Keneally is a master of his craft. The book is compelling, the young protagonist priest very convincingly portrayed. He becomes involved in three particular lives, one is a young woman, wife of a soldier (it is set in WWII Australia) who is either a prisoner of the Germans or dead; the second is a young black American soldier who goes AWOL to live with a white Australian woman; and the third is a very insistent and increasingly less plausible American sergeant who clearly wants something from him, as yet undefined. This embroils Father Frank Darragh in trying to save bodies as well as souls.Having been raised a Catholic, I thought he caught very well the attitude of the Church in the person of the monsignor and in the person of the military chaplain. An adherence to norms and rules, a respect for social mores which far exceeds any Christian compassion, kindness or humanity. They were people doing a job, running a business in the monsignor’s case. But not so Father Darragh, still in the grip of his ideals. In trying to save the woman from sin – she tells him, away from the confessional, that she has a man friend who is, for the time being only a friend. But there is danger, Darragh is certain. He is also inappropriately dragged into the arrest of a black American AWOL soldier. We find out why later, but meanwhile he becomes more and more concerned that the man, due to his colour, will die in suspicious circumstances while in prison, as is the norm for such men. He contacts the military chaplain, who lends only minor and reluctant assistance, obviously having no intention of trying to circumvent the inevitable.To me, the book had two themes, kindness and guilt. Our young priest becomes implicated when the woman he was trying to save is murdered, perhaps even implicated as the murderer. More attention is given to Darragh’s possible guilt than to the woman and the fate of her young son. Darragh himself becomes none too certain what his motives were towards the woman, but murder wasn’t one of them. He tries to help the boy but is rebuffed by the monsignor and instead made to take the boy to what seems a cold and uncaring, starkly religious orphanage. He begins to look into the death of the boy’s mother.It seems everyone he tries to help comes to grief. He is ordered to take a sabbatical from the priesthood and serves in the army as an orderly where he encounters a wounded young man who had once been a monk and whose confession he had heard, making it a condition of absolution that he tell his superior in the monastery that he had sexually molested a boy. Instead the monk left and joined the army. Now he was dying. Was absolution possible?But the question ought to be, Is guilt possible? Is it real? And the corollary, does it need a priest to absolve it, if so?Of course guilt is a construction of social control. And, up to a point, Keneally seems to agree with this by showing us how cruelty even among Churchmen is not only possible but condoned as necessary. There is nothing real about guilt unless we define it as real. And even then, it is only 'real' to those who share the definition. When subjective meanings concur, they become illusions, and such illusions can be institutionalised as religions which offer their followers the warm comfort of shared meanings. And shared judgments. It’s nice to be right, but even nicer to right along with others. Makes your lips smack! But we cannot find guilt in others without finding it in ourselves. Having found it, we are indeed certain to suffer. In the Office of Innocence, given that Father Frank could see through so much of Church doctrine; and given that he understood his view of guilt did not always coincide with that of the Church he served, he was close to a life-changing breakthrough. He had inner discipline, admirable perseverance, and he had courage. The choice was there: the illusion of guilt or would compassion lead him to true Innocence?
Office of Innocence is one of those rare books that explores the dilemmas on the boundaries between moral systems and real life. It does so fittingly though an impressionable man of faith - a priest at that.There is a wry humor in the conflicts between faith and action;duty and conscience. When you put yourself in the shoes of the protagonist, every incident poses the same questions to you!You realize it is applicable to every one who has ever felt such conflict in our everyday mundane battle called life. Like "growing up" from innocence.Requires a bit of patience but rewarding!
Do You like book Office Of Innocence: A Novel (2004)?
On chapter 3 and loving it.
—Maggie
I had high expectations given that this is the same author who wrote "Schindler's List," and this book certainly delivered. Superbly written, but you really had to pay attention, and even then, I was a bit confused as to where the story was going, and why the protaganist did the things he did, and surprise, the books ends with a question instead of answers. It was only on reflection after finishing the book that I think I understand it. It's a story I'll continue to think back on, that's for sure.
—Webajeb
Frank Darragh's tale is an ancient one dealing with the perils of innocence in a society where paradise is not only lost but long gone. He is a priest living in rural Australia trying his best to be ethical and human at a time when it appeared that the Japanese were about to invade Australia during World War II. It's painful in places to see where Darragh takes his good faith and how the world and his church make him pay for it. Keneally weaves the tale artfully and takes the big questions head-on. His language is spare but he is able to paint living vistas and round characters in only a few well-drawn brush strokes. His writing is compelling as much for its art as for his considerable skills as a gifted story-teller. I was dazzled by this novel and am confident that Keneally is destined for great acclaim as a novelist who possesses a commanding presence on the contemporary literary landscape.
—David Lentz
