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The Quiet American
Graham Greene's classic exploration of love, innocence, and morality in Vietnam
"I never knew a man who had better motives for all the trouble he caused," Graham Greene's narrator Fowler remarks of Alden Pyle, the eponymous "Quiet American" of what is perhaps the most controversial novel of his career. Pyle is the brash young idealist sent out by Washington on a mysterious mission to Saigon, where the French Army struggles against the Vietminh guerrillas. As young Pyle's well-intentioned policies blunder into bloodshed, Fowler, a seasoned and cynical British reporter, finds it impossible to stand safely aside as an observer. But Fowler's motives for intervening are suspect, both to the police and himself, for Pyle has stolen Fowler's beautiful Vietnamese mistress.
First published in 1956 and twice adapted to film, The Quiet American remains a terrifiying and prescient portrait of innocence at large. This Graham Greene Centennial Edition includes a new introductory essay by Robert Stone.
"I never knew a man who had better motives for all the trouble he caused," Graham Greene's narrator Fowler remarks of Alden Pyle, the eponymous "Quiet American" of what is perhaps the most controversial novel of his career. Pyle is the brash young idealist sent out by Washington on a mysterious mission to Saigon, where the French Army struggles against the Vietminh guerrillas. As young Pyle's well-intentioned policies blunder into bloodshed, Fowler, a seasoned and cynical British reporter, finds it impossible to stand safely aside as an observer. But Fowler's motives for intervening are suspect, both to the police and himself, for Pyle has stolen Fowler's beautiful Vietnamese mistress.
First published in 1956 and twice adapted to film, The Quiet American remains a terrifiying and prescient portrait of innocence at large. This Graham Greene Centennial Edition includes a new introductory essay by Robert Stone.
180 pages, Paperback
First published December 1, 1955
About the author
Graham Greene
476 books5,334 followersParticularly known novels, such as
The Power and the Glory
(1940), of British writer Henry Graham Greene reflect his ardent Catholic beliefs.
The Order of Merit and the Companions of Honour inducted this English novelist, short story writer, playwright, screenplay writer, travel writer, and critic. His works explore the ambivalent moral and political issues of the modern world. Greene combined serious literary acclaim with wide popularity.
Greene objected strongly to description as a “Catholic novelist” despite Catholic religious themes at the root of much of his writing, especially the four major Catholic novels: Brighton Rock , The Heart of the Matter , The End of the Affair , and The Power and the Glory . Other works, such as The Quiet American , Our Man in Havana , and The Human Factor , also show an avid interest in the workings of international politics and espionage.
(Adapted from Wikipedia)
The Order of Merit and the Companions of Honour inducted this English novelist, short story writer, playwright, screenplay writer, travel writer, and critic. His works explore the ambivalent moral and political issues of the modern world. Greene combined serious literary acclaim with wide popularity.
Greene objected strongly to description as a “Catholic novelist” despite Catholic religious themes at the root of much of his writing, especially the four major Catholic novels: Brighton Rock , The Heart of the Matter , The End of the Affair , and The Power and the Glory . Other works, such as The Quiet American , Our Man in Havana , and The Human Factor , also show an avid interest in the workings of international politics and espionage.
(Adapted from Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 4,330 reviews
December 3, 2020
December 2020: After some thought I decided to upgrade my rating to 5*. I've been praising this novel for some time and I do not understand why I only gave it 4stars.
This is a cautionary tale about the involvement of America and Britain in the French War in Vietnam. Reading this book was a great way to learn more about the First Indochina War.
The two main characters are symbols of the American and British participation in Vietnam. The British does not want to get involved in the war, and he is deluding himself that he is only an indifferent spectator.
Pyle, the American, represents the idealistic principles that the Americas brought in the Vietnam war and the lack of guilt for the damage they had created by their innocent causes.
"Innocence is a kind of insanity” “Innocence always calls mutely for protection when we would be so much wiser to guard ourselves against it: innocence is like a dumb leper who has lost his bell, wandering the world, meaning no harm.”
One of the conclusions of the books is that “Sooner or later...one has to take sides. If one is to remain human.” Another is somehow similar to the other book that I was reading in the same time, Blindness. It is about people's ignorance to human suffering, futility of life and the permanence of death.
This is the first book I read by Greene and it won't be the last. I enjoyed his subtle tone.
This is a cautionary tale about the involvement of America and Britain in the French War in Vietnam. Reading this book was a great way to learn more about the First Indochina War.
The two main characters are symbols of the American and British participation in Vietnam. The British does not want to get involved in the war, and he is deluding himself that he is only an indifferent spectator.
Pyle, the American, represents the idealistic principles that the Americas brought in the Vietnam war and the lack of guilt for the damage they had created by their innocent causes.
"Innocence is a kind of insanity” “Innocence always calls mutely for protection when we would be so much wiser to guard ourselves against it: innocence is like a dumb leper who has lost his bell, wandering the world, meaning no harm.”
One of the conclusions of the books is that “Sooner or later...one has to take sides. If one is to remain human.” Another is somehow similar to the other book that I was reading in the same time, Blindness. It is about people's ignorance to human suffering, futility of life and the permanence of death.
This is the first book I read by Greene and it won't be the last. I enjoyed his subtle tone.
April 1, 2024
RIPENESS IS ALL.
John Keats
The other day it occurred to me that this jarringly complex book was a wry attempt on Graham Greene’s part to defrock the dreaded americanos of The Power and Glory with an ironic image - the gregarious, wellmeaning, crewcut volunteers of that brave invention, the Peace Corps.
Greene was always so perplexed by the bizarre and continually morphing forms of violent behaviour in the world - and stymied by the fact that so many of the cleared paths open to it are paved by bystanders’ like Pyle’s innocent good intentions - that he became more and more obsessively predisposed to a sort of truculent silence, a retreat into his own less than virtuous anodynes.
He agreed wholeheartedly, at a rather morbid distance from orthodoxy, with T.S. Eliot’s image of the beleaguered and battered Word of God at the non-retaliative heart of existence:
We would see a sign!
The Word within the world
Unable to speak a word
Swaddled in darkness.
Signs are taken for wonders!
Against the Word
The unstilled world still whirled
About the Centre of the Silent Word.
The image of the crucifixion is central to the Catholic imagination, and Greene was imbued with it too.
So, drugged and dropped-out in his down-for-the-count habits, like the principal character of this novel - who is a world-weary opportunist - he distances the innocence of Pyle in much the same way as John Keats stylistically distances his own too-Personal experiences through the romance of literate and storied rhyme.
To Greene, Pyle is an overripe Aspie. Pyle's scent is overrripe - because he is innocent, enthusiastic, and hopelessly naive in the eyes of the smirking foot soldiers. I know that feeling, old Aspie that I am.
So does Greene, but he evades that damning appelation. And so did Keats: he evades it by distancing, Anthony Burgess' jaundiced view of him notwithstanding.
For Keats’ discovery of the literary device of distancing - you can see it in the mythical sense of chivalrous historicity imparted to a rather unworthily mundane act, in his St Agnes’ Eve - gave him a methodology to “glean (a collection of poetic images, jostling for their release from) his teeming brain;” AND as well to provide him with a catharsis of his own nagging sins in ‘confessional' writing.
So too, Greene ‘distances’ his own perverse personas in the manic phases of his bipolar disorder, AND gives voice to his personal mistrust of the US presence in Vietnam in one fell swoop: by creating the Quiet American, Pyle.
My third-year uni prof said distancing came to the foreground with the lyrical images of Wordsworth, notably in his ennobling segue from the sight of a young peasant girl working in the fields into a meditative digression into a timeless and and spaceless apotheosis of her lyricism, in The Solitary Reaper.
It’s a long, grim sludge for us, though, from the wheat fields of pastoral England to the napalmed black jungle of Vietnam.
The Quiet American is likewise, for Greene, the distancing of his own sordid presence amid the horrific American aporia of innocent intentions gone so abominably wrong, and the making of Pyle into a universal symbol as well as a fractured piece of himself as a great writer.
Mishaps dog the young Pyle in Vietnam.
As they did his country after a Quiet America entered its jungles.
For the young America had indeed entered Quietly into French Indochina - but would leave it injured and aged.
But the damaging self-inflicted wounds of its bungled innocence would prove long lasting.
John Keats
The other day it occurred to me that this jarringly complex book was a wry attempt on Graham Greene’s part to defrock the dreaded americanos of The Power and Glory with an ironic image - the gregarious, wellmeaning, crewcut volunteers of that brave invention, the Peace Corps.
Greene was always so perplexed by the bizarre and continually morphing forms of violent behaviour in the world - and stymied by the fact that so many of the cleared paths open to it are paved by bystanders’ like Pyle’s innocent good intentions - that he became more and more obsessively predisposed to a sort of truculent silence, a retreat into his own less than virtuous anodynes.
He agreed wholeheartedly, at a rather morbid distance from orthodoxy, with T.S. Eliot’s image of the beleaguered and battered Word of God at the non-retaliative heart of existence:
We would see a sign!
The Word within the world
Unable to speak a word
Swaddled in darkness.
Signs are taken for wonders!
Against the Word
The unstilled world still whirled
About the Centre of the Silent Word.
The image of the crucifixion is central to the Catholic imagination, and Greene was imbued with it too.
So, drugged and dropped-out in his down-for-the-count habits, like the principal character of this novel - who is a world-weary opportunist - he distances the innocence of Pyle in much the same way as John Keats stylistically distances his own too-Personal experiences through the romance of literate and storied rhyme.
To Greene, Pyle is an overripe Aspie. Pyle's scent is overrripe - because he is innocent, enthusiastic, and hopelessly naive in the eyes of the smirking foot soldiers. I know that feeling, old Aspie that I am.
So does Greene, but he evades that damning appelation. And so did Keats: he evades it by distancing, Anthony Burgess' jaundiced view of him notwithstanding.
For Keats’ discovery of the literary device of distancing - you can see it in the mythical sense of chivalrous historicity imparted to a rather unworthily mundane act, in his St Agnes’ Eve - gave him a methodology to “glean (a collection of poetic images, jostling for their release from) his teeming brain;” AND as well to provide him with a catharsis of his own nagging sins in ‘confessional' writing.
So too, Greene ‘distances’ his own perverse personas in the manic phases of his bipolar disorder, AND gives voice to his personal mistrust of the US presence in Vietnam in one fell swoop: by creating the Quiet American, Pyle.
My third-year uni prof said distancing came to the foreground with the lyrical images of Wordsworth, notably in his ennobling segue from the sight of a young peasant girl working in the fields into a meditative digression into a timeless and and spaceless apotheosis of her lyricism, in The Solitary Reaper.
It’s a long, grim sludge for us, though, from the wheat fields of pastoral England to the napalmed black jungle of Vietnam.
The Quiet American is likewise, for Greene, the distancing of his own sordid presence amid the horrific American aporia of innocent intentions gone so abominably wrong, and the making of Pyle into a universal symbol as well as a fractured piece of himself as a great writer.
Mishaps dog the young Pyle in Vietnam.
As they did his country after a Quiet America entered its jungles.
For the young America had indeed entered Quietly into French Indochina - but would leave it injured and aged.
But the damaging self-inflicted wounds of its bungled innocence would prove long lasting.
April 3, 2020
I never knew a man who had better motives for all the trouble he caused.
I assume that everyone for once in own life had to face such a moment that, though convinced about doing the right thing, felt nevertheless poorly and uncomfortably. How is it possible, we asked then, we acted righteously so why such bad feeling, such turbulence in our mind? We did a good choice so why this bile that fills our mouths? Why that need to rationalize our deeds? There was no other way, we say. But really? And this is a feeling Graham Greene leaves me with almost every time. Something that still bothers and troubles me and pours cold water over me, my whole self - confidence and well-being.
Because no matter how much we abide by our principles and sense of morality we constantly collide with the concept of the lesser evil and the common good, in short with situations that allow us or even encourage to justify our actions or omissions. And so is Thomas Fowler, somewhat cynical English reporter, for years residing in the East, whose life motto is to be not engaged . But is it really possibly to live without being involved? Thomas seems to care only for a few things in his life: willing body of young mistress in his bed and some pipes of opium to detach himself not only from the outside world, the whole thing takes place in the fifties during French-Vietnamese war, but also from own conscience. And one day in this more or less organized world enters the title quiet American, young and naïve impregnably armored by his good intentions and his ignorance Alden Pyle, with his head stuffed with bookish knowledge and mouth packed with platitude on democracy and justice. He comes with his sense of mission to save the world and by the way of course falls in love with Fowler’s mistress.
One could say that it is a banal situation only wrapped up in exotic costume and cast in some unusual scenery to add some spice. You couldn't be more wrong since this collision of East with West, old with new, that clash between youth and maturity, experience and naivety Greene played masterfully. And in the end neither youthful idealism of Pyle nor disillusioned stoicism of Fowler allows anyone to remain nonaligned. There is always that moment one must espouse whose side we are on. Because in fact, no matter how much we turn our eyes and try to stay neutral, even though we choose our own side, it is always a pure act of being irretrievably engaged.
I assume that everyone for once in own life had to face such a moment that, though convinced about doing the right thing, felt nevertheless poorly and uncomfortably. How is it possible, we asked then, we acted righteously so why such bad feeling, such turbulence in our mind? We did a good choice so why this bile that fills our mouths? Why that need to rationalize our deeds? There was no other way, we say. But really? And this is a feeling Graham Greene leaves me with almost every time. Something that still bothers and troubles me and pours cold water over me, my whole self - confidence and well-being.
Because no matter how much we abide by our principles and sense of morality we constantly collide with the concept of the lesser evil and the common good, in short with situations that allow us or even encourage to justify our actions or omissions. And so is Thomas Fowler, somewhat cynical English reporter, for years residing in the East, whose life motto is to be not engaged . But is it really possibly to live without being involved? Thomas seems to care only for a few things in his life: willing body of young mistress in his bed and some pipes of opium to detach himself not only from the outside world, the whole thing takes place in the fifties during French-Vietnamese war, but also from own conscience. And one day in this more or less organized world enters the title quiet American, young and naïve impregnably armored by his good intentions and his ignorance Alden Pyle, with his head stuffed with bookish knowledge and mouth packed with platitude on democracy and justice. He comes with his sense of mission to save the world and by the way of course falls in love with Fowler’s mistress.
One could say that it is a banal situation only wrapped up in exotic costume and cast in some unusual scenery to add some spice. You couldn't be more wrong since this collision of East with West, old with new, that clash between youth and maturity, experience and naivety Greene played masterfully. And in the end neither youthful idealism of Pyle nor disillusioned stoicism of Fowler allows anyone to remain nonaligned. There is always that moment one must espouse whose side we are on. Because in fact, no matter how much we turn our eyes and try to stay neutral, even though we choose our own side, it is always a pure act of being irretrievably engaged.
March 6, 2023
“I stopped our trishaw outside the Chalet and said to Phuong, ‘Go in and find a table. I had better look after Pyle.’ That was my first instinct – to protect him. It never occurred to me that there was a greater need to protect myself. Innocence always calls mutely for protection when we should be so much wiser to guard ourselves against it: innocence is like a dumb leper who has lost his bell, wandering the world, meaning no harm…”
- Graham Greene, The Quiet American
Even if it had no lasting literary merit, Graham Greene’s The Quiet American would have its place in the canon of prophetic novels. At the time it was published in 1955, Vietnam had only recently emerged from the First Indochina War, which had ended France’s long colonial rule. Following the 1954 Geneva Conference, the country had been partitioned between North and South, with elections scheduled for 1956.
Those elections were in the future when this book hit the shelves, as was the flood of American military advisors into South Vietnam, the assassination of Ngo Dinh Diem, the Gulf of Tonkin, the Tet Offensive, the escape from Saigon, and the long black wall in Washington, D.C. Nevertheless, Greene writes with a certain acute prescience about the general direction in which events were headed, especially with regard to the heightened involvement of the United States.
To be clear, The Quiet American’s elements of prophecy can be overstated. But it is to Greene’s credit that this feels like it was written in the late 1960s and early 70s, when all the mistakes were being made, instead of at an inflection point when all the mistakes might have been avoided.
Thankfully, for anyone picking up this slim novel, The Quiet American has plenty of literary merit. It is an allegorical work, the tale of a love triangle in which two foreign men vying for the affections of a Vietnamese woman comes to stand for much bigger things.
***
As with many allegories, there is a simplicity to the proceedings. There are only three major characters. The first is Thomas Fowler, the crusty, jaded British journalist who feels so archetypically familiar that if he was a pair of clothes, he would be your favorite sweatpants. Fowler narrates the novel in the first-person, though his version of events can sometimes be unreliable, and he does not really have the self-reflection to meditate on the irony of a man from Great Britain delivering pointed lectures on colonialism and imperialism.
Alden Pyle takes second billing in this drama. He is the titular American, an undercover CIA officer who – in a few more years – would have fit perfectly into John Kennedy’s New Frontier, one of “the best and the brightest,” a brilliant Harvard grad almost overflowing with pet ideas and grand theories, along with the idealism to believe that the proper application of those ideas and theories could solve just about any problem.
(According to legend, Pyle is based on General Edward Landsdale, a real-life proponent of guerilla warfare and counterinsurgency who showed up at many of the battlefields that littered the margins of the Cold War. This appears to be a misconception).
Caught in between Fowler and Pyle is Phuong, a beautiful young woman defined by her pragmatism. She’s with Fowler at the beginning of the novel, because he provides security and stability. She later shows a willingness to jettison Fowler for Pyle, for those same reasons. Perhaps it’s the fact that this saga is relayed from only Fowler’s perspective, or perhaps it’s because Phuong is both a person and a symbol, but I found her a bit underwritten.
***
Unsurprisingly, Fowler and Pyle’s relationship is tense. There is a certain admiration on Fowler’s part, but as a man who detests ideology, he comes to despise Pyle’s belief that there is a “Third Way” between Communism and colonialism. Fowler has some keen points as to why Pyle’s notions won’t work, but his observations are clouded by the fact that he is also upset that Pyle is crowding in on his girlfriend. The opacity of Fowler’s intentions are in keeping with the moral quagmire that is often a theme – and reality – of Vietnam-set stories.
Any plot summary in a novel this brisk threatens to give away too much. Suffice to say, the pacing is quick, the story beats are precisely timed, and the writing is just top-shelf. For instance, there is a great little scene of Fowler describing the failure of his marriage to a woman back in England:
This is something of a throwaway moment, ancillary to the central plot, yet Greene imbues it with meaning.
***
The Quiet American’s reputation has only grown with time. As the United States waded ever deeper into an unpopular and devastating war, Greene’s book came to be seen as a masterpiece of anti-imperialism. Indeed, the very title has become a shorthand for a certain brand of American who is arrogantly unable to foresee the unintended consequences of his purportedly-good intentions.
It is quite possible that Greene has been given a bit too much credit for predicting the events to come. It is also debatable whether Pyle and his idealism is really a good stand-in for Vietnam-Era America. That is to say, there is a lot of evidence showing that the involvement of the United States in Vietnam, and its stubbornness in refusing to leave, was driven by factors other than a good faith belief that a radical paradigm change was likely.
