The Mackerel Plaza

This is the second De Vries book I have read (The Blood of the Lamb being the first) and it has done nothing to quell my passionate heralding of the greatness of a man so unexplainably excluded from the copious lists of excellent literature. His command of language is perfectly astute (perhaps ever more impressive due to his Dutch nationality) his handling of character perspicacious and his telling of a tale masterful.

A Mackerel Plaza is a farce, eruditely suffused with divine and mythological reflection. It is the story of a widowed pastor, who unwittingly falls for another woman a few months after the accidental death of his wife. Particularly scrupulous as to how his parish may perceive a new love interest, Andrew Mackerel makes show more great pains to nurture the budding romance with Molly Calico whilst keeping up appearances of widowhood and grievance before the church’s parishioners.

Throw into this his live-in housekeeper who is the sister of his deceased wife, adamant on infinitely observing a vigil of respect to her sibling that borders on martyrdom and a brooding bureaucracy chomping at the bit to use any excuse (say, a sprawling memorial plaza in dedication to the town’s recently lost heroine) to capitalise on the burgeoning business flirting with their potential suburban cash cow and you have a holy headache.

It is all a little much for our innocent protagonist, already wrestling tenets of his belief and religion (and unwanted ‘Jesus Saves’ signs which disturb his creative flow whilst attempting to write his sermons) never mind anything else.

Read De Vries. show less

This book was recommended by ministerial colleagues who said it gave a pretty accurate (humorous, biting) look at liberal ministry of a certain time. I enjoyed it. It was not the laugh-out-loud variety for me, but some insightful descriptions of people and places and attitudes, as well as some so-bad-they're-good witticisms voiced by the main character (often delivered in my favorite form, the bad pun, e.g. hearing the thunder of a prayed-for rain and calling it "Jehovah's wetness.") It had an underlying sadness in its courageous exploration of death and suffering, which I find to be a trademark of some of my favorite "humor" writing. I look forward to reading "The Blood of the Lamb."

DeVries's satire on late fifties liberal Christianity doesn't quite come off. the central character is never really believable and comes off as largely a prop for quips and set pieces (some of which are, admittedly, quite funny). The attitude towards women accurately reflects its time, but the comedic rewards aren't enough to go to the effort of hypothetically accepting it for the time it takes one to read the book.

De Vries's usual sly use of language although pages go by without a gingerism. Still part of the plot turns on a quick turn of language. A widowed minister of People's Liberal Church in Avalon, Connecticut searches for a second wife.