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Crimes of the Father
A timely, courageous and powerful novel about faith, the church, conscience and celibacy.
Tom Keneally, ex-seminarian, pulls no punches as he interrogates the terrible damage done to innocents as the Catholic Church has prevaricated around language and points of law, covering up for its own.
Ex-communicated to Canada due to his radical preaching on the Vietnam War and other human rights causes, Father Frank Docherty is now a psychologist and monk. He returns to Australia to speak on abuse in the Church, and unwittingly is soon listening to stories from two different people – a young man, via his suicide note, and an ex-nun – who both claim to have been sexually abused by an eminent Sydney cardinal. This senior churchman is himself currently empannelled in a commission investigating sex abuse within the Church.
As a man of character and conscience, Father Docherty finds he must confront each party involved in the abuse and cover-up to try to bring the matter to the attention of the Church itself, and to secular authorities.
This riveting, profoundly thoughtful novel is both an exploration of faith as well as an examination of marriage, of conscience and celibacy, and of what has become one of the most controversial institutions, the Catholic Church.
Tom Keneally, ex-seminarian, pulls no punches as he interrogates the terrible damage done to innocents as the Catholic Church has prevaricated around language and points of law, covering up for its own.
Ex-communicated to Canada due to his radical preaching on the Vietnam War and other human rights causes, Father Frank Docherty is now a psychologist and monk. He returns to Australia to speak on abuse in the Church, and unwittingly is soon listening to stories from two different people – a young man, via his suicide note, and an ex-nun – who both claim to have been sexually abused by an eminent Sydney cardinal. This senior churchman is himself currently empannelled in a commission investigating sex abuse within the Church.
As a man of character and conscience, Father Docherty finds he must confront each party involved in the abuse and cover-up to try to bring the matter to the attention of the Church itself, and to secular authorities.
This riveting, profoundly thoughtful novel is both an exploration of faith as well as an examination of marriage, of conscience and celibacy, and of what has become one of the most controversial institutions, the Catholic Church.
382 pages, Paperback
First published October 31, 2016
93 people are currently reading
1586 people want to read
About the author
Thomas Keneally
115 books1,262 followersThomas Michael Keneally, AO (born 7 October 1935) is an Australian novelist, playwright and author of non-fiction. He is best known for writing Schindler's Ark, the Booker Prize-winning novel of 1982, which was inspired by the efforts of Poldek Pfefferberg, a Holocaust survivor. The book would later be adapted to Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List (1993), which won the Academy Award for Best Picture.
Often published under the name Tom Keneally in Australia.
Life and Career:
Born in Sydney, Keneally was educated at St Patrick's College, Strathfield, where a writing prize was named after him. He entered St Patrick's Seminary, Manly to train as a Catholic priest but left before his ordination. He worked as a Sydney schoolteacher before his success as a novelist, and he was a lecturer at the University of New England (1968–70). He has also written screenplays, memoirs and non-fiction books.
Keneally was known as "Mick" until 1964 but began using the name Thomas when he started publishing, after advice from his publisher to use what was really his first name. He is most famous for his Schindler's Ark (1982) (later republished as Schindler's List), which won the Booker Prize and is the basis of the film Schindler's List (1993). Many of his novels are reworkings of historical material, although modern in their psychology and style.
Keneally has also acted in a handful of films. He had a small role in The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith (based on his novel) and played Father Marshall in the Fred Schepisi movie, The Devil's Playground (1976) (not to be confused with a similarly-titled documentary by Lucy Walker about the Amish rite of passage called rumspringa).
In 1983, he was made an Officer of the Order of Australia (AO). He is an Australian Living Treasure.
He is a strong advocate of the Australian republic, meaning the severing of all ties with the British monarchy, and published a book on the subject in Our Republic (1993). Several of his Republican essays appear on the web site of the Australian Republican Movement.
Keneally is a keen supporter of rugby league football, in particular the Manly-Warringah Sea Eagles club of the NRL. He made an appearance in the rugby league drama film The Final Winter (2007).
In March 2009, the Prime Minister of Australia, Kevin Rudd, gave an autographed copy of Keneally's Lincoln biography to President Barack Obama as a state gift.
Most recently Thomas Keneally featured as a writer in the critically acclaimed Australian drama, Our Sunburnt Country.
Thomas Keneally's nephew Ben is married to the former NSW Premier, Kristina Keneally.
Often published under the name Tom Keneally in Australia.
Life and Career:
Born in Sydney, Keneally was educated at St Patrick's College, Strathfield, where a writing prize was named after him. He entered St Patrick's Seminary, Manly to train as a Catholic priest but left before his ordination. He worked as a Sydney schoolteacher before his success as a novelist, and he was a lecturer at the University of New England (1968–70). He has also written screenplays, memoirs and non-fiction books.
Keneally was known as "Mick" until 1964 but began using the name Thomas when he started publishing, after advice from his publisher to use what was really his first name. He is most famous for his Schindler's Ark (1982) (later republished as Schindler's List), which won the Booker Prize and is the basis of the film Schindler's List (1993). Many of his novels are reworkings of historical material, although modern in their psychology and style.
Keneally has also acted in a handful of films. He had a small role in The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith (based on his novel) and played Father Marshall in the Fred Schepisi movie, The Devil's Playground (1976) (not to be confused with a similarly-titled documentary by Lucy Walker about the Amish rite of passage called rumspringa).
In 1983, he was made an Officer of the Order of Australia (AO). He is an Australian Living Treasure.
He is a strong advocate of the Australian republic, meaning the severing of all ties with the British monarchy, and published a book on the subject in Our Republic (1993). Several of his Republican essays appear on the web site of the Australian Republican Movement.
Keneally is a keen supporter of rugby league football, in particular the Manly-Warringah Sea Eagles club of the NRL. He made an appearance in the rugby league drama film The Final Winter (2007).
In March 2009, the Prime Minister of Australia, Kevin Rudd, gave an autographed copy of Keneally's Lincoln biography to President Barack Obama as a state gift.
Most recently Thomas Keneally featured as a writer in the critically acclaimed Australian drama, Our Sunburnt Country.
Thomas Keneally's nephew Ben is married to the former NSW Premier, Kristina Keneally.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 169 reviews
February 14, 2017
This is an important book which tackles a serious social problem, and does it with great distinction. It is also very timely for Australians, as the latest findings of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse are released to the community (February 2017).
As a person brought up completely immersed in the Catholic faith, I could read this book with a good depth of background knowledge, particularly about the power of priests in the daily lives of Catholics. Tom Keneally, who is one of this country's most distinguished authors, has additional background knowledge through his experiences of studying for the priesthood during his youth. His writing in this novel is absolutely sure-footed, as he knows the context and views the events with insight and clarity.
I was deeply affected by this novel on a personal level, so I don't want to go into a detailed review of its content. I admired the approach taken by Keneally, to go back a few decades in our recent history, to look at the emergence of consciousness about this appalling abuse by clergy. He uses a light hand throughout, offering several points of view. Though he describes episodes of abuse, he does not dwell unnecessarily on the ghastly details. Rather, he focuses on the impact on the lives of the victims of clerical sexual abuse. He also draws interesting characterisations of the priests who perpetrated the abuse on children, which helped me to understand how the viciousness of their actions could be rationalised and excused away.
Most importantly, he tackles the thorny issue of the Catholic Church's response to abuse, and takes them to task for their lies, deceit and attempts to silence victims. For me this was the most significant impact of the novel. I think he absolutely nails the attitude of the clerical hierarchy, with its overwhelming attitude of power and privilege, of being beyond criticism.
Although the subject matter is grim at times, and may disturb some readers, I think the novel format is an excellent way to tease out some of the issues and expose some of the lies perpetrated by the Catholic administration. Keneally has the writing skills to inject warmth and humour into the book at various points, to counterbalance the awful stuff. His main character, Father Frank Docherty, is an inspiration - I wish he were a real person!
I thank Tom Keneally for his brilliant writing and incisive analysis of this controversial topic.
5★s
As a person brought up completely immersed in the Catholic faith, I could read this book with a good depth of background knowledge, particularly about the power of priests in the daily lives of Catholics. Tom Keneally, who is one of this country's most distinguished authors, has additional background knowledge through his experiences of studying for the priesthood during his youth. His writing in this novel is absolutely sure-footed, as he knows the context and views the events with insight and clarity.
I was deeply affected by this novel on a personal level, so I don't want to go into a detailed review of its content. I admired the approach taken by Keneally, to go back a few decades in our recent history, to look at the emergence of consciousness about this appalling abuse by clergy. He uses a light hand throughout, offering several points of view. Though he describes episodes of abuse, he does not dwell unnecessarily on the ghastly details. Rather, he focuses on the impact on the lives of the victims of clerical sexual abuse. He also draws interesting characterisations of the priests who perpetrated the abuse on children, which helped me to understand how the viciousness of their actions could be rationalised and excused away.
Most importantly, he tackles the thorny issue of the Catholic Church's response to abuse, and takes them to task for their lies, deceit and attempts to silence victims. For me this was the most significant impact of the novel. I think he absolutely nails the attitude of the clerical hierarchy, with its overwhelming attitude of power and privilege, of being beyond criticism.
Although the subject matter is grim at times, and may disturb some readers, I think the novel format is an excellent way to tease out some of the issues and expose some of the lies perpetrated by the Catholic administration. Keneally has the writing skills to inject warmth and humour into the book at various points, to counterbalance the awful stuff. His main character, Father Frank Docherty, is an inspiration - I wish he were a real person!
I thank Tom Keneally for his brilliant writing and incisive analysis of this controversial topic.
5★s
June 14, 2018
Desperately dull.
