Loss and Gain

by John Henry Newman

John Henry Newman, one of the greatest religious figures of the nineteenth century, also had a successful career as a gifted novelist. Loss and Gain , his first novel, tells the story of a young man's search for faith in early Victorian Oxford. This edition is the first one to appear in
eighty years.

Genres: Fiction, Catholic, Theology, Christianity, Literature, Religion, Novels

317 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1848

About the author

Saint John Henry Cardinal Newman was an important figure in the religious history of England in the 19th century. He was known nationally by the mid-1830s.
Originally an evangelical Oxford University academic and priest in the Church of England, Newman then became drawn to the high-church tradition of Anglicanism. He became known as a leader of, and an able polemicist for, the Oxford Movement, an influential and controversial grouping of Anglicans who wished to return to the Church of England many Catholic beliefs and liturgical rituals from before the English Reformation. In this the movement had some success. However, in 1845 Newman, joined by some but not all of his followers, left the Church of England and his teaching post at Oxford University and was received into the Catholic Church. He was quickly ordained as a priest and continued as an influential religious leader, based in Birmingham. In 1879, he was created a cardinal by Pope Leo XIII in recognition of his services to the cause of the Catholic Church in England. He was instrumental in the founding of the Catholic University of Ireland, which evolved into University College Dublin, today the largest university in Ireland.

Newman was beatified by Pope Benedict XVI on 19 September 2010 during his visit to the United Kingdom. He was then canonised by Pope Francis on 13 October 2019.

Newman was also a literary figure of note: his major writings including the Tracts for the Times (1833–1841), his autobiography Apologia Pro Vita Sua (1865–66), the Grammar of Assent (1870), and the poem The Dream of Gerontius (1865),[6] which was set to music in 1900 by Edward Elgar. He wrote the popular hymns "Lead, Kindly Light" and "Praise to the Holiest in the Height" (taken from Gerontius).

Reviews

[booklady]

Charles Reding, the main character in Loss and Gain, might be loosely representative of what the author himself experienced during his own conversion. Charles was devout, the son of a devout Anglican minister who fortunately died before his son’s conversion to the Roman Catholic Church became imminent. Also like Newman, Charles struggled profoundly and encountered stiff opposition from family and friends throughout his conversion. Newman continued to suffer for his choice throughout his life, although this book ends with Charles decision so we do not know how the rest of his life turned out.

As perhaps might be expected, Loss and Gain, is somewhat didactic, but only insofar as it has to suit the plot. How can the story of a person’s conversion be told without his/her staunchly held convictions and beliefs? Discovering that St. Newman had written a novel was a delightful surprise, as I remembered his somewhat disparaging views on literature in, The Idea of a University, which I now want to revisit, along with, Apologia Pro Vita Sua, and his other works of non-fiction which I have only failed at, thus far.

This is deep reading as might be expected by even a passing familiarity with the author. Don’t be fooled thinking that because it is fiction, it will be easy. Still, it is wonderful!

I was delighted to discover yesterday in an article in The Catholic Thing by Robert Royal the following reference to, and extract from, this book:

‘It all reminded me of what a Protestant character in Newman’s novel Loss and Gain: The Story of a Convert blurts out, unexpectedly, about the Catholic liturgy:

We have no life or poetry in the Church of England; the Catholic Church alone is beautiful. You would see what I mean if you went into a foreign cathedral, or even into one of the Catholic churches in our large towns. The celebrant, deacon, and subdeacon, acolytes with lights, the incense, and the chanting-all combine to one end, one act of worship. You feel it is really a worshipping; every sense, eyes, ears, smell, are made to know that worship is going on. The laity on the floor saying their beads, or making their acts; the choir singing out the Kyrie; and the priest and his assistants bowing low, and saying the Confiteor to each other. This is worship, and it is far above reason. ’

This reference comes at the tail end of an article entitled, Who Needs an Ecological Conversion and a Canonization Note, not really an article concerning Newman, until the very end; there are several much better. Still if you follow link provided, you can read the rest of that and/or others.

