Customer Reviews

Morte d'Urban (Image Books, D218)

5 star:		(13)
4 star:		(10)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

I discovered this book after reading the recent obituary on J.F. Powers. Now I'm recommending it to everyone. Father Urban is a priest who sounds more like a rotary member, a fund-raiser, a PR man. When the powers that be send him to the hinterlands, he bows to the inevitable. Other victories seem to turn on him at the same time. Hob-knobbing with the weathly, which at first seemed to benefit his order, turns into a nightmare in which he remembers his duty at just the last minute. This prose is so dryly humorous you must read it carefully to catch it all. You will become enchanted with Father Urban and sorry to leave him at the story's end. I wanted this story to go on and on.

I was stunned (and then just plain angry) when I discovered (too late) that Hardwick's "introduction" was little more than a synopisis of the novel's plot. Why do publishers insist on including these dopey intros anyway? By unveiling all the susrprises contained in the novel's plot before the novel begins, the publisher ruins an otherwise fine book for a generation of readers yet to discover it. And it is a great book, though I would have enjoyed it far more had I not, thanks to Ms. Hardwick, seen every plot twist coming from a mile away.

One of the best books I read in 2000. "Morte" takes apart the pre-Vatican II Catholic church and puts it back together, complete with a compelling hero. Father Urban, exiled to Garrison Keillor's prairie,takes his lumps and does the best with what he's dealt. And in two courageous acts late in the novel, he discovers, almost by accident, the meaning of Christianity and of his priesthood. It's hard to figure out quite where Powers stood on the Roman church, but he certainly creates a world where any believer can find delight and meaning. It's a great dynamic read.

The brilliance of this narrative is that it's hard to tell where J.F. Powers stands in his opinion of the Roman church. Our lead character, Father Urban, is a smooth operator, at once completely faithful and compellingly human. There's rich religious satire as he heads to a run-down retreat in Minnesota run by his order. He's a snob, but a lovable one. Then he has two wonderfully heroic moments,and you start to see him as a martyr. An extremely well-written novel, impossible to put down, especially if you're religious.

This unduly neglected book won the National Book Award in 1963. It is the story of Father Urban, a Catholic Priest in the little know religious order of the Clementines. It takes place in Chicago, where Father Urban is headquarted as the "star" and best known speaker in the Order. He is also something of a fund-raiser with a wealthy, arrogant benefactor named Billy. Father Urban is transferred to a remote town in Minnesota, Duserhaus, shortly after the novel begins as a result of a disagreement with the head of the Order.

This novel operates on many levels. It shows the tenacity of Father Urban in creating a role for himself in the community surrounding Dusterhaus after what was deemed to be his exile there. It is a funny, tightly-written story and the characterization, of Father Urban's colleagues, of the Catholic hierarchy, and of the townspeople and parishoners is acute. Most important it is a story of the difficulty of serving both God and Mammon and of the need and nature for compromise in the work of the Catholic Church in a pluralistic, materialistic, and essentially secular America. There are wonderful descriptions of scenery and people. I particularly enjoyed the discussions of train travel in the Midwest which recall an America vanished not so very long ago... The book features a thoughtful introduction by Elizabeth Hardwick who describes the book as a "most valuable and lasting American novel."

This book is for you if you are interested in books about the United States, about religious experience in the United States, or in unjustly neglected American classics.

If only each priest of the Clementine order would pay as much attention to the condition of their worshippers' bank accounts as he does to the status of their souls, then the organization's needless poverty and lowly status would vanish. That is the comic premise of "Morte D'Urban," which portrays the priests of a fictional order in the Midwest who are challenged by a man of the cloth via Madison Avenue: a priest who pays as much attention to public relations and material wealth as he does to the spiritual good of his Catholic flock.

Father Urban is the go-getter with high hopes for his order. A popular preacher--the type of priest with whom you can have a beer (or something stronger)--Urban is on the constant lookout for potential donors and is quite willing to overlook a little vice among his flock in exchange for higher congregational participation and the greater financial good of his organization. The problem, however, is that the Clementine headquarters in Chicago and its Father Provincial share one intractable quality: bureaucratic inertia. Urban's grand plans to secure his order's economic well-being, increase its visibility, and transform its old-fashioned torpor to a flashier modernity are stymied by his fellow priests' contentedness with their lowly standing.