February 24, 2024
Setting: Sydney, Australia; 1996 mostly, 1960's-1980's.
I have sometimes struggled to get to grips with books from this author in the past so approached this one with some trepidation. The whole theme of the book is the Catholic Church and, not being of that faith or particularly knowledgeable about the doctrines and ceremonies involved in their worship, I was definitely uncertain of how much I would like it - indeed, in the early stages, I was thinking that this was going to be a 3-star read. But....
Frank Doherty was raised in Sydney and became a priest there - but his sympathies for political causes, in particular preaching opposition to the Vietnam War and conscription (I've read about that before as it affected Australia), led to him being sent to a monastery in Vancouver, Canada. Here, Frank did sterling work and also started to look in depth into cases of paedophile priests and the issue of celibacy in the church. In 1996, he is returning to Sydney to give a lecture on this topic but also to beg the Cardinal to allow him to return there permanently due to his aged mother's illness. However, on arrival, he receives a negative reaction from Sarah, a taxi driver who transports him from the airport and, it is revealed, was a former nun who was abused as a child by her priest. Taking it upon himself to try to address her trauma, Frank also discovers another case where a young man has committed suicide, blaming historical abuse by the same priest - who happens to be the brother of a good friend of his and also now holds a high rank in the church.....
The way in which Frank approaches these cases is a salutary example to the higher powers in the Church, who are currently defending an action being brought in the courts by another abused young man. The 'abusive' priest is given a voice in the book and reveals how his involvement with Sarah came about and also with the young suicide victim - the 'justification' for what happened was mind-blowing and the 'reasoning' that the sexual abuse of young boys was done in order for the priest to 'take on the burden to prevent the child sinning through self-abuse' was totally sickening. This was definitely a disturbing read, despite the fact that I have read other books featuring this theme - but never set in Australia and certainly not with such details of the narcissistic justifications for their actions by the abusing priests. Yet it also casts the hierarchy of the Church in a pretty dim light, paying lip service to the issue but willing to defend their position to the hilt should the matter be made public, even to the willingness to commit perjury in court.
A really good read with much food for thought, written by an author who himself underwent initial training for the priesthood before deciding it wasn't for him, as detailed in his introduction - 9/10.
I have sometimes struggled to get to grips with books from this author in the past so approached this one with some trepidation. The whole theme of the book is the Catholic Church and, not being of that faith or particularly knowledgeable about the doctrines and ceremonies involved in their worship, I was definitely uncertain of how much I would like it - indeed, in the early stages, I was thinking that this was going to be a 3-star read. But....
Frank Doherty was raised in Sydney and became a priest there - but his sympathies for political causes, in particular preaching opposition to the Vietnam War and conscription (I've read about that before as it affected Australia), led to him being sent to a monastery in Vancouver, Canada. Here, Frank did sterling work and also started to look in depth into cases of paedophile priests and the issue of celibacy in the church. In 1996, he is returning to Sydney to give a lecture on this topic but also to beg the Cardinal to allow him to return there permanently due to his aged mother's illness. However, on arrival, he receives a negative reaction from Sarah, a taxi driver who transports him from the airport and, it is revealed, was a former nun who was abused as a child by her priest. Taking it upon himself to try to address her trauma, Frank also discovers another case where a young man has committed suicide, blaming historical abuse by the same priest - who happens to be the brother of a good friend of his and also now holds a high rank in the church.....
The way in which Frank approaches these cases is a salutary example to the higher powers in the Church, who are currently defending an action being brought in the courts by another abused young man. The 'abusive' priest is given a voice in the book and reveals how his involvement with Sarah came about and also with the young suicide victim - the 'justification' for what happened was mind-blowing and the 'reasoning' that the sexual abuse of young boys was done in order for the priest to 'take on the burden to prevent the child sinning through self-abuse' was totally sickening. This was definitely a disturbing read, despite the fact that I have read other books featuring this theme - but never set in Australia and certainly not with such details of the narcissistic justifications for their actions by the abusing priests. Yet it also casts the hierarchy of the Church in a pretty dim light, paying lip service to the issue but willing to defend their position to the hilt should the matter be made public, even to the willingness to commit perjury in court.
A really good read with much food for thought, written by an author who himself underwent initial training for the priesthood before deciding it wasn't for him, as detailed in his introduction - 9/10.
March 30, 2017
This unexpectedly exceptional book tackles the complicated issue of sexual abuse of children in the Catholic church. This has been a massive ongoing scandal and battle since the 90's in Australia and even now new issues surrounding it come out or are addressed often. Pedophilia has such a horrible ring to it, it is I think with great bravery one would choose to write a work of fiction about it.
In this book, at least, the bravery is well worth it. Our moderator of the story is Father Frank Docherty, a psychologist in Canada who has come home to see his aging mother. He is also seeking an opportunity to return to his home town of Sydney, which he was requested he leave, back in the 60's over his politics regarding the Vietnam war.
His area of study in psychology is sexual abuse in the church and in a series of fantastical coincidences he stay in Sydney reveals increasing accusations against a respected church monsignor.
Docherty is no social crusader, he is a quite man and the story progresses at his pace, between the events back in the 60's that are now bearing fruit and the individuals in the 'present' the 1990's.
There is a quite beauty in the description of the church, it's trappings and protocols that I think can be attributed to the fact that the author himself is, apparently, an ex-seminarian. The tone is perhaps a little to moderate for people who truly despise the catholic church but it does very much lead one through many issues of internal morality and the question of it's existence in the modern world.
For myself, I have no christian background and have had virtually no contact with catholicsm except in reading history. As such I was quite fascinated by many of the things I was reading and feel I know a lot more about it's procedures than I previously did.
I thoroughly enjoyed the story and hope to read more by this author.
In this book, at least, the bravery is well worth it. Our moderator of the story is Father Frank Docherty, a psychologist in Canada who has come home to see his aging mother. He is also seeking an opportunity to return to his home town of Sydney, which he was requested he leave, back in the 60's over his politics regarding the Vietnam war.
His area of study in psychology is sexual abuse in the church and in a series of fantastical coincidences he stay in Sydney reveals increasing accusations against a respected church monsignor.
Docherty is no social crusader, he is a quite man and the story progresses at his pace, between the events back in the 60's that are now bearing fruit and the individuals in the 'present' the 1990's.
There is a quite beauty in the description of the church, it's trappings and protocols that I think can be attributed to the fact that the author himself is, apparently, an ex-seminarian. The tone is perhaps a little to moderate for people who truly despise the catholic church but it does very much lead one through many issues of internal morality and the question of it's existence in the modern world.
For myself, I have no christian background and have had virtually no contact with catholicsm except in reading history. As such I was quite fascinated by many of the things I was reading and feel I know a lot more about it's procedures than I previously did.
I thoroughly enjoyed the story and hope to read more by this author.
February 26, 2017
I love Keneally's writing and given his own background as a seminarian was excited to read his take on the scandals of abuse within the Catholic church: well, it's balanced and insightful but I was left feeling a little disappointed overall.
As usual, Keneally's writing is clean and clear but there are some huge coincidences here that are necessary to make the plot work, something that I've never felt about Keneally's previous books. That said, he tackles a difficult subject with a clear-sighted lack of sensationalism that is, nevertheless, attentive to the moral and ethical issues at stake. He's especially good on some of the reasons for the church's response to sexual abuse:
"Because they... we... control the remission of sins... The bishops didn't want to face it - that the sacraments aren't everything, can't do everything. Sanctifying grace isn't enough!"
There are interesting discussions about celibacy (though is abuse really linked to sexual continence - or to power?) and some hard-hitting scenes. All the same, I came away from this book not as harrowed as I should perhaps have been: an interesting read but really 3.5 stars.
Review from an ARC via Amazon Vine
As usual, Keneally's writing is clean and clear but there are some huge coincidences here that are necessary to make the plot work, something that I've never felt about Keneally's previous books. That said, he tackles a difficult subject with a clear-sighted lack of sensationalism that is, nevertheless, attentive to the moral and ethical issues at stake. He's especially good on some of the reasons for the church's response to sexual abuse:
"Because they... we... control the remission of sins... The bishops didn't want to face it - that the sacraments aren't everything, can't do everything. Sanctifying grace isn't enough!"
There are interesting discussions about celibacy (though is abuse really linked to sexual continence - or to power?) and some hard-hitting scenes. All the same, I came away from this book not as harrowed as I should perhaps have been: an interesting read but really 3.5 stars.
Review from an ARC via Amazon Vine
May 12, 2018
Fr Frank Docherty returns to his home town of Sydney in the 1990s to give a lecture on sexual abuse by clergy in the Catholic Church (the subject of his dissertation and clinical practice) and to visit his aged Mum. His visit coincides with a highly publicised case where the Church is being sued over abuse. At the same time he comes into contact with several people alleging assault by the same priest. He needs to keep the Cardinal on side to get agreement to come home but to stand for the victims will mean that he will be rejected.
I am also a cultural Catholic plus I spent decades working in child protection so I wondered how I would manage this book. Sadly, I found quite a bit of it boring as I just was not engaged by the characters and did not find the plot particularly suspenseful - mostly because we know where this is going. It is extraordinarily difficult to write about sexual abuse in a way that is not titillating or banal and I think that Mr Kenneally did a very good job of that.
He spends a great deal of time discussing celibacy and its potential causation of child sexual abuse. I strongly disagree. Men have been blaming their uncontrollable sexual urges for their abuse of women and children for a very long time. There is no evidence that the celibacy of religious women lead them to sexually abuse children at the same levels as religious men any more than unsatisfied married women were 'forced' to abuse children at the same rates as sexually abusive married men who claimed lack of sexual satisfaction as the cause. He spends little time reviewing the theory of abuse as an outcome of power imbalance which is the most popular theory currently. This made a large part of the book both irritating and an irrelevant red herring to me.
