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<text id=89TT0257>
<title>
Jan. 23, 1989: A Triumph Of Trying-Really-Hard
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1989
Jan. 23, 1989 Barbara Bush:The Silver Fox
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
BOOKS, Page 66
A Triumph of Trying-Really-Hard
</hdr><body>
<p>By R. Z. Sheppard
</p>
<qt> <l>INCLINE OUR HEARTS</l>
<l>by A. N. Wilson</l>
<l>Viking; 250 pages; $17.95</l>
</qt>
<p> Of all Britain's young literary lions, Andrew Norman Wilson,
38, has been busiest at marking his territory. Since the
mid-1970s he has published eleven satiric novels, plus
biographies of John Milton, Sir Walter Scott, Hilaire Belloc,
and last year's much and justly praised Tolstoy. In addition,
Wilson has written about Christian theology and religious
affairs (How Can We Know?; The Church in Crisis).
</p>
<p> Add to this diverse plenty a consistently high quality of
thought and prose, and one has the makings of a Man of Letters
-- a quaint designation in this era of celebrity scribes, but
valid nevertheless. Wilson's formal structure and traditional
style indicate an impatience with the sort of contemporary
fiction that makes its own creation a central concern. What
matters to him is the contradictions of human nature and the
religious impulses that seek to understand the desires of the
flesh and the spirit.
</p>
<p> These are assuredly old and durable subjects, yet ones that
Wilson probes with a comic irony sharpened on the modern world.
Inevitably, his work has been compared to the novels of Evelyn
Waugh. There are similarities but only "up to a point," as a
subordinate in Waugh's Scoop responded when Lord Copper
blustered that Yokohama is the capital of Japan. Wilson's
comedy is more tolerant than that of the malicious master. Both
authors, however, project intimidating confidence in their
styles and possess a technical virtuosity that makes the
difficult look easy.
</p>
<p> Not surprisingly, these qualities can be found in the
character of Julian Ramsay, narrator and groping intelligence of
Incline Our Hearts. Born in London with the coming of World War
II, he is orphaned by German bombs and sent to Norfolk to be
raised by his Aunt Deirdre and Uncle Roy, a local vicar.
Rounding out the rectory household is Felicity, a laconic and
inaptly named teenage cousin, who leaves her room long enough to
be impregnated and abandoned by Raphael Hunter,
scholar-scoundrel and the novel's sinister presence.
</p>
<p> These are the central players in what evolves from a surface
entertainment into a deceptively rich and complex novel about
coming of age (if not about the age itself). Julian's story
brims with figures and rituals familiar to British fiction:
barmy relatives, eccentric aristocrats, a public school -- the
"English Gulag" -- where the headmaster enjoys hitting boys with
sticks. As a teenager, Julian spends a summer in Brittany, where
French is taught by Mme. de Normandin and sex by her daughter
Barbara. Later, while trying to avoid work in the army, he
learns another of life's essential lessons: "Not-really-trying
is just as much effort as trying-really-hard. The only
difference between the two modes of activity is that
not-really-trying receives no reward."
</p>
<p> It is one of Wilson's deeper ironies that the callow but
decent Julian lacks conviction while the older and more
experienced Hunter is full of indecent passion and ambition.
Hunter's conquest of Felicity is pure business, part of
securing the private papers of James Petworth Lampitt, a
deceased minor writer who was a friend of her father's. Hunter
succeeds, and by playing up Lampitt's possible suicide and
probable homosexuality, turns the life of a justifiably
forgotten literary figure into a scandalous best seller. "One
accomplishes nothing so stylishly as the thing in which one has
no belief," thinks Julian. "Gigolos probably make better lovers
than those weak with desire; the best politicians are those who
are most like actors; the most influential churchmen are those
who seem furthest from the ideals of the Gospel."
</p>
<p> Elsewhere, this demoralizing line of reasoning leads to more
profound conclusions. Unlike most autobiographers, Julian
concedes that what he remembers is only a crude map of his
former self. "Our attempts to recover or uncover the past and
what really happened are doomed at the outset to failure
because it is we ourselves who are doing the investigation," he
admits. "We move on. We become someone else."
</p>
<p> At novel's end, Julian, harboring ambitions to become an
actor, is in church listening to Uncle Roy intone the Ten
Commandments and thinking that the one prohibiting adultery
will be hard to keep. This, and his remark about politicians
resembling actors, suggest that Julian may grow up to be a
successful public man who gets entangled in a sex scandal.
Given Wilson's production rate, it is unlikely that readers will
have to wait long to find out. Incline Our Hearts is the first
novel of a proposed trilogy. If the next two are as good as the
first, readers will have a small classic on their hands.
</p>
</body></article>
</text>