The thing is, The Quiet American doesn’t need to have divination heaped on its somewhat slender shoulders to be worth your time. It takes the elements of a potboiler and polishes them with marvelous prose, a sharply realized setting, and memorably drawn characters, all this coming to a quick boil in a murky, ethically flexible environment where everyone’s motives are open to question.
- Graham Greene, The Quiet American
Even if it had no lasting literary merit, Graham Greene’s The Quiet American would have its place in the canon of prophetic novels. At the time it was published in 1955, Vietnam had only recently emerged from the First Indochina War, which had ended France’s long colonial rule. Following the 1954 Geneva Conference, the country had been partitioned between North and South, with elections scheduled for 1956.
Those elections were in the future when this book hit the shelves, as was the flood of American military advisors into South Vietnam, the assassination of Ngo Dinh Diem, the Gulf of Tonkin, the Tet Offensive, the escape from Saigon, and the long black wall in Washington, D.C. Nevertheless, Greene writes with a certain acute prescience about the general direction in which events were headed, especially with regard to the heightened involvement of the United States.
To be clear, The Quiet American’s elements of prophecy can be overstated. But it is to Greene’s credit that this feels like it was written in the late 1960s and early 70s, when all the mistakes were being made, instead of at an inflection point when all the mistakes might have been avoided.
Thankfully, for anyone picking up this slim novel, The Quiet American has plenty of literary merit. It is an allegorical work, the tale of a love triangle in which two foreign men vying for the affections of a Vietnamese woman comes to stand for much bigger things.
***
As with many allegories, there is a simplicity to the proceedings. There are only three major characters. The first is Thomas Fowler, the crusty, jaded British journalist who feels so archetypically familiar that if he was a pair of clothes, he would be your favorite sweatpants. Fowler narrates the novel in the first-person, though his version of events can sometimes be unreliable, and he does not really have the self-reflection to meditate on the irony of a man from Great Britain delivering pointed lectures on colonialism and imperialism.
Alden Pyle takes second billing in this drama. He is the titular American, an undercover CIA officer who – in a few more years – would have fit perfectly into John Kennedy’s New Frontier, one of “the best and the brightest,” a brilliant Harvard grad almost overflowing with pet ideas and grand theories, along with the idealism to believe that the proper application of those ideas and theories could solve just about any problem.
(According to legend, Pyle is based on General Edward Landsdale, a real-life proponent of guerilla warfare and counterinsurgency who showed up at many of the battlefields that littered the margins of the Cold War. This appears to be a misconception).
Caught in between Fowler and Pyle is Phuong, a beautiful young woman defined by her pragmatism. She’s with Fowler at the beginning of the novel, because he provides security and stability. She later shows a willingness to jettison Fowler for Pyle, for those same reasons. Perhaps it’s the fact that this saga is relayed from only Fowler’s perspective, or perhaps it’s because Phuong is both a person and a symbol, but I found her a bit underwritten.
***
Unsurprisingly, Fowler and Pyle’s relationship is tense. There is a certain admiration on Fowler’s part, but as a man who detests ideology, he comes to despise Pyle’s belief that there is a “Third Way” between Communism and colonialism. Fowler has some keen points as to why Pyle’s notions won’t work, but his observations are clouded by the fact that he is also upset that Pyle is crowding in on his girlfriend. The opacity of Fowler’s intentions are in keeping with the moral quagmire that is often a theme – and reality – of Vietnam-set stories.
Any plot summary in a novel this brisk threatens to give away too much. Suffice to say, the pacing is quick, the story beats are precisely timed, and the writing is just top-shelf. For instance, there is a great little scene of Fowler describing the failure of his marriage to a woman back in England:
Her pain struck at my pain: we were back at the old routine of hurting each other. If only it were possible to love without injury - fidelity isn't enough: I had been faithful to Anne and yet I had injured her. The hurt is in the act of possession: we are too small in mind and body to possess another person without pride or to be possessed without humiliation.
This is something of a throwaway moment, ancillary to the central plot, yet Greene imbues it with meaning.
***
The Quiet American’s reputation has only grown with time. As the United States waded ever deeper into an unpopular and devastating war, Greene’s book came to be seen as a masterpiece of anti-imperialism. Indeed, the very title has become a shorthand for a certain brand of American who is arrogantly unable to foresee the unintended consequences of his purportedly-good intentions.
It is quite possible that Greene has been given a bit too much credit for predicting the events to come. It is also debatable whether Pyle and his idealism is really a good stand-in for Vietnam-Era America. That is to say, there is a lot of evidence showing that the involvement of the United States in Vietnam, and its stubbornness in refusing to leave, was driven by factors other than a good faith belief that a radical paradigm change was likely.
The thing is, The Quiet American doesn’t need to have divination heaped on its somewhat slender shoulders to be worth your time. It takes the elements of a potboiler and polishes them with marvelous prose, a sharply realized setting, and memorably drawn characters, all this coming to a quick boil in a murky, ethically flexible environment where everyone’s motives are open to question.
October 6, 2023
[Spoilers hidden 10/6/23]
You always get a good story from Graham Greene along with discussion of moral issues and this book has it all.
The setting is Vietnam in the early 1950s when the French are still fighting to hold on to their colony with American financial assistance and surreptitious military support. The author visited there in 1951. The French pulled out in 1954 and the Americans started coming in.
We have two men who go by their last names: a crusty, hard-drinking, opium-smoking, cynical British journalist - Fowler, and a younger, idealist American named Pyle. The story opens with the death of Pyle and is largely told retrospectively. Here’s what we get:
A Love Story: Both men are in love with a beautiful Vietnamese woman named Phuong.
War. Of course, war. So many wars. There’s little gore and only one chapter that focuses on a battle. That battle is told by Fowler from a journalist’s perspective and from a distance. But we get the point when that battle ends with wall-to-wall bodies clogging a canal. “I am reminded now of an Irish stew containing too much meat.”
Politics: In contrast to Pyle’s idealist attitude of ‘wanting to do good and help,’ Fowler’s attitude is ‘what difference can it possibly make’ to these peasants whose main concern is growing enough rice so that they won’t starve? Although it’s not stated in so many words, Fowler is aware of the calculation: how many deaths and maimings is it worth to produce a vague degree of ‘freedom’ a generation from now? 100,000? A million? The author is credited with ‘predicting the outcome’ of American involvement in Vietnam.
Photo of modern Ho Chin Minh City (formerly Saigon,) above; Hanoi below
God: It surprised me how many times one of the characters asked another: Do you believe in God? Again the contrast: Pyle grew up in one of those New England towns going to a white-steepled church. We know where cynical Fowler stands. And yet, we have heard about Greene being considered a ‘Catholic novelist.’ Fowler’s admiration shows for the Catholic nuns and priests who have by necessity evolved into nurses, doctors and aid workers.
A Murder Mystery: Did Fowler kill Pyle or have a hand in his killing? The head police detective thinks so and he questions Fowler several times in the story. What does Phuong think? What does Phuong know?
Last, I’ll add this book to a ‘journalism’ shelf – the life of a war correspondent at a time when news dispatches were sent by telegram. French authorities control the press. Dispatches are censored. Only victories are reported. Body counts are given of the enemy but not of French troops – as if the military had time to count enemy bodies before their own. Nor can Fowler, who works for a British newspaper, ever get a real ‘scoop’ – the telegraph people won’t send his story out until the French press reports it first.
When the book was published in 1955, it was widely considered anti-American and unpatriotic. What is the do-gooder Pyle, some kind of ‘economic attaché,’ doing there anyway? That, and the fact that it was written by a Brit, telling Americans why and how they were wrong.
The book was twice made into American movies, 1958 and 2002. In the 1958 version, the story theme was flipped and Pyle was made into a genuine do-gooder fighting communist villains. The 2002 version by Miramax was true to the original theme of the book but it was scheduled to be released literally in September of 2011 (911). Miramax movies pulled the film and released it a year later.
I had read this book years ago and I enjoyed it again on this second reading. I’ll give it a 5 and add it to my favorites. Graham Greene (1904-1991) is one of my favorite authors and I have also read and reviewed other excellent books by him: The Heart of the Matter, The Power and the Glory, The End of the Affair, The Comedians and Brighton Rock. The End of the Affair and The Quiet American are his two most popular books as measured by number of ratings on GR but The Power and the Glory is considered by some critics to be his ‘masterpiece.’
Thank you to GR friend Cassio for sending me this book recommendation.
Vietnam landscape from vivutravel.com
Ho Chi Minh City from livingnomads.com
Hanoi from Wikipedia.com
The author from karsh.org. wordpress
You always get a good story from Graham Greene along with discussion of moral issues and this book has it all.
The setting is Vietnam in the early 1950s when the French are still fighting to hold on to their colony with American financial assistance and surreptitious military support. The author visited there in 1951. The French pulled out in 1954 and the Americans started coming in.
We have two men who go by their last names: a crusty, hard-drinking, opium-smoking, cynical British journalist - Fowler, and a younger, idealist American named Pyle. The story opens with the death of Pyle and is largely told retrospectively. Here’s what we get:
A Love Story: Both men are in love with a beautiful Vietnamese woman named Phuong.
War. Of course, war. So many wars. There’s little gore and only one chapter that focuses on a battle. That battle is told by Fowler from a journalist’s perspective and from a distance. But we get the point when that battle ends with wall-to-wall bodies clogging a canal. “I am reminded now of an Irish stew containing too much meat.”
Politics: In contrast to Pyle’s idealist attitude of ‘wanting to do good and help,’ Fowler’s attitude is ‘what difference can it possibly make’ to these peasants whose main concern is growing enough rice so that they won’t starve? Although it’s not stated in so many words, Fowler is aware of the calculation: how many deaths and maimings is it worth to produce a vague degree of ‘freedom’ a generation from now? 100,000? A million? The author is credited with ‘predicting the outcome’ of American involvement in Vietnam.
Photo of modern Ho Chin Minh City (formerly Saigon,) above; Hanoi below
God: It surprised me how many times one of the characters asked another: Do you believe in God? Again the contrast: Pyle grew up in one of those New England towns going to a white-steepled church. We know where cynical Fowler stands. And yet, we have heard about Greene being considered a ‘Catholic novelist.’ Fowler’s admiration shows for the Catholic nuns and priests who have by necessity evolved into nurses, doctors and aid workers.
A Murder Mystery: Did Fowler kill Pyle or have a hand in his killing? The head police detective thinks so and he questions Fowler several times in the story. What does Phuong think? What does Phuong know?
Last, I’ll add this book to a ‘journalism’ shelf – the life of a war correspondent at a time when news dispatches were sent by telegram. French authorities control the press. Dispatches are censored. Only victories are reported. Body counts are given of the enemy but not of French troops – as if the military had time to count enemy bodies before their own. Nor can Fowler, who works for a British newspaper, ever get a real ‘scoop’ – the telegraph people won’t send his story out until the French press reports it first.
When the book was published in 1955, it was widely considered anti-American and unpatriotic. What is the do-gooder Pyle, some kind of ‘economic attaché,’ doing there anyway? That, and the fact that it was written by a Brit, telling Americans why and how they were wrong.
The book was twice made into American movies, 1958 and 2002. In the 1958 version, the story theme was flipped and Pyle was made into a genuine do-gooder fighting communist villains. The 2002 version by Miramax was true to the original theme of the book but it was scheduled to be released literally in September of 2011 (911). Miramax movies pulled the film and released it a year later.
I had read this book years ago and I enjoyed it again on this second reading. I’ll give it a 5 and add it to my favorites. Graham Greene (1904-1991) is one of my favorite authors and I have also read and reviewed other excellent books by him: The Heart of the Matter, The Power and the Glory, The End of the Affair, The Comedians and Brighton Rock. The End of the Affair and The Quiet American are his two most popular books as measured by number of ratings on GR but The Power and the Glory is considered by some critics to be his ‘masterpiece.’
Thank you to GR friend Cassio for sending me this book recommendation.
Vietnam landscape from vivutravel.com
Ho Chi Minh City from livingnomads.com
Hanoi from Wikipedia.com
The author from karsh.org. wordpress
November 15, 2021
(Book 499 from 1001 books) - The Quiet American, Graham Greene (1904-1992)
The Quiet American is a 1955 novel by English author Graham Greene which depicts French colonialism in Vietnam being uprooted by the Americans during the 1950's.
The novel implicitly questions the foundations of growing American involvement in Vietnam in the 1950's and is unique in its exploration of the subject topic through the links among its three main characters - Fowler, Pyle and Phuong.
The novel has received much attention due to its prediction of the outcome of the Vietnam War and subsequent American foreign policy since the 1950's.
Graham Greene portrays a U.S. official named Pyle as so blinded by American exceptionalism that he cannot see the calamities he brings upon the Vietnamese. It was adapted as two different movies, one in 1958 and another in 2002.
The book uses Greene's experiences as a war correspondent for The Times and Le Figaro in French Indochina 1951–1954.
He was apparently inspired to write The Quiet American during October 1951 while driving back to Saigon from Ben Tre province. He was accompanied by an American aid worker who lectured him about finding a "third force in Vietnam”.
آمریکایی آرام - گراهام گرین (خوارزمی) ادبیات؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش روز هشتم ماه دسامبر سال1984میلادی
عنوان: آمریکایی آرام؛ نویسنده: گراهام گرین؛ مترجم: عبدالله آزادیان؛ تهران، ؟، سال1344؛ چاپ دیگر مشهد، بوتیمار، سال1395؛ در350ص؛ شابک9786004043243؛ موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان بریتانیا - سده 20م
عنوان: امریکایی آرام؛ نویسنده: گراهام گرین؛ مترجم: عزت الله فولادوند؛ تهران، خوارزمی، سال1367، در259ص؛ چاپ دوم سال1370؛ چاپ سوم سال1389؛
نمیدانم چگونه کسی این کتاب را دوست نداشته است؛ رمانی از «گراهام گرین»، نویسنده بریتانیا، که نخستین بار به سال1955میلادی انتشار یافت؛ نویسنده، در پی مانش خود در «مالزی» و «هند» و «چین»، از دیدارهای خود به عنوان خبرنگار جنگی سود برده، و در اثری خنده دار، رمان را با واژه های خویش آراسته اند؛ وی با طنزی محترمانه و بیانی درخشان، چگونگی اندیشه ی «امریکایی» را به دادرسی کشیده است؛ چهره های داستان: یک روزنامه نگار «بریتانیا» به نام «فاولر»، که نقش بینشگری آسانگیر و بیغم را دارد؛ «فوئنگ»، معشوقه ی زیبای «ویتنامی» خبرنگار است؛ و «آلدن پایل»، جوان «آمریکایی» اهل «بوستون» در جبهه ی جنگ «ویتنام»؛ که باور دارد آدمی هرگز برای خرابیهایی که به بار آورده، چنین انگیزه های خوبی نداشته است؛ «پایل» درصدد برمیآید «فوئنگ» را از چنگ «فاولر» به در آورد، و ...؛
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 10/10/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 23/08/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی
The Quiet American is a 1955 novel by English author Graham Greene which depicts French colonialism in Vietnam being uprooted by the Americans during the 1950's.
The novel implicitly questions the foundations of growing American involvement in Vietnam in the 1950's and is unique in its exploration of the subject topic through the links among its three main characters - Fowler, Pyle and Phuong.
The novel has received much attention due to its prediction of the outcome of the Vietnam War and subsequent American foreign policy since the 1950's.
Graham Greene portrays a U.S. official named Pyle as so blinded by American exceptionalism that he cannot see the calamities he brings upon the Vietnamese. It was adapted as two different movies, one in 1958 and another in 2002.
The book uses Greene's experiences as a war correspondent for The Times and Le Figaro in French Indochina 1951–1954.
He was apparently inspired to write The Quiet American during October 1951 while driving back to Saigon from Ben Tre province. He was accompanied by an American aid worker who lectured him about finding a "third force in Vietnam”.
آمریکایی آرام - گراهام گرین (خوارزمی) ادبیات؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش روز هشتم ماه دسامبر سال1984میلادی
عنوان: آمریکایی آرام؛ نویسنده: گراهام گرین؛ مترجم: عبدالله آزادیان؛ تهران، ؟، سال1344؛ چاپ دیگر مشهد، بوتیمار، سال1395؛ در350ص؛ شابک9786004043243؛ موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان بریتانیا - سده 20م
عنوان: امریکایی آرام؛ نویسنده: گراهام گرین؛ مترجم: عزت الله فولادوند؛ تهران، خوارزمی، سال1367، در259ص؛ چاپ دوم سال1370؛ چاپ سوم سال1389؛
نمیدانم چگونه کسی این کتاب را دوست نداشته است؛ رمانی از «گراهام گرین»، نویسنده بریتانیا، که نخستین بار به سال1955میلادی انتشار یافت؛ نویسنده، در پی مانش خود در «مالزی» و «هند» و «چین»، از دیدارهای خود به عنوان خبرنگار جنگی سود برده، و در اثری خنده دار، رمان را با واژه های خویش آراسته اند؛ وی با طنزی محترمانه و بیانی درخشان، چگونگی اندیشه ی «امریکایی» را به دادرسی کشیده است؛ چهره های داستان: یک روزنامه نگار «بریتانیا» به نام «فاولر»، که نقش بینشگری آسانگیر و بیغم را دارد؛ «فوئنگ»، معشوقه ی زیبای «ویتنامی» خبرنگار است؛ و «آلدن پایل»، جوان «آمریکایی» اهل «بوستون» در جبهه ی جنگ «ویتنام»؛ که باور دارد آدمی هرگز برای خرابیهایی که به بار آورده، چنین انگیزه های خوبی نداشته است؛ «پایل» درصدد برمیآید «فوئنگ» را از چنگ «فاولر» به در آورد، و ...؛
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 10/10/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 23/08/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی
July 2, 2017
'I shut my eyes and she was again the same as she used to be: she was the hiss of steam, the clink of a cup, she was a certain hour of the night, and the promise of rest.'
Sometimes a few notable books cause me to start thinking just I turn the last page. So, excuse me for beginning this review with some of my latest ruminations. When I reflect on the meaning of life, although I am not a philosopher I do that sometimes, the fact that we are here for such a short while strikes me as so dismal. If we are to have such a short life, how can we live it to the fullest?, I often ask myself. Our lives might be inconsequential, what are 70 or even 80 years compared with the history of humanity? And what is within our control? I hope to live up to my 80’s, but will I? As you might have guessed, I am an atheist and have no religion to alleviate my doubts. One thing I know is that there is always a beginning and an end. So I sometimes get melancholic by this musings. But how can we make the best of it?
Then one day I read Graham Greene’s The Quiet American, and everything makes sense again. Everything is suddenly all right. Oh, I am relieved not to have read it before, for now, it enthralled me for the first time. And probably tomorrow it will be another gem that will prove to me how right life is. And in reading it I convince myself that Greene shared a little in what I will call here my contemplation moments:
What is The Quiet American all about, after all? Many see it as a mere allegory between the forces involved in the conflict portrayed by Greene. Others recognize it as just a war or spy novel. I prefer to read it as a love triangle where Fowley, the surly middle-aged British war correspondent; and Pyle, the young and naïve American spy; dispute the love and possession of the young and beautiful Vietnamese Phuong. Their tangled relationship could, of course, stand for the intricacies of the conflict that was ravaging Viet Nam and what was yet to come. But let’s just leave at that.
