J. F. PowersReseñas

This is a gentle, slow-moving story of a bon vivant Catholic priest in mid-50s (?) midwest America, and the foibles and flaws of his colleagues in the backwaters of the Order of St Clementine as they try to manage their affairs. The humour is rather dry and indirect, to the point of obscurity at times, and the story drags in places. Some characters seem important for awhile, then disappear without another word. It's uneven and the ending is somehow out of character with the rest and weakly anti-climactic.

I have read both of JF Powers' novels and all (I think) of his short stories. In fact I remember seeing his first book of stories, PRINCE OF DARKNESS, in a paperback rack in the vestibule of our Catholic church when I was a boy back the 1950s. I read MORTE D'URBAN in college in the late sixties and have read it a few more times since then. I was very pleased to see all of his work back in print from NYRB Press a few years back, and even purchased those editions of WHEAT THAT SPRINGETH GREEN and COLLECTED STORIES - and read them again. So I think its safe to say I am a longtime fan.

Since Powers only published five books, I was really looking forward to finally reading SUITABLE ACCOMMODATIONS, AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL STORY OF FAMILY LIFE: THE LETTERS OF J.F. POWERS, 1942-1963 (2013), collected and edited by his daughter, Katherine A. Powers (named, incidentally, for author Katherine Ann Porter). Sadly, I found it to be a disappointment, and almost wish I hadn't read it. Some of the early letters were written from prison. Powers was incarcerated for more than a year during the war for ignoring his draft notice after his bid for conscientious objector status was refused. Upon his parole, he was forced to work as a hospital orderly for a time.

Powers' later letters do display his determination to earn a living by his writing, a goal he never quite properly achieved, living on the edge of poverty and taking loans and charity from his in-laws and friends throughout his life. I felt sorry for his long-suffering wife, Betty, who bore most of the burdens of their ever-expanding family (five children) and multiple moves into shoddy rentals around Minnesota as well as overseas to Ireland and back (at least twice). What I found most annoying in the letters was ample evidence of what seemed to be laziness, entitlement, and a lack of discipline about his writing as well as a steady stream of complaining, whining even, about his life. And even some begging, wheedling letters to his clergy friends, asking for "loans" he would never repay. And all this in spite of the fact that he was offered multiple decent-paying jobs at various colleges and universities, which he turned down.

I kept reading the letters because I assumed things would change for the better for Powers and his family when MORTE D'URBAN won the NBA in 1963. Nope. The thousand dollar prize didn't go far for the financially strapped family of seven, and Powers' lack of discipline in his craft failed to capitalize on his newfound "fame."

Powers lived until 1999, but only published two more books after that NBA.

So, despite all the 'cleverness' often on display in the letters, I found myself disliking the man behind the books and stories I have so long admired. He is too self-centered too lazy, too selfish. But his books remain. And they are priceless in their portrayals of Catholic parish life in the mid-twentieth century. These letters? Nope.

- Tim Bazzett, author of the memoir, BOOKLOVER

Devotion to faith, idealism and the sublime give way, over the course of a priest’s childhood through middle age, to a realization that service, duty and fellowship are not necessarily obstacles or hurdles, but rather can be the same pursuit.

Dryly funny and obviously written from the point of view of someone greatly irritated by - but with great love for - his fellow man.

i should have been a priest.

Powers' second and final novel, and much better than his pretty damn good Morte D'Durban. Wheat took forever to write, which is usually a very bad thing, but in this case Powers somehow makes it work, perhaps because the usual late style stuff (pessimism, grouchiness and so on) fits so well with the late stages of this book. Father Hackett watches his small world change with good humor and dismay; he might not admit it, but it's fairly clear that he himself is just as much to blame for those changes as anyone. The Walmart-style store takes over from the old mall, and takes over from the church as well. Everything centers more and more on money--which is precisely what Hackett's life has centered on. And his final pilgrimage is a beautiful end to the novel. As with all of Powers' work, it's exceptionally well written, funny and affecting. Is it innovative? No. Is it formally interesting? Not in the slightest. But it's exceptionally well done for all that.

