Under the guidance of Sister Clodagh, the youngest Mother Superior in the history of their order, five European Sisters of the Servants of Mary leave their monastery in Darjeeling, India, and make their way to remote Mopu in the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains. There, in the opulent, abandoned palace where an Indian general housed his harem, the holy sisters hope to establish a school and a health clinic. Their aim is to help combat superstition, ignorance, and disease among the mistrusting natives in the village below, and to silence the doubts of their royal benefactor's agent, the hard-drinking and somewhat disreputable Mr. Dean.
MY THOUGHTS:
This is Rumer Godden's classic tale about an Anglo-Catholic order of nuns who intend to start a convent high in the Himalayan mountains, from which they'll teach and evangelize the locals and also run a medical dispensary. The building, once a harem, is bestowed on them by General Tada Rai, an elderly, wealthy philanthropist who's deeply embarrassed by his father's original use for it.
But the big mystery is why had the Brotherhood of Saint Saviour's School, to whom he'd bequeathed it before, quit after just five months? Their only excuses were, 'No scope,' or, 'We weren't needed.' Regardless of their true reason for pulling the plug, the Sisters feel confident that they'll succeed where the Brothers failed.
Sister Clodagh is put in charge as the youngest Sister Superior in their order. She's a bit of a know-it-all whose flashbacks suggest that she became a nun just to save face when a love affair went sour. Sister Briony, the key-bearer, is in charge of storage and the dispensary. Sister Philippa does the laundry and garden, and Sister Blanche is considered an asset because she's a chatty and sentimental 'people' person. To Sister Clodagh's secret dismay, the intense and uptight Sister Ruth has been sent along as a teacher, because Mother Superior deemed the responsibility would be good for her. They're later joined by the dour and inflexible Sister Adela who wants to do everything strictly by the books.
Mr Dean is the General's somewhat bumptious and cynical English agent, who is called on often to help the Sisters out with structural problems or interpretation emergencies. It all goes against his grain, since he doubts they'll last long. But never does he dream he'll make such a huge impression on at least one of the nuns!
My favourite character isn't either of the main pair. So not the abrasive Mr Dean, whose method of dealing with problems is to get himself totally plastered. And not Sister Clodagh, whose main talent seems to be rebuking underlings, although I do understand her growing sense of helplessness. To me, this book's ray of sunshine is Dilip Rai, the General's teenage nephew and heir. This original young man eagerly wants to Anglicize himself, but is already shaped by his formative culture. He's always disarmingly respectful to the Sisters, but has no idea that his sunny openness about unmentionable subjects presses their buttons.
I love it that the novel's title comes from the scent of his cologne, Black Narcissus, which becomes their snide nickname for him. The innocent 'Young General' becomes the embodiment of all that's sensual and erotic, a perfect match for his environment, yet symbolizing all that makes the nuns feel awkward. He justifies his arousing scent by cheerfully observing, 'Don't you think it's rather common to smell of ourselves.'
Comparing this novel to other books I've read by Godden, I think In This House of Brede introduces more situations in which characters must draw upon the tenets of their faith to make decisions. And perhaps Kingfishers Catch Fire has more plot points where two juxtaposing cultures clash heads. In Black Narcissus, fractures often (but not always) come more from within, although they are undoubtedly triggered by the strange new setting.
Although I prefer In This House of Brede, I still rank this book highly because the questions it raises gives it plenty of depth.
Can it really be labelled faithfulness, to recklessly barge into a different culture and begin trying to superimpose your ways without fathoming theirs? Should an evangelistic religious order be flexible enough to take into account the worldviews of the people they live among? If so, where do you draw the line so that you retain the parameters of your prescribed faith without morphing into something entirely different? If you blur the lines, are you still effective as a Christian witness?
I don't think Rumer Godden really intends to answer any of these questions, but just set us pondering them. The way her plot plays itself out suggests that she has no easy answers anyway. I think books like this should be mandatory reading for every wannabe missionary, and perhaps every wannabe nun.
(A bit off topic, if I'd ever considered such a career, or more correctly, experienced such a calling, their tight wimples might be a definite deterrent, since I feel hot and constricted with fabric around my neck and throat, and find having my ears covered impedes my concentration.)
Of course, if you like pure drama, spare a thought for Mr Dean, who has a crazy, love-sick nun throw herself at him. I'm guessing this might be a main reason why Hollywood latched onto the story for their 1947 film, which I don't think I'll bother tracking down at this stage.
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