Lion Country is a richly entertaining book, sometimes very funny, sometimes very moving, and always deeply suggestive of meaning somewhere beyond itself. Its first-person narrator, Antonio Parr, is a thirty-four-year-old ex-teacher, ex-sculptor in scrap iron, ex-would-be-novelist who on impulse answers the ad of a religious diploma mill. He receives his ordination through the mail, allowing him tax and other advantages, and eventually meets the ebullient and wonderfully ambiguous head of the organization, Leo Bebb. Antonio's twin, Miriam, is dying of a bone disease in Manhattan, but he is so fascinated as well as repelled by Bebb that he seeks him out in Armadillo, Florida - the site of The Church of Holy Love, Inc. - where most of the novel's action takes place. It is here that he meets, among others, Brownie, Bebb's peculiarly seraphic assistant; Hermon Redpath, a septuagenarian satyr whom Bebb hopes to make his patron; and Bebb's twenty-one-year-old Daughter, Sharon, with whom Antonio Parr falls in love. In addition to conferring degrees in almost anything on almost anybody who can meet the fee, Bebb turns out to have been tried earlier on charges of sexual exhibitionism; and as Parr's knowledge of him deepens, together with his knowledge of himself, their destinies grow curiously linked. Although Mr. Buechner writes with the same brilliance of language and imagery as in his earlier novels and is concerned as always with the depth and complexity of human life, Lion Country stands apart from his earlier work. There is a lightness of touch here, a sensuousness, a feeling of celebration, that should make him accessible to a far larger circle of readers. Leo Bebb is perhaps the strongest example of a recurring Buechner the sinner and the saint rolled together into one. As Dale Brown puts "Is it possible that the unlikeliest of vessels, the obvious shyster, that round ball of contradictions and failings, could function as an instrument of grace?"...
Frederick Buechner is a highly influential writer and theologian who has won awards for his poetry, short stories, novels and theological writings. His work pioneered the genre of spiritual memoir, laying the groundwork for writers such as Anne Lamott, Rob Bell and Lauren Winner.
His first book, A Long Day's Dying, was published to acclaim just two years after he graduated from Princeton. He entered Union Theological Seminary in 1954 where he studied under renowned theologians that included Reinhold Niebuhr, Paul Tillich, and James Muilenberg. In 1955, his short story "The Tiger" which had been published in the New Yorker won the O. Henry Prize.
After seminary he spent nine years at Phillips Exeter Academy, establishing a religion department and teaching courses in both religion and English. Among his students was the future author, John Irving. In 1969 he gave the Noble Lectures at Harvard. He presented a theological autobiography on a day in his life, which was published as The Alphabet of Grace.
In the years that followed he began publishing more novels, including the Pulitzer Prize finalist Godric. At the same time, he was also writing a series of spiritual autobiographies. A central theme in his theological writing is looking for God in the everyday, listening and paying attention, to hear God speak to people through their personal lives.
This book caught me off guard in a lot of ways and I’m still trying to process what I read. I kept thinking I was reading something which would come to a strong spiritual moral. I just started dabbling in Buechner’s fiction and expected him to be more pointed in an underlying message. In the end, Lion Country is a meandering subtle comedy with a message that living life is worth the effort, even if we’re only limping forward toward a finish line that is death.
Bebb is a Bible salesman turned diploma-mill, ordination-by-mail Christian institution entrepreneur. He and his entire crowd are oddballs, each with their own questionable history and toxic habits. Antonio Parr is a rich New Yorker with no future, no plans, no hope, an orphan who is teetering in the edge of being alone in the world. On a whim, he responds to Bebb’s magazine advertisement offering mail-order ministry ordinations. From there, Parr decides to expose Bebb as a schyster, but the closer he comes to the man and his circle the more he sees how complex people are and how worth it caring about them can be.
Lion Country is raw and honest about the chaos of human endeavors and the strangeness of God’s supernatural interventions, about the frailty and sinfulness of even the “ordained” among us and the real pains that come with addiction, loss, and growing cold and numb to living. It is a fast-paced joke that leaves you with a lot of serious reflecting to do. It is layer upon layer upon layer of literary allusion and psychological reflection and dreamy-state tendency to overlap elements and imply connections. To some degree, it ignores the traditional Christian reflection on “Is this sin? Is that sin?” and focuses on “are you alive and awake?” Under everything else, it is an urgent plea to shake off the dust and live, to fight against the jading that comes with experiencing death and loss and sinful habits and choose to proactively build beautiful things, even in the age of neon lights and cheap chrome.
