Graham Greene, y’all. The man is such a brilliant writer.
I want to share one more passage with you before I wrap this book up soon and move on to the next one. This passage comes just after a scene where one of the main characters, Scobie, has committed his first act of infidelity.
In the future that was where the sadness lay. Was it the butterfly that died in the act of love? But human beings were condemned to consequences. The responsibility as well as the guilt was his–he was not a Bagster: he knew what he was about. He had sworn to preserve Louise’s happiness, and now he had accepted another contradictory responsibility. He felt tired by all the lies he would sometime have to tell: he felt the wounds of those victims who had not yet bled. Lying back on the pillow he stared sleeplessly out towards the gray early morning tide. Somewhere on the face of those obscure waters moved the sense of yet another wrong and another victim, not Louise, not Helen. Away in the town the cocks began to crow for the false dawn.
Wow. How about that last line?
This is a really good novel, guys. It’s growing on me. Greene is such a visual and emotional writer. Every word has a purpose. The lines above about the future victims really struck me. Scobee had crossed a line and he knew he would never go back.
Great book. Review next week.