THE STORIES OF J.F. POWERS is a book to treasure. Powers died in 1999, but his reputation as perhaps the greatest comic chronicler of the 1950s Catholic Church endures. He published only five books in a career that spanned over five decades. Three of them were slim collections of short stories,all of which are included in this handsome volume. The other two were novels. The first, MORTE D'URBAN, a book I have read and reread at least four times, each time with much chuckling and great enjoyment, won the National Book Award in 1962. The second, WHEAT THAT SPRINGETH GREEN (1988), I read just a few years ago. Again,much chuckling, a pure pleasure to read.

Because he was a perfectionist, Powers worked slowly. His resulting stories were, to my mind, perfect. His subject? The Catholic Church, its clergy and religious, and its faithful members in the mid-twentieth century Midwest. In these stories his priests, nuns and parishioners are presented in thoroughly human terms, warts and all. Catholics from that era cannot help but relate. They will smirk, smile, chuckle, guffaw. The humor sneaks up on you, surprises you into laughter.

I can remember, as a child, seeing Powers' first book, PRINCE OF DARKNESS AND OTHER STORIES (1947), a slim paperback in a rack of religious books and pamphlets in the back of our church. My mother, always an avid reader, must have bought it, because I discovered it in our home bookcase my senior year of high school. One story and I was hooked. I probably didn't realize it then, but I had discovered buried treasure.

I am so pleased that NYRB has made all of Powers' stories finally available in a single volume. I had read his final collection, HOW THE FISHES LIVE (1975), but not the middle one. THE PRESENCE OF GRACE (1956). Now I have, and I will continue sampling these stories for a long time. It's the kind of book you can open anywhere, to any story. Every one is perfect, complete, a finely polished gem. My highest recommendation.

- Tim Bazzett, author of the memoir, BOOKLOVER

Great, wry short stories. I find it odd that the back cover suggests Powers, together with some other authors, has "given the short story an unmistakably American cast," since that would normally suggest look at me pyrotechnics, film-like set pieces and soul searching nonsense about what it means to be an American. I would put Powers next to Flaubert's Three Tales and Trollope's Barsetshire novels, the first because perfectly written, the second because affectionately amused at the world.
Particularly great: "Keystone," "The Devil Was the Joker," "Prince of Darkness," and "Lions, Harts, Leaping Does." It's always a good sign when the longest stories in a collection are the best, I think.

It took me a while to get into Powers' short stories, but after I finished the first volume of them I couldn't put them down. So I was primed for this, and it didn't disappoint. In fact, the larger canvas seems to suit him more in some ways. Granted, it suffers a little bit from the same kind of disjointed narrative track that Cheever Wapshot Chronicle suffers from, but to nowhere near the same degree. But that's this novel's only flaw (unless you count 'being about a priest' as a flaw, which I don't, but some might): it's beautifully written, quietly hilarious in an Evelyn Waugh kind of way, and extraordinarily subtle in its depiction of the unbridgeable gap between the best and worst aspects of modern human beings. Powers has an incredible ability to vary the distance between the narrative voice and main character (sometimes they're practically identical, sometimes much fun is had at Urban's expense), and to elicit both ironic scorn & joyful admiration for all of the characters, all in perfectly clear prose. My only complaint (occasional disjointed narrative aside) is that he only wrote two novels.

I've been a fan of the late J F Powers for probably thirty years. Have read his classic novel of the Church in the 1950s, MORTE D'URBAN, at least 2-3 times. And also read his three books of stories. Can't figure out how I missed this one, WHEAT THAT SPRINGETH GREEN, his only other novel, first published 25 years ago. In any case, I am most grateful to NYRB Classics imprint for reissuing all of Powers' work again. He was a writer much rspected by other writers, but often neglected and underappreciated by the general reading public, probably because of his never-changing, constant subjects: the priesthood and the Catholic Church. This novel is perhaps even better than Morte D'Urban, set in a midwest diocese at the height of the Vietnam war. Father Joe Hackett is a character that will stay with you for a long time, probably because of his very human faults, his utter 'humanity.' You will laugh and wince in recognition, not just at Hackett, but also at some of the other buffoonish priests and prelates depicted here, like Cooney, Mooney and Rooney. Or at the nicknames given: Shorty and Slug, Catfish, Arch (the Archbishop) and others. It is eye-opening and often a bit sad to watch Joe's gradual transformation as this tale of the modern Church spins out and winds down.