In an age that is now fully invested in debunking anything that looks cheap on the surface and embraces only the perfectly produced commercial product or the raw and completely unassuming, I would love to hear opinions from this generation on a book about complex characters who are posing and deeply flawed yet worth the time.
Though they're different books, reading Lion Country had me thinking of John Gardner's Sunlight Dialogues and David Rhodes' Easter House, all books that burrow deep into the messiness of life and existence and don't disappoint when you arrive at the end. Lion Country, of course, is mostly a book about God and the imperfect vessels God chooses to distribute grace into the world. Bebb is as sleazy, strange, and wonderful a character as you can imagine, and Antonio (our narrator) is sucked deeper in just as he imagines himself exposing the hypocrisy at the heart of Bebb's "ministry." I've been thinking about the sacraments a lot lately, and here they're at their most glorious work, performing miracles in the world whether we like it or not. "Stay awake," Antonio's dying twin sister, Miriam, says to her young son, and to Antonio, and I'd like to believe she's saying it to me as well.
Did not disappoint. Buechner is my favorite writer, hands down. I AM glad however that I did not start reading Buechner when I did years ago with this series of books (4 - of which this is the first), because I don't think I would have found them, or his work as enjoyable as I did by starting with Godric. I know, Godric is probably his most difficult work, which is what excited me about it actually, being a Pulitzer nominee for that one. But now that I've read almost everything he's published, I am enjoying these 4 books immensely as they show that even early on he had a tremendous wit, charm, and a very developed sense of fluidity in his work, not to mention a deep respect for the reader's ability to see his expertly guided subscript and innuendo. He trusts that his readers are going to get him, while also entertaining. His seemingly straightforward way of telling his narrative tale in first person disguises the fact that he is indeed leading us on into territory of the soul that most of us try to reach, yet on most levels fail in adequately describing. His comical depiction of the "Indian" jester of the family urinating on Herman Redpath's coffin at the funeral is really a cleverly laid path for us to eventually grasp that there is so much more at stake, and underneath the human condition. He does this so cleverly by his own character being self-effacing, or rather wearing an albeit pretentious naiveté, and by so doing we identify with him in his path, and he leads us straight where he wants us to go. This is a masterful technique of which I am totally at his disposal, and will continue to allow myself to be.
The author died this week, which both saddened me and gave me the chance to order and read this book, which I hadn’t read before (I’d read Godric and a few of his nonfiction/memoirs).
This book does not disappoint. Characters that stick with you, and both humor and grief. Thoroughly enjoyed it.
Haven't read a Buechner novel in yonks, and forgot both how incredibly well-written and also disturbing they can be. I think the genius of this story is how it humanizes humans--even when they are capable of, and actually commit, despicable acts and even states of mind. Like any Southern novel worth its salt (and also the gospel) the beautiful and the depraved and the helpless serve as foils for the redemption waiting in the wings and filtering through the cracks of the Venetian blinds.
Our narrator is a sometime teacher, sometime writer, sometime sculptor in scrap iron, apparently with a trust fund to live off. He has little success with women and keeps mostly to himself. His twin sister is dying of cancer. He conceives a plan to ingratiate himself with a grifter who sells bogus ordinations and divinity degrees so that he can write an expose. The grifter turns out to have some unexpected depths to him. The novel reminded me of The Great Gatsby: the writing is evocative in places, but I don't really get the point of the story.
Probably the most “what the —— did I just read?” book I’ve ever read. It is too absurd to get three stars. It’s a 2 or a 4. I’ll give four stars because the whole thing is one giant risk from Buechner and you’ve gotta respect the balls it takes for a Christian minister to write a book about… well… balls…
This is the first book of what became a tetralogy. It is the story of Leo Bebb, thus the compilation of all four books is called "The Book of Bebb." It is also about Antonio Parr, the narrator, and what becomes of him after his interactions with Bebb. Bebb is the pastoral entrepreneur who runs a diploma mill out of a small Florida town. Parr is an aimless New York City boy who can't get his girlfriend to bed with him and has little idea of what to do with his life. His twin sister is also dying. So after reading about Bebb, he decides to investigate and do a journalistic expose on the religious scoundrel. Things don't go the way he expects and the outcome is highly unlikely but conceivable.