In spite of that Mr Kenneally has done a good job of illustrating the many areas of culture that make it possible for child abuse to survive and/or flourish in communities. I thought he did an excellent job of demonstrating the double think of perpetrators and how they can accidentally come into contact and then back each other up. In fact he was spoiled for choice in deciding what to focus on. The role of police in not following up complaints against clergy was also a big issue that he touched on, without which the perpetrators would never have felt as safe as they did.
Something I don't think he explained well was the difference between Diocesan priests and those in Orders and what made Docherty choose an Order, which is not all that common. But given such a widespread pernicious interwoven network of innocent and not so innocent support for perpetrators, Mr Kenneally has done a good job.
Technically, the book moves between the past and the present frequently and also between character viewpoints, some of which are in first person. I could not always see the point of the changes in person and found it distracting. Moving from past to present saves us from having to read even greater slabs of history because this is definitely a story whose roots are in the past. I do think Mr Kenneally manages this well and is able to create the sense that the story is moving forward even when he is delving into the past.
Recommended for those who have not got a strong background in this area but are interested.
I am also a cultural Catholic plus I spent decades working in child protection so I wondered how I would manage this book. Sadly, I found quite a bit of it boring as I just was not engaged by the characters and did not find the plot particularly suspenseful - mostly because we know where this is going. It is extraordinarily difficult to write about sexual abuse in a way that is not titillating or banal and I think that Mr Kenneally did a very good job of that.
He spends a great deal of time discussing celibacy and its potential causation of child sexual abuse. I strongly disagree. Men have been blaming their uncontrollable sexual urges for their abuse of women and children for a very long time. There is no evidence that the celibacy of religious women lead them to sexually abuse children at the same levels as religious men any more than unsatisfied married women were 'forced' to abuse children at the same rates as sexually abusive married men who claimed lack of sexual satisfaction as the cause. He spends little time reviewing the theory of abuse as an outcome of power imbalance which is the most popular theory currently. This made a large part of the book both irritating and an irrelevant red herring to me.
In spite of that Mr Kenneally has done a good job of illustrating the many areas of culture that make it possible for child abuse to survive and/or flourish in communities. I thought he did an excellent job of demonstrating the double think of perpetrators and how they can accidentally come into contact and then back each other up. In fact he was spoiled for choice in deciding what to focus on. The role of police in not following up complaints against clergy was also a big issue that he touched on, without which the perpetrators would never have felt as safe as they did.
Something I don't think he explained well was the difference between Diocesan priests and those in Orders and what made Docherty choose an Order, which is not all that common. But given such a widespread pernicious interwoven network of innocent and not so innocent support for perpetrators, Mr Kenneally has done a good job.
Technically, the book moves between the past and the present frequently and also between character viewpoints, some of which are in first person. I could not always see the point of the changes in person and found it distracting. Moving from past to present saves us from having to read even greater slabs of history because this is definitely a story whose roots are in the past. I do think Mr Kenneally manages this well and is able to create the sense that the story is moving forward even when he is delving into the past.
Recommended for those who have not got a strong background in this area but are interested.
April 17, 2018
How to begin a review on a book where the main topic of the surrounding story is the scandal and cover ups of Catholic priests sexually abusing boys, girls? Some who are now adults, later in life, come forth to reveal or prosecute, and struggle everyday from their victimized past. Unfortunately some suffer problems with relationships as a result, others seek solace in drink or drugs, some commit suicide. Others choose to deny.
Being raised Catholic and attended a Catholic grammar school, during those formative years, I was uncomfortable with some of the strict Catholic policies. To rebel against or question the rules or doings of any of the priests or nuns was considered a sin by the church and even by my parents. I was in the confessional ALOT.
To read of the prey and seduction of the innocent children/teen victims in this book is horrifying as the church’s power is wrongly used. The fact that the church leaders turned a blind eye and instead transferred the abuser to another parish just provided the priest with a fresh selection of new victims. And when confronted, still tried to hide their secrets amongst themselves or turn the blame back onto the victims. There is an instance in this book where a payment was offered by the church’s trust to one of the abused, as “hush money.”
There is an actual story based in Australia, with other good characters that are wound into and around the church scandals. There’s interesting history thrown in for good measure and thoughts on celibacy. While incidences of child abuse by clergy are the highest in the US; Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Africa, Asia, Europe, have had significant numbers as well.
Reading this book, I experienced anger, disgust, shame, betrayal, sadness, deception, disappointment, and finally, validation. This was a difficult, disturbing book for me but was well done by the author in researching and addressing this horrible situation.
Being raised Catholic and attended a Catholic grammar school, during those formative years, I was uncomfortable with some of the strict Catholic policies. To rebel against or question the rules or doings of any of the priests or nuns was considered a sin by the church and even by my parents. I was in the confessional ALOT.
To read of the prey and seduction of the innocent children/teen victims in this book is horrifying as the church’s power is wrongly used. The fact that the church leaders turned a blind eye and instead transferred the abuser to another parish just provided the priest with a fresh selection of new victims. And when confronted, still tried to hide their secrets amongst themselves or turn the blame back onto the victims. There is an instance in this book where a payment was offered by the church’s trust to one of the abused, as “hush money.”
There is an actual story based in Australia, with other good characters that are wound into and around the church scandals. There’s interesting history thrown in for good measure and thoughts on celibacy. While incidences of child abuse by clergy are the highest in the US; Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Africa, Asia, Europe, have had significant numbers as well.
Reading this book, I experienced anger, disgust, shame, betrayal, sadness, deception, disappointment, and finally, validation. This was a difficult, disturbing book for me but was well done by the author in researching and addressing this horrible situation.
March 3, 2017
Thomas Keneally is a very fine writer and I was expecting this to be excellent. It was good in many ways, but as a novel I had my reservations about it.
Keneally is from a Catholic family and this is his take on priestly abuse of children (which he states clearly that he never suffered personally, by the way) and the Church's response to it. Set in 1996, we meet Father Frank Docherty who is returning to Sydney after being sent away by a previous Cardinal for his political views and his refusal to accept orthodoxy uncritically. He has remained a priest and also become a psychologist and academic in Canada, working on child abuse in the Church. On his return he becomes embroiled in old abuse cases and we see him wrestling with matters of conscience, honesty, care for victims and so on and how those involved respond. All this is very well done; these parts of the book make an involving, readable story and Keneally shows his typical intelligently insightful examination of his characters and the moral issues involved.
However, interspersed with this we also get a lot of history: how Frank developed into the man he is; the youthful spiritual struggle of one of the people affected; a good deal of discussion of the Church's attitudes to celibacy, birth control and sexuality generally and so on. For me, although it's important stuff, here its effect was to water down and interfere with the crucial central story and its subject, so the book became something of a slog in some sections. As things reach a head, the narrative becomes very gripping – although I did think that the outcomes were a little too conveniently neat to quite ring true.
I have rounded 3.5 stars up to 4 because it's very well written and has some important things to say, but I can only give this a somewhat qualified recommendation.
(I received an ARC via Netgalley.)
Keneally is from a Catholic family and this is his take on priestly abuse of children (which he states clearly that he never suffered personally, by the way) and the Church's response to it. Set in 1996, we meet Father Frank Docherty who is returning to Sydney after being sent away by a previous Cardinal for his political views and his refusal to accept orthodoxy uncritically. He has remained a priest and also become a psychologist and academic in Canada, working on child abuse in the Church. On his return he becomes embroiled in old abuse cases and we see him wrestling with matters of conscience, honesty, care for victims and so on and how those involved respond. All this is very well done; these parts of the book make an involving, readable story and Keneally shows his typical intelligently insightful examination of his characters and the moral issues involved.
However, interspersed with this we also get a lot of history: how Frank developed into the man he is; the youthful spiritual struggle of one of the people affected; a good deal of discussion of the Church's attitudes to celibacy, birth control and sexuality generally and so on. For me, although it's important stuff, here its effect was to water down and interfere with the crucial central story and its subject, so the book became something of a slog in some sections. As things reach a head, the narrative becomes very gripping – although I did think that the outcomes were a little too conveniently neat to quite ring true.
I have rounded 3.5 stars up to 4 because it's very well written and has some important things to say, but I can only give this a somewhat qualified recommendation.
(I received an ARC via Netgalley.)
June 12, 2017
Frank Docherty returns from his posting in Canada to visit his aging mother and to ask the archdiocese if he can return to work in Sydney to be closer to her. He was exiled to Canada in the 1970s because his views on global and church politics were causing embarrassment to the church. As a psychologist, he has been counselling victims of child abuse in Canada and is trying to raise awareness of the opprobrium the church in Australia will face if it doesn't publicly acknowledge the problem instead of trying to sweep it under the carpet.
For me, this is a very dry novel. It's not a page turner as it's often more about process than the characters and is at times very didactic. I'm certain that someone who has grown up in the Roman Catholic Church will identify much more strongly with the issues debated, such as the use of contraception, masturbation, sex before marriage, than I can. It does feel like a debate rather than dialogue that adds to the storyline, however. Because the contemporary scenes are set in 1996, we know how things have moved on over the last 20 years. There have been worldwide reverberations due to victims of child abuse coming forward to name and shame the perpetrators. The question still remains whether those with a predilection towards paedophilia are drawn to the Catholic Church because it offers so much opportunity for them to act or whether it's enforced celibacy that drives men towards committing these acts. In my opinion, blaming celibacy is simply a convenient excuse as they know the deal when they sign up.