Like The End of the Affair, this is a Greene novel that affects you viscerally. A naïve American CIA operative, fresh from Yale, arrives in Vietnam and promptly steals the narrator's lover then gets himself and several Vietnamese killed. That seems a pretty straightforward plot. But it is far from it. The story goes back and forth in time and thus increasingly reveals all that is brewing inside the protagonist and narrator Fowler. From the beginning, he felt protective of Pyke, and despite their dispute over the girl, they remain quite good friends:
But the triangle of Fowler, Pyle and Phuong was even more intricate. That is the beauty of it, how they dealt with each other and their desires openly:
With each word, each line and each paragraph Greene demonstrates, through his protagonist, how he articulates internal struggles exceptionally well: the meditating but judgmental mind, the bustling innermost turmoil. He articulates like few the dark side of love – the narrator with his quick and keen mind; with a fastidious view of the world, and a hardened heart. Despite death, anguish, and hardship, there is hope in the end. And each sentence is a treasure, making it a pleasure to quote Greene.
And we first hear of Fowler’s cynical views:
And how he always preferred escape to the possibility of loss:
Thus, when Pyke saves his life, Fowler was far from thankful, for he had been looking for exactly that escape when he came to Saigon:
All through Greene’s narrative, we catch glimpses of how his protagonist recognizes that love, even for the toughest of them, brings with it the possibility of pain. 'Her pain struck at my pain: we were back at the old routine of hurting each other. If only it were possible to love without injury – fidelity isn't enough.' But despite knowing from experience the damage of loss, the pain was not any less. 'I wish I could have those nights back. I'm still in love, Pyle, and I'm a wasting asset.' But there was more to it, even if less hurtful. 'Oh, and there was pride, of course. It takes a long time before we cease to feel proud of being wanted.' But our protagonist fights all that he believes to be true. However, he cannot escape; to comprehend it all seems impossible and a recurring theme with Greene. 'Wouldn't we all do better not trying to understand, accepting the fact that no human being will ever understand another, not a wife a husband, a lover a mistress?' It is unforgivably poignant in its sufferings. 'I began to plan the life I had still somehow to live and to remember memories in order to eliminate them. Happy memories are the worst, and I tried to remember the unhappy.' Above all, these passages touch us all the more and never go away for their flashes of beauty.
Thus, the story of the quiet American is the story of idealism, of naiveté, with not knowing but supposing to know best. Pyle’s good intentions may seem endearing, but they come from ignorance, and Fowler recognizes from the beginning how dangerous, and guesses that his fate was so sealed.
Despite the fact that some can view the Vietnamese as weak and ignorant, Fowler by the end presents us the reality of Phuong, and for me, it could not be more honest, for these are people that in their effort to survive have to make the most of what they have. Talking to Pyke, when they discuss Phuong’s future we read how well he can judge her:
One of the dilemmas that Fowler faces since arriving in Viet Nam is that he avoided getting involved. He was always the mere correspondent, just relaying the news he imagined his editors would want to see published. He had an assistant that was his way of staying distant.
But what he discovered is that frequently we do not have the luxury of staying neutral. Fowler realizes late in his affair that he loved Phuong, also discover that life sometimes has its way of forcing on us to make a stand.
I loved The Quiet American. It has everything that a discerning reader might want in a book. An astute glimpse of American foreign policy, depicted as a dumb leper who has lost his bell, wandering the world, meaning no harm. It has a credible and fascinating love triangle set in a hazy and exotic setting. It has challenging characters uncovered as thoroughly human with all their imperfections. All this delivered through a majestic narrative. This novel will grab hold of you; and by the end, as with most great examples of literature, you'll be a little wiser and more enchanted with life because of it.
___
I want to thank my friend Vessey for granting me the privilege of reading The Quiet American with her.
Sometimes a few notable books cause me to start thinking just I turn the last page. So, excuse me for beginning this review with some of my latest ruminations. When I reflect on the meaning of life, although I am not a philosopher I do that sometimes, the fact that we are here for such a short while strikes me as so dismal. If we are to have such a short life, how can we live it to the fullest?, I often ask myself. Our lives might be inconsequential, what are 70 or even 80 years compared with the history of humanity? And what is within our control? I hope to live up to my 80’s, but will I? As you might have guessed, I am an atheist and have no religion to alleviate my doubts. One thing I know is that there is always a beginning and an end. So I sometimes get melancholic by this musings. But how can we make the best of it?
Then one day I read Graham Greene’s The Quiet American, and everything makes sense again. Everything is suddenly all right. Oh, I am relieved not to have read it before, for now, it enthralled me for the first time. And probably tomorrow it will be another gem that will prove to me how right life is. And in reading it I convince myself that Greene shared a little in what I will call here my contemplation moments:
From childhood I had never believed in permanence, and yet I had longed for it. Always I was afraid of losing happiness. This month, next year... If not next year, in three years. Death was the only absolute value in my world. Lose life and one would lose nothing again forever. I envied those who could believe in a God and I distrusted them. I felt they were keeping their courage up with a fable of the changeless and the permanent. Death was far more certain than God, and with death there would be no longer the daily possibility of love dying.
What is The Quiet American all about, after all? Many see it as a mere allegory between the forces involved in the conflict portrayed by Greene. Others recognize it as just a war or spy novel. I prefer to read it as a love triangle where Fowley, the surly middle-aged British war correspondent; and Pyle, the young and naïve American spy; dispute the love and possession of the young and beautiful Vietnamese Phuong. Their tangled relationship could, of course, stand for the intricacies of the conflict that was ravaging Viet Nam and what was yet to come. But let’s just leave at that.
Like The End of the Affair, this is a Greene novel that affects you viscerally. A naïve American CIA operative, fresh from Yale, arrives in Vietnam and promptly steals the narrator's lover then gets himself and several Vietnamese killed. That seems a pretty straightforward plot. But it is far from it. The story goes back and forth in time and thus increasingly reveals all that is brewing inside the protagonist and narrator Fowler. From the beginning, he felt protective of Pyke, and despite their dispute over the girl, they remain quite good friends:
“I stopped our trishaw outside the Chalet and said to Phuong, “Go in and find a table. I had better look after Pyle.” That was my first instinct – to protect him. It never occurred to me that there was greater need to protect myself. Innocence always calls mutely for protection when we would be so much wiser to guard ourselves against it; innocence is like a dumb leper who has lost his bell, wandering the world, meaning no harm.”
But the triangle of Fowler, Pyle and Phuong was even more intricate. That is the beauty of it, how they dealt with each other and their desires openly:
"What can you offer her?" he asked me with anger. "A couple hundred dollars when you leave for England, or will you pass her on with the furniture?"
"The furniture isn't mine."
"She is not either. Phuong, will you marry me?"
"What about the blood group?" I said. "And a health certificate. You'll need hers, surely? Maybe you ought to have mine too. And her horoscope - no, that is an Indian custom."
"Will you marry me?"
"Say it in French," I said. "I'm damned if I'll interpret for you anymore."
With each word, each line and each paragraph Greene demonstrates, through his protagonist, how he articulates internal struggles exceptionally well: the meditating but judgmental mind, the bustling innermost turmoil. He articulates like few the dark side of love – the narrator with his quick and keen mind; with a fastidious view of the world, and a hardened heart. Despite death, anguish, and hardship, there is hope in the end. And each sentence is a treasure, making it a pleasure to quote Greene.
And we first hear of Fowler’s cynical views:
"To be in love is to see yourself as someone else sees you, it is to be in love with the falsified and exalted image of yourself. In love we are incapable of honour – the courageous act is no more than playing a part to an audience of two. Perhaps I was no longer in love but I remembered."
And how he always preferred escape to the possibility of loss:
"No, that woman came earlier. When I left my wife."
"What happened?"
"I left her, too."
"Why?"
Why indeed? "We are fools," I said, "when we love. I was terrified of losing her. I thought I saw her changing – I don't know if she really was, but I couldn't bear the uncertainty any longer. I ran towards the finish just as a coward runs towards the enemy and wins a medal. I wanted to get death over."
"Death?"
"It was a kind of death. And I came east."
Thus, when Pyke saves his life, Fowler was far from thankful, for he had been looking for exactly that escape when he came to Saigon:
"We've made it," Pyle said, and even in my pain I wondered what we'd made: for me, old age, an editor's chair, loneliness; and for him, one knows now that he spoke prematurely. Then in the cold, we settled down to wait. Along the road a bonfire burst into life: it burnt merrily like a celebration. "That's my car," I said.
All through Greene’s narrative, we catch glimpses of how his protagonist recognizes that love, even for the toughest of them, brings with it the possibility of pain. 'Her pain struck at my pain: we were back at the old routine of hurting each other. If only it were possible to love without injury – fidelity isn't enough.' But despite knowing from experience the damage of loss, the pain was not any less. 'I wish I could have those nights back. I'm still in love, Pyle, and I'm a wasting asset.' But there was more to it, even if less hurtful. 'Oh, and there was pride, of course. It takes a long time before we cease to feel proud of being wanted.' But our protagonist fights all that he believes to be true. However, he cannot escape; to comprehend it all seems impossible and a recurring theme with Greene. 'Wouldn't we all do better not trying to understand, accepting the fact that no human being will ever understand another, not a wife a husband, a lover a mistress?' It is unforgivably poignant in its sufferings. 'I began to plan the life I had still somehow to live and to remember memories in order to eliminate them. Happy memories are the worst, and I tried to remember the unhappy.' Above all, these passages touch us all the more and never go away for their flashes of beauty.
Thus, the story of the quiet American is the story of idealism, of naiveté, with not knowing but supposing to know best. Pyle’s good intentions may seem endearing, but they come from ignorance, and Fowler recognizes from the beginning how dangerous, and guesses that his fate was so sealed.
"Have you any hunch," he asked, "why they killed him? and who?"
Suddenly I was angry; I was tired of the whole pack of them with their private stores of Coca-Cola and their portable hospitals and their wide cars and their not quite latest guns. I said, "Yes. They killed him because he was too innocent to live. He was young and ignorant and silly to get involved.”
Despite the fact that some can view the Vietnamese as weak and ignorant, Fowler by the end presents us the reality of Phuong, and for me, it could not be more honest, for these are people that in their effort to survive have to make the most of what they have. Talking to Pyke, when they discuss Phuong’s future we read how well he can judge her:
"She's no child. She is tougher than you'll ever be. Do you know the kind of polish that doesn't take scratches? That's Phuong. She can survive a dozen of us. She'll get old, that's all. She'll suffer from childbirth and hunger and cold and rheumatism, but she'll never suffer like we do from thought, obsession-she won't scratch, she'll only decay."
One of the dilemmas that Fowler faces since arriving in Viet Nam is that he avoided getting involved. He was always the mere correspondent, just relaying the news he imagined his editors would want to see published. He had an assistant that was his way of staying distant.
"'You can rule me out,' I said. 'I'm not involved. Not involved,' I repeated. It had been an article of my creed. The human condition being what it was, let them fight, let them love, let them murder, I would not be involved. My fellow journalists called themselves correspondents; I preferred the title of reporter. I wrote what I saw. I took no action – even an opinion is a kind of action."
But what he discovered is that frequently we do not have the luxury of staying neutral. Fowler realizes late in his affair that he loved Phuong, also discover that life sometimes has its way of forcing on us to make a stand.
Suffering is not increased by numbers: one body can contain all the suffering the world can feel. I had judged like a journalist in terms of quantity and I betrayed my own principle; I had become as engaged as Pyle, and it seemed to me that no decision would ever be simple again.
I loved The Quiet American. It has everything that a discerning reader might want in a book. An astute glimpse of American foreign policy, depicted as a dumb leper who has lost his bell, wandering the world, meaning no harm. It has a credible and fascinating love triangle set in a hazy and exotic setting. It has challenging characters uncovered as thoroughly human with all their imperfections. All this delivered through a majestic narrative. This novel will grab hold of you; and by the end, as with most great examples of literature, you'll be a little wiser and more enchanted with life because of it.
___
I want to thank my friend Vessey for granting me the privilege of reading The Quiet American with her.
January 25, 2020
An absolutely brilliant book. I think it is a genuine masterpiece to be enjoyed on numerous different levels. It goes straight to my favorites ever list! Graham Greene employs the right tone for this book, cynical yet compassionate. Correspondent Fowler's non-commitment is the best attitude for the place and time of his assignment in Vietnam, but whether it is psychologically healthy cannot be said with certainty. Written in 1955, it is shocking to see how very relevant the book still is today, perhaps even increasingly so. The ignorance and misconception of the stereotypical American proves to be truly deadly. In his ignorant fanatism CIA agent Pyle stays convinced of his good intentions, even when witnessing with his own eyes the devastation he brings about. I thought a few times that the saying: “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread” was very applicable. And that is still applicable in the world today. A pity that this book was not a mandatory book to be read by the U.S. military when sending the first troops to Vietnam halfway the 1960s. Might have warned them for a hopeless endeavour.
I am so impressed by this book and decided to read more Graham Greene novels this year. It was purely coincidental that I read Greene for the first time when reading 'The End of the Affair' with its annoying catholicism and that is exactly what kept me from reading his other novels. I found out that this was just a phase in his life which he abandoned after he divorced his very catholic wife.
I am so impressed by this book and decided to read more Graham Greene novels this year. It was purely coincidental that I read Greene for the first time when reading 'The End of the Affair' with its annoying catholicism and that is exactly what kept me from reading his other novels. I found out that this was just a phase in his life which he abandoned after he divorced his very catholic wife.
March 11, 2020
“That was my first instinct -- to protect him. It never occurred to me that there was a greater need to protect myself. Innocence always calls mutely for protection when we would be so much wiser to guard ourselves against it: innocence is like a dumb leper who has lost his bell, wandering the world, meaning no harm.”
As if this book were not brilliant enough for its multi-layered plot and meaningful, carefully written prose, it was also a harbinger of the disaster awaiting the United State's involvement in Vietnam. If policy makers would have read this book and realized that they were consulting an oracle, many unnecessary deaths would have been avoided; many lives would have never been shattered, and the billions of dollars spent trying to destroy a mythical idea could have been spent advancing humanity in numerous more productive ways.
Instead of being lauded as a cautionary tale, the book was declared anti-American.
Alden Pyle, not the typical blustering, pushy American abroad but a rather quiet American, was in Vietnam. He wasn’t there to learn about the culture. He was there to figure out the best way to impose his Western point of view on a country in turmoil. He had been fully indoctrinated into the idea of American Exceptionalism. This was a strength because believing in oneself and a cause is essential to achieving success, but it was also a weakness because it potentially keeps an American from recognizing what has gone wrong for others will also go wrong for them. It also keeps an American from seeing the value in a foreign culture and that the concepts of others of what makes a wonderful life may be completely different from what Americans are being led to believe is an exceptional way of life.
Alden Pyle, in other words, was a very dangerous man.
Thomas Fowler was a world weary British journalist, addicted to opium, and living with a 20 year old Vietnamese woman named Phuong. There were some reverential descriptions by Fowler about his relationship with opium and Phuong dutifully serving him his pipe in a manner reminiscent of Japanese tea ceremonies. ”It was a superstition among them that a lover who smoked would always return, even from France. A man’s sexual capacity might be injured by smoking, but they would always prefer a faithful to a potent lover. Now she was kneading the little ball of hot paste on the convex margin of the bowl and I could smell the opium. There is no smell like it.”
Fowler had found a simple way of life that made him way happier than I think he ever expected to be. He had a job that he understood. He had a reasonably nice apartment. He had a beautiful girlfriend who provided him with the comfort of companionship and sexual gratification. He didn’t need anything more than this.
With the arrival of Pyle, this nirvana existence was suddenly in jeopardy. Pyle became enamored with Phuong. Fowler had a dilemma which Pyle soon exploited in his quest to “save” Phuong from the lecherous clutches of this old world colonizer. I hadn’t really thought about it until this reading, but Pyle’s need to save Phuong was symbolic of the American belief that Europe was corrupt and only America could guide the world forward. Fowler was British and the French colonized Vietnam, but the Brits were the largest, “most successful” colonizers the world had ever seen.
Come with me little girl. I am pure of heart.
Fowler’s dilemma was a serious disadvantage, given that he was already married to a devoted Catholic woman back in England who did not want to divorce him. Fowler’s poignant letters to his wife to try and change her mind were revealing about his true feelings about Phuong. The reader might wonder if losing Phuong was just an inconvenience or he really did love her. ”Perhaps you will believe when I tell you that to lose her will be, for me, the beginning of death.” Fowler’s years of marriage had left he and his wife scarred and battered. A mere prick by one to the other would now bleed as heavily as a mortal wound.
Pyle was irritatingly trying to play fair in the tug of war over Phuong. Fowler had no such illusions about playing fair. He definitely subscribed to the adage, “All is fair in love and war.” This is Vietnam in the midst of a long struggle and love is always more poignant against the backdrop of war. Phuong’s more practical sister wanted her to go with Pyle because he was free to marry her. I kept thinking to myself as this love triangle unfolded that the one person whom we really didn’t know her feelings was Phuong. Fowler at several points accused Pyle of treating Phuong like a child, which was true. To Pyle, she was a mere child who must be saved from her circumstances. He was the white knight and sitting so high on his horse that one might wonder if he really wanted her or simply wanted her away from Fowler. The American Imperialist knew best. Out with the old and in with the new.
How far would Fowler go to win this battle with Pyle? By the end of the book, you will see.
The frustrating thing for Fowler was that he liked Pyle, and Pyle, despite his misgivings about Fowler, liked him as well. It is so much easier when our adversaries are asshats with few redeeming qualities. We can feel vindicated in our all consuming loathing of them. Under different circumstances, Fowler and Pyle might have been lifelong friends, but there were other things percolating that would keep them from being friends. What exactly was Pyle up to in Vietnam? And what did he mean about all this blathering about creating a third force? Fowler, in the course of his job, would have crippled the budding friendship by eventually revealing the truth, so alas, there really was no chance for Pyle and Fowler to walk off into the sunset together, conversing about the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Still I would want to ask Pyle, out of all the beautiful women in all of Vietnam, you had to pick mine?
So you can read this book at whatever depth you chose and still find it to be one of the best books you’ve ever read. I do believe this is my third read, and I made new connections and observations that I hadn’t with the previous two reads. It is such a powerful story for such a short book, proving that epic tales don’t have to come in whale size packages.
I want to thank my friend Lisa Lieberman for prompting this latest reading of The Quiet American. Her new book The Glass Forest is a tribute to Graham Greene’s novel. I have been wanting to reread The Quiet American for some time now, and her book release was the perfect excuse.
Lisa is giving away a free ebook of her first book, All the Wrong Places for the month of November as a lead up to the release of The Glass Forest on December 10th. Don’t miss out! Click this link to get your free book! All the Wrong Places Free eBook You must discover for yourself why I call her the Queen of the Hollywood Noir.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
As if this book were not brilliant enough for its multi-layered plot and meaningful, carefully written prose, it was also a harbinger of the disaster awaiting the United State's involvement in Vietnam. If policy makers would have read this book and realized that they were consulting an oracle, many unnecessary deaths would have been avoided; many lives would have never been shattered, and the billions of dollars spent trying to destroy a mythical idea could have been spent advancing humanity in numerous more productive ways.
