In This House of Brede
by Rumer Godden
1969, 376 pp.
Read October 19, 2009

This is one of my favorite books and, I think, one of the best books ever written, which is why it’s so wonderful that it’s finally back in print after all these years.  I most often come back to it on a Sunday afternoon, when I want something that deals with religion and faith and sacrifice.  What is really interesting is that I am inspired by this book even though I am not Catholic—because this is a story about a monastery for nuns.  (I bet most of you didn’t even know nuns had monasteries, but they do.)

Set in England and spanning the years 1953 to 1967, In This House of Brede tells the story of Brede Abbey, a fictional Benedictine monastery, and the women whose vocations have brought them to live and serve there as nuns.  (Interestingly, the timeline of this book parallels Godden’s own religious journey; she began studying Roman Catholicism in the 1950s and converted in 1968.)  The plot centers on two very different women:  Philippa Talbot, a successful career woman who finds religion relatively late in life and, in her forties, gives up everything she’s earned to take religious orders; and Elspeth Scallon (known throughout the book by her name in religion, Sister Cecily), a twenty-three-year-old woman whose parents, friends, and former boyfriend all fight her commitment to Brede Abbey every step of the way.  Their stories run parallel to one another in demonstrating the kinds of challenges would-be nuns face, one in fighting her own demons, the other in hiding from them.  As the Prologue says, Brede Abbey’s motto is Pax, peace, but a strange peace of hard work and little comfort—the peace of God, not the peace of the world.

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Other members of the cast include the new Abbess, Dame Catherine; the “two pillars of the community,” Dame Maura and Dame Agnes, who stand in constant opposition to one another; the proud and weak-willed Dame Veronica; saintly Dame Beatrice, loved by all; the novices, Sister Hilary and Sister Polycarp (what a name); and so many more.  Every one is a personality and every one has a part to play.

Much of Rumer Godden’s work is about character, and that is certainly true of this book.  The events of the plot are interesting, particularly when the Abbey decides to start a sister monastery in Japan, of all places, but there is never a point where the story is more important than the people living it.  Every event contributes directly to someone’s growth of understanding, of faith, of love.  Contrariwise, every event arises directly from a particular character’s flaws, weaknesses, or sometimes strengths.  The result is a triumph of characterization that depends on only a few light strokes of Godden’s brush, leaving the reader with the strong sense of actually knowing these women.

I think, ultimately, that this is what makes In This House of Brede such a powerful story about religious faith.  Writing about religion often comes dangerously close to didacticism, especially when the writer has strong religious beliefs.  Godden’s emphasis on characterization allows her to show not why the reader should believe in God, but why these women (and, by extension, people in real life) do.  Regardless of one’s own feelings about religion in general or Catholicism in particular, it’s impossible not to see the powerful impact faith has on Dame Philippa and Sister Cecily and the rest.  I especially feel a connection to Dame Philippa, who has so many physical and intellectual roadblocks to overcome.  Pride is her greatest stumbling block, but not always in the form you’d expect it.  There’s the scene in her Latin class where she’s tired and overwhelmed from a restless night and utterly humiliates the teacher out of pride in her own skill at Latin, but more subtle are the times when Philippa doesn’t even realize she’s acting out of pride, such as when she uses her worldly knowledge to propose a solution to the Abbey’s financial problem that would totally undermine their religious mission.  And the end result of Philippa’s sublimating her own will to that of God is not that she becomes a mindless drone, but that she becomes paradoxically stronger and more able to help those around her.

When I read this as a teenager, I almost wanted to become a nun.  As I grow older, I realize that what I want is that peace that comes from doing something you believe in, however hard or messy it might be.  For most people, it’s impractical to live in a cloister as the nuns of Brede Abbey do.  But maybe it’s possible to build a little place of solitude, physical or metaphysical, to dedicate to whomever or whatever we believe in, to be our house of peace.