I can only give this 3 stars because it read more like a case study than a novel. Frank Docherty is a frustrating character, both weak and strong simultaneously. I felt he was there to provide balance in the good priest / bad priest scenario. I found myself shaking my head often as I was unaware just what a strong hold the RC church had over its congregation in the 1960/70s when the early part of the novel is set, and I was disgusted by the Church's approach to complaints of child abuse. They sought to blame the victim rather than show them compassion and find ways to help heal wounds. There is much in this book to think about and I appreciate that Keneally understands the issues deeply as he himself trained as a priest. I wonder how much of the content of this book is cathartic rather than creative, however.
Thanks to NetGalley and Hodder & Stoughton for an ARC.
For me, this is a very dry novel. It's not a page turner as it's often more about process than the characters and is at times very didactic. I'm certain that someone who has grown up in the Roman Catholic Church will identify much more strongly with the issues debated, such as the use of contraception, masturbation, sex before marriage, than I can. It does feel like a debate rather than dialogue that adds to the storyline, however. Because the contemporary scenes are set in 1996, we know how things have moved on over the last 20 years. There have been worldwide reverberations due to victims of child abuse coming forward to name and shame the perpetrators. The question still remains whether those with a predilection towards paedophilia are drawn to the Catholic Church because it offers so much opportunity for them to act or whether it's enforced celibacy that drives men towards committing these acts. In my opinion, blaming celibacy is simply a convenient excuse as they know the deal when they sign up.
I can only give this 3 stars because it read more like a case study than a novel. Frank Docherty is a frustrating character, both weak and strong simultaneously. I felt he was there to provide balance in the good priest / bad priest scenario. I found myself shaking my head often as I was unaware just what a strong hold the RC church had over its congregation in the 1960/70s when the early part of the novel is set, and I was disgusted by the Church's approach to complaints of child abuse. They sought to blame the victim rather than show them compassion and find ways to help heal wounds. There is much in this book to think about and I appreciate that Keneally understands the issues deeply as he himself trained as a priest. I wonder how much of the content of this book is cathartic rather than creative, however.
Thanks to NetGalley and Hodder & Stoughton for an ARC.
November 12, 2016
If issues raised in this review cause personal distress,
help is available from Lifeline and Beyond Blue.
Crimes of the Father is a book that was crying out to be written, and Tom Keneally has created an exceptional novel out of a momentous issue of our times. With the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse about to resume its hearings, this time about the Anglican Diocese of Newcastle, this issue is well and truly out of the shadows in Australia as it is elsewhere, but Keneally’s novel takes us back to the 1990s when the Catholic Church was steadfast in its denials and victims were routinely disbelieved. While then as now there were heroes and villains and all kinds in between, in Crimes of the Father Keneally has created a textured novel that is about, above all else, courage and determination and a struggle for justice.
The circumstances of three victims in this novel testify to the damage done by clerical abuse. The catalyst for action is the suicide of Stephen for whom even drug addiction failed to offer any solace. A chance encounter enables Sarah who lost a career, a calling and any chance of normal relationships, to confront a torment long suppressed. His name in Stephen’s suicide note enables a corporate tycoon called Brian to recognise that his power could be used to demand action, but his professional reputation is at stake.
Their enabler is a priest, exiled to Canada for his radicalism during the Vietnam years. Father Docherty has since become a distinguished psychologist, completed his PhD and has tenure at a Canadian University. As the novel begins, he has returned to Sydney to speak at a Council of the Clergy, to warn them of the "enlarging rage now loose in the world. If nobody listened, he believed such rage would grow to fill the sky…"
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2016/11/12/c...
help is available from Lifeline and Beyond Blue.
Crimes of the Father is a book that was crying out to be written, and Tom Keneally has created an exceptional novel out of a momentous issue of our times. With the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse about to resume its hearings, this time about the Anglican Diocese of Newcastle, this issue is well and truly out of the shadows in Australia as it is elsewhere, but Keneally’s novel takes us back to the 1990s when the Catholic Church was steadfast in its denials and victims were routinely disbelieved. While then as now there were heroes and villains and all kinds in between, in Crimes of the Father Keneally has created a textured novel that is about, above all else, courage and determination and a struggle for justice.
The circumstances of three victims in this novel testify to the damage done by clerical abuse. The catalyst for action is the suicide of Stephen for whom even drug addiction failed to offer any solace. A chance encounter enables Sarah who lost a career, a calling and any chance of normal relationships, to confront a torment long suppressed. His name in Stephen’s suicide note enables a corporate tycoon called Brian to recognise that his power could be used to demand action, but his professional reputation is at stake.
Their enabler is a priest, exiled to Canada for his radicalism during the Vietnam years. Father Docherty has since become a distinguished psychologist, completed his PhD and has tenure at a Canadian University. As the novel begins, he has returned to Sydney to speak at a Council of the Clergy, to warn them of the "enlarging rage now loose in the world. If nobody listened, he believed such rage would grow to fill the sky…"
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2016/11/12/c...
January 29, 2017
I am a bit numb after reading this.
Keneally brought his seminary upbringing and his prodigious intellect to this tale of betrayal and redemption.
There was no sugar coating of the scenario, one unfortunately playing out in Sydney (and churches across the world) today.
I grew up in a catholic family in the times depicted in the novel. So much rang true.
The modern and objective look at the tenants of the faith were refreshing.
The demons were deservedly in the spotlight, and thankfully the good and noble were also given their time in the tale.
A balanced and modern view of a terrible situation where no one wins.
Readers with an interest in social justice and modern interpretations of faith should take a lot from this novel, not just a catholic reader.
Keneally brought his seminary upbringing and his prodigious intellect to this tale of betrayal and redemption.
There was no sugar coating of the scenario, one unfortunately playing out in Sydney (and churches across the world) today.
I grew up in a catholic family in the times depicted in the novel. So much rang true.
The modern and objective look at the tenants of the faith were refreshing.
The demons were deservedly in the spotlight, and thankfully the good and noble were also given their time in the tale.
A balanced and modern view of a terrible situation where no one wins.
Readers with an interest in social justice and modern interpretations of faith should take a lot from this novel, not just a catholic reader.
June 5, 2018
Crimes of the Father
Tom Keneally
Random House Penguin
2016
First the disclaimer - I’m not a Catholic. I have, however, been deeply involved in various ways in the response of various churches to the sexual abuse of children in their care. I’m a member of my local Anglican Diocesan Professional Standards Committee. I chaired a National Round Table for the Salvation Army that tried to understand the reasons for abuse of boys in institutional care. As a university student I had lived and worked for six months in a Salvation Army Boy’s Home and knew first-hand the sad and sometimes violent lives those boys lived. I now work for the Australian Catholic University as a Professor of Social Work. I like to think that I’m a sympathetic insider.
The work of the Royal Commission into the Sexual Abuse of Children has, over the past 3 years, provided evidence of widespread abuse of children in many different contexts – in parishes, in schools, in institutions, and in the Scouting movement. The daily reporting of the abuse, naming the perpetrators and describing their crimes, has shocked us deeply as a community, and shaken our faith in the Church. The media reporting has emphasized vulnerable children, evil abusers, and a community deceived and unaware of abuse. I have found this simple journalistic narrative to be naïve and convenient. The truth is much more complex.
Keneally tackles the hard issues in Crimes of the Father. He shows us the awful nature of abuse and its impact on three children. One young man discloses his abuse and his abuser in a suicide note. A second victim has struggled in diverse ways to fight the impact of abuse – we meet her as a taxi driver who had sought healing by joining a convent and who is driven by rage and despair. The third victim is a very successful businessman who believes he has overcome the abuse until he is confronted with the need for justice for other victims. It is his courage and resources that eventually defeat the institutionalized power of the abuser.
I found Keneally’s sensitivity to the real lives of the victims both compelling and truthful. There’s no single story of abuse and we don’t really understand why some children rise above awful abuse and others fail. The stories of abuse remind us that the families suffer along with the victims. We have seen this again and again at the Royal Commission as so many parents connect the abuse of their children to life-long problems like depression and drug taking. Innocence is despoiled, and lives of promise are blighted. For those parents, their grief is profound and unending.
Yet not all the children are powerless, and at least one child is saved from abuse by the courage of a parent who confronts the abuser and demands an end to their behaviour. By telling the alternative story of resistance, Keneally gives depth and substance to the reality of abuse – that at points it might have been avoided had families and the community been less trusting of the Church.
In Monsignor Shannon, Keneally creates a villain for whom we can feel little sympathy. He is arrogant, unrepentant, cruel, and cunning. He is clever and knows how to use his power to protect himself and his Church. Perhaps the real villains though are the Cardinal, lawyers and accountants who conspire to deny the abuse and silence the victims. There is a thinly disguised account of the Ellis case and the Catholic Church’s attempt to apply a legal technicality to avoid responsibility for the actions of the abusive priests. We see the total failure of the Church to accept the wrong that has been done, prepared to attack the credibility of complainants in court rather than risk the assets and reputation of the Church.
Keneally holds the intersecting stories together through the device of a contrasting “good priest” Frank Docherty – a man exiled from his Sydney diocese because of his radical political activism and who has made a life as an academic in Canada. We see him at work in a parish in the 1960s, making friends and enemies, falling in love and struggling with his vows of celibacy. On his return in 1996 Frank is confronted with the corruption of the Church at a time when he needs to be allowed to return. His honesty and courage help to bring together the grieving family with the other victims to seek justice. Perhaps he is a little too good to be true, though Keneally tries to give him the humanity of weakness. There are some inspired moments when Frank is able to speak his truth to the power of the Church – with predictable results. He bravely chooses to fight the good fight, and we cheer him on.
