Graham Greene Bingo
I am now eight months and seventeen books into my 2022 reading challenge. I’ve abandoned all attempts to finish reading Virginia Woolf. Life’s too short for reading books you’re not enjoying and I was finding Woolf impenetrable. Maybe I’ll give her another whirl at some point in the future. Maybe I won’t. I’ve been having a lot more fun with my plan to read all Graham Greene’s novels in chronological order. Whilst the first five were a bit of a plod, number six (Brighton Rock) was sheer genius and with a couple of exceptions, it’s been an absolute treat reading Greene from this point on. So far my favourites have been two old favourites The End of the Affair and a Burnt Out Case alongside slightly more upbeat capers, Our Man in Havana and Loser Takes All, both of which were new to me.
I’ll probably write something more serious about what I’ve learnt from reading Greene when I make it to the end of the year but for now I think I’ve read enough of his books to identify ‘the odd’ repetitive trope. I don’t think I’ve ever come across a writer who recycled characters, symbols and themes quite as frequently as Greene. It’s to his credit as a writer, that the novels are usually so good, I didn’t care how familiar they felt.
I’ve compiled a list of the most prevalent Greene features here so you can all play Graham Greene bingo. You’ll need a Greene novel or one of the many onscreen adaptations of his books. Watch or read along and each time you come across one of these features take a generous swig of single malt or pray a decade of the rosary, (or for added authenticity, do both and instantly succumb to a wave of guilt). A full house entitles you to a long weekend in a stiflingly hot country, only recently de-colonised.
A man on the run.
Catholic guilt.
2.b. Characters who have lost their faith and want it back.
2. c. Characters who have lost their faith and are glad to be shot of it.
A priest with a shady past or drinking problem.
Prominent facial scarring.
A bunch of ex-pats with nothing in common save the fact they’re stuck in a colonial country on the eve of an uprising.
A train, (double points if the train is concealing a man on the run).
An adulterous woman with a kindly but pathetic husband she cannot leave.
English men, discussing the war
8.b. An Englishman who’s lied about his war record.
Lovable prostitutes with silly names.
Unlikable children.
A shabby raincoat or cardboard suitcase.
A failed businessman trying to make good with an implausible scam.
Malaria or an ill-defined tropical fever of some kind.
13b. A feverish dream which provides a loose metaphor for the entire novel.
Casual racism or xenophobia.
At least one scene in a casino, usually one that has seen better days.
A letter or telegram which does not arrive in time.
Pseudonymous names.
A man with an overriding horror of sex.
Corrupt officials.
19.b. Bribes.
A character who is either a writer (usually failed) or a journalist (usually bad).
People sneaking about at night. Frequently injured. Occasionally in the pouring rain.
Mangey dogs, cats, donkeys etc. (See also rats).
An overly virtuous character (usually a woman) who either dies or is gently lambasted throughout the novel.
Foreign Embassies (see also ambassadors and ambassadors’ wives).
Deathbed confessions, frequently taking the form of a letter.