[Manuel Alfonseca · Rating 4 out of 5]

ENGLISH: A novel about the conversion of a young man (an Oxford student) from a High Church Anglican into a Catholic. Although the book was published just three years after Newman's own conversion, this is not a fictional account of his own experience, which is described in his Apologia Pro Vita Sua, published 16 years later. It is rather his view on how a young man 20 years younger than himself could go through a process of conversion similar to his, of course with many differences, due to their different ages, preparation and renown.

I liked especially the first two parts, where the first steps towards the conversion of the main character are described in the form of sundry theological dialogues that have taught me a lot about the differences between High Church Anglicanism and Roman Catholicism.

It was also interesting to learn that access to the main English universities (such as Oxford) was forbidden for Catholics; that when a student converted during his studies he had to leave the university; and that to get his diploma he had to pledge allegiance to the main tenets of Anglicanism.

ESPAÑOL: Esta novela describe la conversión al catolicismo de un joven estudiante de Oxford miembro de la High Church anglicana. Aunque el libro se publicó solo tres años después de la conversión de Newman, no se trata de un relato ficticio de su propia experiencia, que se describe en su Apologia Pro Vita Sua, publicada 20 años más tarde. Es más bien su opinión sobre cómo sería un proceso de conversión similar al suyo, de un hombre 20 años más joven que él. Por supuesto, habría muchas diferencias con el suyo, debido a sus distintas edades, preparación y renombre.

Me gustaron mucho las dos primeras partes, donde se describen los primeros pasos hacia la conversión del personaje principal en forma de numerosos diálogos teológicos que me han enseñado mucho sobre las diferencias entre el anglicanismo High Church y el catolicismo romano.

También fue interesante enterarme de que el acceso a las principales universidades inglesas (como Oxford) estaba prohibido para los católicos; que cuando un estudiante se convertía durante sus estudios, tenía que abandonar la universidad; y que para obtener su diploma tenía que prestar juramento de fidelidad a los principios fundamentales del anglicanismo.

[Sean Conley · Rating 5 out of 5]

Not a book everyone will love, or even like.

I didn’t rate Rome Sweet Home a 5/5 because I am not a convert. I said I would have otherwise given it a 5/5. After reading this book, I give it 5/5 even though I am not a convert nor was I ever Anglican.

Cardinal Newman managed to write a story about a college boy who grapples with the faith that was given to him, and determines he must give up house and home, family and friend, to follow where God is calling him. You follow the internal turmoil that eats at him day and night. Newman takes the severity of the implications on the life of the boy very seriously, yet acknowledges the strife of others in less fortunate positions. Today it’s very common that when young people have a crisis of faith and decide to go one way or another, older people or even their peers, fail to understand the emotional and spiritual rollercoaster the young person may be on. Our character, dear Charles Redding, is the kind of boy, the kind of man, one would be blessed to know.

As the story is about the conversion of Cardinal Newman himself, while reading the book, I felt as though I would have liked to be great friends with Charles Redding and perhaps subsequently Cardinal Newman. Charles was gentle, thoughtful, and kind but managed to maintain his virtue while denouncing the falsehoods that surrounded him—yet he did so with compassion for the person with which he was vehemently opposing. I’ve seldom read a book where I identified with the character in age, desire, pursuits, sentiments, and temperament (I hope to grow to be as Charles was). I’m by no means anywhere near Charles’ intellectual capabilities, but similar thoughts and internal battles have been fought in my own heart.

The way the friendship of the boys turned men in this work was beautiful. Friends come and go, but the friendships that passed away, passed away beautifully. The friendship that brought tears to my eyes was that of Willis and Charles. The end of the book is so beautiful, one of the greatest goodbyes between two men you’ll find.

The relationship between Charles and his mother was piercingly beautiful. Newman’s description of the mass in this work is astonishingly gorgeous.

Cardinal Newman earned a few tears from me—I’m happy to have shed them. Newman himself said saints couldn’t be novelists, well he disproved that himself.

