merely for its own sake. It is ordered to something else. Silence is the mother of speech. A lifetime of silence is ordered to an ultimate declaration, which can be put into words, a declaration of all we have lived for.
You know when you tell people about your travel plans, and they say, "Oh, once you get there, you'll never want to leave"? That's the way it is with Graham Greene's novels.
The first time I went to Greeneland, I didn't particularly want to go back. The occasion was The End of the Affair, a few years back (I was told it was a suitable followup to Brideshead Revisited), and frankly I wasn't too impressed. I liked the story but the writing not so much. But then I started up again this past summer with Orient Express, which just might be Greene's most carefully crafted novel. After that, why leave?
I could write for paragraphs about Graham Greene, but this is only a blog post. So I'll pick just one thing out of many that I love about his books . . . every single one is different. It's funny because he worries over the same themes over and over and over again, and yet you can't ever predict how a story is going to end. The Man Within, one of his …