What makes the book is Buechner's writing style. He notices everything and describes it in just the right amount of detail so that the reader is not bored, but can easily imagine the scene. I felt as if I had walked through Armadillo, Florida after reading his description. New York is cold and dreary. The characters are unique and colorful.
Some Christians will be offended by the nature of the story, but more specifically by the erotic scene that takes place at the Salamander Motel. Buechner does a great job of describing the scene as evocative but not over the top salacious.
The key scene will likely catch most by surprise. Human depravity becomes the center of attention and it, as usual, is inexplicable.
on my second time giving this a go, I still don’t really know what the point or meaning is. the central theme and action revolves around the idea of exposure, but I don’t feel exposed or seen reading this so it’s just falling a bit flat. buechner is my favorite author, but i would recommend starting someplace else. still giving the second book in the series a go (mostly bc i’m on holiday and have nothing else to read). but the book was worth reading for this one line, reflecting on psalm 51:
“I didn’t like the thought of God’s being the one who broke her bones, but…I decided he had always been one to play rough, and if the last word was one of rejoicing, I could forgive him almost anything”
thoroughly bizarre and at times rather upsetting plot, but perhaps because of my love for buechner’s voice and style and the endlessly interesting eccentricities of the individual characters but more importantly how they interact together i find myself very moved by it. i couldn’t tell you what it is about really, or what the point of it is, but there is something buechner does with this little group of people. i’m excited to read the rest of series.
2.5/5. Rather dull and disappointing. I love Sinclair Lewis' "Elmer Gantry" and I was hoping Leo Bebb would be similar. I did enjoy the parts with Bebb in it but I was entirely bored with Antonio Parr.
Buechner's reputation had reached me as a kind of lesser-Flannery O'Connor. So, naturally I had avoided him because I'm not a fan of O'Connor. Boy were my hunches right.
Starting at the end, Buechner ties up his novel in a series of symbols that give you the airless, gasping sensation of just having beat your way out of a ziplock bag full of his own pint-sized imaginary world where he is moving around his little marionette characters. The letter "A" stands as the apotheosis of all of the occult significance one is supposed to draw from the protagonist's character arc.
The only problem is, none of it is believable. The "zany"ness of the novel feels like the tackiest zane of the worst the Coen brothers have to offer (I have the somewhat outré opinion that O Brother Where Art Thou falls into this category). Bebb is clearly a pastiche of a number of different stereotypes of the huckster preacher, but they don't hang together well.
Stripped down to its bare bones, the novel is about a slimy Bible salesman whose drunken wife killed their infant one night with a toilet bowl brush while on a particularly damaging bender. Bebb (her husband) never bats an eyelash at this and gets her an adopted child "for her birthday" to make up for the murdered child. The protagonist is wallowing in the sterility of a more citified, blue state degeneracy when he meets Bebb and thinks he can get some street-cred with his super liberal girlfriend whom he can't lay if he writes a "tell-all" expose on Bebb. Except that Bebb kind of anticipates this and brings the protagonist down to Florida to shtup his adopted daughter. Bebb is supposed to be a fast-talking black-hole of feral energy that somehow deep down really is divine. However, the final act of the book involves him laying hands on a septuagenarian millionaire from Texas so that he can get his mojo back and start railing all of the women on his compound. There is even a miraculous resurrection that is supposed to make us laugh because it begins with an E-rection of the cadaver as the life comes back into him. Really, really gross, tasteless stuff. The author has the overly-articulate narrator wave a nostalgic magic wand over each chapter to try and impress upon us readers that the events and personages in this book are all in fact just sinners saved by grace and that there's some kind of magic healing in these events for the protagonist. Very unconvincing.
The redeeming bits were some select insights into the depravity of man's motivations that the author did not blush in describing because he actually was trying to make us "see the beauty" in them.
Tried reading this because it seemed like an interesting piece of Christian fiction that isn’t the usual saccharine slop so many are, but after about 35-40 pages, I just had to quit. Too degenerate and creepy, and not worth trekking through - neither this entry or the rest of The Book of Bebb.
