People had either read it and enjoyed it, read it and not enjoyed it, or read the first chapter and given up. One hour of discussion did little to change peoples views. The group was split such that the average mark we gave the book was six out of ten.

So did the book deserve its position amongst the top 100? Clearly this jury is still out on that one, and there are other books that we have read and enjoyed more that are not on the list. We can only conjecture as to why this may be. Personally I believe that Brideshead’s ranking is due more to people’s memories of the television programme than it is to the book itself, or put another way, the quiff is mightier than the word. 

Our recommendation is read it, you may find you enjoy the insight and the humour. Alternatively you may dislike Waugh’s condensing style, but we don’t predict you will be bored…….

In the Group we read the books at our leisure and then come together at work to discuss the book of the month. As a number of members of the Group are external to the site, it is not unusual for written reviews to be provided. For Brideshead all the Group were encouraged to commit their feelings to paper. So lets now look at what we thought of it as individuals:  
 
I enjoyed 'Brideshead' and found it absorbing in spite of having a couple of other books 'on the go' at the same time.  It's not 'unputdownable', but then I think it's better than that.  It left me wanting time to ponder some issues it raised, but of course didn't answer: how is it that we are so shaped by our background and childhood experiences?  Is it possible to escape?  Or is it foolish or destructive to want to?  Is there something about 'religious' or specifically 'Catholic' upbringing that is particularly inescapable?  Was even Charles being drawn into some sort of faith in the end when he might easily have accused religion of having destroyed what he held most precious?  How can children from the same abnormal family (perhaps every family is abnormal) grow up so different in many ways, yet have an indefinable common bond that makes the rest of the world always 'outside'?  Am I talking a load of rubbish?

I like the 'observer' style where the author takes a somewhat detached view and records the behaviour around him without taking the initiative (although Charles was not completely without initiative).  Perhaps I am more an 'observer' than an 'actor' myself.  Are all book lovers like this?  The different array of characters are served up for us in delicious detail without asking why things are as they are.  The house is as much a character as the people - an artifact of human design, yet developing over the generations, adapting and maturing.  Nanny is a wonderful icon of stability throughout all the self destructive activities of the family, yet even she is finally fading as the new world order breaks through into the hidden valley of Brideshead.  Charles' socially masterful wife, whom he first mentions almost in passing without even giving her name, and seems to have been almost irrelevant to him: how could he have been so obsessed with the Marchmains that he could not even bring himself to see his own daughter?

I was frequently struck by an evocative phrase such as: "we took up again the life that seemed to be shrinking in the cold air" (p124), "the secret ... spread ... until, like ripples at last breaking on the mud-verge, there were hints of it in the Press" (p182).  And in just a few phases of conversation, the essence of a character seems to be captured.

I am left with the impression that there is much more in the story than I have taken in with a single reading, and I would like to revisit it too.  I have not yet seen the TV/film version, but I will look out for it.  I would be interested in reading other books by the same author.  What did I dislike about it?  Actually nothing specific springs to mind, yet I do not feel it is 'perfect' in any sense.  It is not a 'feel good' book, it is even somewhat depressing, but it is not a waste of time.

Thoroughly enjoyed the book except for the end which has to be some kind of black humour (humour I don't usually find funny). The idea of Lord Brideshead crossing himself after everything that had gone before, just left me gasping. That aside the book had humour, people totally screwed up by their faith and wrapped up in themselves to the point of self destruction. The book would put anyone off who was considering Catholicism, where was the loving God who takes care of us and gives us strength, the characters had obviously missed that one, they had to suffer. It gave us an insight to a life style long since gone. A life where the characters appear to have everything, but still manage to have such miserable lives, it made me feel quite comfortable with my lot! I loved the humour particularly when Charles and his friends are stopped by the police after the car incident and also the chap who has the session with priest prior to getting married, where he says yes to everything solely so he can be confirmed a catholic. Overall a really good read without being particularly riveting. Well written and captures the atmosphere of the time convincingly, to make it believable.

I generally found it a nice easy read, I didn't have to struggle to get through the pages as I have with some of our books earlier this year.  It was well written and well put together, never once did I read a sentence that didn't feel just right.  But on the other hand I didn't get a lot from it. The story was of a world that I found unfamiliar and unsympathetic.  I didn't like the main characters much and they probably wouldn't have liked me - in fact they probably wouldn't have noticed me.  My big disappointment though was that there was absolutely nothing to look forward to, no mystery, no wonder, and no expectation.   The timeline was one long look backwards.  For instance when Charles et al were on the ship bound for England I had no thoughts of what will happen when they got there.  And neither did they, which is probably what the story was about anyway - a people who drifted through life with no plans, no ambitions and only trivialities to worry about.  Was I supposed to care about alcoholic Sebastian?

I really enjoyed most of the book, but by the end felt slightly irritated and let down. The irritation was generated mainly by the way religion was used to draw the strands of the story to a close and to allow the author to make some kind of point about Roman Catholicism.

The writing is excellent –it was a pleasure to read. Waugh can be very funny too. The image of Anthony Blanche declaiming ‘The Waste Land’ from a balcony through a megaphone got me laughing, as did the way Charles’s father played out the fantasy that Jorkins, the dinner guest, was American…..and lots more. There weren’t many (any?) likeable characters in the book, but that’s how it is. They were all self-destructive, self-pitying, selfish and largely their own worst enemies. They were well drawn though, and believable (I’ve met people a bit like most of them). The structure of the novel was good too.

It’s just Waugh’s presentation of religion that I hated so much. I actually empathise with the basic theme that the wealth, talent, privilege, romance and so on can turn out to be unsatisfying and empty when valued for themselves, and that people are drawn to strange and unexpected places and situations by a God who seeks them out. But Waugh’s God is such a terrible phoney fraud, characterised by superstition, upper-class Englishness and self satisfaction. The climax, which occurs when Lord Brideshead, after a lifetime of living as an atheistic, unspeakable selfish pig, twiddles his fingers during the Last Rites and apparently receives a very superior kind of salvation, makes me want to hurl the book across the room. Such a scene probably says lots about the RC convert Waugh, who lived in real life remarkably like Brideshead. So my main objections are really personal, and shouldn’t stand in the way of recognising this as a good (if not great) work of literature.

Initially, I personally found this book interesting and endearing. However, with the surfeit of detail and lack of hard story line this interest quickly turned to tedium / boredom. At this stage, I started to find the book to be a chore to read, and only finished it because of the need to produce review comment.
The amount of detail in the book was overbearing, and the main theme ('social interaction') is not a subject of particular interest to me. Having said this, I found the characterisation particularly good and realistic. How could it not be, with so much text being devoted to the subject. The descriptions of the various locations were engaging, as was the atmosphere of the book, set in the upper class pre-WW2 era. Overall, the book did not give me the 'feel-good factor', quite the reverse; I think it has probably had a depressive effect.

The Times thought this book “Lush and evocative…the one Waugh which best expresses at once the profundity of change and the indomitable endurance of the human spirit”.  Profound words – it would take me a fortnight to come up with a review like that – but I wonder, were we reading the same book? I feel like I’m looking through the other end of a telescope here at an alien world with which I have no common frame of reference and sadly, no sympathy.

I’m not sure for whom I should be rooting in this book. Most definitely not the system – on this the author and I can agree – but I think I’m supposed  to feel a bit of sly sympathy for Charles and Julia; storm tossed lovers on a sea of social inadequacy. But it’s hard when their dialogue is completely impenetrable and their air of smug satisfaction strangles any empathy. We are left in no doubt to their superiority; superiority to Charles’ children, to Celia, to Rex and in the end to each other.