Customer Reviews

Fludd: A Novel

5 star:		(11)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(3)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

This extraordinary work in her earlier, lighter style is more accessible than "A Change of Climate." Its eponynous character is a priest -- or is he? Sent to assist a priest in a northern English parish, Fludd engages the Catholic community in unusual ways. The author's signature clarity and dark humor are consistently evident, both in the limning of parish personalities and in the ways in which Fludd brings about his transformations. There is an episode that is perhaps the closest Mantel has ever come to a sex scene, handled with utter delicacy. "Fludd" is a bravura performance and resoundingly satisfying, and it's a pity it has never been released on this side of the pond.

The doleful, English, mill town of Fetherhoughton is the stage for this short, delightful novel, FLUDD, by Hilary Mantel. There are four principal players. Father Angwin, pastor of the Roman Catholic church of St. Thomas Aquinas, has lost his belief in God's existence, but determinedly continues to serve his flock while suffering the oversight of his idiot diocesan bishop. Miss Dempsey, his spinster housekeeper, lives in terror of a small wart above her upper lip, thinking it a portent of cancer. Sister Philomena, a nun teaching in the parish school, is an Irish girl forced by her family into the convent, where she endures the petty tyranny of its Mother Superior. Then there's FLUDD, a curate ostensibly sent by the obnoxious bishop to help Angwin modernize his pastoral approach. Or is he? Once Fludd is in residence, people begin to ... transform.

The engaging aspect of this story is that the reader never understands the nature of the being called Fludd, a mystery also grazing Angwin's perception during his first meal with Fludd, when the former observed:

"Whenever (he) looked up at (Fludd), it seemed that his whiskey glass was raised to his lips, but the level of what was in it did not seem to go down; and yet from time to time the young man reached out for the bottle, and topped himself up. It had been the same with their late dinner, there were three sausages on Father Fludd's plate, and he was always cutting into one or other, and spearing a bit on his fork; he was always chewing in an unobtrusive, polite way, with his mouth shut tight. And yet there were always three sausages on his plate, until at last, quite suddenly, there were none."

Is Fludd a man, or something ... else. He can tell fortunes by looking at the palm of one's hand. He alludes to having once been the practitioner of another profession that sounds a lot like alchemy. Odd talents for a Catholic priest. In any case, by the satisfying end of the tale, you, the reader, is left to decide for yourself - if you can.

This is a most unusual story, and I hardly know how to
describe what I've read. It reminds me of so many
British films that I've seen over the years where you
never know exactly what's going on, but you like it
anyway.

In FLUDD we're presented with an obscure town in England
called Fetherhoughton. This is not your lovely little
English village where the characters of Rosamund Pilcher
live. No, this seems to be a dark and depressing place
which is surrounded by moors. Within this town there is
a church located next to a convent of nuns. The parish
priest, Father Angwin is a seemingly kind man who has a
problem with faith: he has lost his. His very
disagreeable Bishop is always after Father Angwin to
make changes and modernize his church. In fact,
the Bishop makes some ridiculous demands which the
parish fulfills and then insinuates that Father Angwin
needs assistance. Enter Father Fludd who apparently is
the new curate and has come to rescue the church and
the people of Fetherhoughton.

Father Angwin, his housekeeper, Agnes Dempsey, and the
young Irish nun, Sister Philomena all need help in one way
or other. Then, there is the very sinister Judd McEvoy
who runs the town's tobacco shop. He appears to cast a
dark cloud over everything. Father Fludd definitely
makes a difference, but who is he and where does he
come from? None of the other characters seem able
to describe the mysterious Fludd.

A story unlike any other. An excellent read!

Hilary Mantel has written a small, delightful little book in the novel, Fludd. The title character, Fludd, arrives in the village of Fetherhoughton and , both subtly and drastically, changes things at a crucial time for the local priest, Father Angwin, and the Catholic Church. This is background for a wonderfully eccentric group of characters that charm their way through the book. I initially picked up the book because of an interest in the historical Robert Fludd, the alchemist, but discovered that it was the quirky denizens of this village that captured my heart and were the driving force behind the book.

Do you ever get that feeling when reading a book that you're a part of something special and very important, but you aren't entirely sure that you can grasp the entirety of what the author is presenting to you? That is the feeling I had with Fludd. It didn't seem as though there was much plot to the book until the very end, and then all at once I was finished and was left feeling as though I had read everything closely but had somehow missed The Big Picture.

The book is about religion and faith and the positive and negative effects the two can have on people. But there is so much more to it. Symbolism, I might say, up the wazoo. There are statues and nuns and obscure questions of faith ("If one uses dripping to cook on a Friday during Lent, is that considered eating meat?"). A never-ending carafe of whiskey. A priest who claims disbelief in God to Fludd, but who then says that the devil lives in Netherhoughton. (Can you believe in the devil but not in God? Is that not depressing?) And then, the biggest enigma of them all, there is Fludd.

He arrives and miracles happen. No one can really describe what his face looks like. He appears to finish the food on his plate, but no one ever sees him put food in his mouth. He doesn't seem to do much of anything, but he comes and he goes and things are different. His name, at the least, suggests a great deal about him.

I realize that I haven't so much reviewed this book as made oblique references to how much it has remained in my mind after I finished reading it. Isn't that a stellar review in and of itself? I should think most authors want readers to continue chewing over their stories after reading the last word. I am still chewing (much as Fludd spent much of the book chewing without seeming to eat anything). But I think I know enough about my reaction to recommend the book- it is a misleading slim volume, but it will stay with you after you're done.

Fludd was my first Hilary Mantel book, and I'm thrilled there are a half-dozen or so for me to read. I hope they're equally funny and creative. Mantel offers a vivid portrait of the dismal little town of Fetherhoughton, its spiritually troubled residents and the mysterious stranger who shakes things up for everyone. Although the scope of the story is small, I was completely caught up in the world of the atheist Father Angwin, the confused young Sister Philomena and, of course, the enigmatic Fludd. As an added bonus, the book is occasionally laugh-out-loud funny.

Did you ever look at a priest during mass and wonder if he believes it all? Here is a wonderful old priest who does not, and a story of how he handles that, a "reformer" bishop, a mysterious curate, a type-A housekeeper, and the usual collection of nuns. I honestly could not put the book down, and I recommend it highly to all my friends.

This book starts out like gang-busters. It's wicked, it's witty, it's nasty... but about halfway in it starts meandering and ultimately gets lost. I wish the author had kept her sharp tongue.. instead she gets fuzzy and a bit obscure. The writing starts out crisp and ends up blunted, at best. Too bad, because the early parts of the book are wonderful.

Hilary Mantel has a remarkable sense for the rhythm and shape of words. I imagine that reading anything she wrote would give the sensory pleasures of a unique and artistic voice. This little book does give that but it is not compelling. It promises to be, but then none of the characters seem to develop in a way that does much to progress the story. Later books such as A Place of Greater Safety and Wolf Hall are so stirring and satisfying that one hopes Ms. Mantel is just getting going. Generally I'd say authors create a great first or second book and then lose the touch, but in some cases (such as Philip Roth I think) they may grow even as they age. I can imagine Mantel might be one of those writers. I certainly hope so as I look forward to more from her.

I like this book much better than the better-known "The Giant, O'Brien." It's a well-written fable in the whimsical, Muriel Spark tradition. It has flashes - though only a few - of real profundity. I especially like the parts featuring the tobacconist, and I think the author does a wise thing when she makes him A Demon, instead of THE Demon. She isn't Muriel Spark (who is?), but this is a spirited effort in that direction.