Why did the abuse happen? At a very basic level Keneally reminds us that this isn’t about sex so much as it is about power. Abuse happens anywhere where there is power and vulnerability together – that abuse happens because it can. The Church failed to protect children from abuse – that is the real Crime of the Fathers. Setting the story in the 1990s relieves us a little of some of the distress the story tells. We know that in the years ahead the Church will have to suffer the humiliation of intense public scrutiny. We know that the naïve respect for the authority of the Church, a trust that made the abuse possible, is gone forever. We know that victims are believed, and that compensation and apology is helping to promote healing of broken lives. Keneally reminds us that change has happened because good men like Frank Docherty, and John Ellis, fought for change. The victims of abuse fought for change, and their families fought for change. The struggle for justice continues.
I loved this book for its hopefulness and honesty. It’s not just a good read, but a significant contribution to the public debate about the nature and response to one of the darkest episodes of Church history. I’m encouraged to keep working at the way forward.
Tom Keneally
Random House Penguin
2016
First the disclaimer - I’m not a Catholic. I have, however, been deeply involved in various ways in the response of various churches to the sexual abuse of children in their care. I’m a member of my local Anglican Diocesan Professional Standards Committee. I chaired a National Round Table for the Salvation Army that tried to understand the reasons for abuse of boys in institutional care. As a university student I had lived and worked for six months in a Salvation Army Boy’s Home and knew first-hand the sad and sometimes violent lives those boys lived. I now work for the Australian Catholic University as a Professor of Social Work. I like to think that I’m a sympathetic insider.
The work of the Royal Commission into the Sexual Abuse of Children has, over the past 3 years, provided evidence of widespread abuse of children in many different contexts – in parishes, in schools, in institutions, and in the Scouting movement. The daily reporting of the abuse, naming the perpetrators and describing their crimes, has shocked us deeply as a community, and shaken our faith in the Church. The media reporting has emphasized vulnerable children, evil abusers, and a community deceived and unaware of abuse. I have found this simple journalistic narrative to be naïve and convenient. The truth is much more complex.
Keneally tackles the hard issues in Crimes of the Father. He shows us the awful nature of abuse and its impact on three children. One young man discloses his abuse and his abuser in a suicide note. A second victim has struggled in diverse ways to fight the impact of abuse – we meet her as a taxi driver who had sought healing by joining a convent and who is driven by rage and despair. The third victim is a very successful businessman who believes he has overcome the abuse until he is confronted with the need for justice for other victims. It is his courage and resources that eventually defeat the institutionalized power of the abuser.
I found Keneally’s sensitivity to the real lives of the victims both compelling and truthful. There’s no single story of abuse and we don’t really understand why some children rise above awful abuse and others fail. The stories of abuse remind us that the families suffer along with the victims. We have seen this again and again at the Royal Commission as so many parents connect the abuse of their children to life-long problems like depression and drug taking. Innocence is despoiled, and lives of promise are blighted. For those parents, their grief is profound and unending.
Yet not all the children are powerless, and at least one child is saved from abuse by the courage of a parent who confronts the abuser and demands an end to their behaviour. By telling the alternative story of resistance, Keneally gives depth and substance to the reality of abuse – that at points it might have been avoided had families and the community been less trusting of the Church.
In Monsignor Shannon, Keneally creates a villain for whom we can feel little sympathy. He is arrogant, unrepentant, cruel, and cunning. He is clever and knows how to use his power to protect himself and his Church. Perhaps the real villains though are the Cardinal, lawyers and accountants who conspire to deny the abuse and silence the victims. There is a thinly disguised account of the Ellis case and the Catholic Church’s attempt to apply a legal technicality to avoid responsibility for the actions of the abusive priests. We see the total failure of the Church to accept the wrong that has been done, prepared to attack the credibility of complainants in court rather than risk the assets and reputation of the Church.
Keneally holds the intersecting stories together through the device of a contrasting “good priest” Frank Docherty – a man exiled from his Sydney diocese because of his radical political activism and who has made a life as an academic in Canada. We see him at work in a parish in the 1960s, making friends and enemies, falling in love and struggling with his vows of celibacy. On his return in 1996 Frank is confronted with the corruption of the Church at a time when he needs to be allowed to return. His honesty and courage help to bring together the grieving family with the other victims to seek justice. Perhaps he is a little too good to be true, though Keneally tries to give him the humanity of weakness. There are some inspired moments when Frank is able to speak his truth to the power of the Church – with predictable results. He bravely chooses to fight the good fight, and we cheer him on.
Why did the abuse happen? At a very basic level Keneally reminds us that this isn’t about sex so much as it is about power. Abuse happens anywhere where there is power and vulnerability together – that abuse happens because it can. The Church failed to protect children from abuse – that is the real Crime of the Fathers. Setting the story in the 1990s relieves us a little of some of the distress the story tells. We know that in the years ahead the Church will have to suffer the humiliation of intense public scrutiny. We know that the naïve respect for the authority of the Church, a trust that made the abuse possible, is gone forever. We know that victims are believed, and that compensation and apology is helping to promote healing of broken lives. Keneally reminds us that change has happened because good men like Frank Docherty, and John Ellis, fought for change. The victims of abuse fought for change, and their families fought for change. The struggle for justice continues.
I loved this book for its hopefulness and honesty. It’s not just a good read, but a significant contribution to the public debate about the nature and response to one of the darkest episodes of Church history. I’m encouraged to keep working at the way forward.
October 26, 2022
As I was reading this book, I was questioning Keneally's choice to make his protagonist a good and transparent priest (with a band of supporters within the church), like he was trying to leave us with a feeling that 'All is okay. They aren't all bad' - a kind-of forgiveness that glosses over the significance of the church's failings and crimes. In the end though, I left this book acknowledging that it tells the story of those failings while giving hope to not only the church but also the victims of the crimes committed, particularly when the victims' voices are finally heard and believed. Whether that is a fair impression to leave the real-life victims that can't or won't ever see hope, I cannot say. My initial questioning of Keneally was also quelled at the end by a feeling of isolation that I got for the church leaders and criminal priests - that like their victims were finally the ones on their own, on the outer, to make way for a more transparent and less arrogant church. I also liked the way Keneally uses both Docherty and the criminal priests to show the church's inadequate approach to problems, by pushing them sideways to the outer circle (but not out of the circle), moving them to other churches, other places, without addressing the underlying problems.
November 10, 2016
This latest Keneally offering is couched in a timely setting as the Catholic Church and other organisations are held to account for any abuse to those who have placed trust in them. Though it may be a work of fiction as Keneally attests in his acknowledgements, there are inevitable parallels and comparisons that I found myself making to both real world individuals and situations that have been reported and investigated in Australia and other parts of the world while I read this account.
The effects of abuse are clearly indelible, insidious and life-changing for those affected by or involved with them while considerations of celibacy, same sex relationships and marriage, responsibilities to family and use of and or misuse of power are also great imponderables. This novel probes some of these and challenges the reader to decide which of these troubles them most and why.
The effects of abuse are clearly indelible, insidious and life-changing for those affected by or involved with them while considerations of celibacy, same sex relationships and marriage, responsibilities to family and use of and or misuse of power are also great imponderables. This novel probes some of these and challenges the reader to decide which of these troubles them most and why.
October 13, 2022
Whilst this novel focuses on some fictional stories of crimes committed by priests within the catholic church, it must be remembered that it is fiction. By the church's own admission, these type of events do occur, it is not my intention to get into a religious discussion. Needless to say that there are good and bad people everywhere in all organisations including religious groups.
That said, the book is exceptionally well written with believable characters. The story deals with a very difficult subject, and will, no doubt, cause distress to a lot of readers.
Keneally handles it well and manages to keep the reader riveted.
That said, the book is exceptionally well written with believable characters. The story deals with a very difficult subject, and will, no doubt, cause distress to a lot of readers.
Keneally handles it well and manages to keep the reader riveted.
September 20, 2017
Father Frank Docherty seems to attract controversy. He’s a good man and a good priest but his beliefs are sometimes at odds with the Catholic Church. He was banished from the Australian church in the sixties due to his religious beliefs and he truly wants to return to Australia and their church so he can be near his aging mother. But events come about that bring him into direct confrontation with the same Cardinal he’s trying to win favor with. He’s become aware of several incidents of child abuse by a now well-known and respected monsignor. His conscience won’t allow him to turn a blind eye to these horrendous betrayals of trust.
I had a bit of a problem getting into this book. In the beginning there are somewhat long essays about church dogma that I didn’t find particularly interesting. There was nothing in there that was new to me. And at times the book read almost like case studies instead of a novel. I found the beginning to be quite dry and didactic. It took a while for the character of Father Docherty to grow on me. Certainly the stories of the child abuse and the way the church tried to cover it up were very shocking and disturbing. But I wasn’t drawn into the story line until late in the book. Once I was pulled into the story, I enjoyed it more. I remember reading “Schindler’s List” with much more emotion than I did this one. His newest book lacked the emotional impact that I had expected from such a story.
I won this book in a Goodreads giveaway and am under no obligation to review it.
I had a bit of a problem getting into this book. In the beginning there are somewhat long essays about church dogma that I didn’t find particularly interesting. There was nothing in there that was new to me. And at times the book read almost like case studies instead of a novel. I found the beginning to be quite dry and didactic. It took a while for the character of Father Docherty to grow on me. Certainly the stories of the child abuse and the way the church tried to cover it up were very shocking and disturbing. But I wasn’t drawn into the story line until late in the book. Once I was pulled into the story, I enjoyed it more. I remember reading “Schindler’s List” with much more emotion than I did this one. His newest book lacked the emotional impact that I had expected from such a story.
