Holy Smoke (by Libby Purves)

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I have no idea when I acquired the book ‘Holy Smoke’ by Libby Purves. She is best known as an outspoken journalist, and I have very much liked her novels, which I re-read not long ago. The title is intriguing, too, as is the subtitle: ‘religion and roots: a personal memoir’. I expect I picked it up at a church book sale, or perhaps in a thrift shop. 

This book has been on a to-read shelf for so long that I had almost forgotten it was there. But finally I picked it up to read about ten days ago. I felt that it would be good to start reading a few more biographical works, and this isn’t a long book. I thought I would easily finish it in two or three days. But it’s been a busy period… and, to be frank, I didn't find the book to be very engaging.

‘Holy smoke’ isn’t a straight biography. As the subtitle suggests, it’s mainly memoirs related to the author’s relationship with religion. This is partly (as she explains) to balance the many books written about the horrors some people suffered from a Roman Catholic childhood. Libby Purves grew up in a Catholic family (albeit with an atheist father), and attended convent schools. But for the most part the nuns were kind, hard-working and encouraging. She did not experience anything more negative than might be experienced in a secular school. 

So the early part of the book reminisces about the author’s childhood, travelling around the world for her father’s work. She attended several different educational establishments including one local school that was not affiliated to a church. But the bulk of her education was Catholic, and she appreciated it very much. She was evidently a sensitive child, aware of the numinous qualities in nature and beauty. She revelled in some of the liturgies, and the Latin words. She also appreciated Anglican and Methodist hymns, loving the words and the thoughts they expressed.

The later part of the book charts a growing dissatisfaction with the Christian life, and when it was written Libby Purves referred to herself as a lapsed Catholic, but not an unbeliever. She strongly believes in the power of Christ to change lives, and in the need for unconditional love for all. She explains that she does not harbour grudges or take offence even at detractors or negative reviewers, seeing something of God in everyone.

I found it interesting reading some of the background of this author’s life; I had not realised she was from such a strongly Christian background. And, as I expected, the writing is good, if a bit rambling in places. There’s also a lot of digression into philosophy, literature and more, which, in places went right over my head. It makes this book more appropriate for intellectuals than for ordinary readers of the author's novels, or for non-academics interested in knowing about someone with a positive Catholic childhood.  

Still, I appreciated the many references to CS Lewis and Narnia. I was interested, too, in the author's belief in and discussion of the Platonic ideals, something I knew about and thought about often in my early teens. I was struck particularly by the suggestion that art can only be ‘perfectly beautiful’ if it has three qualities: being harmonious, true to itself, and with some kind of extra radiance. This is explained in terms of fine art - drawings and paintings etc - but I think is also true of other art forms such as poetry and literature, dance, architecture; perhaps films, too. And certainly music. Many people play instruments with harmony and integrity; only a few have that extra special undefinable gift that turns good music into a form of beauty. 

Overall, I’m glad I read this. I had to skim some places where the references were beyond me, or when lengthy poetry was quoted. It was never engaging enough that I sat down and read for more than a few minutes at a time. But that was quite useful as it was a busy period when I had a lot to do. 

I’m not sure who the intended audience for this book would have been; it was first published in 1998 when Libby Purves considered herself middle-aged. Perhaps it was mainly for intellectuals and academics. Maybe they were the ones publicly criticising ‘religious’ upbringings. I don’t think this memoir ever gained the popularity that the author’s novels did, and it is now long out of print. 

But if you can find it inexpensively second-hand, and are interested in this topic, it’s a good read, on the whole. There's a bonus of some black-and-white photos in the middle, showing the author as a child and teenager. 

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews