The ball and the cross (1909). By: Gilbert Keith Chesterton: A novel

This neglected tale is my second favorite of Chesterton's several novels (the first being The Man Who Was Thursday). In The Ball and the Cross, Chesterton pits two very likeable adversaries against one another in an old-fashioned duel of honor for their ardent beliefs: one fights for the truth of Christianity, the other for the truth of a very earth-bound Humanism. Chesterton gives equal time to the two viewpoints in the early stages of the duel, and sets up events so the two seem to argue in a world apart, desirous (unlike all those around them) of an actual resolution to what are seemingly theoretical and ethereal concerns. I won't give away the ending, but through the intervention of other characters each duelist does find a satisfactory outcome, if not the one he expected or hoped for. In the end the two must team together to fight a third nemesis, one that has been hinted at from the outset when all others refuse to take their quarrel seriously. Chesterton's writing here is, as always, full of sparkling wit, lively characterizations, and breathless pacing. Let me add that this novel is one of the great fables of the twentieth century. Among other things, it helps illuminate how much genuine conviction we have lost with our ever-increasing emphasis on "tolerance" - a fine value in itself, but most often an excuse for never discussing anything of importance if it will mean disagreeing with someone else.

So many people wrote great reviews of GKC's best-known books here that I'll concentrate on this one. It happens to be my favorite novel by him, but I was quite surprised that this nearly unknown book would be so good. My suggestion is don't read Martin Gardner's foreword first--read it as a backword, after the book, and then see if you agree. Chesterton later wrote a little poem about how he didn't like this book, and how it didn't make any sense, but I found it to be the clearest thing I've ever read, and it has forever instilled lucid pictures in my brain. It starts with a scene that seems to be some sort of dizzying science-fiction story from Victorian England--sort of like something Jules Verne would write if he suddenly became a better writer. That's not the only unforgettable visual image in this book, which is pieced together like so many cliff-hanger serials. Someone else will likely write about all the debates over points of view implicit in the title and fiercely held by the characters, but what attracts me is the excitement of a wildly heroic life (which both characters live). GK shows, of course, that it's found in the romance of orthodoxy, but by the time the book winds up, he has me panting like a thirsty hart to find those cooling streams. Another novel that does this is Manalive!, which a friend of mine said is her second favorite book, next to C.S.Lewis' Perelandra. Manalive! is very light, but it just flies, and opens with the most intriguing first page I've ever read. Both these stories, although written in different ways, seem modern or even post-modern. They seem like they were translated into modern English from another language, even though they both date from the early 20th Century. Recently, I had the chance to see the world premiere of a play of The Man Who Was Thursday, which put these three novels into perspective for me. Chesterton wrote at a time when anarchist dynamiters --the terrorists of their day--were causing havoc about London. Many social conditions were chaotic and in the world of ideas, things were up for grabs. Chesterton did not have an easy conversion, nor did he come by his views without a hard-won struggle. In this sense, he didn't arrive at the "right" answer by working a puzzle or stumbling on the secret to life, but like his story about a man who walked around the world, came back with a new perspective, able to see things in a new way for the first time. Although I did come to embrace his romantic orthodoxy, I don't think his big gift is in convincing us of the wisdom of the Creed, but rather in opening our eyes to the wonder around us.

As a Catholic I had heard of this little story for years, but only got around to buying it last night. I read it in one sitting. This is a story of two Scots -- one a staunch Roman Catholic, the other a militant atheist. The Catholic is enraged by the blasphemous display in the latter's shop windows and an vicious row ensues. They are both hauled away by the police. But it does not stop there. They agree to fight a duel. But where? Each time they think they have found a perfect spot, they are interrupted. Eventually, after some further adventures, they realise that they -- the one who actively accepts the existence of God and the other who actively denies it -- have more in common with each other than with the mass of self-satisfied humanity who could not care less if He exists or not. This is a brilliant story, and a perfect allegory of our sad times.

THE MAN WHO WAS THURSDAY and THE NAPOLEON OF NOTTING HILL are Chesterton's most famous novels, but my personal favorite is THE BALL AND THE CROSS. The swashbuckling story combines zany adventure, a constant skewering of Chesterton's favorite targets (most of these targets endure to our day under different names, so the battle is well worth re-fighting), a number of the usual red-headed suspects, two throw-away romances, and a diabolical insane asylum that calls to mind C. S. Lewis' Objective Room (only Chesterton has more fun with it). Those who complain about the ending should remember that Chesterton is simply too big-hearted to damn a character he likes (he might consign the Superman to Hell, of course).

Chesterton's hilarious story of how an adamant Catholic duels to the death with an ardent atheist is a worthy read. Chesterton systematically critiques popular delusions of educated thinking as the book unfolds. Chesterton's wit is second to none and if you liked Pilgrim's Regress by C.S. Lewis, you will love this book.