Saint John Henry Newman, pray for us.

[Rosamund Hodge]

A fictional account of an Oxford student who converts to Catholicism. There's a reason Newman is not really remembered as a novelist--the characterization is pretty thin--but it's readable, occasionally funny, and as a window into the time, very engaging.

I turned to Wikipedia after finishing it and discovered that not only was it the first thing Newman wrote after his own conversion, it was in response to the novel From Oxford to Rome: And how it fared with some who lately made the journey by Elizabeth Furlong Shipton Harris, who had converted to Catholicism, become disillusioned and returned, and sought to deter other Anglicans from leaving in the first place. So now I think I need to track down a copy and see what it's like.

[Asunción · Rating 4 out of 5]

What I most liked was the evolution of the protagonist and his conversations with friends.
This book shows very well their prejudices against Catholicism, mostly when they are showing their ignorance. They have never been taught the truth, they just follow slogans.

Lo que más me gustó fue la evolución del protagonista y sus conversaciones con sus amigos.
Se ven muy bien los prejuicios anti-católicos de los anglicanos, que usualmente se basan en su ignorancia. No les han enseñado la verdad, sólo repiten eslóganes.

[Paul · Rating 5 out of 5]

Anglicans can't recover from this.

[Anna Mussmann]

John Henry Newman was a prominent 19th-century Anglican writer and thinker--a celebrity, really--and when he converted to Roman Catholicism, it was a big deal. The public waited to see what he would first write as a Catholic. Surprisingly, it was a novel. Loss and Gain is a fictionalized account of a young Oxford student who, like Newman, eventually turns to Rome. The book isn’t exactly what modern readers expect from fiction. Most of it is composed of long dialogues and debates about religious issues between various characters. There is quite a bit of wit and satire, but not much of we might call “action” or “plot.”

It’s a somewhat difficult read. I could recognize the religious outlook represented by some of the characters, but other references were so specific to the time and place that I must have been missing a great deal. It hadn’t occurred to me, but of course Newman was chronologically closer to Jane Austen than C. S. Lewis. It was interesting, though, and I think it broadened my understanding of the theological scene Newman addresses.

Some thoughts:

- Until reading this book I had not realized how much a nineteenth-century Brit would have sacrificed in order to convert to Catholicism. Newman’s character must give up his career, his friends, and--practically speaking--even his beloved family. EVERYONE around him tries to stage an intervention, just as might happen today if a kid decided to go to fight with guerrilla soldiers abroad. The book describes the joyful participation of a congregation at a Catholic Mass, and perhaps it’s a reminder that mild persecution sometimes blesses Christians with greater gratitude for their church.

- One satirical scene, in which Evangelicals discuss evidence that the pope is actually a Christian, was pretty laugh-out-loud funny.

- The huge driving force for Newman’s character is the quest for authority. This is something I’ve heard from many other converts to Catholicism as well. As a piece of fiction, this isn’t the world’s best novel; but Newman does create a character whose yearning for certainty in his faith is believable and sympathetic. Essentially, the character is told by his professors that he is supposed to declare agreement with Anglican doctrine on the grounds that he understands and agrees with it. He, however, does not feel that he fully understands the mysteries of theology or the intricacies of doctrines that trouble him. To him, not all Anglican positions seem correct or even logical. How can he be wise enough and learned enough to decide all such matters for himself through his own power? He would be willing to submit to the authority of the church on issues that seem difficult, but is told this is too Catholic. He isn’t supposed to submit, but to agree. The Apostolic authority of the Catholic Church is eventually the answer that brings him peace.

- As I understand it (and I am no expert), I think the point above illustrates a difference between Catholics and Lutherans. I believe they see the Bible as less clear (if this is the right wording) than we do. Lutherans have more confidence that at least as far as key doctrines are concerned, Scripture can be understood and applied correctly without requiring an authoritative interpreter to settle matters. "Scripture interprets Scripture," as we say. It would seem that Newman thinks we disprove our own position by having creeds (because those aren't in Scripture), but I think that's a stretch--creeds are a simple summary of what Scripture says rather than something "an authority" had to come up with. Lutherans have set forth our understanding of Scripture in the Book of Concord not because Scripture is an “incomplete” guide that must be interpreted, but in order to explain that our beliefs come from Scripture.

