I miss reading Greene. I miss discovering his stories for the first time. He’s still one of my favourite authors – not because I loved all of his books without fail and without criticism, but because his writing has a quality to it that is just beautiful while still being totally on point.
So, when I picked up Ways of Escape, I hoped to reconnect with that wonder of entering Greeneland, a term Greene used himself (as I found out in this book).
To some extent this was successful. Ways of Escape is one of Greene’s autobiographical books (there are several volumes) in which he explores, in parts, his biography, and in parts his own works.
While the biographical background was interesting (his travel experiences were fascinating, his deliberations about Catholicism not so much), his analysis of his own works largely left me wishing I hadn’t read them. This isn’t because they were disappointing – they weren’t! But when the magician discloses the workings of his tricks, some of the magic gets lost.