Instead of being lauded as a cautionary tale, the book was declared anti-American.
Alden Pyle, not the typical blustering, pushy American abroad but a rather quiet American, was in Vietnam. He wasn’t there to learn about the culture. He was there to figure out the best way to impose his Western point of view on a country in turmoil. He had been fully indoctrinated into the idea of American Exceptionalism. This was a strength because believing in oneself and a cause is essential to achieving success, but it was also a weakness because it potentially keeps an American from recognizing what has gone wrong for others will also go wrong for them. It also keeps an American from seeing the value in a foreign culture and that the concepts of others of what makes a wonderful life may be completely different from what Americans are being led to believe is an exceptional way of life.
Alden Pyle, in other words, was a very dangerous man.
Thomas Fowler was a world weary British journalist, addicted to opium, and living with a 20 year old Vietnamese woman named Phuong. There were some reverential descriptions by Fowler about his relationship with opium and Phuong dutifully serving him his pipe in a manner reminiscent of Japanese tea ceremonies. ”It was a superstition among them that a lover who smoked would always return, even from France. A man’s sexual capacity might be injured by smoking, but they would always prefer a faithful to a potent lover. Now she was kneading the little ball of hot paste on the convex margin of the bowl and I could smell the opium. There is no smell like it.”
Fowler had found a simple way of life that made him way happier than I think he ever expected to be. He had a job that he understood. He had a reasonably nice apartment. He had a beautiful girlfriend who provided him with the comfort of companionship and sexual gratification. He didn’t need anything more than this.
With the arrival of Pyle, this nirvana existence was suddenly in jeopardy. Pyle became enamored with Phuong. Fowler had a dilemma which Pyle soon exploited in his quest to “save” Phuong from the lecherous clutches of this old world colonizer. I hadn’t really thought about it until this reading, but Pyle’s need to save Phuong was symbolic of the American belief that Europe was corrupt and only America could guide the world forward. Fowler was British and the French colonized Vietnam, but the Brits were the largest, “most successful” colonizers the world had ever seen.
Come with me little girl. I am pure of heart.
Fowler’s dilemma was a serious disadvantage, given that he was already married to a devoted Catholic woman back in England who did not want to divorce him. Fowler’s poignant letters to his wife to try and change her mind were revealing about his true feelings about Phuong. The reader might wonder if losing Phuong was just an inconvenience or he really did love her. ”Perhaps you will believe when I tell you that to lose her will be, for me, the beginning of death.” Fowler’s years of marriage had left he and his wife scarred and battered. A mere prick by one to the other would now bleed as heavily as a mortal wound.
Pyle was irritatingly trying to play fair in the tug of war over Phuong. Fowler had no such illusions about playing fair. He definitely subscribed to the adage, “All is fair in love and war.” This is Vietnam in the midst of a long struggle and love is always more poignant against the backdrop of war. Phuong’s more practical sister wanted her to go with Pyle because he was free to marry her. I kept thinking to myself as this love triangle unfolded that the one person whom we really didn’t know her feelings was Phuong. Fowler at several points accused Pyle of treating Phuong like a child, which was true. To Pyle, she was a mere child who must be saved from her circumstances. He was the white knight and sitting so high on his horse that one might wonder if he really wanted her or simply wanted her away from Fowler. The American Imperialist knew best. Out with the old and in with the new.
How far would Fowler go to win this battle with Pyle? By the end of the book, you will see.
The frustrating thing for Fowler was that he liked Pyle, and Pyle, despite his misgivings about Fowler, liked him as well. It is so much easier when our adversaries are asshats with few redeeming qualities. We can feel vindicated in our all consuming loathing of them. Under different circumstances, Fowler and Pyle might have been lifelong friends, but there were other things percolating that would keep them from being friends. What exactly was Pyle up to in Vietnam? And what did he mean about all this blathering about creating a third force? Fowler, in the course of his job, would have crippled the budding friendship by eventually revealing the truth, so alas, there really was no chance for Pyle and Fowler to walk off into the sunset together, conversing about the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Still I would want to ask Pyle, out of all the beautiful women in all of Vietnam, you had to pick mine?
So you can read this book at whatever depth you chose and still find it to be one of the best books you’ve ever read. I do believe this is my third read, and I made new connections and observations that I hadn’t with the previous two reads. It is such a powerful story for such a short book, proving that epic tales don’t have to come in whale size packages.
I want to thank my friend Lisa Lieberman for prompting this latest reading of The Quiet American. Her new book The Glass Forest is a tribute to Graham Greene’s novel. I have been wanting to reread The Quiet American for some time now, and her book release was the perfect excuse.
Lisa is giving away a free ebook of her first book, All the Wrong Places for the month of November as a lead up to the release of The Glass Forest on December 10th. Don’t miss out! Click this link to get your free book! All the Wrong Places Free eBook You must discover for yourself why I call her the Queen of the Hollywood Noir.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
July 4, 2023
NELLA GUERRA L’ARMA PIÙ EFFICACE È LA SEDUZIONE
Fu scritto a guerra d’Indocina in corso (e anche a guerra di Corea in atto): quando fu pubblicato, invece, erano entrambe concluse, e i francesi si erano ritirati dal Vietnam dopo la nota battaglia di Dien Bien Phu.
L’innocenza professata dagli americani nel romanzo, sia quelli tranquilli che quelli rumorosi, suona stonata (e Greene ne è consapevole) considerato quello che stava succedendo in quell’altra parte dell’Oriente (estremo).
Storia di un triangolo che forse definire d’amore è fuorviante in quanto nessuno dei tre vertici professa amore in senso tradizionale (ma cosa c’è di tradizionale in Greene?! È lui stesso a iniziare una tradizione, a rappresentare un capostipite).
Da una parte abbiamo l’io narrante, il più agé dei tre, Fowler, il giornalista inglese che viene sempre definito cinico quando in realtà è più romanticamente un disincantato ancora capace di sentimento e scelte.
Secondo viene Pyle, il tranquillo americano del titolo, definito così perché non è come tutti gli altri americani, bastardi fracassoni…grandi, grossi e rumorosi, infantili, cinici, loro sì, davvero cinici - questo in particolare è ancora piuttosto giovane, serio, pieno di illusioni e desiderio di migliorare il mondo, di fare del bene - una vera mosca bianca - salvo poi scoprire il reale motivo che lo porta in Asia – è colui che sbandiera il sentimento che apparentemente più si avvicina all’amore, ma più che altro sembra che abbia alfine trovato la prima donna che non lo metta in imbarazzo, così ‘mansueta’ da poterglisi dichiarare, lui che a trenta e passi anni qualcuno prende ancora per vergine.
Per finire c’è Phuong, la ragazza vietnamita, non ancora ventenne, giovane e bellissima, l’uccellino che cinguetta e prepara meravigliose pipe d’oppio a Fowler, è disponibile per chi è gentile con lei e di lei sa prendersi cura, garantirle un futuro, un sogno di femminilità mansueta e riconoscente per molti uomini.
Storia sul prendere parte, sullo schierarsi, sul passare all’azione anche quando si professa distacco e imparzialità, sul passaggio dall’oggettività, presunta obiettiva, alla soggettività.
Fowler si definisce reporter e non giornalista proprio perché scrive e descrive quello che vede senza partecipare, senza prendere posizione, senza sostenere nessuna delle parti in campo.
La maestria di Greene è sublime in come riesce a intrecciare i due aspetti, il triangolo con l’impegno (sociale, politico, semplicemente umano), costruendo un thriller denso d’atmosfera.
Come sempre, Greene è creatore di storie che il cinema ama, di cui si appropria e non sempre restituisce al meglio. Come in questo caso.
Due sono stati i film derivati da questo romanzo, entrambi conservano il titolo del romanzo **.
Il primo è del 1958, in bianco e nero, scritto e diretto dal grande Joseph Mankiewicz.
Risente molto della stroncatura riservata al libro di Greene da parte della critica US, che l’accusò di antiamericanismo: e quindi nel film non esistono spie americane, i cattivi sono solo i comunisti, e l’americano, oltre che tranquillo, è innocente e pacifico. D’altra parte, il cinema è la più potente ed efficace industria americana dopo quella bellica, il modo più efficace per gli amati yankee di imporre nel globo il loro modello e i loro valori.
Per interpretare il tranquillo americano Pyle fu chiamato Audie Murphy, che prima di essere attore hollywoodiano, fu il “soldato più decorato d’America”.
Il ruolo della ragazza vietnamita fu offerto alla nostra Giorgia Moll (Giorgia Molinella, nata a Roma), che calzava il 42, ed era più alta del tranquillo americano di almeno un palmo.
Greene espresse giudizio negativo, e non poteva essere altrimenti.
Il film, invece, fu molto apprezzato dal ventottenne critico Jean-Luc Godard, che cinque anni dopo, offrì a Giorgia Moll un ruolo importante nel suo adattamento cinematografico de “Il disprezzo” di Alberto Moravia.
E poi il secondo film, del 2002, del regista Philip Noyce.
E qui le cose cambiano.
Pur con gli indispensabili ‘tradimenti’ e tagli, necessari per passare dal libro al film, per raccontare una storia in cento minuti e non in duecento e passa pagine, per rivolgersi allo spettatore cinematografico che è più facilmente distratto di un lettore (per tacere di quello televisivo! Purtroppo anche in sala ormai si vedono solo spettatori televisivi, stesso livello d’intuizione, di velocità di collegamento, stessa attenzione, e soprattutto, stessa chiacchiera), il film di Noyce funziona. Eccome se funziona.
Forse grazie a un magistrale Michael Caine (che per questo ruolo ottenne un’altra nomination all’Oscar, peraltro vinto due volte ma sempre come "Best Actor in a Supporting Role").
Forse perché Do Thi Hai Yen, è azzeccata, vera vietnamita, e giusta nella parte di Phuong.
O forse perché a cofirmare la sceneggiatura c’è il premio Oscar (con Le relazione pericolose) Christopher Hampton, che aveva debuttato vent’anni prima proprio con un altro adattamento di Greene, Il console onorario.
E allora il commissario Vigot, bel personaggio marginale, che legge i “Pensieri” di Pascal in commissariato alle 2 del mattino, che ama non ricambiato la sua vistosa e promiscua moglie francese, così pregno di disincanto e sagacia (risolve il caso, ma tiene tutto per sé), viene interpretato in questa pellicola dal croato Rade Serbedzija, che si sforza di avere un inglese venato di francese, il che mi sembra chiedere troppo anche a un attore poliglotta come lui.
E allora il flemmatico e distaccato Fowler in questo film diventa quasi un giornalista d’inchiesta più che un reporter. Mentre Fowler tiene le distanze da Pyle, non ricambia la sua esagerata voglia d’amicizia se non molto avanti nella narrazione, Michael Caine appare dolce e disponibile sin da subito con questo tranquillo americano.
Che tranquillo non è, nel film men che meno: Brendan Fraser è attore massiccio e atletico, difficile scambiarlo per vergine, indossa il camice da medico come se fosse uno spolverino da Mucchio Selvaggio.
Ma che importa? Il film funziona, è bello, è intelligente, è un piacere.
Michael Caine e il regista Phillip Noyce in quella che di solito si definisce una pausa dalle riprese: ma non esistono pause su un set, regista e protagonista sono seduti e stanno probabilmente discutendo la scena o il personaggio, macchinisti, elettricisti, reparto fotografia, reparto scenografia sono in piena attività per preparare la prossima inquadratura, eccetera. La pausa è solo quella per il pranzo. Poi, esistono le attese – e quelle sono un altro discorso e possono essere lunghe davvero.
Purtroppo, per andare incontro al distratto spettatore cinematografico americano che non ama i sottotitoli e non conosce le lingue (in questo non certo meno capace di quello italico), Phuong, che nel libro parla francese e ovviamente vietnamita, ma ben poco inglese, qui invece si esprime tranquillamente in questa lingua - e Pyle, che nel romanzo non parla altro che la sua di lingua, nel film si esprime invece con buon francese e ottimo vietnamita - e quindi possono comunicare direttamente tra loro, non hanno bisogno che Fowler faccia da interprete. E così si perde per strada la mia scena preferita del romanzo, quella in cui Pyle dichiara il suo amore a Phuong tramite Fowler che funge da interprete, cioè un uomo si dichiara a una donna tramite un altro uomo, proprio quello al quale sta cercando di rubare la donna.
Spariscono anche le belle citazioni di Greene, a cominciare da Baudelaire. Ma non se ne sente la mancanza.
I difetti di questo secondo adattamento sono caso mai nei costumi, un po’ troppo eleganti, che rendono relativamente quell’epoca (1950-52). In certi interni che si amalgamano poco con gli esterni corrispondenti (si percepisce che il set è in teatro).
La Miramax ritardò l’uscita del film di un anno per via dell’11 settembre.
Qui abbiamo così tante regole in materia d’alimentazione…Sapete com’è una capitale religiosa. Credo che sia la stessa cosa a Roma, o a Canterbury. Beh, non so a Canterbury, ma a Roma certo non è la stessa cosa: nessuna regola in materia d’alimentazione, e nessuna regola tout court, non conosco altro posto dove le regole contino di meno, siano meno rispettate, di Roma Capoccia.
Almeno non ci odieranno come odiano i francesi, dice Pyle, l’americano tranquillo, e si iscrive nella categoria ultime parole famose.
**Singolare come Mondadori negli Oscar abbia pubblicato questo romanzo usando nel titolo sia il corretto articolo determinativo, che anche quello indeterminativo.
La versione del 1958, con Giorgia Moll, vietnamita de’ Roma, e Michael Redgrave-Fowler.
Bisogna schierarsi se si vuole restare umani.
Fu scritto a guerra d’Indocina in corso (e anche a guerra di Corea in atto): quando fu pubblicato, invece, erano entrambe concluse, e i francesi si erano ritirati dal Vietnam dopo la nota battaglia di Dien Bien Phu.
L’innocenza professata dagli americani nel romanzo, sia quelli tranquilli che quelli rumorosi, suona stonata (e Greene ne è consapevole) considerato quello che stava succedendo in quell’altra parte dell’Oriente (estremo).
Storia di un triangolo che forse definire d’amore è fuorviante in quanto nessuno dei tre vertici professa amore in senso tradizionale (ma cosa c’è di tradizionale in Greene?! È lui stesso a iniziare una tradizione, a rappresentare un capostipite).
Da una parte abbiamo l’io narrante, il più agé dei tre, Fowler, il giornalista inglese che viene sempre definito cinico quando in realtà è più romanticamente un disincantato ancora capace di sentimento e scelte.
Secondo viene Pyle, il tranquillo americano del titolo, definito così perché non è come tutti gli altri americani, bastardi fracassoni…grandi, grossi e rumorosi, infantili, cinici, loro sì, davvero cinici - questo in particolare è ancora piuttosto giovane, serio, pieno di illusioni e desiderio di migliorare il mondo, di fare del bene - una vera mosca bianca - salvo poi scoprire il reale motivo che lo porta in Asia – è colui che sbandiera il sentimento che apparentemente più si avvicina all’amore, ma più che altro sembra che abbia alfine trovato la prima donna che non lo metta in imbarazzo, così ‘mansueta’ da poterglisi dichiarare, lui che a trenta e passi anni qualcuno prende ancora per vergine.
Per finire c’è Phuong, la ragazza vietnamita, non ancora ventenne, giovane e bellissima, l’uccellino che cinguetta e prepara meravigliose pipe d’oppio a Fowler, è disponibile per chi è gentile con lei e di lei sa prendersi cura, garantirle un futuro, un sogno di femminilità mansueta e riconoscente per molti uomini.
Storia sul prendere parte, sullo schierarsi, sul passare all’azione anche quando si professa distacco e imparzialità, sul passaggio dall’oggettività, presunta obiettiva, alla soggettività.
Fowler si definisce reporter e non giornalista proprio perché scrive e descrive quello che vede senza partecipare, senza prendere posizione, senza sostenere nessuna delle parti in campo.
La maestria di Greene è sublime in come riesce a intrecciare i due aspetti, il triangolo con l’impegno (sociale, politico, semplicemente umano), costruendo un thriller denso d’atmosfera.
Come sempre, Greene è creatore di storie che il cinema ama, di cui si appropria e non sempre restituisce al meglio. Come in questo caso.
Due sono stati i film derivati da questo romanzo, entrambi conservano il titolo del romanzo **.
Il primo è del 1958, in bianco e nero, scritto e diretto dal grande Joseph Mankiewicz.
Risente molto della stroncatura riservata al libro di Greene da parte della critica US, che l’accusò di antiamericanismo: e quindi nel film non esistono spie americane, i cattivi sono solo i comunisti, e l’americano, oltre che tranquillo, è innocente e pacifico. D’altra parte, il cinema è la più potente ed efficace industria americana dopo quella bellica, il modo più efficace per gli amati yankee di imporre nel globo il loro modello e i loro valori.
Per interpretare il tranquillo americano Pyle fu chiamato Audie Murphy, che prima di essere attore hollywoodiano, fu il “soldato più decorato d’America”.
Il ruolo della ragazza vietnamita fu offerto alla nostra Giorgia Moll (Giorgia Molinella, nata a Roma), che calzava il 42, ed era più alta del tranquillo americano di almeno un palmo.
Greene espresse giudizio negativo, e non poteva essere altrimenti.
Il film, invece, fu molto apprezzato dal ventottenne critico Jean-Luc Godard, che cinque anni dopo, offrì a Giorgia Moll un ruolo importante nel suo adattamento cinematografico de “Il disprezzo” di Alberto Moravia.
E poi il secondo film, del 2002, del regista Philip Noyce.
E qui le cose cambiano.
Pur con gli indispensabili ‘tradimenti’ e tagli, necessari per passare dal libro al film, per raccontare una storia in cento minuti e non in duecento e passa pagine, per rivolgersi allo spettatore cinematografico che è più facilmente distratto di un lettore (per tacere di quello televisivo! Purtroppo anche in sala ormai si vedono solo spettatori televisivi, stesso livello d’intuizione, di velocità di collegamento, stessa attenzione, e soprattutto, stessa chiacchiera), il film di Noyce funziona. Eccome se funziona.
Forse grazie a un magistrale Michael Caine (che per questo ruolo ottenne un’altra nomination all’Oscar, peraltro vinto due volte ma sempre come "Best Actor in a Supporting Role").
Forse perché Do Thi Hai Yen, è azzeccata, vera vietnamita, e giusta nella parte di Phuong.
O forse perché a cofirmare la sceneggiatura c’è il premio Oscar (con Le relazione pericolose) Christopher Hampton, che aveva debuttato vent’anni prima proprio con un altro adattamento di Greene, Il console onorario.
