The mother — Background and Themes

A Priest's Divided Mind

The excerpts reveal Paul's inner conflict through small gestures and asides. During the exorcism, he draws back when the widow tries to kiss his feet, fearing his mother's judgment. Later, he feels 'childish joy' at the prospect of a ride to the mountain, hoping physical exertion will 'banish for a time the perplexities that tormented him.' The translator's note describes the story as 'almost Greek in its simple and inevitable tragedy,' and the excerpts bear this out: Paul is caught between his role and his humanity, with no easy resolution in sight.

Voices of Skepticism and Faith

The keeper and Antiochus represent opposing worldviews. The keeper, a man of civil duty, refuses to believe in miracles and jokes that the devils can enter his dog 'because they are there already.' Antiochus, by contrast, bursts out with 'A miracle has just happened!' and later prepares for the mountain journey with a 'red cope folded over his arm.' Their exchange, along with the widow's mortification and the children's laughter, creates a texture of doubt and credulity that surrounds Paul's crisis. The village itself, with its 'ragged urchins' and 'little room behind the bar,' feels both intimate and oppressive.

The Mother's Silent Presence

Though the mother speaks no words in the excerpts, her presence is felt. Paul fears she 'should misjudge him,' and she kneels 'at the kitchen door' during the exorcism. The catalog subject 'Mothers and sons' is thus realized not through dialogue but through Paul's awareness of her watching. The translator's note emphasizes the 'psychological study of the two chief characters,' and the excerpts hint at a dynamic where the mother's knowledge—'who knew all'—shapes Paul's actions. Her silence may be as powerful as any speech.

Setting as Character

The Sardinian hill village is more than backdrop. The 'wild and rugged background of mountain, rock, and wide tracts of thicket and shrub' (from the preface) is echoed in the keeper's mention of 'old Nicodemus Pania, nicknamed King Nicodemus,' who lives in a hut on the mountain plateau. The priest's ride there promises escape, but the village itself—with its church square, bar, and kitchen—is a stage for the drama. The catalog subject 'Sardinia (Italy) — Fiction' is thus integral, not incidental.

Readers approaching The Mother should attend to the gaps between what characters say and what they do. The excerpts offer no resolution to Paul's torment, and the mother's perspective remains largely hidden. The novel's power may lie in what is withheld—the unspoken knowledge between mother and son, the weight of a village's expectations, and the landscape that both confines and offers release.

I remember how some books share a hidden kinship, like old friends nodding across the stacks. That Sardinian priest’s fierce, lonely wrestling with duty reminds me of Amyas Leigh’s own blazing certainty in Westward Ho! Or, The Voyages and Adventures of Sir Amyas Leigh, Knight, of Burrough, in the County of Devon, in the Reign of Her Most Glorious Majesty Queen Elizabeth — Themes and Context. Both young men carry zeal like a wound.