For his efforts, Urban is soon sent packing to the Protestant backwaters of Minnesota, to a decrepit retreat house run by a penny-pinching and somewhat incompetent rector. Making the most of a bad situation, Urban applies his charm to the local Catholic population, to a new group of potential donors, and, eventually, to the refurbishment of the retreat itself, including the addition of a nine-hole golf course. As his goals become grander, however, his transgressions and indulgences multiply, and the result is a series of hilarious episodes that teach Urban that being a faithful Catholic and being an American materialist, more often than not, are difficult to reconcile.

Powers's humor takes many forms: dry wit, social satire, situation comedy, and even slapstick. The result is a brilliant morality tale describing the daily challenges that a 2000-year-old religious institution faces in a 200-year-old secular nation. "Morte D'Urban" is a loving portrait of Catholics and Americans and of the unintentional comedy created by those who try, in good faith, to be both.

"Morte D'Urban" belongs to a long list of unfairly neglected works of the last century. As the Amazon review notes, perhaps anonymity is inevitable for a book whose cast is comprised 75% of Catholic priests and brethren. The book's jacket describes "Morte D'Urban" as a comic masterpiece, which I feel does some disservice to both the reader and the book. The book *is* funny, yes. But it's funny in a very dry and very subtle (for the most part) and ... very Midwestern way. Though Powers does, on occasion, paint his characters with too broad a stroke, they are by no means caricatures. Urban is a wonderfully complex title character--simultaneously worldly and devout, well-meaning but sometimes weak, humble yet proud. And the events of the book, though they occasionally have a slapstick feel (I won't, like the book's Introduction, spoil anything for the reader), the plot is really a series of well-crafted scenes building up to the final epilogue. Poor Father Urban. One cannot help but rue his fate, even as one can see it coming down the pike.

I couldn't help but compare this book to the numerous others I've read which (supposedly) take as their theme religious hypocrisy--particularly Sinclair Lewis's "Elmer Gantry." This book is infinitely better than any I've read so far. Powers humanizes his characters--he reveals their many flaws without condemning them; he does not stack his deck against religion, but shows how difficult it is to be truly devout in a world such as ours (and this book was written in the 1950s!). Check it out and let's keep this book in print!

This book won the national book award in 1963 for fiction. Our hero Father Urban is a little quirky and self-centered; yet even with those faults it is hard not to sympathize with him. I approached this book with some regret. It was the last of Powers' works I would have the chance to read. So I took my time and slowly read chapter by chapter, savoring the book over a much longer period than I normally would. The book was both satisfying and a bit of a disappointment. It was satisfying in that I have now completed the published books of J. F. Powers. It was also sad because of this fact. It was a bit disappointing in that the story feels unfinished. Like a chapter was left out when it went to printing.

Some of the plot was inevitable, and predictable, but the characters you meet along the way make the book very engaging and entertaining. I am a post Vatican II baby. As such, I do not know the Latin Mass - have only read books, and seen films of what the church was like before that period. Powers is a master at creating characters, and characters that are believable. His priests, brothers, monsignors and even bishops are believable to anyone who has had serious interactions even with clergy of today. I know of a priest locally who could be an Urban walking off the page to take up ministry today.

Many segments of this book were previously published as short stories in a variety of sources. Powers was a master at the short story, but his creative genius was his ability to take those short stories and turn them into a convincing novel. He has done this with both his published novels - this book Morte D'Urban and Wheat That Springeth Green. Both books were nominated for the National Book Award and Urban won. That is the testament to Powers' power and prowess with the quill. It is also witness to his ability to transcend the short story, a genre that appears to be going by the wayside, and to compile books of great depth and insight. Modern author Chuck Palahniuk, the author of Fight Club, wanted to write a book of short stories, but his publisher, even with his popularity after Fight Club, would not allow him a book of short stories. Then Palauniuk wrote Haunted a collection of characters' personal stories told by a group of writers locked in a building. Powers achieves what Palahniuk does not in that his stories flow together seamlessly, where Palahniuk's are obviously individual stories.