E allora il commissario Vigot, bel personaggio marginale, che legge i “Pensieri” di Pascal in commissariato alle 2 del mattino, che ama non ricambiato la sua vistosa e promiscua moglie francese, così pregno di disincanto e sagacia (risolve il caso, ma tiene tutto per sé), viene interpretato in questa pellicola dal croato Rade Serbedzija, che si sforza di avere un inglese venato di francese, il che mi sembra chiedere troppo anche a un attore poliglotta come lui.
E allora il flemmatico e distaccato Fowler in questo film diventa quasi un giornalista d’inchiesta più che un reporter. Mentre Fowler tiene le distanze da Pyle, non ricambia la sua esagerata voglia d’amicizia se non molto avanti nella narrazione, Michael Caine appare dolce e disponibile sin da subito con questo tranquillo americano.
Che tranquillo non è, nel film men che meno: Brendan Fraser è attore massiccio e atletico, difficile scambiarlo per vergine, indossa il camice da medico come se fosse uno spolverino da Mucchio Selvaggio.
Ma che importa? Il film funziona, è bello, è intelligente, è un piacere.
Michael Caine e il regista Phillip Noyce in quella che di solito si definisce una pausa dalle riprese: ma non esistono pause su un set, regista e protagonista sono seduti e stanno probabilmente discutendo la scena o il personaggio, macchinisti, elettricisti, reparto fotografia, reparto scenografia sono in piena attività per preparare la prossima inquadratura, eccetera. La pausa è solo quella per il pranzo. Poi, esistono le attese – e quelle sono un altro discorso e possono essere lunghe davvero.
Purtroppo, per andare incontro al distratto spettatore cinematografico americano che non ama i sottotitoli e non conosce le lingue (in questo non certo meno capace di quello italico), Phuong, che nel libro parla francese e ovviamente vietnamita, ma ben poco inglese, qui invece si esprime tranquillamente in questa lingua - e Pyle, che nel romanzo non parla altro che la sua di lingua, nel film si esprime invece con buon francese e ottimo vietnamita - e quindi possono comunicare direttamente tra loro, non hanno bisogno che Fowler faccia da interprete. E così si perde per strada la mia scena preferita del romanzo, quella in cui Pyle dichiara il suo amore a Phuong tramite Fowler che funge da interprete, cioè un uomo si dichiara a una donna tramite un altro uomo, proprio quello al quale sta cercando di rubare la donna.
Spariscono anche le belle citazioni di Greene, a cominciare da Baudelaire. Ma non se ne sente la mancanza.
I difetti di questo secondo adattamento sono caso mai nei costumi, un po’ troppo eleganti, che rendono relativamente quell’epoca (1950-52). In certi interni che si amalgamano poco con gli esterni corrispondenti (si percepisce che il set è in teatro).
La Miramax ritardò l’uscita del film di un anno per via dell’11 settembre.
Qui abbiamo così tante regole in materia d’alimentazione…Sapete com’è una capitale religiosa. Credo che sia la stessa cosa a Roma, o a Canterbury. Beh, non so a Canterbury, ma a Roma certo non è la stessa cosa: nessuna regola in materia d’alimentazione, e nessuna regola tout court, non conosco altro posto dove le regole contino di meno, siano meno rispettate, di Roma Capoccia.
Almeno non ci odieranno come odiano i francesi, dice Pyle, l’americano tranquillo, e si iscrive nella categoria ultime parole famose.
**Singolare come Mondadori negli Oscar abbia pubblicato questo romanzo usando nel titolo sia il corretto articolo determinativo, che anche quello indeterminativo.
La versione del 1958, con Giorgia Moll, vietnamita de’ Roma, e Michael Redgrave-Fowler.
Bisogna schierarsi se si vuole restare umani.
January 15, 2021
The perfect novel.
Ingenious in its pace & tone, the plot unravels in a peculiar, non-linear way, easily enviable by even the most capable of MAJOR writers. Perhaps because it is more like a meaty novella about star-crossed lovers, hidden intentions, and the war of "the classes" that it makes it's powerful, jarring punch to the gut.
I LooooVE this book. It's elegant, both prophetic and historic, & very very adult.
Ingenious in its pace & tone, the plot unravels in a peculiar, non-linear way, easily enviable by even the most capable of MAJOR writers. Perhaps because it is more like a meaty novella about star-crossed lovers, hidden intentions, and the war of "the classes" that it makes it's powerful, jarring punch to the gut.
I LooooVE this book. It's elegant, both prophetic and historic, & very very adult.
August 4, 2021
NELLA GUERRA L’ARMA PIÙ EFFICACE È LA SEDUZIONE
Fu scritto a guerra d’Indocina in corso (e anche a guerra di Corea in atto): quando fu pubblicato, invece, erano entrambe concluse, e i francesi si erano ritirati dal Vietnam dopo la nota battaglia di Dien Bien Phu.
L’innocenza professata dagli americani nel romanzo, sia quelli tranquilli che quelli rumorosi, suona stonata (e Greene ne è consapevole) considerato quello che stava succedendo in quell’altra parte dell’Oriente (estremo).
Storia di un triangolo che forse definire d’amore è fuorviante in quanto nessuno dei tre vertici professa amore in senso tradizionale (ma cosa c’è di tradizionale in Greene?! È lui stesso a iniziare una tradizione, a rappresentare un capostipite).
Da una parte abbiamo l’io narrante, il più agé dei tre, Fowler, il giornalista inglese che viene sempre definito cinico quando in realtà è più romanticamente un disincantato ancora capace di sentimento e scelte.
Secondo viene Pyle, il tranquillo americano del titolo, definito così perché non è come tutti gli altri americani, bastardi fracassoni…grandi, grossi e rumorosi, infantili, cinici, loro sì, davvero cinici - questo in particolare è ancora piuttosto giovane, serio, pieno di illusioni e desiderio di migliorare il mondo, di fare del bene - una vera mosca bianca - salvo poi scoprire il reale motivo che lo porta in Asia – è colui che sbandiera il sentimento che apparentemente più si avvicina all’amore, ma più che altro sembra che abbia alfine trovato la prima donna che non lo metta in imbarazzo, così ‘mansueta’ da poterglisi dichiarare, lui che a trenta e passi anni qualcuno prende ancora per vergine.
Per finire c’è Phuong, la ragazza vietnamita, non ancora ventenne, giovane e bellissima, l’uccellino che cinguetta e prepara meravigliose pipe d’oppio a Fowler, è disponibile per chi è gentile con lei e di lei sa prendersi cura, garantirle un futuro, un sogno di femminilità mansueta e riconoscente per molti uomini.
Storia sul prendere parte, sullo schierarsi, sul passare all’azione anche quando si professa distacco e imparzialità, sul passaggio dall’oggettività, presunta obiettiva, alla soggettività.
Fowler si definisce reporter e non giornalista proprio perché scrive e descrive quello che vede senza partecipare, senza prendere posizione, senza sostenere nessuna delle parti in campo.
La maestria di Greene è sublime in come riesce a intrecciare i due aspetti, il triangolo con l’impegno (sociale, politico, semplicemente umano), costruendo un thriller denso d’atmosfera.
Come sempre, Greene è creatore di storie che il cinema ama, di cui si appropria e non sempre restituisce al meglio. Come in questo caso.
Due sono stati i film derivati da questo romanzo, entrambi conservano il titolo del romanzo **.
Il primo è del 1958, in bianco e nero, scritto e diretto dal grande Joseph Mankiewicz.
Risente molto della stroncatura riservata al libro di Greene da parte della critica US, che l’accusò di antiamericanismo: e quindi nel film non esistono spie americane, i cattivi sono solo i comunisti, e l’americano, oltre che tranquillo, è innocente e pacifico. D’altra parte, il cinema è la più potente ed efficace industria americana dopo quella bellica, il modo più efficace per gli amati yankee di imporre nel globo il loro modello e i loro valori.
Per interpretare il tranquillo americano Pyle fu chiamato Audie Murphy, che prima di essere attore hollywoodiano, fu il “soldato più decorato d’America”.
Il ruolo della ragazza vietnamita fu offerto alla nostra Giorgia Moll (Giorgia Molinella, nata a Roma), che calzava il 42, ed era più alta del tranquillo americano di almeno un palmo.
Greene espresse giudizio negativo, e non poteva essere altrimenti.
Il film, invece, fu molto apprezzato dal ventottenne critico Jean-Luc Godard, che cinque anni dopo, offrì a Giorgia Moll un ruolo importante nel suo adattamento cinematografico de “Il disprezzo” di Alberto Moravia.
E poi il secondo film, del 2002, del regista Philip Noyce.
E qui le cose cambiano.
Pur con gli indispensabili ‘tradimenti’ e tagli, necessari per passare dal libro al film, per raccontare una storia in cento minuti e non in duecento e passa pagine, per rivolgersi allo spettatore cinematografico che è più facilmente distratto di un lettore (per tacere di quello televisivo! Purtroppo anche in sala ormai si vedono solo spettatori televisivi, stesso livello d’intuizione, di velocità di collegamento, stessa attenzione, e soprattutto, stessa chiacchiera), il film di Noyce funziona. Eccome se funziona.
Forse grazie a un magistrale Michael Caine (che per questo ruolo ottenne un’altra nomination all’Oscar, peraltro ancora mai vinto).
Forse perché Do Thi Hai Yen, è azzeccata, vera vietnamita, e giusta nella parte di Phuong.
O forse perché a cofirmare la sceneggiatura c’è il premio Oscar (con Le relazione pericolose) Christopher Hampton, che aveva debuttato vent’anni prima proprio con un altro adattamento di Greene, Il console onorario.
E allora il commissario Vigot, bel personaggio marginale, che legge i “Pensieri” di Pascal in commissariato alle 2 del mattino, che ama non ricambiato la sua vistosa e promiscua moglie francese, così pregno di disincanto e sagacia (risolve il caso, ma tiene tutto per sé), viene interpretato in questa pellicola dal croato Rade Serbedzija, che si sforza di avere un inglese venato di francese, il che mi sembra chiedere troppo anche a un attore poliglotta come lui.
E allora il flemmatico e distaccato Fowler in questo film diventa quasi un giornalista d’inchiesta più che un reporter. Mentre Fowler tiene le distanze da Pyle, non ricambia la sua esagerata voglia d’amicizia se non molto avanti nella narrazione, Michael Caine appare dolce e disponibile sin da subito con questo tranquillo americano.
Che tranquillo non è, nel film men che meno: Brendan Fraser è attore massiccio e atletico, difficile scambiarlo per vergine, indossa il camice da medico come se fosse uno spolverino da Mucchio Selvaggio.
Ma che importa? Il film funziona, è bello, è intelligente, è un piacere.
Michael Caine e il regista Phillip Noyce in quella che di solito si definisce una pausa dalle riprese: ma non esistono pause su un set, regista e protagonista sono seduti e stanno probabilmente discutendo la scena o il personaggio, macchinisti, elettricisti, reparto fotografia, reparto scenografia sono in piena attività per preparare la prossima inquadratura, eccetera. La pausa è solo quella per il pranzo. Poi, esistono le attese – e quelle sono un altro discorso e possono essere lunghe davvero.
Purtroppo, per andare incontro al distratto spettatore cinematografico americano che non ama i sottotitoli e non conosce le lingue (in questo non certo meno capace di quello italico), Phuong, che nel libro parla francese e ovviamente vietnamita, ma ben poco inglese, qui invece si esprime tranquillamente in questa lingua - e Pyle, che nel romanzo non parla altro che la sua di lingua, nel film si esprime invece con buon francese e ottimo vietnamita - e quindi possono comunicare direttamente tra loro, non hanno bisogno che Fowler faccia da interprete. E così si perde per strada la mia scena preferita del romanzo, quella in cui Pyle dichiara il suo amore a Phuong tramite Fowler che funge da interprete, cioè un uomo si dichiara a una donna tramite un altro uomo, proprio quello al quale sta cercando di rubare la donna.
Spariscono anche le belle citazioni di Greene, a cominciare da Baudelaire. Ma non se ne sente la mancanza.
I difetti di questo secondo adattamento sono caso mai nei costumi, un po’ troppo eleganti, che rendono relativamente quell’epoca (1950-52). In certi interni che si amalgamano poco con gli esterni corrispondenti (si percepisce che il set è in teatro).
La Miramax ritardò l’uscita del film di un anno per via dell’11 settembre.
Qui abbiamo così tante regole in materia d’alimentazione…Sapete com’è una capitale religiosa. Credo che sia la stessa cosa a Roma, o a Canterbury. Beh, non so a Canterbury, ma a Roma certo non è la stessa cosa: nessuna regola in materia d’alimentazione, e nessuna regola tout court, non conosco altro posto dove le regole contino di meno, siano meno rispettate, di Roma Capoccia.
Almeno non ci odieranno come odiano i francesi, dice Pyle, l’americano tranquillo, e si iscrive nella categoria ultime parole famose.
**Singolare come Mondadori negli Oscar abbia pubblicato questo romanzo usando nel titolo sia il corretto articolo determinativo, che anche quello indeterminativo.
La versione del 1958, con Giorgia Moll, vietnamita de’ Roma, e Michael Redgrave-Fowler.
Fu scritto a guerra d’Indocina in corso (e anche a guerra di Corea in atto): quando fu pubblicato, invece, erano entrambe concluse, e i francesi si erano ritirati dal Vietnam dopo la nota battaglia di Dien Bien Phu.
L’innocenza professata dagli americani nel romanzo, sia quelli tranquilli che quelli rumorosi, suona stonata (e Greene ne è consapevole) considerato quello che stava succedendo in quell’altra parte dell’Oriente (estremo).
Storia di un triangolo che forse definire d’amore è fuorviante in quanto nessuno dei tre vertici professa amore in senso tradizionale (ma cosa c’è di tradizionale in Greene?! È lui stesso a iniziare una tradizione, a rappresentare un capostipite).
Da una parte abbiamo l’io narrante, il più agé dei tre, Fowler, il giornalista inglese che viene sempre definito cinico quando in realtà è più romanticamente un disincantato ancora capace di sentimento e scelte.
Secondo viene Pyle, il tranquillo americano del titolo, definito così perché non è come tutti gli altri americani, bastardi fracassoni…grandi, grossi e rumorosi, infantili, cinici, loro sì, davvero cinici - questo in particolare è ancora piuttosto giovane, serio, pieno di illusioni e desiderio di migliorare il mondo, di fare del bene - una vera mosca bianca - salvo poi scoprire il reale motivo che lo porta in Asia – è colui che sbandiera il sentimento che apparentemente più si avvicina all’amore, ma più che altro sembra che abbia alfine trovato la prima donna che non lo metta in imbarazzo, così ‘mansueta’ da poterglisi dichiarare, lui che a trenta e passi anni qualcuno prende ancora per vergine.
Per finire c’è Phuong, la ragazza vietnamita, non ancora ventenne, giovane e bellissima, l’uccellino che cinguetta e prepara meravigliose pipe d’oppio a Fowler, è disponibile per chi è gentile con lei e di lei sa prendersi cura, garantirle un futuro, un sogno di femminilità mansueta e riconoscente per molti uomini.
Storia sul prendere parte, sullo schierarsi, sul passare all’azione anche quando si professa distacco e imparzialità, sul passaggio dall’oggettività, presunta obiettiva, alla soggettività.
Fowler si definisce reporter e non giornalista proprio perché scrive e descrive quello che vede senza partecipare, senza prendere posizione, senza sostenere nessuna delle parti in campo.
La maestria di Greene è sublime in come riesce a intrecciare i due aspetti, il triangolo con l’impegno (sociale, politico, semplicemente umano), costruendo un thriller denso d’atmosfera.
Come sempre, Greene è creatore di storie che il cinema ama, di cui si appropria e non sempre restituisce al meglio. Come in questo caso.
Due sono stati i film derivati da questo romanzo, entrambi conservano il titolo del romanzo **.
Il primo è del 1958, in bianco e nero, scritto e diretto dal grande Joseph Mankiewicz.
Risente molto della stroncatura riservata al libro di Greene da parte della critica US, che l’accusò di antiamericanismo: e quindi nel film non esistono spie americane, i cattivi sono solo i comunisti, e l’americano, oltre che tranquillo, è innocente e pacifico. D’altra parte, il cinema è la più potente ed efficace industria americana dopo quella bellica, il modo più efficace per gli amati yankee di imporre nel globo il loro modello e i loro valori.
Per interpretare il tranquillo americano Pyle fu chiamato Audie Murphy, che prima di essere attore hollywoodiano, fu il “soldato più decorato d’America”.
Il ruolo della ragazza vietnamita fu offerto alla nostra Giorgia Moll (Giorgia Molinella, nata a Roma), che calzava il 42, ed era più alta del tranquillo americano di almeno un palmo.
Greene espresse giudizio negativo, e non poteva essere altrimenti.
Il film, invece, fu molto apprezzato dal ventottenne critico Jean-Luc Godard, che cinque anni dopo, offrì a Giorgia Moll un ruolo importante nel suo adattamento cinematografico de “Il disprezzo” di Alberto Moravia.
E poi il secondo film, del 2002, del regista Philip Noyce.
E qui le cose cambiano.
Pur con gli indispensabili ‘tradimenti’ e tagli, necessari per passare dal libro al film, per raccontare una storia in cento minuti e non in duecento e passa pagine, per rivolgersi allo spettatore cinematografico che è più facilmente distratto di un lettore (per tacere di quello televisivo! Purtroppo anche in sala ormai si vedono solo spettatori televisivi, stesso livello d’intuizione, di velocità di collegamento, stessa attenzione, e soprattutto, stessa chiacchiera), il film di Noyce funziona. Eccome se funziona.
Forse grazie a un magistrale Michael Caine (che per questo ruolo ottenne un’altra nomination all’Oscar, peraltro ancora mai vinto).
Forse perché Do Thi Hai Yen, è azzeccata, vera vietnamita, e giusta nella parte di Phuong.
O forse perché a cofirmare la sceneggiatura c’è il premio Oscar (con Le relazione pericolose) Christopher Hampton, che aveva debuttato vent’anni prima proprio con un altro adattamento di Greene, Il console onorario.
E allora il commissario Vigot, bel personaggio marginale, che legge i “Pensieri” di Pascal in commissariato alle 2 del mattino, che ama non ricambiato la sua vistosa e promiscua moglie francese, così pregno di disincanto e sagacia (risolve il caso, ma tiene tutto per sé), viene interpretato in questa pellicola dal croato Rade Serbedzija, che si sforza di avere un inglese venato di francese, il che mi sembra chiedere troppo anche a un attore poliglotta come lui.
E allora il flemmatico e distaccato Fowler in questo film diventa quasi un giornalista d’inchiesta più che un reporter. Mentre Fowler tiene le distanze da Pyle, non ricambia la sua esagerata voglia d’amicizia se non molto avanti nella narrazione, Michael Caine appare dolce e disponibile sin da subito con questo tranquillo americano.
Che tranquillo non è, nel film men che meno: Brendan Fraser è attore massiccio e atletico, difficile scambiarlo per vergine, indossa il camice da medico come se fosse uno spolverino da Mucchio Selvaggio.
Ma che importa? Il film funziona, è bello, è intelligente, è un piacere.