A favorite line, indicationg Joe's final loss of innocence - "... believing as he did that the separation of of Church and Dreck was a matter of life and death for the world, that the Church was the one force in the world with a chance to save it ..."

There is a kind of redemption for Joe, however, as, in the end, he takes up his "cross." I love this book and hope to find time to read it again some day. But then, "so many books ..." Highly recommended.

I greatly appreciated this book.

This is a fabulous piece of writing on an era that is long gone,good or bad. Certainly, there is a more coherent sense of place and community here than today. Powers placed the life of a somewhat vain and ambitious man in the context of the Catholic hierarchy, with the same striving for power and success that laymen face.If you like Walker Percy or Peter Taylor, I think you will like this.½

Cradle Catholics will enjoy

Father Urban is a priest in the fictitious Order of St. Clement. Based in 1950s Chicago, Fr Urban travels extensively, preaching at missions on the religious circuit throughout the mid-western United States. He lives somewhat of a high life for a priest, traveling by first class rail and dining in fine restaurants. He considers himself above the petty squabbles and politics of the Order, but one day he is transferred to a remote outpost in Duesterhaus, Minnesota (in fact, when I located Duesterhaus on Yahoo Maps, it literally placed me in the middle of nowhere).

Fr Urban arrives by train and, finding no taxi available, walks over a mile from the station to St Clement's Hill. Ostensibly a retreat center, the rector (Father Wilfrid) and a lay assistant (Brother Harold) spend most of their time refurbishing the facilities, always at the lowest possible cost. Their only transportation is a run-down pickup truck. Signs are hand-painted by Brother Harold. Winters are bitter cold; most of the rooms are left unheated. The Hill is largely ignored by the Order -- out of sight, out of mind.

During the week the men work on the property, and on weekends they have pastoral duties in churches nearby. Fr Urban begins making contacts in the community, building relationships that can benefit St. Clement's Hill and the Order. Fr Urban settles in reluctantly, but over time the place begins to grow on him. When he is called to fill in for a pastor who is taking extended leave, he throws himself into the work: church attendance goes up, he mentors a curate, and cultivates support for a building campaign. Fr Urban's Midas touch served him well on the circuit, and begins to pay dividends for The Hill as well.

Throughout his time at St. Clement's, Fr Urban remains in contact with Billy Cosgrove, a wealthy benefactor in Chicago. Billy gives freely to The Hill, beginning with a television set at Christmas. Later his gifts become more substantial, and while Urban appreciates Billy's generosity, he also begins to see another side of his friend's character. Billy makes his generosity very public, expecting recognition and instant service. Urban is just as flamboyant as Billy in his own way, but performs innumerable acts of kindness towards others, almost always behind the scenes.

This book is filled with dry wit, as J.F. Powers pokes fun at the Catholic Church, the priesthood, and small-town life. The emotional side of the story -- told through Urban's relationships with fellow clergy, Billy, and various townspeople -- sneaks up on you. When I began this novel, Father Urban struck me as something of a blowhard, but by the end of the novel he was a "real" person worthy of admiration.½

The heroism of living a quietly desperate life.½

Great tale of a priest in Minnesota. Surprised he really only wrote one major novel. Seems to possess a great narrative technique for setting and character. There’s little plot, but I’m a believer that a story is plot enough. And this a good story. Filled with interesting theological quips too.

3373. Wheat That Springeth Green, by J. F. Powers (read Nov. 25, 2000) It was Dec 22, 1962, when I finished, with tremendous appreciation, Powers' National Book Award-winning (for 1963) Morte D'Urban. I recently heard of this book by Powers, and so I read it. I don't know if it is age, or whether Morte D'Urban is so much better. But I did not like this book at all, tho it read easily enuf.½

3763. Prince of Darkness and other stories, by J. F. Powers (read June 24 2003) (re-read 2 Aug 2013) This is a 1948 book of short stories by the author whose novel Morte D'Urban I so much liked when I read it on 22 Dec 1962. There are 11 stories herein, most of them not overly enjoyable to read today. The title story is the most substantial story but disappointed me with its ending.½

Wonderful "lost" classic, This comic novel of priests and other people in rural Minnesota won the National Book Award in 1963. A delight!½