I’m not against fiction (Christian or not) dealing with darker subject matter, but it’s all in the framing and execution of that subject matter that makes a difference. There’s one example that ruined the entire reading experience for me which I won’t share here, but believe me when I say it’s very dark and the novel doesn’t treat it properly. I glanced at some other negative reviews that went more into spoilers, and it looks it just gets worse from here.
It’s a shame because there were some lovely quotes and passages, and I like the premise of an undercover journalist trying to expose a corrupt minister (who’s really the charlatan?) but inadvertently reawakens his spiritual self along the way. But Buechner’s flippant tone clashes with the subject matter he portrays. Perhaps the books in this Bebb quartet are better, but you only get one first impression.
I think it was Russell Moore of all people, in an article at The Gospel Coalition, who got me interested in Frederick Buechner. It's hard to know where to jump into the guy's oeuvre, but his novels about an oversized Florida-based Pentecostal hustler seemed to be as good a place as any. These novels are collected in a four-part omnibus called the "book of Bebb," but this novel is much more about our narrator, Antonio, than it is about Bebb.
Antonio lives a somewhat sad existence in New York when he comes across an advert for Bebb's ministry. He decides to expose the guy, but let's just say that things don't go according to plan. At times it felt like a Flannery O'Connor novel, which is high praise coming from some people. Although Buechner is a sometime-theologian, there were few such musings in this book. Instead the novel is carried on by its mostly pathetic characters and the sinking feeling that something very bad, or at least very awkward, is just over the horizon. I don't think it's much of a spoiler to admit that said feeling is not incorrect.
I love Buechner's work, and though this got some national awards, I don't find it as attractive as his other fiction and non-fiction. It's about how grace works through imperfect vessels, but Buechner spends so much time building a sort of post Second World War angst, that theme really doesn't come through for me. It reminds me of something Donald Williams wrote in discussing Tolkien: we don't believe that truly good characters can exist. Post-Freudian western culture believes that we are all patched together psychologically with gum and duct tape. I don't believe that. I don't think Buechner does either, but like Flannery O'Connor, he's trying to be subtle here. I think he overdoes it.
"[I]f I could have pushed a button that would have stopped not her pain but the pain of her pain in me, I would not have pushed the button because, to put it quite simply, my pain was because I loved her, and to have wished my pain away would have been somehow to wish my love away as well. And at my best and bravest I do not want to escape the future either, even thought I know that it contains what will someday be my own great and final pain. Because a distaste for dying is twin to a taste for living, and again I don't think you can tamper with one without somehow doing mischief to the other. Bu this is at my best and bravest. The rest of the time I am a fool and a coward just like most of the other lost persons."
As in Brendan and Godric, we get a front-row seat to a larger-than-life character through the eyes of a hapless sidekick.
The characters are not terribly loveable, maybe least of all Bebb. But for all his real faults, Bebb retains an undismissable sincerity that draws in the narrator.
This is a legacy of Buechner: that the religion of Jesus is entrusted to flawed screw-ups, cracked mirrors reflecting an other world’s kindness and belief in the potential of the downcast, wanderers, and uninterested.
I’m not sure I’ll endure with Bebb for all four books, but he passed along some wisdom during our time together in this one.
The first of four books which make up The Book of Bebb about Leo Bebb. Is he a spiritual leader or a religious conman, a misunderstood soul or sexual deviate? Antonio "Tono" Parr sets out to write "the" article that reveals the charlatan, but can't quite convince himself his intuitions are correct in regards to Leo Bebb. The story is not that compelling, but Beuchner's writing pulls you in and makes it all worthwhile.
The main protagonist Antonio Parr sets out to write a journalistic expose on Leo Bebb, a former bible salesman, who he believes to be fraudulently selling ordination certificates. However, the more involved he became in his investigation the more he got caught up in Bebb's world. A very well written book with several very distinct eccentric characters.
Back in the 1970s when priest Andrew Greeley was writing vaguely racy mysteries, theologian Frederick Buechner delivered assured comedy merging the sacred and profane. Leo Bepp, leader of a mail-order ministry, brings followers in on his con while at the same time showing unshakable faith in it—the kind of charlatan you now see mostly in politics.
I think I would be disappointed if I didn't know there were more in the series to read. The ending leaves me hanging and I'm not sure what to think; perhaps it's a little too subtle. I will keep reading, though, because the characters and surreal settings are beautiful in their own way, like trying to burst into fairy tale but held back by the very real malaise.