This book is worth the read for anyone wanting a glimpse of insight into post World War II Catholicism, especially in the Midwest. But it is also a great study of people and why they do what they do - what drives them to achieve, their dreams and ultimately their failures and defeats. Unfortunately I have now read all of Powers' fiction. Fortunately the 2 books and 3 collections of short stories can be savored again and again. I can predict I have not finished with reading Powers, or Urban.

J. F. Powers is one of the great American novelists and short-story writers. He is little known because he intended to be that way. For many years, he kept to himself in an attic office at Saint John's University in Minnesota. That is where I met him. He had a way with telling people concisely what he thought about their writing. He would not be happy about mine in this review, I am sure. But nevertheless I feel compelled to say these few, brief sentences. Powers is an artist, and he crafts sentences, each sentence, with extreme care. There are no throwaway words or phrases. Every single word--every word, do you hear?--has a reason for its existence. That is why he wrote so little. And yet, master of his craft though he was, his stories read effortlessly. Because of his care, there is much to re-read in his books. The entire story of Father Urban shimmers with untold richness. The richness comes partly from Powers' familiarity with Minnesota and the mid-west. Partly from his familiarity with Catholic orders, particularly the Benedictines. Partly from his dry wit. But just like _Wheat That Springeth Green_ you will miss the forest for the trees if you see it as a simple comment on Catholicism. There is at work here layer after layer. Powers loved jazz. His books read like jazz, I think. You need to find the play, the rhythm. I believe that history will judge him differently than we have. We do not even know him yet. His novels are as sad as a Minnesota tundra in January with the Northern Lights overhead. In other words, not sad at all and full of possibility.

This book won the national book award in 1963 for fiction. Our hero Father Urban is a little quirky and self-centered; yet even with those faults it is hard not to sympathize with him. I approached this book with some regret. It was the last of Powers' works I would have the chance to read. So I took my time and slowly read chapter by chapter, savoring the book over a much longer period than I normally would. The book was both satisfying and a bit of a disappointment. It was satisfying in that I have now completed the published books of J. F. Powers. It was also sad because of this fact. It was a bit disappointing in that the story feels unfinished. Like a chapter was left out when it went to printing.

Some of the plot was inevitable, and predictable, but the characters you meet along the way make the book very engaging and entertaining. I am a post Vatican II baby. As such, I do not know the Latin Mass - have only read books, and seen films of what the church was like before that period. Powers is a master at creating characters, and characters that are believable. His priests, brothers, monsignors and even bishops are believable to anyone who has had serious interactions even with clergy of today. I know of a priest locally who could be an Urban walking off the page to take up ministry today.

Many segments of this book were previously published as short stories in a variety of sources. Powers was a master at the short story, but his creative genius was his ability to take those short stories and turn them into a convincing novel. He has done this with both his published novels - this book Morte D'Urban and Wheat That Springeth Green. Both books were nominated for the National Book Award and Urban won. That is the testament to Powers' power and prowess with the quill. It is also witness to his ability to transcend the short story, a genre that appears to be going by the wayside, and to compile books of great depth and insight. Modern author Chuck Palahniuk, the author of Fight Club, wanted to write a book of short stories, but his publisher, even with his popularity after Fight Club, would not allow him a book of short stories. Then Palauniuk wrote Haunted a collection of characters' personal stories told by a group of writers locked in a building. Powers achieves what Palahniuk does not in that his stories flow together seamlessly, where Palahniuk's are obviously individual stories.

This book is worth the read for anyone wanting a glimpse of insight into post World War II Catholicism, especially in the Midwest. But it is also a great study of people and why they do what they do - what drives them to achieve, their dreams and ultimately their failures and defeats. Unfortunately I have now read all of Powers' fiction. Fortunately the 2 books and 3 collections of short stories can be savored again and again. I can predict I have not finished with reading Powers, or Urban.