I won this book in a Goodreads giveaway and am under no obligation to review it.
February 5, 2023
Right author, right subject, right perspective and moral urgency, yet somehow fails to come off. It reads like a stiff case history rather than a flowing fiction. Perhaps a non-fiction work would have been better?
August 16, 2017
“If they were a corporation, they would be out of business.” This is what a friend texted me after watching the recent 4 Corners program Dark Secrets which explored the cover-ups of paedophilia in Philadelphia. The investigation within that TV program began with a question: Why, in 50 years, had only one Catholic priest been officially investigated for child abuse? The program found both disturbing levels of child abuse and extraordinary measures taken by the church to hide the abuse. “If this was a brand, it would be dead in the water” (another text message swapped while watching the program). Keneally describes the Catholic church as being like a "worldly wise corporation. It's supposed to be a mountain of compassion ... the temple above all temples, and here it is behaving like a chemical company that has had a spill."
Keneally writes as something of an insider, having trained for the priesthood and describing himself still as a “cultural Catholic”. I think that the book had more resonance for this reason; that he knows priests well, has personally struggled with the challenges of the role and operates out of a kind of insider despair in this novel. The novel is about a fictional outsider priest, the outspoken Father Docherty who returns home to Australia briefly to speak professionally about child abuse (he is a psychologist working in Canada) in 1996. Docherty issues a warning that the state will intervene if the church does not adequately deal with the problem.
1996 is a significant year; it was when the Towards Healing process was established; part of the plot of this novel follows the introduction of a similar process titled “In Compassion’s Name”. (The Age reported in December 2015 that the “Catholic Church avoided paying up to $62 million in compensation to sexual abuse victims by creating the controversial Melbourne Response program, which capped payments at $50,000 for each victim. Internal documents also show church leaders ordered written records about sex abuse be "kept to a minimum" to avoid losing lawsuits, and hired one of the country's best spin doctors in a bid to prepare for the scandal in the early 1990s.” (http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/cat...)
This is a book about disgusting behaviour – both on the part of individual priests but also on the part of the institution. It’s shocking. Of the novel, Keneally says: “I am having a go at the institution because it has messed up and violated its own principles. Now, bless me father for I have sinned. I have messed up frequently in my life and violated its principles. But the church has stuck so determinedly to the wrong course, and its denial has been frightening and grotesque. So, yes, you’d expect me to write this, but it’s because I am genuinely concerned that an institution for which I have a great deal of love would create such injustice. I’m allowed to say that, surely?” (http://www.theaustralian.com.au/arts/...)
The most interesting part of the novel for me was where Keneally attempted to explore how individual priests justified or rationalized their criminal and unchristian behaviour. The justification took several forms according to Keneally. Some priests “had the idea that impulses involving children were ungovernable.” In other words the excuse is that the men had no power to control themselves. Others felt that each time they confessed and showed genuine contrition, the slate was wiped clean – no more sin. Others that they were in some bizarre and self-righteous way saving children from a worse fate: “I took their sins on me. I took the sins of the girls and the sins of the boys. On me. I risked my soul so that they would not have a squalid experience in a suburban toilet. But I will never be thanked.” Or the Blame the Victim trope – “Bring them all in, every neurotic you can find,” Shannon (the finance administrator for In Compassion’s Name) sweeps on. ”I remember the kid all right, amongst all the other kids of unhappy households. They hang round a priest they like and make themselves absolute pests. The cardinal won’t for a moment believe any of this about me.” Some priests, according to Docherty, even claimed to believe their abuse was God-ordained. That “the child had been chosen for them by God to sustain their ministry by making possible the sexual release God knew they needed”.
Keneally also looks at how church administrators can have been so obtuse. His fictional cardinal simply can’t conceive of a man that he knows and likes committing an act of child abuse. Also, there is the intimation that they do not want to probe too far. Protecting the financial integrity of the Church is paramount. It’s disgusting. The brand has been trashed and it must be truly upsetting for practicing Catholics of good heart that this has been (I was going to write “allowed to happen” but this is inaccurate) so brutal and cynical a policy in Australia and other parts of the world.
It’s difficult to critique this book given the subject matter. The characters in the book tend towards the one-dimensional. This is a novel that is trying to explore the complexity of this issue and its impact on a church and faith that is/was important to the author. He says a couple of things about this in an interview with The Australian: “Keneally stresses sexual abusers in the church are a minority, though the field of blame expands to include the “enablers, excusers, hiders’’. He says he knows many priests who are “decent fellows, noble souls, full-fledged humans’’, though “none of them are the kind to be made bishops. This novel is a dramatic story, but one side of it that shouldn’t be diminished is that it’s about a priest who is viably dealing with the modern church, and with belief, and with secularism. There is admiration for him.’’
He also says “Does he think the church can recover? “Yes, yes, though it’s hard. The Pope reminds me of Malcolm Turnbull, hostage to his own right wing. There’s been a deliberate process to bring the church back to that old-fashioned dogma and in the interests of that it has frequently been right-wing bishops who have been appointed, people who hold the line on gays, women, birth control and so on. So the church has established a command corps which is extremely devoted to the authoritarian, totalitarian proposition, the one that says we tell you what your conscience is, you don’t decide what your conscience will tell you, we’ll decide that. That totalitarianism is something that is very hard for modern people to live by, and the question is: should they? It’s a question I can’t resolve. Between the totalitarianism and individual dignity, where do you draw the line?”
Last night I watched a representative of the church arguing that priests need to retain the confidentiality of the confessional. I heard a priest on the radio arguing that they could adequately protect and intervene effectively “behind the scenes” for children if someone admitted to child abuse. I felt irritated and sorry for him at the same time. It is possibly true that he is genuine – that he could make some positive interventions for a child in this situation but how could the community now have faith that this could happen, and happen effectively? I think they have trashed their own brand and need to now be subject to the same rules that apply to the rest of the community in regards to reporting child abuse.
So in summary, the book is interesting because of the writer’s background and worth a read.
Keneally writes as something of an insider, having trained for the priesthood and describing himself still as a “cultural Catholic”. I think that the book had more resonance for this reason; that he knows priests well, has personally struggled with the challenges of the role and operates out of a kind of insider despair in this novel. The novel is about a fictional outsider priest, the outspoken Father Docherty who returns home to Australia briefly to speak professionally about child abuse (he is a psychologist working in Canada) in 1996. Docherty issues a warning that the state will intervene if the church does not adequately deal with the problem.
1996 is a significant year; it was when the Towards Healing process was established; part of the plot of this novel follows the introduction of a similar process titled “In Compassion’s Name”. (The Age reported in December 2015 that the “Catholic Church avoided paying up to $62 million in compensation to sexual abuse victims by creating the controversial Melbourne Response program, which capped payments at $50,000 for each victim. Internal documents also show church leaders ordered written records about sex abuse be "kept to a minimum" to avoid losing lawsuits, and hired one of the country's best spin doctors in a bid to prepare for the scandal in the early 1990s.” (http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/cat...)
This is a book about disgusting behaviour – both on the part of individual priests but also on the part of the institution. It’s shocking. Of the novel, Keneally says: “I am having a go at the institution because it has messed up and violated its own principles. Now, bless me father for I have sinned. I have messed up frequently in my life and violated its principles. But the church has stuck so determinedly to the wrong course, and its denial has been frightening and grotesque. So, yes, you’d expect me to write this, but it’s because I am genuinely concerned that an institution for which I have a great deal of love would create such injustice. I’m allowed to say that, surely?” (http://www.theaustralian.com.au/arts/...)
The most interesting part of the novel for me was where Keneally attempted to explore how individual priests justified or rationalized their criminal and unchristian behaviour. The justification took several forms according to Keneally. Some priests “had the idea that impulses involving children were ungovernable.” In other words the excuse is that the men had no power to control themselves. Others felt that each time they confessed and showed genuine contrition, the slate was wiped clean – no more sin. Others that they were in some bizarre and self-righteous way saving children from a worse fate: “I took their sins on me. I took the sins of the girls and the sins of the boys. On me. I risked my soul so that they would not have a squalid experience in a suburban toilet. But I will never be thanked.” Or the Blame the Victim trope – “Bring them all in, every neurotic you can find,” Shannon (the finance administrator for In Compassion’s Name) sweeps on. ”I remember the kid all right, amongst all the other kids of unhappy households. They hang round a priest they like and make themselves absolute pests. The cardinal won’t for a moment believe any of this about me.” Some priests, according to Docherty, even claimed to believe their abuse was God-ordained. That “the child had been chosen for them by God to sustain their ministry by making possible the sexual release God knew they needed”.
Keneally also looks at how church administrators can have been so obtuse. His fictional cardinal simply can’t conceive of a man that he knows and likes committing an act of child abuse. Also, there is the intimation that they do not want to probe too far. Protecting the financial integrity of the Church is paramount. It’s disgusting. The brand has been trashed and it must be truly upsetting for practicing Catholics of good heart that this has been (I was going to write “allowed to happen” but this is inaccurate) so brutal and cynical a policy in Australia and other parts of the world.
It’s difficult to critique this book given the subject matter. The characters in the book tend towards the one-dimensional. This is a novel that is trying to explore the complexity of this issue and its impact on a church and faith that is/was important to the author. He says a couple of things about this in an interview with The Australian: “Keneally stresses sexual abusers in the church are a minority, though the field of blame expands to include the “enablers, excusers, hiders’’. He says he knows many priests who are “decent fellows, noble souls, full-fledged humans’’, though “none of them are the kind to be made bishops. This novel is a dramatic story, but one side of it that shouldn’t be diminished is that it’s about a priest who is viably dealing with the modern church, and with belief, and with secularism. There is admiration for him.’’