Michael Caine e il regista Phillip Noyce in quella che di solito si definisce una pausa dalle riprese: ma non esistono pause su un set, regista e protagonista sono seduti e stanno probabilmente discutendo la scena o il personaggio, macchinisti, elettricisti, reparto fotografia, reparto scenografia sono in piena attività per preparare la prossima inquadratura, eccetera. La pausa è solo quella per il pranzo. Poi, esistono le attese – e quelle sono un altro discorso e possono essere lunghe davvero.
Purtroppo, per andare incontro al distratto spettatore cinematografico americano che non ama i sottotitoli e non conosce le lingue (in questo non certo meno capace di quello italico), Phuong, che nel libro parla francese e ovviamente vietnamita, ma ben poco inglese, qui invece si esprime tranquillamente in questa lingua - e Pyle, che nel romanzo non parla altro che la sua di lingua, nel film si esprime invece con buon francese e ottimo vietnamita - e quindi possono comunicare direttamente tra loro, non hanno bisogno che Fowler faccia da interprete. E così si perde per strada la mia scena preferita del romanzo, quella in cui Pyle dichiara il suo amore a Phuong tramite Fowler che funge da interprete, cioè un uomo si dichiara a una donna tramite un altro uomo, proprio quello al quale sta cercando di rubare la donna.
Spariscono anche le belle citazioni di Greene, a cominciare da Baudelaire. Ma non se ne sente la mancanza.
I difetti di questo secondo adattamento sono caso mai nei costumi, un po’ troppo eleganti, che rendono relativamente quell’epoca (1950-52). In certi interni che si amalgamano poco con gli esterni corrispondenti (si percepisce che il set è in teatro).
La Miramax ritardò l’uscita del film di un anno per via dell’11 settembre.
Qui abbiamo così tante regole in materia d’alimentazione…Sapete com’è una capitale religiosa. Credo che sia la stessa cosa a Roma, o a Canterbury. Beh, non so a Canterbury, ma a Roma certo non è la stessa cosa: nessuna regola in materia d’alimentazione, e nessuna regola tout court, non conosco altro posto dove le regole contino di meno, siano meno rispettate, di Roma Capoccia.
Almeno non ci odieranno come odiano i francesi, dice Pyle, l’americano tranquillo, e si iscrive nella categoria ultime parole famose.
**Singolare come Mondadori negli Oscar abbia pubblicato questo romanzo usando nel titolo sia il corretto articolo determinativo, che anche quello indeterminativo.
La versione del 1958, con Giorgia Moll, vietnamita de’ Roma, e Michael Redgrave-Fowler.
January 21, 2024
In French Indochina in 1952, a disillusioned and cynical Englishman becomes the friend of an idealistic American—the second falls in love with the mistress of the first. Friendship, love, jealousy, politics, and espionage come together in a captivating story until the end. It is also a dotted description of the transfer of power that will take place two years later between the French and the Americans, who will bitterly learn that idealists do not mix well with warriors. As often with Graham Greene and many other British authors (John le Carré, for example), we can feel, through the two protagonists of the story, the feeling of attraction-repulsion that binds the British so strongly to those whom they name the "cousins" of America. It is always a delight to read this great writer.
October 8, 2019
This is an amazing story about the French colonial war in Vietnam and an incompetent CIA-wanna be agent seen through the eyes of a opium-addicted British journalist. Cynicism abounds. Great writing, gripping scenes. Excellent read. A true classic. I definitely need to read more Graham Greene.
If you enjoyed this book and wish to have more background on the historical canvas on which the story was painted, I highly suggest Fredrik Logevall's Embers of War about the French Indochina War and Frances Fitzgerald's masterful Fire in the Lake about the Vietnamese and the American conflict. Gripping stories.
If you enjoyed this book and wish to have more background on the historical canvas on which the story was painted, I highly suggest Fredrik Logevall's Embers of War about the French Indochina War and Frances Fitzgerald's masterful Fire in the Lake about the Vietnamese and the American conflict. Gripping stories.
June 1, 2020
Well I pretty much hated the worldly weary opium smoking politically neutral smug bastard of a first person our-man-in-Vietnam reporter narrator who dolefully wraps his middle aged melancholia around himself and sprinkles mournful aphorisms into the languid air like ditsy bumblebees dressed up as badass hornets :
You cannot love without intuition (Yes you can)
Even an opinion is a kind of action (well, not really)
To be in love is to see yourself as someone else sees you (ridiculous)
When you escape to a desert the silence shouts in your ear (he must have found that in a Vietnamese fortune cookie)
Innocence is a kind of insanity (no it’s not)
and shacks up with a local woman named Phuong who is also pursued by a young go-getting CIA operative named Pyle so we have
a triangle in which each character represents a country which you may think is rather crude –
Fowler : ironic, cool, affectedly neutral but with a disguised moral compass deep within…. He represents Britain so he gets to dispense wisdom
Pyle : thinking he’s got the Answer to the messy communist insurrection, he’s making deals with a local warlord in the naïve belief that he can create a Third Force (independent nationalism) … in so doing he of course spreads death and destruction, he’s like a kid in a toyshop where the toys all explode and take your hands off, he has to be stopped. So Pyle gets to represent America.
Phuong : a terrible sexist cipher, the graceful silent male fantasy sex machine, she lays out Fowler’s opium pipes each night before laying out her own young tender flesh if he can be bothered after his drug of choice. After Pyle decides he’s in love with Phuong, she gets passed back and forth like a parcel. She doesn’t say much. Apparently she does not have a brain that works :
She’ll suffer from childbirth and hunger and cold and rheumatism but she’ll never suffer like we do from thoughts, obsessions – she won’t scratch, she’ll only decay.
says Fowler the wise Englishman – I’m not sure how much we are supposed to nod along with this guff or to think Fowler is a creature of his time or what but anyway, So Phuong represents Vietnam being fought over by various Outside Powers and having little or no say in its own destiny.
When you’re about to consign this saggy not much of a plot novel to the 2 star bin then it moves up a gear and you get to the strongly anti-colonialist part, and this does go a long way towards justifying the love this novel gets.
But I didn’t enjoy my time in this guy’s rancid mind, I didn’t like his elliptical conversations with philosophical cops, his pearls of wisdom got old, and by the time we find out (no surprise) that his heart is in the right place it’s pretty much too late to care.
2.5 stars
You cannot love without intuition (Yes you can)
Even an opinion is a kind of action (well, not really)
To be in love is to see yourself as someone else sees you (ridiculous)
When you escape to a desert the silence shouts in your ear (he must have found that in a Vietnamese fortune cookie)
Innocence is a kind of insanity (no it’s not)
and shacks up with a local woman named Phuong who is also pursued by a young go-getting CIA operative named Pyle so we have
a triangle in which each character represents a country which you may think is rather crude –
Fowler : ironic, cool, affectedly neutral but with a disguised moral compass deep within…. He represents Britain so he gets to dispense wisdom
Pyle : thinking he’s got the Answer to the messy communist insurrection, he’s making deals with a local warlord in the naïve belief that he can create a Third Force (independent nationalism) … in so doing he of course spreads death and destruction, he’s like a kid in a toyshop where the toys all explode and take your hands off, he has to be stopped. So Pyle gets to represent America.
Phuong : a terrible sexist cipher, the graceful silent male fantasy sex machine, she lays out Fowler’s opium pipes each night before laying out her own young tender flesh if he can be bothered after his drug of choice. After Pyle decides he’s in love with Phuong, she gets passed back and forth like a parcel. She doesn’t say much. Apparently she does not have a brain that works :
She’ll suffer from childbirth and hunger and cold and rheumatism but she’ll never suffer like we do from thoughts, obsessions – she won’t scratch, she’ll only decay.
says Fowler the wise Englishman – I’m not sure how much we are supposed to nod along with this guff or to think Fowler is a creature of his time or what but anyway, So Phuong represents Vietnam being fought over by various Outside Powers and having little or no say in its own destiny.
When you’re about to consign this saggy not much of a plot novel to the 2 star bin then it moves up a gear and you get to the strongly anti-colonialist part, and this does go a long way towards justifying the love this novel gets.
But I didn’t enjoy my time in this guy’s rancid mind, I didn’t like his elliptical conversations with philosophical cops, his pearls of wisdom got old, and by the time we find out (no surprise) that his heart is in the right place it’s pretty much too late to care.
2.5 stars
September 26, 2023
A slow moving but compelling romantic tragedy
THE QUIET AMERICAN is the tragically banal yet moving story of two white men living in Vietnam during the colonial war in French Indochina. Thomas Fowler, a British journalist covering the war, is world-weary and jaded, street smart, politically savvy and intelligently low key in the sense that he has learned to keep his head down to avoid attracting undue attention to himself and his activities, acclimated to the oriental culture, happy with a mediocre day to day existence, separated from his erstwhile wife in England and living with a local woman, Phuong, who is reputed to be one of the most beautiful women in Saigon.
Alden Pyle, newly posted to Saigon in some obscure bureaucratic capacity, is Fowler's very antithesis - brash and cocky with the arrogance and idealism of youth, naïve and uninformed, an intellectual theorist, egocentric, parochial and uninformed as to the Asian way of life, and brimful of a typical American attitude that looks down with unabashed disdain at cultures other than their own. He also happens to be hopelessly in love with Phuong whom he met when they were attending a soirée at the local Continental Hotel.
THE QUIET AMERICAN tells the story of the evolution of the love-like-hate-admire-ignore relationships that evolve in the Fowler-Pyle-Phuong triangle as Pyle hamhandedly courts Phuong and attempts to force her into a choice between himself and Fowler. When Pyle is murdered, Vigot, a French inspector at the Sûreté, investigates the death and makes it quite clear that he suspects Fowler is the killer.
Like a Shakespearean tragedy, THE QUIET AMERICAN is a rather blood-soaked tale that focuses its primary attention on ideas, characters and relationships. The wartime events in southeast Asia drive the story, to be sure, but ultimately, the tragedy ends on an unresolved "life goes on" note with Fowler learning that his wife has offered him a divorce and that he and Phuong can resume their lives without the clutter of Pyle's further attentions.
It is interesting to observe that, unlikely Pyle's and Fowler's exquisitely detailed personalities, Phuong remains ambiguous, fuzzy and ultimately unrevealed. Undoubtedly, this is Greene's nod in the direction of the western world's perception of the inscrutability of the Eastern mind.
On one level, THE QUIET AMERICAN is a workmanlike and enjoyable tale of wartime adventure, colonialism, murder and romance. But, on a deeper level, it is also obvious that THE QUIET AMERICAN is a heartfelt critique of American imperialism and their penchant for violently imposing their vision of democracy and an assumed superior western way of life on cultures other than their own. Indeed, in 1956 when it was first published, THE QUIET AMERICAN was loudly condemned as being anti-American. It has been suggested that American readers were particularly galled to listen to the criticisms largely being voiced through the mouth of a snobbish and opinionated middle class Englishman like Thomas Fowler.
In this era of continuing difficulties in the Middle East, Americans would be well-advised to consider reading this slow moving yet oddly compelling tragedy that had so much to say about American politics.
Paul Weiss
THE QUIET AMERICAN is the tragically banal yet moving story of two white men living in Vietnam during the colonial war in French Indochina. Thomas Fowler, a British journalist covering the war, is world-weary and jaded, street smart, politically savvy and intelligently low key in the sense that he has learned to keep his head down to avoid attracting undue attention to himself and his activities, acclimated to the oriental culture, happy with a mediocre day to day existence, separated from his erstwhile wife in England and living with a local woman, Phuong, who is reputed to be one of the most beautiful women in Saigon.
Alden Pyle, newly posted to Saigon in some obscure bureaucratic capacity, is Fowler's very antithesis - brash and cocky with the arrogance and idealism of youth, naïve and uninformed, an intellectual theorist, egocentric, parochial and uninformed as to the Asian way of life, and brimful of a typical American attitude that looks down with unabashed disdain at cultures other than their own. He also happens to be hopelessly in love with Phuong whom he met when they were attending a soirée at the local Continental Hotel.
THE QUIET AMERICAN tells the story of the evolution of the love-like-hate-admire-ignore relationships that evolve in the Fowler-Pyle-Phuong triangle as Pyle hamhandedly courts Phuong and attempts to force her into a choice between himself and Fowler. When Pyle is murdered, Vigot, a French inspector at the Sûreté, investigates the death and makes it quite clear that he suspects Fowler is the killer.
Like a Shakespearean tragedy, THE QUIET AMERICAN is a rather blood-soaked tale that focuses its primary attention on ideas, characters and relationships. The wartime events in southeast Asia drive the story, to be sure, but ultimately, the tragedy ends on an unresolved "life goes on" note with Fowler learning that his wife has offered him a divorce and that he and Phuong can resume their lives without the clutter of Pyle's further attentions.
It is interesting to observe that, unlikely Pyle's and Fowler's exquisitely detailed personalities, Phuong remains ambiguous, fuzzy and ultimately unrevealed. Undoubtedly, this is Greene's nod in the direction of the western world's perception of the inscrutability of the Eastern mind.
On one level, THE QUIET AMERICAN is a workmanlike and enjoyable tale of wartime adventure, colonialism, murder and romance. But, on a deeper level, it is also obvious that THE QUIET AMERICAN is a heartfelt critique of American imperialism and their penchant for violently imposing their vision of democracy and an assumed superior western way of life on cultures other than their own. Indeed, in 1956 when it was first published, THE QUIET AMERICAN was loudly condemned as being anti-American. It has been suggested that American readers were particularly galled to listen to the criticisms largely being voiced through the mouth of a snobbish and opinionated middle class Englishman like Thomas Fowler.
In this era of continuing difficulties in the Middle East, Americans would be well-advised to consider reading this slow moving yet oddly compelling tragedy that had so much to say about American politics.
Paul Weiss
July 6, 2020
I don't know how to review this book. I cannot fairly review it as my own notion of the book is so altered by my own experiences, that I'm not sure anyone reading it would see what I see. Hell, to a certain extent, I know they can't... not quite the same at least.
Instead I will try to express how this book made me feel.
This book took me way too long to read. Not because it was bad, life just kept getting in my way even when I would much rather have been reading, that said, I was happy to take my time. This book transported me back to a different place. I've been to Vietnam multiple times, it's where my wife is from and it's one of the most beautiful countries I've ever seen. I don't like traveling much personally, and the flight there is long (over 24 hours counting layovers), but I always find it worth it when we go back.
This book took me back there at a much cheaper price. Vietnam has changed a lot in the 65 years since Greene wrote this book... but in so many way it is still the same. Reading it, I was reminded of hot nights in Saigon (where the temperature was almost always 90+ degrees and the occasional bursts of rain were always a relief despite how heavy the downpours got). I was reminded of the architecture, the clothing, the traffic and smells.
The plot is interesting, and one might be surprised to know it was written before America really got into the Vietnam war (Greene's insight into how America operated is sadly only too true), and the book comes off melancholic for multiple reasons which Greene did not necessarily intend at the time. This is one of those books that was no doubt very good when published, but honestly time has made better. It becomes both a good story and a sad warning about mistakes that were made, and how one should avoid them.
The prose is beautiful and much of the dialogue quite amusing. We have a delightfully sarcastic narrator, and many of the people he meets takes a similar cynical tone. My favorite bit of dialogue is when someone questions a reporter about a news briefing in Hanoi:
"There's a rumor that the Vietminh have broken into Phat Diem, burned the Cathedral, chased out the Bishop."
"They wouldn't tell us about that in Hanoi. That's not a victory."
Do I suggest the book? Absolutely. Even without the personal experiences, this is an extremely good book. For me though... it's going on my favorites shelf. 5/5 stars.
January 28, 2020
“I can’t say what made me fall in love with Vietnam - that a woman’s voice can drug you; that everything is so intense. The colors, the taste, even the rain. Nothing like the filthy rain in London. The smell: that’s the first thing that hits you, promising everything in exchange for your soul. You could be forgiven for thinking there was no war; that the gunshots were fireworks; that only pleasure matters. A pipe of opium, or the touch of a girl who might tell you she loves you. And then, something happens, as you knew it would. And nothing can ever be the same again.”
Oh, I loved rereading this book, which I originally read so long ago I had largely forgotten it. It’s a story narrated by English journalist Thomas Fowler about the end of French colonialism in Vietnam and the beginning of American involvement there leading to the Vietnam War. Against the political background of a country used as a punching bag by France, Japan, then France again, then the US, is a love triangle between the older Fowler, a young Texas CIA agent named Alden Pyle, and Phuong, a young Vietnamese woman.
“I shut my eyes and she was again the same as she used to be: she was the hiss of steam, the clink of a cup, she was a certain hour of the night and the promise of rest.”
The novel, written in 1952-55 and based on Greene’s own work as a war correspondent in Indochina from 1951-54, harshly critiques the American involvement in Vietnam in the fifties and uses the three main characters to in part make this critique. Pyle, the “quiet American,” can’t properly see the implications of what they are doing in that country, prefiguring the terrible, ignorant things that would happen there in the decades to come.
The “domino theory” that was the foundation of the US policy (that if Vietnam is lost to communism then all the others in the area would then fall) is seen in this dialogue between Fowler and Kyle:
"They don't want communism." [Kyle, the American]
"They want enough rice," I [Fowler] said. "They don't want to be shot at. They want one day to be much the same as another. They don't want our white skins around telling them what they want."
"If Indochina goes--"
"I know that record. Siam goes. Malaya goes. Indonesia goes. What does 'go' mean? If I believed in your God and another life, I'd bet my future harp against your golden crown that in five hundred years there may be no New York or London, but they'll be growing paddy in these fields, they'll be carrying their produce to market on long poles, wearing their pointed hats. The small boys will still be sitting on their buffaloes.”
Fowler is a cynic; “I was a correspondent: I thought in headlines;” he’s an atheist, he hates politics, and hates nation states that arrogantly pursue colonialist takeovers, so in response he pretends to not care:
“’I'm not involved, not involved,’ I repeated. It has been an article of my creed. The human condition being what it was, let them fight, let them love, let them murder, I would not be involved. My fellow journalists called themselves correspondents; I preferred the title of reporter. I wrote what I saw. I took no action – even an opinion is a kind of action.”
“’Ah,” he [a Vietnamese friend] said, “But you will be involved. You will all be involved some day.”
And so we were involved! And still are, in a sense, in making decisions about who on the planet gets protected and fed and who do not.
In the end Fowler does take a stand, raging to Pyle about a needless and horrific bombing incident “orchestrated” by the Americans that causes many civilian casualties. But it’s a novel, not a political tract. It’s an often powerfully written book that helps see colonialism in a personal context. Fowler wants Phuong, Pyle wants her, too; but what does she really want? It kind of reminded me in that respect of another great post-colonialist book by J. M. Coetzee, Waiting for the Barbarians, that sees colonialism and sexism as two aspects of the same condition.
Oh, I loved rereading this book, which I originally read so long ago I had largely forgotten it. It’s a story narrated by English journalist Thomas Fowler about the end of French colonialism in Vietnam and the beginning of American involvement there leading to the Vietnam War. Against the political background of a country used as a punching bag by France, Japan, then France again, then the US, is a love triangle between the older Fowler, a young Texas CIA agent named Alden Pyle, and Phuong, a young Vietnamese woman.
