PERSPECTIVES Graham Greene This winter, Graham Greene's Ways of Escape, the long-awaited sequel to his first memoir, A Sort of Life (1971) will be published in New York. In the new book, the British novelist assembles a pastiche of recollections of his adventures around the world dur- ing the past 50 years-exploits that resulted in such vivid novels as The Power and the Glory, The Heart of the Matter, The Quiet American, and Our Man in Havana. Yet Greene has always brought a special dimension of faith to his novels. Here critic Frank McConnell reassesses Greene's penchant for "action" and "belief"-his long prolific career, his devotion to Catholicism and socialism, and his affinity with the movies. Selections from Greene's own writings follow. by Frank D. McConnell Imagine a not-quite young, not-quite happy man with a te- dious and/or dangerous job in a seedy, urban or colonial, locale. Now, imagine that something happens to force him to be- tray whatever is dearest to him-a loved one, an ideal, a creed. In the aftermath of his faithlessness, he comes to discover pre- cisely how dear was the person or thing he betrayed. In the corrosive admission of his failure, he learns, if he is lucky, to re- build his broken image of the world and to find his place in it. Now add scenes of grotesque violence and grim comedy, in- cidental characters (tawdry, sinister, and dotty), and a limpid prose style. You have, of course, conjured up any of the 23 novels of Graham Greene. You have also glimpsed the spirit behind one of the most paradoxical and brilliant storytellers of this century. Greene was born in 1904 and published his latest novel, Doctor Fischer of Geneva, or The Bomb Party, in 1980. Although he confided to an interviewer that Dr. Fischer was so short (156 pages) because, at age 76, one does not want to begin lengthy The Wilson QuarterlyIWinter 1981 168 PERSPECTIVES: GRAHAM GREENE Greene, to his irritation, has often been labeled a "Catholic" novelist. When the Vatican once (unsuccessfully) tried to persuade him to suppress The Power and the Glory, another so-called Catholic novelist and a goodfriend- Evelyn Waugh-came to his support. Drawing by David Levins. Reprinted by inofthe New York Review of Books. @ 1969 NYREV,Inc. projects, he shows no signs of tiring. Indeed, a restless, nervous creativity has characterized all his novels, short stories, plays, travel writings, and political essays. In the first installment of his autobiography, A Sort ofLife (1971), he says that he became a writer because it was the only profession that alleviated the great disease of existence-boredom. There may be some self-deprecation in that statement. A man who calls his a "sort of" life is, whatever else, not vain. And Greene is, in fact, notoriously shy, even reclusive. Boredom is not a passive state, however, but a frantically energetic one: the fluttering of the mind desperately trying to escape the cage of an impoverished existence. And the impov- erished, the seedy, the cheapened are the central contours of the Greene landscape, just as the bored, the failures, and the betray- ers are his permanent heroes. But this is the first of many contradictions in Greene's work. He may concentrate exclusively, obsessively, on the dreariness and sadness of modern life. But what emerges from his tales is not blank despair (though he can come close to that) or advo- cacy of social revolution (though he has always been a commit- ted leftist). What materializes, rather, is a vision of the ways that even society's disorder, urban sprawl, and tackiness can be- The Wilson QuarterlyIWinter 1981 169 PERSPECTIVES: GRAHAM GREENE come the stuff of true moral perceptions, of imagination and charity. In other words, if for Greene the act of writing wards off tedium-is, literally, a salvation from boredom-his stories play out the theme in a major key. For they are about, finally, the Re- demption of the Bored. The son of the headmaster of Berkhamsted School in rural Hertfordshire, Greene claims to have known the curse of bore- dom from an early age. As a student at his father's school, where, he says, he felt like a "quisling," he made several at- tempts to take his own life. In 1920, after he tried running away, he was sent to London to undergo psychoanalysis. Six months later he was back home and still boredÑUfixedlike a negative in a chemical bath." He discovered a forgotten revolver belong- ing to his brother and proceeded to play frequent games of Russian roulette. Later (1922-25) at Balliol College, Oxford, he recalls, he was almost continually drunk-another desperate at- tempt to escape. Removing