- Growing up outside of Catholic circles, I’ve read plenty of stories about individuals who found problems within Catholicism and converted to something different. It was helpful to read about the perspective of someone who found problems in Protestantism and turned instead to Rome.

-This is a minor point, but it was interesting to see how much it apparently bothered Newman that Anglican priests marry. At least as portrayed in the novel, he seemed to feel that this led them into worldliness because they had to keep their wives happy by setting up fashionable, upper-class homes filled with consumerism. I would have thought the problem lay not so much in having married clergy but in having a church system based on patronage (Austen’s Mr. Collins comes to mind) that fit into and helped perpetuate the British class system. Hmm.

[Ray's Artshelf · Rating 4 out of 5]

Almost everything depends at Oxford, in the matter of acquaintance, on proximity of rooms. You choose your friend, not so much by your tastes, as by your staircase.

I, an atheist in a secular age, found more to enjoy in this novel than in many others which have not been so neglected. (At present the Oxford edition is out of print. Why? And will they publish a new edition now that Newman is to be made a saint?) The writing is quick, often humorous; the dialogue or argument scenes - which are established early on in the book - are relieved by passages of quite tender relationship between Charles Reding and the few friends who try to understand him; and for all his slight tendency to self-pity, he's a sympathetic character. You want things to go well with him.

The blind spot, as might be expected in Newman, is for women. Their presence throws the world off its axis, because Reding can't talk with them seriously, as he does with the young men in his college. Women even spoil a good walk: ". . . as to walking with you and my sisters," he explains to his mother, "it's pleasant enough, but no exercise." Newman would have the reader believe that a woman who has had four pregnancies, raised four children and lost sight of one for long stretches at Eton then Oxford, and nursed a dying husband, has never known anxiety. That said, it is only an inability to see. Women are not viewed with suspicion, as in Forster or countless others.

It's true that in a couple of the arguments, characters are little more than ciphers, most notably in one excruciating tea party where the speakers are simply numbered, not named. But there is usually a comic purpose as the narrator discredits various types, with a relish we can share.

I included the quotation at the top of this review because it is in part a book about the young men's lives at University. In one of many romantic passages, Newman writes of Reding that "he could not have another Oxford".

I chose to read Loss and Gain because of my study of the aesthetic movement. Part, though by no means all, of the hostility met by those artists and writers was fed by a panic about conversions. Newman takes great pains to refute any accusation that his protagonist is led away by beauty for its own sake. Reding's slow consideration is admirable in itself, but better than that, it gives the reader all the more sympathy with him as his ideas develop.