He also says “Does he think the church can recover? “Yes, yes, though it’s hard. The Pope reminds me of Malcolm Turnbull, hostage to his own right wing. There’s been a deliberate process to bring the church back to that old-fashioned dogma and in the interests of that it has frequently been right-wing bishops who have been appointed, people who hold the line on gays, women, birth control and so on. So the church has established a command corps which is extremely devoted to the authoritarian, totalitarian proposition, the one that says we tell you what your conscience is, you don’t decide what your conscience will tell you, we’ll decide that. That totalitarianism is something that is very hard for modern people to live by, and the question is: should they? It’s a question I can’t resolve. Between the totalitarianism and individual dignity, where do you draw the line?”
Last night I watched a representative of the church arguing that priests need to retain the confidentiality of the confessional. I heard a priest on the radio arguing that they could adequately protect and intervene effectively “behind the scenes” for children if someone admitted to child abuse. I felt irritated and sorry for him at the same time. It is possibly true that he is genuine – that he could make some positive interventions for a child in this situation but how could the community now have faith that this could happen, and happen effectively? I think they have trashed their own brand and need to now be subject to the same rules that apply to the rest of the community in regards to reporting child abuse.
So in summary, the book is interesting because of the writer’s background and worth a read.
December 31, 2017
There are two groups of people who will read this book: Catholics and those who are not. For the latter group, unless you have been worked over by Isis or some other group of fundamentalist hooligans, there will be shock and horror. For Catholics, and I am one, there will be other, more complicated reactions. I know this story of a priest's efforts to expose pedophiles who masquerade as priests is a timely one and makes for a compelling novel. It certainly made me realize now how lucky I was to grow up in a time when the iron-clad precepts of the Church were beginning to be questioned AND that I was born into a family with a Protestant father and a mother who was a bit of a rebel. Though she paid lip service to Catholicism, my mother's heart wasn't really into Holy Mother Church. Even more fortuitously, my sister and I were educated at a Catholic elementary school which though peopled by eccentric tyrants and raging alcoholics, contained not one member of the clergy. I finally had nuns as teachers in Grade Ten but by then it was too late. Which is a good thing because even though I encountered in my childhood more than my share of child molesters(more about that later, much later), they didn't come armed with battalions of lawyers and enablers to convince me I was mad. Nor did they convince me they had God on their side.
Anyway this book is very well done though it shocked me how Irish Australia or parts of it still appeared to be, even in the latter part of the 20th century. It also shocked me how smooth some of these perpetrators were. So smooth that, unlike Harvey Weinstein they didn't need Mossad as they had their silver tongues and the Church organization on their side. And these victims were white kids. God only knows what the indigenous kids went through. Well I guess we all do know since we hear about daily now ---finally. Not to mention all the wasted time a lot of ordinary Catholic people spent agonizing about birth control and sex and the fact that women by their very nature were seen as lesser beings than men. Thank God, that's over, though as Keneally's main character suggests, the Church is a bit like Hotel California--you can check out but you can never really leave.
Anyway this book is very well done though it shocked me how Irish Australia or parts of it still appeared to be, even in the latter part of the 20th century. It also shocked me how smooth some of these perpetrators were. So smooth that, unlike Harvey Weinstein they didn't need Mossad as they had their silver tongues and the Church organization on their side. And these victims were white kids. God only knows what the indigenous kids went through. Well I guess we all do know since we hear about daily now ---finally. Not to mention all the wasted time a lot of ordinary Catholic people spent agonizing about birth control and sex and the fact that women by their very nature were seen as lesser beings than men. Thank God, that's over, though as Keneally's main character suggests, the Church is a bit like Hotel California--you can check out but you can never really leave.
August 8, 2018
While we’ve all been made aware, through media reports, of child abuse within the Catholic Church, nothing has brought home the victim impact to me quite as strongly as this novel. While the characters may be fictional, the situations are sadly all too real and the author, himself a former seminarian, highlights areas that I’d previously been unaware of, eg the use of the confessional to groom potential victims and the initial attempts at cover ups, not to mention the impact on the wider community; the families of victims and perpetrators as well as decent clergy and lay people within the church. Using strong rhetoric, he puts issues such as celibacy, sexuality and birth control, to name a few, under the spotlight. This is a piece of writing, not only of great courage, but also of great sensitivity and compassion, and should be widely read.
September 6, 2025
Tom Kenneally’s Crimes of the Father is a searing indictment of the Catholic Church and its response to the epidemic of child sexual abuse committed by members of the clergy. Contrary to other reviews on this site, I found this a very engaging read. Kenneally captures well the experience of being Catholic in Australia; I often found surprised by how often my own experiences and thoughts were echoed in the text.
December 2, 2018
Jeepers this was hard to read in places. Keneally is such a great storyteller.
March 26, 2025
It was just really good, dude. I liked it.
May 2, 2025
Keneally writes wonderful books that reaches for the humanity of man even while dissecting man's inhumanity. He creates stories about important concerns but always uses authentic characters to present the story. This novel is about abuse of young children by Catholic clergy. It is not about displaying prurient behavior, but more about exposing the sins of the Church in the early days of revelations about sexual exploitation of young girls and boys. His main characters are immersed in their faith but instinctively know something is wrong. That instinct is the root of their humanity. As usual, the book is written in clear language and captures the rhythm of life and language. A bit preachy in parts, but perhaps Keneally has earned our indulgence at this stage of his outstanding career. He has certainly earned our praise.
March 4, 2018
"'Why didn't that omnipotent God intervene when we were at the mercy of the abuser?' I ask it myself. All I can say is, Christ be with you. He is also a sort of victim of the (Roman Catholic) Church.'"
As Keneally writes in the author's note, he went to seminary and left just a few months before his ordination. So, he definitely has a lot of inside information on the Catholic church, and this is clearly reflected in Crimes of the Father.
The protagonist, Fr. Docherty, is flawed in many ways, but ultimately he wants justice for victims of sexual abuse by priests and is willing to do whatever it takes to help make that happen, even if it means risking his career. For that reason, he is quite admirable.
This is an extremely disturbing story, because it could all be true, and probably *is* based on true events. I wouldn't be surprised if "only the names have been changed". If you have ever wondered how sexual abuse of children by priests happens, it's all here. It's pretty horrific. Not to mention that these children grow up to be adults who are scarred for life. Then the priests deny, deny, deny and cover for each other. It's sickening and so sad.
Aside from the subject matter, which is fascinating, enlightening and at times infuriating, Keneally has simply written a great, entertaining book which I didn't want to put down. I loved the writing and the way the story unfolded. I learned a lot about the Catholic church, and I went to a RC high school and have a RC brother (don't think he would appreciate this book).
Highly recommended, but this is no easy read. It will turn your stomach and make you want to cry, because it all happens. It's so wrong!
As Keneally writes in the author's note, he went to seminary and left just a few months before his ordination. So, he definitely has a lot of inside information on the Catholic church, and this is clearly reflected in Crimes of the Father.
The protagonist, Fr. Docherty, is flawed in many ways, but ultimately he wants justice for victims of sexual abuse by priests and is willing to do whatever it takes to help make that happen, even if it means risking his career. For that reason, he is quite admirable.
This is an extremely disturbing story, because it could all be true, and probably *is* based on true events. I wouldn't be surprised if "only the names have been changed". If you have ever wondered how sexual abuse of children by priests happens, it's all here. It's pretty horrific. Not to mention that these children grow up to be adults who are scarred for life. Then the priests deny, deny, deny and cover for each other. It's sickening and so sad.
Aside from the subject matter, which is fascinating, enlightening and at times infuriating, Keneally has simply written a great, entertaining book which I didn't want to put down. I loved the writing and the way the story unfolded. I learned a lot about the Catholic church, and I went to a RC high school and have a RC brother (don't think he would appreciate this book).
Highly recommended, but this is no easy read. It will turn your stomach and make you want to cry, because it all happens. It's so wrong!
April 25, 2017
Tom Keneally is one of my favourite authors and I hope one day to witness him receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature. If you are unaware, he entered a seminary as a young man but left before being ordained as a priest. He grew up In Kempsey, where his parents owned “Chaddies” store at East Kempsey. I have met him on a couple of occasions and he is a most compassionate man. In this time of amplified Australian values Keneally epitomizes those Australian values we all should aspire to.
He loves rugby league and is a passionate Manly supporter (well, we can’t all be perfect).
His oeuvre consists of a vast range of fiction, non-fiction, essays and articles. Keneally uses his considerable literary skills with great distinction in this account of the Catholic Church and the issue of child abuse.
When I started teaching in the late 1970s child sexual abuse or paedophilia was just not discussed. The education department had no policies or directions on the matter. There were vague stories of certain teachers being moved if there were accusations. It wasn’t till the Wood Royal Commission that this all changed. The situation was similar in the Catholic Church, although it appears because of clerical celibacy and trust of priests the abuse was worse.
The stories told in this book make for uncomfortable reading. The book starts in 1996 and moves back to the 1960s and 70s as the different stories unfold. The central character is Father Frank Docherty and his connection to a number od sexual abuse cases.
As the reader you reflect on the situation of the abused and the abuser. It is interesting how child sexual abuse has such a profound effect on the lives of the victims. Yet physical violent assault does not seem to have the same long term effect.
Without wanting to sound flippant there is a love scene between a nun and the father of one her pupils. I wonder how erotic some believers would find these pages.
One victim of sexual abuse says his abuse will not be part of his adult identity.