the Cliches Greene's first jobs-as an unpaid apprentice reporter on the Nottingham Journal (he drew an allowance from his father) and then as sub-editor on the London Times (1926-30)-supplied val- uable experience for a would-be fiction writer. He later re- created middle-class Nottingham's "Dickensian atmosphere" in This Gun for Hire (1936). And, in retrospect, his stint on the Times was instructive. "I can think of no better career for a young novelist," he writes in A Sort of Life, "than to be for some years a sub-editor on a rather conservative newspaper." Greene spent his time "removing the cliches of reporters . com- pressing a story to the minimum length possible without ruin- ing its effects." As for his early personal relationships, Greene has dis- appointed the prurient. In 1927, he married Vivien Dayrell- Browning, a Roman Catholic, and converted to her religion. The couple had two children, a boy and a girl, before the marriage Frank D. McConnell, 38, a former Wilson Center Fellow, is professor of English at Northwestern University. A native of Louisville, Ky., he received a B.A. from the University of Notre Dame (1964) and a Ph.D. from Yale (1968).Among his books are Storytelling and Mythmaking: Images from Film and Literature (1979) and The Science Fiction of H. G. Wells (forthcoming). Ways of Escape, copyright @ 1980 by Graham Greene, is published by Simon & Schuster. The Wilson QuarterlyWinter 1981 170 PERSPECTIVES: GRAHAM GREENE broke up during the 1930s. In his new autobiography, Ways of Escape, Greene retains his reticence regarding his family, fastid- iously observing what he calls "the 'copyright' of others' lives." Greene's first novel, The Man Within (1929), was a modest commercial success, selling 8,000 copies. Its royalties-and ad- vances for future books-provided him with enough money to live, he thought, for three years. He happily quit the Times. The move was premature. His next two novels-The Name of Action (1930) and Ru- mour of Nightfall (1931)-were failures.* The latter sold only 1,200 copies, and the Times refused to rehire him. Orient Express (1932) was a moderate success, but It's a Bat- tlefield (1934) and England Made Me (1935) met with public in- difference. Always restless, Greene, with a £35 advance from his publisher, and his 23-year-old cousin Barbara, in 1935, trekked through the jungle of Liberia. The result was Journey Without Maps (1936). Greene next received an advance for a book on the persecution of the Catholic Church in Mexico during the turmoils of the 1930s (Another Mexico, 1939). He could now live by his writing. In 1941, during World War 11, he joined the British Secret Service (MI-6) and ran a one-man intelligence outpost in Free- town, Sierra Leone. Two years later, he returned to London and worked in MI-6's subsection for counterespionage in the Iberian peninsula. Kim Philby, the famous Russian KGB "mole," was in charge of that subsection, and Greene has never disclaimed his wartime friendship with the British defector. Greene is philo- sophical about the job of a spy: "There is a bit of the schoolmas- ter in an Intelligence officer: he imbibes information at second hand and passes it on too often as gospel truth." Predicting Trouble Since World War 11, as his books have become more popu- lar, Greene has continued his globe-trotting unabated-Malaya, Vietnam, Kenya, Poland, Cuba, the Congo, Argentina, often as a well-paid free-lance magazine journalist. And he has had an uncanny nose for trouble. A friend, actor Alec Guinness, once re- marked that if he heard that Greene had visited a place, he himself made plans to stay away from it for one or two years- knowing an upheaval was coming. Greene has been a critic of the French and then the U.S. mis- Greene has subsequently renounced both of these books, which, he says, "are of a badness beyond the power of criticism properly to evoke." The Wilson Quarterly /Winter 1981 171 PERSPECTIVES: GRAHAM GREENE ENCRUSTED WITH CHARACTERS With a novel, which takes perhaps years to write, the author is not the same man at the end of the book as he was at the beginning. It is not only that his characters have developed-he has developed with them and this nearly always gives a sense of roughness to the work: a novel can seldom have the sense of perfection which you find in Chekhov's story, "Lady with the Lapdog." It is the consciousness of that failure which makes the revision of the novel seem endless-the author is trying in vain to adapt the story to his changed personality, as though it were something he had begun in childhood and was fin- ishing now in old age.