“I shut my eyes and she was again the same as she used to be: she was the hiss of steam, the clink of a cup, she was a certain hour of the night and the promise of rest.”
The novel, written in 1952-55 and based on Greene’s own work as a war correspondent in Indochina from 1951-54, harshly critiques the American involvement in Vietnam in the fifties and uses the three main characters to in part make this critique. Pyle, the “quiet American,” can’t properly see the implications of what they are doing in that country, prefiguring the terrible, ignorant things that would happen there in the decades to come.
The “domino theory” that was the foundation of the US policy (that if Vietnam is lost to communism then all the others in the area would then fall) is seen in this dialogue between Fowler and Kyle:
"They don't want communism." [Kyle, the American]
"They want enough rice," I [Fowler] said. "They don't want to be shot at. They want one day to be much the same as another. They don't want our white skins around telling them what they want."
"If Indochina goes--"
"I know that record. Siam goes. Malaya goes. Indonesia goes. What does 'go' mean? If I believed in your God and another life, I'd bet my future harp against your golden crown that in five hundred years there may be no New York or London, but they'll be growing paddy in these fields, they'll be carrying their produce to market on long poles, wearing their pointed hats. The small boys will still be sitting on their buffaloes.”
Fowler is a cynic; “I was a correspondent: I thought in headlines;” he’s an atheist, he hates politics, and hates nation states that arrogantly pursue colonialist takeovers, so in response he pretends to not care:
“’I'm not involved, not involved,’ I repeated. It has been an article of my creed. The human condition being what it was, let them fight, let them love, let them murder, I would not be involved. My fellow journalists called themselves correspondents; I preferred the title of reporter. I wrote what I saw. I took no action – even an opinion is a kind of action.”
“’Ah,” he [a Vietnamese friend] said, “But you will be involved. You will all be involved some day.”
And so we were involved! And still are, in a sense, in making decisions about who on the planet gets protected and fed and who do not.
In the end Fowler does take a stand, raging to Pyle about a needless and horrific bombing incident “orchestrated” by the Americans that causes many civilian casualties. But it’s a novel, not a political tract. It’s an often powerfully written book that helps see colonialism in a personal context. Fowler wants Phuong, Pyle wants her, too; but what does she really want? It kind of reminded me in that respect of another great post-colonialist book by J. M. Coetzee, Waiting for the Barbarians, that sees colonialism and sexism as two aspects of the same condition.
July 2, 2023
If books were strippers, this one would shock. Here's the story in the buff. Thomas Fowler, a middle-aged English journalist, worn out and worse from drink and drugs, strings along a young Vietnamese woman with promises that he never expects to keep in a country on the brink of all out war.
Did I look away? No! I was glued to the spot.
This raises the ultimate question. What has this book got? The answer is in the telling. The words. From the start and sustained throughout, The Quiet American has an intensity which is compelling. Its allure is heady as scent and as intimate. This being a Greene novel, the intimacy is of the soul because, even with his flaws, Fowler is a human being. And Greene is at his best when stripping us down to our essentials.
Did I look away? No! I was glued to the spot.
This raises the ultimate question. What has this book got? The answer is in the telling. The words. From the start and sustained throughout, The Quiet American has an intensity which is compelling. Its allure is heady as scent and as intimate. This being a Greene novel, the intimacy is of the soul because, even with his flaws, Fowler is a human being. And Greene is at his best when stripping us down to our essentials.
November 9, 2022
I REREAD THIS BOOK
This was the third and final book I stole from my brother. For some reason, my brother suddenly stopped keeping his books on a shelf, and I never discovered where he had hidden them. I am grateful he never told our parents what I had done. I'm guessing he probably had his own secrets.
This was the third and final book I stole from my brother. For some reason, my brother suddenly stopped keeping his books on a shelf, and I never discovered where he had hidden them. I am grateful he never told our parents what I had done. I'm guessing he probably had his own secrets.
October 30, 2018
This was actually read for my university course. We were tasked to read a book (or watch a movie but...) and write a paper about how a journalist is presented in the.
Unfortunately, there was a blacklist as well and all the books I had in my mind were on it. So I had to look for a new one. And I am a bit angry that I did not know this book before! Graham Greene has a unique way how to tell a story and I really liked it.
“Death was far more certain than God.”
The most interesting was the difference between Fowler and Pyle. Fowler is cynical, he saw all of it, he has no illusions. Pyle is new, full of hopes, believing in pretty theories he read about. Pyle is naive to a point where he is delusional.
“Sooner or later...one has to take sides. If one is to remain human.”
Unfortunately, there was a blacklist as well and all the books I had in my mind were on it. So I had to look for a new one. And I am a bit angry that I did not know this book before! Graham Greene has a unique way how to tell a story and I really liked it.
“Death was far more certain than God.”
The most interesting was the difference between Fowler and Pyle. Fowler is cynical, he saw all of it, he has no illusions. Pyle is new, full of hopes, believing in pretty theories he read about. Pyle is naive to a point where he is delusional.
“Sooner or later...one has to take sides. If one is to remain human.”
July 28, 2021
في الفصول الأولى من «الأمريكي الهادئ» لـ جراهام جرين تساءلتُ إن كنتُ سأضع الرواية في الرفِّ نفسه مع «قلب الظلمات» لـ جوزيف كونراد؛ أي إن كانت الرواية تكرِّس سردية استعمارية. اتضح أنّها على العكس من ذلك، وإذا ما كنتُ سأضعها إلى جانب كتاب آخر، فستكون تلك رواية «الصمت» العظيمة للياباني شوساكو إندو.
هذه رواية لا تدينُ الاستعمار فحسب، فحتى طفل السادسة يستطيع ذلك. بل هي تذهبُ أبعد، إلى استحالة تغيير مجتمع من خارجِه، وكمّ الغباء الذي تنطوي عليه فكرة «بيضاء» مثل هذه. الأمر الذي يذكرني ثانية باقتباسٍ لإندو: «لقد جعلتني أمي وأنا في الثالثة عشرة من عمري أرتدي ملابس غريبة، لا تناسبني، ومنذ ذلك اليوم أحاول دونما نجاح أن أجعل من هذه ��لملابس كيمونو»، مع اختلاف السياقات.
للرواية ثلاثة أبطال محوريين. الصُّحفي البريطاني «فاولر»، ساخر وشديد الذكاء، أكثر ذكاءً من التورّط في لعبة الاصطفاف - لكن إلى متى؟ - وهو مدجج بحكمةِ المستعمر القديم الذي يحاكمُ «المستعمرين الجدد»؛ الأمريكان ومشروع تدخلهم في ﭬـيتنام.
«بايل» عميل الاستخبارات الأمريكي، المثقل بالقيم «الصحيحة» مثل الديموقراطية والإصلاح، القادر على ارتكاب الفظائع من فرطِ سذاجته ورؤيته الاختزالية للأمور، وهو ما يضيف إلى الرواية زاوية شديدة الإمتاع بالنسبة لي؛ المحاكمة الأوروبية للعقلية الأمريكية.
و«فونج»، الـﭭينامية التي أحبها الرجلان، والتي تتحرّك في خضمّ هذا الصراع «الإمبريالي» وفق ما تقتضيه مصلحتها الخاصة بواقعية صريحة.
صدرت الرواية في 1955، وهذا يعني أنها قدمت رؤية استشرافية لطبيعة التدخل الأمريكي في ﭬـيتنام الذي استمرّ حتى 1975، مع إدانة مُسبقة جاءت - رغم كونها مسبقة - نافذة ولمّاحة مع حسٍّ متهكّم «حِمضي» على الطريقة الإنجليزية. اتهمت الرواية بأنها معادية لأمريكا، وفي نوفمبر 2019، أدرجت في قائمة الـ BBC News للروايات المئة الأكثر تأثيرًا.
بعيدًا عن السياسة، من الصَّعب ألا تتورط في قصة حب لرجلين وامرأة واحدة. وبقدر ما فعل الأمريكي «بايل» كل شيء بنُبل، وعلى نحو ما تقتضيه الفروسية، كان «فاولر» الذي لم يرفع في حياتِه شعارًا واحدًا، ولا حتى شعار الحُب، هو المنتصر - برأيي - في معركة «الجاذبية»، المعركة القديمة الدائرة بين المثاليين وأبناء الشوارع.
سيتضّح للقارئ لاحقًا بأن الشعارات البرّاقة لا تجعل حاملها أكثر إنسانية، بل إنها قد تصيبه ببلادةٍ وانفصال عن نتائج أعماله، فكل ضحاياهُ ماتوا بسبب «سوء الحظ» لأنهم وجدوا في المكان الخطأ، وسيظهرون في الشريط الإخباري بصفتهم أرقامًا، شيءٌ يذكّرنا بما ذكره زيجمونت باومان عن سيولة الشر، لكن ذلك كتابٌ آخر.
باختصار؛ «الأمريكي الهادئ» رواية آسِرة، رواية فنّانة.
December 7, 2021
Set in Indo-China of the fifties, against the backdrop of the Vietnamese insurgency against their French colonial rulers and the onset of US involvement in the conflict, a love triangle unfolds between the narrator, a wry middle-aged English man, his gorgeous Vietnamese girlfriend and a wide-eyed, good-intentioned young American.
In flowing, lucid, evocative, at times gorgeous prose, Greene brings to life a bygone era, and although some of the social conventions restricting the characters seem today totally outdated, his observations of the human heart and its flaws have retained all their freshness.
In flowing, lucid, evocative, at times gorgeous prose, Greene brings to life a bygone era, and although some of the social conventions restricting the characters seem today totally outdated, his observations of the human heart and its flaws have retained all their freshness.
June 26, 2023
"There was always a Third Force to be found, free from communism and the taint of colonialism. You only had to find a leader and keep him safe." - American Agent Pyle
"We are the old colonial people Pyle, but we've learned a bit of reality, we've learned not to play with matches. The Third Force comes out of a book." - British Reporter Fowler
"We all get involved in a moment of emotion and then we cannot get out. War and Love, they have always been compared." - French Bomber Pilot Trouin
************
Thomas Fowler is a British journalist covering the First Indochina War in 1952 Saigon. He meets Alden Pyle, a young American agent of the Economic Aid Mission. It is a front for covert CIA activities conspiring to introduce an American supported nationalist force to intervene in the French and Viet Minh conflict. Fowler has an estranged wife in Britain and a girlfriend, Phuong, in Vietnam. The storyline revolves around a love triangle that develops between the three.
Pyle falls in love with Phuong and interjects himself into her relationship with Fowler, who sees the American as naive and ideologically simplistic. Phuong is a cipher who is not understood by either man; a metaphor for SE Asia, an older suitor and younger prospect. Phuong's sister separates her from Fowler and fixes her up with Pyle, unencumbered by previous relationships, financially fit and ready for marriage. Fowler, now aging, is desperate to save his life with Phuong.
Stranded overnight in a roadside guard station, with the Viet Minh patrolling the paddies, Fowler and Pyle clash over the western presence in Vietnam. While Pyle believes in an altruistic mission to spread democracy and freedom Fowler is derisive. The domino theory is an illusion, even the water buffalo hate the westerners. The peasant in his hut doesn't know or care about their platitudes. The tower is attacked and Fowler is injured. Pyle helps him get back to Saigon.
Fowler writes his wife to ask for a divorce but he is denied. He is recalled to London by his publisher but gets a one year extension. Phuong leaves him and moves in with Pyle, with whom she is now engaged. Through his reporting contacts Fowler finds out Pyle might be involved in the bombings that killed innocent civilians in Saigon. When Pyle is missing the French police begin to investigate Fowler, speculating that tensions between the two men may have led to foul play.
The story has elements of Greene's personal experiences. He was a war reporter in Indochina during the early 1950's for The Times and Le Figaro. During WWII he had worked for MI6 and was suspected of being a spy in Vietnam, and later in the Cuban revolution. Greene's writing is straight forward but nuanced. This 1955 psychological thriller was made into a movie in 1958 and 2002. The earlier film was co-opted by CIA funding and rewritten to remove it's anti-war message.
"We are the old colonial people Pyle, but we've learned a bit of reality, we've learned not to play with matches. The Third Force comes out of a book." - British Reporter Fowler
"We all get involved in a moment of emotion and then we cannot get out. War and Love, they have always been compared." - French Bomber Pilot Trouin
************
Thomas Fowler is a British journalist covering the First Indochina War in 1952 Saigon. He meets Alden Pyle, a young American agent of the Economic Aid Mission. It is a front for covert CIA activities conspiring to introduce an American supported nationalist force to intervene in the French and Viet Minh conflict. Fowler has an estranged wife in Britain and a girlfriend, Phuong, in Vietnam. The storyline revolves around a love triangle that develops between the three.
Pyle falls in love with Phuong and interjects himself into her relationship with Fowler, who sees the American as naive and ideologically simplistic. Phuong is a cipher who is not understood by either man; a metaphor for SE Asia, an older suitor and younger prospect. Phuong's sister separates her from Fowler and fixes her up with Pyle, unencumbered by previous relationships, financially fit and ready for marriage. Fowler, now aging, is desperate to save his life with Phuong.
Stranded overnight in a roadside guard station, with the Viet Minh patrolling the paddies, Fowler and Pyle clash over the western presence in Vietnam. While Pyle believes in an altruistic mission to spread democracy and freedom Fowler is derisive. The domino theory is an illusion, even the water buffalo hate the westerners. The peasant in his hut doesn't know or care about their platitudes. The tower is attacked and Fowler is injured. Pyle helps him get back to Saigon.
Fowler writes his wife to ask for a divorce but he is denied. He is recalled to London by his publisher but gets a one year extension. Phuong leaves him and moves in with Pyle, with whom she is now engaged. Through his reporting contacts Fowler finds out Pyle might be involved in the bombings that killed innocent civilians in Saigon. When Pyle is missing the French police begin to investigate Fowler, speculating that tensions between the two men may have led to foul play.
The story has elements of Greene's personal experiences. He was a war reporter in Indochina during the early 1950's for The Times and Le Figaro. During WWII he had worked for MI6 and was suspected of being a spy in Vietnam, and later in the Cuban revolution. Greene's writing is straight forward but nuanced. This 1955 psychological thriller was made into a movie in 1958 and 2002. The earlier film was co-opted by CIA funding and rewritten to remove it's anti-war message.
March 26, 2022
This was a well articulated story about human existence. It showed the human existence of people living their lives in the midst of war. Also the dichotomy of life existing parallel to the death and destruction of war. The story had two main characters also living in opposite internal mindsets. The first character was the older, mature, and cynical war correspondent Fowler. The second character, Pyle, was a young and motivated yet naive CIA operative believing he too could make a difference in the world.
The external world collided with these two individuals while in the middle of the French Indochina War. The basic psychosocial needs of love and belonging were personified with the love interest of both men, a local Vietnamese girl named Phuong. Even in war human nature lies underneath.
I enjoyed this a lot. I wasn't expecting this type of read with subtle philosophical and existential viewpoints. I'd recommend this to anyone. Thanks!
The external world collided with these two individuals while in the middle of the French Indochina War. The basic psychosocial needs of love and belonging were personified with the love interest of both men, a local Vietnamese girl named Phuong. Even in war human nature lies underneath.
I enjoyed this a lot. I wasn't expecting this type of read with subtle philosophical and existential viewpoints. I'd recommend this to anyone. Thanks!
May 31, 2015
Greene intertwines two mirror image triangular relationships in early 1950’s Viet Nam. The fictional plot is centered on a real event, a car bombing in a busy downtown Saigon square in January 1952. The French Sûreté blamed the rogue nationalist Colonel Thế. The American mission blamed the Viet Minh. Greene was a war correspondent based in Saigon at the time and many scenes in the book are drawn from things he witnessed. He started writing the book in March 1952.
Greene’s first triangle is personal. The young impetuous American Alden Pyle falls in love with Phuong, the beautiful Vietnamese mistress of English reporter Thomas Fowler. The second triangle is national. Headstrong CIA Agent, Alden Pyle, leads an American attempt to establish a third force led by Colonel Thế against both the French and the Viet Minh. The same values and motives underlie both situations.
The first side of the triangles is the self-indulgent Thomas Fowler. Fowler is in love with Phuong but keeps her as his mistress since he is married although separated from his wife in England. He has a cynical view of the war, the desires of the Vietnamese people and of Phuong, who he uses just as Viet Nam is used by its European master. Fowler sees no morality on any side, the French, the Viet Minh or the American. His motto is just let it be, interference just adds to the death and injured toll and accomplishes nothing. His views are those of the colonial rulers who see their empires collapsing and take refuge in their smugness and legacy of privilege.
The second side of the triangles is the impulsive Alden Pyle, who offers to marry Phuong and take her away from the decadent Fowler and chaotic Viet Nam to his home in Boston where he believes she will thrive as a middle class housewife. Also for the purest of motives he hopes to launch a third force in the war to do away with both the evil communists and the colonial puppet government and bring democracy to the Vietnamese. Pyle is portrayed as too simple to see Phuong’s true nature - that she would not fit in conventional New England. Similarly he is shown as too simple to understand the complexities of the Vietnamese people and the war - that American style democracy would not work in their culture.
The third side of the triangles is Phuong, but we only get Fowler’s jaded picture. Just as Greene portrays his idea of a prototypical American (albeit very fitting as events turned out) so he gives us his conception of a prototypical Asian woman who never reveals her true self - mysterious and alluring, always accommodating, but underneath clever and pragmatic. Fowler needs Phuong to light his opium pipes and take care of him as he grows old, just as England and France need the colonies to support them as they decline. He sees Phuong as someone interested solely in security. Young and handsome or old and paunchy does not matter, only who will provide for her and be reliable.
Greene’s book tells us as much about Greene, as it does about Viet Nam, its people and the war. He was in MI6 during WWII, reporting to his friend secret Soviet agent Kim Philby. Some French officials suspected Greene was employed by MI6 while in Viet Nam, which he denied. He reported on the war for The Times and Le Figaro from 1951 -1954. Greene loved his time in Viet Nam and clearly patterned Fowler after himself. Greene particularly liked the restaurants, the nightlife, the opium, and the prostitutes. Oxford educated, aloof and self-absorbed, he reflects the British Empire’s administrative class alarm at upstart America’s interference in world affairs previously dominated by European powers. Fowler’s view of Phuong and by extension the Vietnamese represents Greene’s colonialist image of the Asian. Greene was right about America’s simplicity in getting involved in the Indochina war. However, his characterization of Phuong and the oriental is also simplistic - and racist as well. In spite of Greene’s presumptiveness and classist views, The Quiet American is well worth reading. Greene is a skillful writer giving us fine prose, a cleverly constructed plot and a vivid sense of an exotic time and place he knew well.
An interesting aside is the plot change in the 1958 Joseph Mankiewicz movie made to assuage politically powerful pro Diem activist groups in the US. Diem had strong support from the likes of Henry Luce and Cardinal Spellman. In the novel Greene had the American (Alden Pyle) arrange the bombing to help create a third force. American diplomats Greene knew were discussing a third force strategy at the time the novel was written. Mankiewicz instead made the English reporter, Fowler, a communist dupe who helps the communists plan the bombing. Needless to say Greene was very upset by the switch which completely changed the novel’s message calling it “a propaganda film for America”. The 2002 remake is more faithful to the novel’s plot. While Greene later recanted his support for the French, he never changed his opinion of America or America’s responsibility for the 1952 bombing.