Although I am a card carrying atheist I am aware of the role that religion has in creating communities and the strength and support members get from their beliefs and others in the community. It might surprise some Christians but many Muslims gain the same from their mosque and community.
Keneally’s skills as a writer/story teller means that although the topic has great currency the author does not pontificate or over analyse. He injects warmth and humour in his writing.
I highly recommend this probing and rewarding read.
He loves rugby league and is a passionate Manly supporter (well, we can’t all be perfect).
His oeuvre consists of a vast range of fiction, non-fiction, essays and articles. Keneally uses his considerable literary skills with great distinction in this account of the Catholic Church and the issue of child abuse.
When I started teaching in the late 1970s child sexual abuse or paedophilia was just not discussed. The education department had no policies or directions on the matter. There were vague stories of certain teachers being moved if there were accusations. It wasn’t till the Wood Royal Commission that this all changed. The situation was similar in the Catholic Church, although it appears because of clerical celibacy and trust of priests the abuse was worse.
The stories told in this book make for uncomfortable reading. The book starts in 1996 and moves back to the 1960s and 70s as the different stories unfold. The central character is Father Frank Docherty and his connection to a number od sexual abuse cases.
As the reader you reflect on the situation of the abused and the abuser. It is interesting how child sexual abuse has such a profound effect on the lives of the victims. Yet physical violent assault does not seem to have the same long term effect.
Without wanting to sound flippant there is a love scene between a nun and the father of one her pupils. I wonder how erotic some believers would find these pages.
One victim of sexual abuse says his abuse will not be part of his adult identity.
Although I am a card carrying atheist I am aware of the role that religion has in creating communities and the strength and support members get from their beliefs and others in the community. It might surprise some Christians but many Muslims gain the same from their mosque and community.
Keneally’s skills as a writer/story teller means that although the topic has great currency the author does not pontificate or over analyse. He injects warmth and humour in his writing.
I highly recommend this probing and rewarding read.
September 18, 2017
I received Crimes of the Father as part of a Goodreads giveaway.
In 1996, Father Frank Docherty, a Catholic priest and psychology professor working with pedophile priests in Ontario, makes a rare trip to his native Australia, ostensibly for a speaking engagement but, more broadly, to seek permission to return to Sydney, from whose archdiocese he was ousted from for his liberal political views decades earlier. During his brief trip, he comes face to face with the devastation wrought by the sexual abuse scandals in his home community. The story, told from alternating perspectives and time periods explore the points of view of a series of victims, a guilty monsignor and his sister (the latter of whom is a friend and near-romantic interest of Docherty's), and Docherty himself. In the course of his visit, Docherty must come to terms with both his conscience and the institution to which he has devoted his entire adult life.
This was an excellent read. As someone who was raised nominally Catholic and politically liberal, the abuse scandals (and the Church's reaction) horrified me and were one of the last straws that caused me to cut ties entirely from that religious affiliation. Docherty is a fantastic character who clearly believes in the Church's capacity for good, while also recognizing the massive problems it faces, both internally and externally. He's the priest a lot of liberal people, Catholic and otherwise, would love to see take leadership positions in religious hierarchies. My blood pressure ratcheted up at a few points as I read about the crimes and assaults visited upon the victims and the resulting cover-up, and I was left reflecting on how the power of tradition can divide and destroy just as easily as it can unite. A gorgeously written novel about a painful and dark subject.
In 1996, Father Frank Docherty, a Catholic priest and psychology professor working with pedophile priests in Ontario, makes a rare trip to his native Australia, ostensibly for a speaking engagement but, more broadly, to seek permission to return to Sydney, from whose archdiocese he was ousted from for his liberal political views decades earlier. During his brief trip, he comes face to face with the devastation wrought by the sexual abuse scandals in his home community. The story, told from alternating perspectives and time periods explore the points of view of a series of victims, a guilty monsignor and his sister (the latter of whom is a friend and near-romantic interest of Docherty's), and Docherty himself. In the course of his visit, Docherty must come to terms with both his conscience and the institution to which he has devoted his entire adult life.
This was an excellent read. As someone who was raised nominally Catholic and politically liberal, the abuse scandals (and the Church's reaction) horrified me and were one of the last straws that caused me to cut ties entirely from that religious affiliation. Docherty is a fantastic character who clearly believes in the Church's capacity for good, while also recognizing the massive problems it faces, both internally and externally. He's the priest a lot of liberal people, Catholic and otherwise, would love to see take leadership positions in religious hierarchies. My blood pressure ratcheted up at a few points as I read about the crimes and assaults visited upon the victims and the resulting cover-up, and I was left reflecting on how the power of tradition can divide and destroy just as easily as it can unite. A gorgeously written novel about a painful and dark subject.
October 30, 2017
Frank Docherty is exiled by his order to Canada (from his native Australia) after speaking openly on topics such as the Vietnam War. In Ontario he studies and works as a psychologist specializing in sexual abuse by priests. He returns to Australia to give a lecture and visit his mother, and receives information suggesting that the brother of a very close friend has in the past abused both teenage boys and girls. This brother is (on behalf of the church) currently seeking to make small monetary payments to people abused by other priests in exchange for confidentiality agreements. Frank is obliged to follow his conscience, even though this may jeopardize his chances of returning to Australia for good.
I found this novel interesting, although in a rather cerebral way. There was tension in the way the narrative explored how the church would respond to allegations and whether Frank would persevere. However, some of the story was quite technical and there were chunks which read like a history text book. I found plenty to ponder in connection with the consequences of demanding celibacy of priests and whether those entering the seminary were already a self-selected group of men running from sexual difficulties. The portions dealing with the failure of the church to allow contraception were very interesting to me, but seemed to be making a different point altogether. Indeed there were discussions between characters in the novel about following individual conscience or blind obedience to the Pope/church. Again, these were interesting, but it was like listening to a lecture rather than relating to fully rounded characters facing decisions in their own lives.
Having said all that, I would be interested to read other novels by this author.
I found this novel interesting, although in a rather cerebral way. There was tension in the way the narrative explored how the church would respond to allegations and whether Frank would persevere. However, some of the story was quite technical and there were chunks which read like a history text book. I found plenty to ponder in connection with the consequences of demanding celibacy of priests and whether those entering the seminary were already a self-selected group of men running from sexual difficulties. The portions dealing with the failure of the church to allow contraception were very interesting to me, but seemed to be making a different point altogether. Indeed there were discussions between characters in the novel about following individual conscience or blind obedience to the Pope/church. Again, these were interesting, but it was like listening to a lecture rather than relating to fully rounded characters facing decisions in their own lives.
Having said all that, I would be interested to read other novels by this author.
January 3, 2018
This is a novel, but considering the situations involving predatory behavior and pedophilia by priests on several continents, and its widespread cover-up by those in positions of authority, it might as well be true.
It is a story of an Australian priest who belongs to a religious order but has been "banished" to Canada due to his anti-Vietnam War sentiments as well as his emphasis on personal conscience as a guide to behavior. He studies psychology with a particular interest in abuse by clergy. He returns to Australia to give a talk at a conference and visit some friends and his aging mother. He meets an angry woman taxi driver, whose response to his revealing that he is a priest, sets in motion a concern that she may have been a victim of clergy abuse.
When a good friend (and the sister of a well-regarded Monsignor) tells him of her friend whose son has committed suicide, and has left a note implicating the Monsignor, he feels he must stay longer and see through the charges and hopefully assist in gaining justice for the abused.
Although occasionally tedious-in the area of laws and court procedures, this is an exceedingly well-written book which is hard to put down.
Highly recommended!
It is a story of an Australian priest who belongs to a religious order but has been "banished" to Canada due to his anti-Vietnam War sentiments as well as his emphasis on personal conscience as a guide to behavior. He studies psychology with a particular interest in abuse by clergy. He returns to Australia to give a talk at a conference and visit some friends and his aging mother. He meets an angry woman taxi driver, whose response to his revealing that he is a priest, sets in motion a concern that she may have been a victim of clergy abuse.
When a good friend (and the sister of a well-regarded Monsignor) tells him of her friend whose son has committed suicide, and has left a note implicating the Monsignor, he feels he must stay longer and see through the charges and hopefully assist in gaining justice for the abused.
Although occasionally tedious-in the area of laws and court procedures, this is an exceedingly well-written book which is hard to put down.
Highly recommended!
November 14, 2017
Even though I'm a Protestant, I do sympathize for those in Catholicism who must juxtapose their faith with the corruption within their institutional church. (I'm not saying Protestantism is exempt from corruption, but our pastors answer to fewer people and are not as interconnected.) Because of this, I appreciate how Keneally approached the matter: indictment for those who contribute to corruption, sensitivity for corruption's victims, and gentleness for those who have to pick up the pieces. One line stuck out to me:
"In this fallen world, it was hard to do unambiguous good."
I wasn't surprised that Keneally was formerly a seminarian because he gets it. He gets that it sucks for those of us in Catholicism and Christianity who watch others misrepresent Christ--or worse, use him as an excuse for sin and evil. Keneally doesn't spare the Church, but he clearly loves those within the church, and I appreciated his multifaceted view of the topic. I did feel at times as though I was reading nonfiction, but overall, this book was excellent.
"In this fallen world, it was hard to do unambiguous good."
I wasn't surprised that Keneally was formerly a seminarian because he gets it. He gets that it sucks for those of us in Catholicism and Christianity who watch others misrepresent Christ--or worse, use him as an excuse for sin and evil. Keneally doesn't spare the Church, but he clearly loves those within the church, and I appreciated his multifaceted view of the topic. I did feel at times as though I was reading nonfiction, but overall, this book was excellent.
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