The Scent of God: A Memoir

I have sat here for about an hour trying to write one simple sentence that describes Beryl Singleton Bissell's memoir, The Scent of God. But Beryl's unsparing honesty with herself, with her Church, with the people in her life, and even with her God, refuse to allow me a glib or easy description. The Scent of God is the story of a young woman so filled with passion and yearning that she enters a cloister at age eighteen. It is also the story of the human desire that challenges, but ultimately enriches that love. It is a rich, sensual, and marvelously told tale by a woman who leaves the religious life, but never stops embodying its virtues: humility, faith, and above all, joy. I do not have the perfect sentence to describe The Scent of God, but when I looked on the book cover , I found that Ann Patchett captured its spirit with extraordinary precision: "A terrifying, passionate, and exalted examination of what it means to love with your whole heart..." Yes, that's it exactly. Is there any more important quest?

I've read Beryl's writing for many years - her eloquent columns of life on the north shore provided much-needed balm to my city-dwelling soul, stranded in Minneapolis. I longed to be on a lake, in nature - and she gave me that, even if it was only in a monthly dose, on paper. When Beryl's book, the scent of god, came out, I found myself in a psychologically awkward situation - that of loving the writer, loving her words - and being somewhat taken aback by the title and theme of the story. Luckily for me, my faith in Beryl overcame my avoidance of religion. As a spiritual person, rather than a religious one, starting the book was akin to entering a foreign culture. Right from the start, Beryl immerses the reader in a world that most of us do not experience - and I am so very grateful to her for that, for expanding my mind as well as my soul. Beryl interlaces her memoir with short passages about the calls to prayer - matins, lauds, prime, terce, sext, none, vespers, and compline. This introduction to a way of life is the best way to introduce us to part of *her* life - that of a journey, whether it be through the day or years. Richly evoking the glory of growing up, the painfulness of adolescence, the colorfulness of life in Puerto Rico, and leading us to the uniqueness of cloistered living, Beryl draws such superlative pictures with her words, it is almost as if we lived this life, along with her. In many ways, Beryl's writing allows us glimpses into an ancient past - that of the catholic church, and its rituals and meanings - as well as her growing into her own future. And what a future it is - the glory of love, living and breathing and loving life with Vittorio, finally achieved after years of struggle and roadblocks. This love they shared is all the more powerful for her sharing it with us. I feel the juicy drip of fresh strawberries, the hot sun beating down on the Italian countryside, the aroma and crunch of fresh bread. And yes, Beryl's impudence is felt too, her humanity toward the aspects of life that we can't change, or control. What a gift, those two darling children, hearts of their hearts, so gladly shared with us. And I fell crying at the end of the book, in sorrow and joy and life, and amazement at the joy of a life well-lived, fully-lived, and so exquisitely shared.

I read the front-flap summary while browsing in a book store a few months ago and felt a bit wary. Was "The Scent of God" another hothouse, repressed-monastic-sexuality-turned-loose expose? Despite the hopeful promise of "spare but lyric language" and Ann Patchett's back-cover praise for "[t]he extraordinary beauty" of Beryl Singleton Bissell's writing, I put the memoir back on the shelf. But I didn't put the book out of my mind. After reading "An Infinity of Little Hours," a reconstruction of Carthusian monk life in the early 1960s, the lure of something about the Poor Clares and their way of life persuaded me to take a literary plunge into "The Scent of God." How glad I am that I did! "The Scent of God" is a powerful reminder to all of us that life won't be tamed by our plans. Seldom if ever can we map out our lives with confident determination and have it turn out according to our cartography. This book is a powerful recollection of one woman's youthful resolve to become a saint through vows as a nun, only to be derailed from the cloister by natural maturation of body, mind, and spirit, as well as by the changing times. Bissell tells of her family (including the potatory compulsions of her father and their overarching effects), her Poor Clare sisters (although here, if I may say, I would have liked more detail about monastery life than was provided), her priest friend and later husband, and her children with bell-clear frankness but without a trace of the feared sensationalism. She succeeds resplendently in sharing with the reader her love of life in all its mountains and valleys, both physical and psychic. Her language is earthy or surgical or sublime as called for, and she conveys the heartbreak of the loss of loved ones so potently that the tears well spontaneously in sympathy. I agree with Bissell when on page 232 she opines, "I cannot believe that God finds pleasure in our suffering. Suffering is simply intrinsic to life, part of the life and death cycle...." The sorrows that she endures aren't inflictions from an Almighty who wants her to suffer, but rather, the products of life's course, nature, and the doings of human beings who make necessary choices to the best of their abilities. I find interesting Bissell's comment on this webpage that a religious friend of hers didn't like this book because she thought Bissell did not portray herself with all the spirituality she actually possesses. I agree other aspects of personal development sometimes overtake the spiritual in the memoir, but the eight short chapters contemplating the pre-Vatican II liturgical "hours" (Matins, Lauds, Prime, etc.) are mini masterpieces that reveal the abiding, radiant love the author has retained through everything for the rigorous monastic life that has passed away for her and most of the church. Bissell's spirituality shines very brightly in those passages, I think. Occasionally, the limits of Bissell's memory prevent scenes from blooming fully, and there

There are many kinds of courage, just as there are many kinds of intelligence. Beryl Singleton Bissell's The Scent of God is a love story that is as much about courage as it is about love. The story she tells is simple enough. A girl is enraptured with the idea of God and God's love, so she enters a convent at 18. The girl becomes a woman who discovers that love and life are more complicated than they once seemed, so fifteen years later she leaves the convent and the life of a nun. The former nun marries a former priest and enjoys a few years of happiness. Love led Bissell to enter the convent. Growing up in a family blighted by her father's alcoholism, Bissell yearned for love so fiercely that the only place she could imagine getting it was from God. The same burning need for love that led her to a cloistered life ultimately led her to renounce it. As a love story, this one is distinctive and compelling. But above all, I see this appealing memoir as an exploration of courage. It takes courage to choose an unconventional course in life. It takes courage to challenge one's faith. It takes courage to realize that the most solemn vow one has made was a mistake, and then it takes even more courage to admit that error and correct it. It always takes courage to love, especially when the relationship blooms (however improbably) in the context of so many taboos. At another level, it requires courage to look at one's life with clear eyes and to tell that story honestly and with unsparing detail. Bissell is too honest to hide moments of great pettiness and even ugly moments when she was cruel to people who loved her. It is not possible to read this book and imagine that the author has fudged the truth. Even less would it be possible to read this love story without being deeply moved. Warning: before starting the last chapters, place a box of tissues near your reading chair. Things don't always turn out the way they should, which is why we all need so much courage, intelligence and love to make our way through this world.

Scent of God by Beryl Singleton Bissell is a beautifully crafted saga of religious life pre and post Vatican II. It offers insight from the persepctive of religious as to what was going on within religious house and orders, that we on the outside, didn't understand (in large part because the religious themselves didn't either) and that drove some away from the Catholic Church. 40 years later reading "Scent of God "it all makes sense, but it sure didn't back in the 60's. The courageousness that Beryl showed in exposing all the conflicting emotions of the time and the price one paid for choices made, is a beautiful slice of time! Not JUST FOR CATHOLICS - because of the evocative prose that allows one to "see" where Beryl was living and the people in her life, the book draws one into the story. definite must read for anyone who enjoys pictures painted by words.