Slow and steady and very much of its period, probably not a book for the modern reader in the 21st century. ( )

One of the last books in the sequence, and I think well up to par. Snow plays here with a number of recurrent themes - the wanderer returns to the childhood home and experiences the echoes of his formative years and influences; fathers decay and pass as young people grow; sexual fidelity and obsession exists alongside promiscuity and lack of commitment. And at the heart of the book, cunningly inveigled in, a child murder that strikes at fundamental values and instincts, existing alongside the civilised life of the mind and the elite. As so often, I read these books wondering at their current neglect!

See awayofwriting.blogspot.com ( )

I find this novel to be a good read, second only to 'The Masters' in this series 'Strangers and Brothers'. It held my interest throughout and has very few of the doldrums that afflict some of the other novels in the series. Lewis Eliot seemed a little artificial as a creation in the other novels, and also came across as something of a dull dog, but in this book he seemsa person of real complexity and genuine sensitivity. This is not something new in him, but in this book seems to be more clearly developed.

I wonder is this new appreciation of mine anything to do with the fact that Eliot has now reached my own age? I say this because I relate very much to his shock at incurring a serious eye problem. Its unexpectedness and its psychological effect on him mirror a recent experience of mine, and so I am all the sharper in recognising whether or not the event is portrayed realistically. Believe me, it is. This is, of course, a very subjective reaction, but who better placed to appreciate the versimilitude of a narrative than one who has undergone a similar experience? That dreaded moment when the bandages had to come off, and success or otherwise discovered... This is well done by Snow.

And here is good old George Passant again. Or bad old George, depending on your point of view! I can certainly sympathise with those who groan to see him re-enter the series. But like him or not, he definitely represents a type that I met in my younger days (and later, though these later had a less overt, and less petulant, rebelliousness). Some of these, like George, never changed and bore a grudge against the world (that 'didn't understand them') into and beyond middle life. Now arriving at the end of things, George still has something of that old charm left and there's something grimly attractive about his solid unrepentedness. He is someone in whose absence you have no difficulty in judging an unsavoury character, but when you meet up with them again once more exerts a fascination on you and leaves you thinking that maybe you have misjudged them after all and that you yourself have become too staid and priggish.

I suppose that it is because the novel is placed near the end of the series that death has such a strong presence. Certainly the portraits of the two old men are well drawn. Eliot's father is well done. His tears over the loss of his last 'duty' (with the choral society) are deeply affecting, as is the circumstance of his spending his last night in the company of his lodger only. The lack of empathy between him and his son is, ultimately, neither man's fault. Eliot had crossed a social divide. His father was a proud and 'independent-minded' man. It worked out to be difficult for them, though there were no clean-cut breaks between them. This is underscored by the easy, affectionate relationship between the old man and his grandson, Lweis' son, Charles. A very common phenomenon, this re-establishment of empathy across the divide of a generation.

One or two other comments. The trial: perhaps a bit long-winded and tedious. But that's the way these things go. And it is fascinating all the way. Central to the procedings (and not meaning in any way to distract from the heniousness of the crime) is the question of personal responsibility, a question as pertinent today as it was then, perhaps even more so, given the growing proliferation of reasons for exculpation. It is this that exercised the mind of Eliot throughout the trial, along with, and to a lesser extent, the fascination that evil deeds have on the public imagination. Modern TV series such as 'The Sopranos', films such as the 'The Godfather', accounts of Jack the Ripper.. we can't get enough of them!

Lots of other interesting aspects: Young Charles arguing with his father whether a lowly starting position is better than a privileged one because this would make one more ambitious and single-minded in the pusuit of place. And I won't dwell on the number of times I've had to consult my dictionary. 'Hebetude'? 'Nephente'? 'Suffragan bishop'?
A very good, wothwhile, read. ( )

1897 The Sleep of Reason, by C. P. Snow (read 30 Dec 1984) This is the 10th of the 11-volume series. It tells more than most about Lewis Eliot's father, whose funeral is described in the second last chapter of the book: a masterful telling or a pretentious one--vividly illustrating the emptiness of the lives of unbelievers at ultimate moments. Much of this book is taken up with a murder of an eight year old boy by two lesbians, one of whom is a niece of stupid old George Passavant. I could not get very interested in Lewis' concern over the trial, which came out in the normally to be expected way. Why Lewis Eliot should be so concerned--he merely sat and watched--by the trial the book in no way makes clear. I am not impressed by even Lewis Eliot. He and his drink too much--I think they are semi-alcoholics. Maybe C. P. Snow is simply a pretentious writer, who writes a spare clear prose and tries to sound insightful. ( )