3.5. While I'm not sure what Buechner was trying to accomplish with this one, riding along with Bebb was a hoot. Though Bebb's personal decisions and ministry model are a disaster, a bit of glory manages to shine through. 3.5 stars equals just enough for me to look for the next volume in the Book of Bebb in the future.
A delightful read, full of wonderful characters. Leo Bebb has quickly become one of my favorite literary creations. As always, Buechner writes of the surprising nature of grace with beauty and, in this novel, a sense of raucous humor.
What if, what if the people you mean to expose as no good charlatans, real scum and rubes, are people you fall in love with and what if, what if they become your family?
[Spoilers] I must be slow because even though it was spelt out explicitly in the author's introduction, I still didn't get that Beb's crime was that of exposing himself to a group of small children in New York. Buechner's writing is beautiful and engaging - even though there was a crazed description of Jesus's descent into Hell as an opera reminiscent of Don Giovanni (?). I sped through those pages with little knowledge of what was going on. There is Leo Beb, bible-salesman-turned-flasher-of-children-turned-legally-dubious-pastor who ordains anyone who answers his ad, granting them their holy tax-exempt status while accepting meagre "love offerings". There is Brownie, who like Lazarus was resurrected from the dead by Beb, and now spends his time scurrying away under Beb's orders and fetching Lucille her Tropicanas. One of my favourite lines about him is as follows: "... where Jesus gathers some children about him and warns the disciples that rather than cause one of those little ones to sin, "it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck that he were drowned in the depth of the sea." In explicating the passage, Brownie drew some attention, as might have been expected , to some facts about the ancient world that illuminated the meaning and prevented the possibility of certain misunderstandings. In the time of Jesus, he pointed out, G. Zuss, the grain was of such poor quality and so easily pulverized that millstones were often made of a very light, porous stone resembling pumice. The stone was, indeed, so unusually aerated almost in the manner of styrofoam that, combined with the salt content of the Dead Sea was so notoriously high that even fat men could float in it like corks, a millstone around thee neck might under certain circumstances serve the function of a life-preserver." There is Lucille - wife of Beb - who wonders occasionally if he was from outer Space, who spends her days demanding Brownie fetch her Tropicanas, and who beat her baby to death in the wake of her postpartum depression and on her birthday was gifted her adopted daughter Sharon by Beb. There is the protoganist Antonia Barr, who serves less of the role of a character and more of a narrator. Even still, he who holds some incestuous love for his dying sister Miriam, eventually abandons his cat Tom and adopts Miriam's two sons withs his wife, Sharon, daughter of Beb. The book more or less ends on a happy note - Beb who exposes himself once more before his congregation, ends up delivering upon Herman Redpath such powerful erections that he is forgiven and invited onto the latter's expansive land to serve as his personal "medicine man" and Antonio drops his sexless girlfriend Ellie and marries hot Sharon.
It is also interesting to learn that Frederick himself is a Presbyterian minister. The writing of the book was so good - what felt like a style similar to "The Confederacy of Dunces" but better, but I have no idea what to make of it??!!! Confused.
I usually enjoy Buechner's novels, and a lot of readers consider the four volumes that comprise THE BOOK OF BEBB to be his finest. But they didn't work for me at all.
These books lack the succint, straightforward, proignant style of Buechner's later novels like SON OF LAUGHTER and ON THE ROAD WITH THE ARCHANGEL. Instead, these stories are an uneasy mix of slapstick humor, theological rumination, existential angst, and melodrama.
It was hard to care for the characters, who are either overly passive (like the narrator and his wife) or simply too erratic and quirky to be believable (like the enigmatic Leo Bebb and his various cohorts and relatives).I felt like Buechner tried to turn all of them into "lovable losers" but instead they just kept coming off as just bizarre and pitiful.
The writing style itself veers from coarse to poetical to overwrought--often all within a single scene. Metaphors tended to be overused and overworked, which made for tedious reading.
BOOK OF BEBB is out of print, but older copies are easy to find on the internet. Also, an e-book for kindle is now available. It can be purchased as a single-volume edition, or each novel can be found separately: 1. LION COUNTRY 2. OPEN HEART 3. LOVE FEAST 4. TREASURE HUNT