Greene’s first triangle is personal. The young impetuous American Alden Pyle falls in love with Phuong, the beautiful Vietnamese mistress of English reporter Thomas Fowler. The second triangle is national. Headstrong CIA Agent, Alden Pyle, leads an American attempt to establish a third force led by Colonel Thế against both the French and the Viet Minh. The same values and motives underlie both situations.
The first side of the triangles is the self-indulgent Thomas Fowler. Fowler is in love with Phuong but keeps her as his mistress since he is married although separated from his wife in England. He has a cynical view of the war, the desires of the Vietnamese people and of Phuong, who he uses just as Viet Nam is used by its European master. Fowler sees no morality on any side, the French, the Viet Minh or the American. His motto is just let it be, interference just adds to the death and injured toll and accomplishes nothing. His views are those of the colonial rulers who see their empires collapsing and take refuge in their smugness and legacy of privilege.
The second side of the triangles is the impulsive Alden Pyle, who offers to marry Phuong and take her away from the decadent Fowler and chaotic Viet Nam to his home in Boston where he believes she will thrive as a middle class housewife. Also for the purest of motives he hopes to launch a third force in the war to do away with both the evil communists and the colonial puppet government and bring democracy to the Vietnamese. Pyle is portrayed as too simple to see Phuong’s true nature - that she would not fit in conventional New England. Similarly he is shown as too simple to understand the complexities of the Vietnamese people and the war - that American style democracy would not work in their culture.
The third side of the triangles is Phuong, but we only get Fowler’s jaded picture. Just as Greene portrays his idea of a prototypical American (albeit very fitting as events turned out) so he gives us his conception of a prototypical Asian woman who never reveals her true self - mysterious and alluring, always accommodating, but underneath clever and pragmatic. Fowler needs Phuong to light his opium pipes and take care of him as he grows old, just as England and France need the colonies to support them as they decline. He sees Phuong as someone interested solely in security. Young and handsome or old and paunchy does not matter, only who will provide for her and be reliable.
Greene’s book tells us as much about Greene, as it does about Viet Nam, its people and the war. He was in MI6 during WWII, reporting to his friend secret Soviet agent Kim Philby. Some French officials suspected Greene was employed by MI6 while in Viet Nam, which he denied. He reported on the war for The Times and Le Figaro from 1951 -1954. Greene loved his time in Viet Nam and clearly patterned Fowler after himself. Greene particularly liked the restaurants, the nightlife, the opium, and the prostitutes. Oxford educated, aloof and self-absorbed, he reflects the British Empire’s administrative class alarm at upstart America’s interference in world affairs previously dominated by European powers. Fowler’s view of Phuong and by extension the Vietnamese represents Greene’s colonialist image of the Asian. Greene was right about America’s simplicity in getting involved in the Indochina war. However, his characterization of Phuong and the oriental is also simplistic - and racist as well. In spite of Greene’s presumptiveness and classist views, The Quiet American is well worth reading. Greene is a skillful writer giving us fine prose, a cleverly constructed plot and a vivid sense of an exotic time and place he knew well.
An interesting aside is the plot change in the 1958 Joseph Mankiewicz movie made to assuage politically powerful pro Diem activist groups in the US. Diem had strong support from the likes of Henry Luce and Cardinal Spellman. In the novel Greene had the American (Alden Pyle) arrange the bombing to help create a third force. American diplomats Greene knew were discussing a third force strategy at the time the novel was written. Mankiewicz instead made the English reporter, Fowler, a communist dupe who helps the communists plan the bombing. Needless to say Greene was very upset by the switch which completely changed the novel’s message calling it “a propaganda film for America”. The 2002 remake is more faithful to the novel’s plot. While Greene later recanted his support for the French, he never changed his opinion of America or America’s responsibility for the 1952 bombing.
June 26, 2013
I don’t know. I guess this is what you would get if you crossed Ernest Hemingway with John le Carré? Maybe.
The Quiet American is the story of a British journalist covering the war in 1950s French Indochina and the annoying American who disrupts his complacent lifestyle. Sure, he’s in a war zone, but he has never had it better. He has a beautiful girl by his side and he finds it possible to remain relatively safe, both physically and emotionally—physically in that most of his reporting duties occur behind the front lines; and emotionally in that he is able to convince himself of Britain’s (and by extension his) lack of involvement with the war itself. It is their problem.
The annoying American changes all that, and it seems to me the American—Pyle, by name—is presented by Greene as an extension of America itself: innocent in its idealistic principles, yet dangerous in its perceived lack of guilt for the harm its idealism causes.
Without getting into specifics, there is more to Pyle than meets the eye, and even though I did not love this story as much as I had hoped to, it did pull together for me in the end. The protagonist learns that at some point, it becomes necessary to make a choice and become involved no matter how adamantly you believe in your own neutrality. Greene does write with a remarkable degree of restraint—in my opinion, his writing could even be said to be too restrained—which is how he packs a story with such complexity into a reasonable number of pages. The problem I had with it lay mostly in the fact that I did not experience much of a connection with any of the characters’ relationships. Though Pyle and Fowler essentially fight over a girl, it is a girl whom neither of them seems to really love, and the two men themselves don’t actually develop any quantifiable bond of friendship that would have otherwise made the story more affecting.
Anyway, I am not done with Graham Greene yet. Some guy on Goodreads named Ben told me to read The End of the Affair, so I suppose that is what I’ll go ahead and do next.
The Quiet American is the story of a British journalist covering the war in 1950s French Indochina and the annoying American who disrupts his complacent lifestyle. Sure, he’s in a war zone, but he has never had it better. He has a beautiful girl by his side and he finds it possible to remain relatively safe, both physically and emotionally—physically in that most of his reporting duties occur behind the front lines; and emotionally in that he is able to convince himself of Britain’s (and by extension his) lack of involvement with the war itself. It is their problem.
The annoying American changes all that, and it seems to me the American—Pyle, by name—is presented by Greene as an extension of America itself: innocent in its idealistic principles, yet dangerous in its perceived lack of guilt for the harm its idealism causes.
Without getting into specifics, there is more to Pyle than meets the eye, and even though I did not love this story as much as I had hoped to, it did pull together for me in the end. The protagonist learns that at some point, it becomes necessary to make a choice and become involved no matter how adamantly you believe in your own neutrality. Greene does write with a remarkable degree of restraint—in my opinion, his writing could even be said to be too restrained—which is how he packs a story with such complexity into a reasonable number of pages. The problem I had with it lay mostly in the fact that I did not experience much of a connection with any of the characters’ relationships. Though Pyle and Fowler essentially fight over a girl, it is a girl whom neither of them seems to really love, and the two men themselves don’t actually develop any quantifiable bond of friendship that would have otherwise made the story more affecting.
Anyway, I am not done with Graham Greene yet. Some guy on Goodreads named Ben told me to read The End of the Affair, so I suppose that is what I’ll go ahead and do next.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 10, 2022
4.5 ☆
The Quiet American was set during the the early 1950s when France was fighting a losing war to retain Indochina. Battles between the Communist Vietnamese and the French were fiercest in the north, close to the border with China. In the south, Saigon and its environs were also contested territories among the French and various private armies with their own agendas.
Based in Saigon, journalist Thomas Fowley narrated the story. As a British national, he was regarded as a neutral party. Not only did Fowler hold himself above geopolitical events, he rejected philosophical doctrines and religious beliefs. His sense of detachment manifested as well in his relationships with women but with one glaring exception -- Phuong. Phuong was his beautiful and much younger Vietnamese girlfriend.
Alden Pyle, the eponymous "quiet American," arrived in Saigon as part of the American Legation's Economic Aid Mission. He barged into Fowler's life and shortly afterwards claimed Fowler as his best friend in Saigon. The two men occupied opposing ends of a see-saw from their level of political engagement, outlook of their future, to the representation of their respective home countries' roles on the global stage.
But as soon as Pyle met Phuong, he and Fowler had one goal in common. Both men wanted Phuong. Watch how events unfold for the path of true love does not run smoothly, especially in the midst of war.
The Quiet American was my first novel by Graham Greene. Color me very well pleased. This wasn't just a love story, espionage plot, or mystery set against the backdrop of war, but also a political and philosophical allegory infused with the despairing narrator's wry wit. In this romantic triangle, the middle-aged Fowler represented the old world, the one in which the resplendent British Empire was being dismantled as more of its holdings gained their independence. Pyle represented the ascendancy of America as a power player on the global stage and the fervent and simplistic belief that only one optimal version of governance exists. Their struggle for Phuong was, of course, the conversion of the third world -- to reject Communism in order to embrace Democracy.
This novel has a couple of shortcomings. While I had a solid comprehension of Fowler's character, neither Pyle nor Phuong benefited from a similar level of development. In fact, it was worse for Phuong because Greene had cast her into the stereotypical modes of the "inscrutable Oriental" and the fetishized Asian female. For all I know, given this story's publication in 1955, Greene might have been the first popular novelist to commit that egregious image to paper. Some readers have probably opined that The Quiet American was anti-American. While I can see the basis for that assessment, I noticed that the supercilious Fowler was quite flawed himself as were the French military, which censored the press and condoned collateral damage. If anything, this novel was anti-Western imperialism be it in terms of administrative control or of economic captivity.
The Quiet American wasn't a novel populated with heroes, as conventionally depicted. It should have made a huge splash as an anti-war book when it was first published in 1955, an entire decade before the American government publicly announced the US military involvement in Vietnam. A subsequent ripple would have been the prescient declaration that the West would not prevail in Vietnam and the 1975 proof of that. Nonetheless, I greatly enjoyed The Quiet American from its storyline to its literary style.
nothing nowadays is fabulous and nothing rises from its ashes
The Quiet American was set during the the early 1950s when France was fighting a losing war to retain Indochina. Battles between the Communist Vietnamese and the French were fiercest in the north, close to the border with China. In the south, Saigon and its environs were also contested territories among the French and various private armies with their own agendas.
"I'm not involved." ... It had been an article of my creed. The human condition being what it was, let them fight, let them love, let them murder, I would not be involved. ...I preferred the title reporter. I wrote what I saw. I took no action-- even an opinion is a kind of action.
Based in Saigon, journalist Thomas Fowley narrated the story. As a British national, he was regarded as a neutral party. Not only did Fowler hold himself above geopolitical events, he rejected philosophical doctrines and religious beliefs. His sense of detachment manifested as well in his relationships with women but with one glaring exception -- Phuong. Phuong was his beautiful and much younger Vietnamese girlfriend.
From childhood I had never believed in permanence, and yet I had longed for it. Always I was afraid of losing happiness. This month, next year, Phuong would leave me. If not next year, in three years.
Death was the only absolute value in my world. Lose life and one would lose nothing again for ever.
Alden Pyle, the eponymous "quiet American," arrived in Saigon as part of the American Legation's Economic Aid Mission. He barged into Fowler's life and shortly afterwards claimed Fowler as his best friend in Saigon. The two men occupied opposing ends of a see-saw from their level of political engagement, outlook of their future, to the representation of their respective home countries' roles on the global stage.
[he] was a serious type. ... He didn't even hear what I said; he was absorbed already in the dilemma of Democracy and the responsibilities of the West; he was determined ... to do good, not to any individual person but to a country, a continent, a world.
But as soon as Pyle met Phuong, he and Fowler had one goal in common. Both men wanted Phuong. Watch how events unfold for the path of true love does not run smoothly, especially in the midst of war.
"It's not a matter of reason or justice. We all get involved in a moment of emotion and then we cannot get out. War and Love-- they have always been compared. "
The Quiet American was my first novel by Graham Greene. Color me very well pleased. This wasn't just a love story, espionage plot, or mystery set against the backdrop of war, but also a political and philosophical allegory infused with the despairing narrator's wry wit. In this romantic triangle, the middle-aged Fowler represented the old world, the one in which the resplendent British Empire was being dismantled as more of its holdings gained their independence. Pyle represented the ascendancy of America as a power player on the global stage and the fervent and simplistic belief that only one optimal version of governance exists. Their struggle for Phuong was, of course, the conversion of the third world -- to reject Communism in order to embrace Democracy.
This novel has a couple of shortcomings. While I had a solid comprehension of Fowler's character, neither Pyle nor Phuong benefited from a similar level of development. In fact, it was worse for Phuong because Greene had cast her into the stereotypical modes of the "inscrutable Oriental" and the fetishized Asian female. For all I know, given this story's publication in 1955, Greene might have been the first popular novelist to commit that egregious image to paper. Some readers have probably opined that The Quiet American was anti-American. While I can see the basis for that assessment, I noticed that the supercilious Fowler was quite flawed himself as were the French military, which censored the press and condoned collateral damage. If anything, this novel was anti-Western imperialism be it in terms of administrative control or of economic captivity.
The Quiet American wasn't a novel populated with heroes, as conventionally depicted. It should have made a huge splash as an anti-war book when it was first published in 1955, an entire decade before the American government publicly announced the US military involvement in Vietnam. A subsequent ripple would have been the prescient declaration that the West would not prevail in Vietnam and the 1975 proof of that. Nonetheless, I greatly enjoyed The Quiet American from its storyline to its literary style.
January 8, 2010
"War and Love -- they have always been compared."
Like The End of the Affair, this is a Greene novel that affects you viscerally. It is a war novel, set in Vietnam. Being so, it is not cheerful or pretty: dead children lying in the street and the like. It hits on the complexities of war; the complexity of morals: how it's impossible to stay neutral forever on such matters when you’re directly involved: you have to make a decision: you must decide, or you're as good as dead.
"'You can rule me out,' I said. 'I'm not involved. Not involved,' I repeated. It had been an article of my creed. The human condition being what it was, let them fight, let them love, let them murder, I would not be involved. My fellow journalists called themselves correspondents; I preferred the title of reporter. I wrote what I saw. I took no action -- even an opinion is a kind of action."
It's something our protagonist fights, and it’s a recurring theme: "Wouldn't we all do better not trying to understand, accepting the fact that no human being will ever understand another, not a wife a husband, a lover a mistress, nor a parent a child? Perhaps that's why men have invented God -- a being capable of understanding. Perhaps if I wanted to be understood or to understand I would bam-boozle myself into belief, but I am a reporter; God exists only for leader-writers."
Greene has proven to me that he articulates internal struggles exceptionally well: the ruminating but judgmental mind, the bustling churnings of the inside. And I’m not sure anybody articulates the dark side of love better than he does. Our protagonist here has a quick mind; cold but keen, with an accurate view of the world, and a hardened heart.
"To be in love is to see yourself as someone else sees you, it is to be in love with the falsified and exalted image of yourself. In love we are incapable of honour -- the courageous act is no more than playing a part to an audience of two. Perhaps I was no longer in love but I remembered."
But you see, love even makes the toughest of us feel pain.
"Her pain struck at my pain: we were back at the old routine of hurting each other. If only it were possible to love without injury -- fidelity isn't enough: I had been faithful to Anne and yet I had injured her. The hurt is in the act of possession: we are too small in mind and body to possess another person without pride or to be possessed without humiliation."
These quotes bite because they're so true. They are painful and real.
"I wish I could have those nights back. I'm still in love, Pyle, and I'm a wasting asset. Oh, and there was pride, of course. It takes a long time before we cease to feel proud of being wanted. Though God knows why we should feel it, when we look around and see who is wanted too."
But the beauty of it; it's still there; it doesn't fully go away; and these flashes of beauty live in the memory forever:
"I shut my eyes and she was again the same as she used to be: she was the hiss of steam, the clink of a cup, she was a certain hour of the night, and the promise of rest."
Oh yeah, and there's plenty of intellectual heft to this, too: the story of the quiet American is a discerning model -- a microcosm if you will -- of the United State's idealism with respect to Vietnam. Greene pulls this off in a clever fashion: Pyle’s good intentions are endearing, even admirable at times -- but they are also ignorant, and therefore dangerous.
This novel will grab hold of you; and by the end -- as with most good pieces of literature -- you'll be a little more worldly and wiser because of it.
Like The End of the Affair, this is a Greene novel that affects you viscerally. It is a war novel, set in Vietnam. Being so, it is not cheerful or pretty: dead children lying in the street and the like. It hits on the complexities of war; the complexity of morals: how it's impossible to stay neutral forever on such matters when you’re directly involved: you have to make a decision: you must decide, or you're as good as dead.
"'You can rule me out,' I said. 'I'm not involved. Not involved,' I repeated. It had been an article of my creed. The human condition being what it was, let them fight, let them love, let them murder, I would not be involved. My fellow journalists called themselves correspondents; I preferred the title of reporter. I wrote what I saw. I took no action -- even an opinion is a kind of action."
It's something our protagonist fights, and it’s a recurring theme: "Wouldn't we all do better not trying to understand, accepting the fact that no human being will ever understand another, not a wife a husband, a lover a mistress, nor a parent a child? Perhaps that's why men have invented God -- a being capable of understanding. Perhaps if I wanted to be understood or to understand I would bam-boozle myself into belief, but I am a reporter; God exists only for leader-writers."
Greene has proven to me that he articulates internal struggles exceptionally well: the ruminating but judgmental mind, the bustling churnings of the inside. And I’m not sure anybody articulates the dark side of love better than he does. Our protagonist here has a quick mind; cold but keen, with an accurate view of the world, and a hardened heart.
"To be in love is to see yourself as someone else sees you, it is to be in love with the falsified and exalted image of yourself. In love we are incapable of honour -- the courageous act is no more than playing a part to an audience of two. Perhaps I was no longer in love but I remembered."
But you see, love even makes the toughest of us feel pain.
"Her pain struck at my pain: we were back at the old routine of hurting each other. If only it were possible to love without injury -- fidelity isn't enough: I had been faithful to Anne and yet I had injured her. The hurt is in the act of possession: we are too small in mind and body to possess another person without pride or to be possessed without humiliation."
These quotes bite because they're so true. They are painful and real.
"I wish I could have those nights back. I'm still in love, Pyle, and I'm a wasting asset. Oh, and there was pride, of course. It takes a long time before we cease to feel proud of being wanted. Though God knows why we should feel it, when we look around and see who is wanted too."
But the beauty of it; it's still there; it doesn't fully go away; and these flashes of beauty live in the memory forever:
"I shut my eyes and she was again the same as she used to be: she was the hiss of steam, the clink of a cup, she was a certain hour of the night, and the promise of rest."
Oh yeah, and there's plenty of intellectual heft to this, too: the story of the quiet American is a discerning model -- a microcosm if you will -- of the United State's idealism with respect to Vietnam. Greene pulls this off in a clever fashion: Pyle’s good intentions are endearing, even admirable at times -- but they are also ignorant, and therefore dangerous.
This novel will grab hold of you; and by the end -- as with most good pieces of literature -- you'll be a little more worldly and wiser because of it.
May 31, 2023
“From childhood I had never believed in permanence, and yet I had longed for it. Always I was afraid of losing happiness. This month, next year...death was the only absolute value in my world. Lose life and one would lose nothing again forever.”
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