
Thomas Jones is one of the LRB’s contributing editors.
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RELATED CATEGORIES
Literature and literary criticism, Fiction, Film and television, Film, Catholicism, Greene, Graham, Biography and memoirs, Biography, World War II, 1900-1999, Europe, Western Europe, UK, England
Vol. 22 No. 7 · 30 March 2000
pages 32-34 | 4295 words

Speaking British
Thomas Jones
- The Third Woman by William Cash
Little, Brown, 318 pp, £14.99, February 2000, ISBN 0 316 85405 0
- Greene on Capri: A Memoir by Shirley Hazzard
Virago, 149 pp, £12.99, January 2000, ISBN 1 86049 799 3
Graham Greene converted to Catholicism in 1926, after coming down from Oxford, allegedly on ‘intellectual’ grounds, though it also conveniently meant he was eligible to marry Vivien Dayrell-Browning, whom he had met as an undergraduate when she was working in Blackwell’s bookshop. His adoptive faith didn’t begin to manifest itself very strongly in his writings, however, for another dozen years. In 1938, after Brighton Rock was published, Greene went to Mexico as a journalist to report on the religious persecution there, an experience out of which came both The Lawless Roads (1939) and The Power and the Glory (1940). It was also at this time that he began his relationship with Dorothy Glover. Faith and sex are inextricable in Greene’s work – the whisky priest in The Power and the Glory is a father in more sense than one; Scobie in The Heart of the Matter (1948) is driven to suicide by his faith and his unwillingness to repent of his adultery – but the entanglement is knottiest in The End of the Affair (1951).
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Letters
Vol. 22 No. 9 · 27 April 2000
From Norman Cantor
If your readers follow Thomas Jones, they will miss a very good film in Neil Jordan's The End of the Affair (LRB, 30 March). Among its qualities was the uncanny way in which Jordan captured the peculiar atmosphere of London after the war: the poverty, sourness, mixed with peculiar religious and political idealism. Julianne Moore was to me more convincing than the character in Greene's novel: that combination of frostiness, formality, dependency and sexual passion that so characterised upper-middle-class British women of her generation. That in the film London seemed to be perpetually raining seemed entirely appropriate. I lived in London for ten months in 1954-55 and I was faced each morning as I headed to the British Museum Library with the question: should I wear a raincoat or will an umbrella do? If you are looking for someone to write film reviews for the LRB I will do it for free.
Norman Cantor
Hollywood, Florida