[Fonch · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dedicated with great affection to Ian Ker https://www.goodreads.com/author/show..., whose soul God keeps.
Ladies and gentlemen, this book does not count in my contest, since it is a rereading. In fact, like Hilaire Belloc's "The Servile State" it is https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1... https://www.goodreads.com/author/show... the December book that was elected, and which is being talked about in The Catholic Book Club https://www.goodreads.com/topic/group... in @goodreads . I must praise the wonderful edition that the publisher has made @edicionesencuentro, just for that, and the graphic material deserves one more star. It's not the first time I've read "Loss and Gain." This is the third time I've done it. This book was written by St. John Henry Newman in 1847, to respond to a series of libels attacking Catholicism, and conversions of Oxonians to Catholicism. In this book St. John Henry Newman answers them. This book has several flaws first it is too advanced, and difficult, and more in these times when there is great theological ignorance, and religious, if you find yourself in this case. This book is going to cost you, and if you know nothing about the history of England, nor about the Oxford movement you can also get lost, and reading may seem very dry. Professor Manuel Alfonseca, and I disagree he likes the first two parts of the book (3/4), and I like the last 50 pages what would be the third part where St. John Henry Newman (although his hero is torn by doubts, and his desire for conversion), writes the funniest part of the novel. Another flaw that I see is that unlike what Brandon Sanderson defends https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6... https://www.goodreads.com/author/show... to create a powerful story, and then put a message. This book opts instead for a message, and the plot as an excuse. The system is somewhat archaic opting for a platonic novel in which the characters exchange their points of view. However, the novel has very interesting elements presents us with a rejuvenated Newman, who tells in a partially autobiographical way his time at Oxford, and how he was converted to Catholicism through his protagonist Charles Reding (it is curious how the young Saint John Henry Newman looks so physically like Harry Potter https://www.goodreads.com/series/4517... ). Many of the characters are inspired by real characters Willis (the catholicizer could be Hurrell Froude https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...), Brownside (it could be Renn Hampton a liberal theologian whom Newman opposed, and whom he tried to block the chair, Newman would show his relationship with Whately, Golighthy, White White https://www.goodreads.com/author/show... (the liberal Spanish convert to Protestantism, on the subject of liberalism I recommend my criticism of "Don Álvaro, y la fuerza del sino" https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) among others. Campbell is inspired by a Cambridge University Professor who helped John Keble https://www.goodreads.com/author/show..., and Pusey https://www.goodreads.com/author/show.... Many of the characters are allegories Bateman (Anglo-Catholicism, or the High Church), Shefield (would be an incarnation of the one who puts the world above the spiritual. He did not know if he is inspired by any friend of Newman), Freeborn (it would be inspired by evangelism), White (he would embody the apostat, and his evolution seems clearer to me than I thought at first), along with the friend of the Malcolm family (these characters will be the worst off). All religions (some very marginal, but show the division of Protestantism), Methodists, Darbinians, Unitarians, created sects, Irvingnians, Zionists are analyzed. It is the resulting world, and created by Locke https://www.goodreads.com/author/show... in which everything but Catholicism, atheism, and Islam is tolerated. An atheist would encounter the same problems as Reding. Items must be accepted, even if you don't believe in them, or don't know why like Bateman. Anyway, Newman subjects us to a lot of discussions, but throughout the story the characters begin to come to life, and talk about other topics which relaxes the plot. That it is not known if it is a novel, or a play. There are touching moments like Reding's relationship, and his family (reminiscent of Newman's relationship with his brothers, here only his three sisters appear, but not his male brothers whom he raised, and raised, but by becoming like Mishkin with Pavlichev in the "Idiot" https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1... they would end up disowning him). In fact, giving up the family was the hardest sacrifice Reding/Newman will make. I particularly liked Reding's tutors. Vincent (of not committing to any party), or Carlton who defends the compromise. The influence of the Passionists on Newman is also counted. I felt very identified when Reding failed his exam, because I also endured the pressure badly. There are very interesting topics that are discussed, such as Bateman, who argues that the England prior to St. Augustine of Canterbury, and that consecrated Paulinus, Melito as bishops would be an independent Church of Rome. Something, which I insisted on demonstrating in "The Druid" by Steven A. MacKay https://www.goodreads.com/review/show..., which was false, like the supposed autonomy of the Celtic monasticism of St. Patrick, for this I recommend the novel "The Travels of Mailoc. The book of the hermit Ronan" by Father Santiago Cantera https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/5... https://www.goodreads.com/author/show.... There's the hilarious conversation that White and Willis have with the Bolton sisters, or the Roman chapels, or Bateman's attempts to get the seemingly repentant Willis on the right track. I also liked the dialogue of the grieving Reding with the priest at the station, and his farewell to Carlton (the final part for its humor has a very Dickensian touch https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...).
Personally, I would have liked him to have put in some character like Cardinal Nicholas Patrick Wiseman https://www.goodreads.com/author/show... with whom St. John Henry Newman argued.
In short, it is a good novel especially the final part, which helps us understand what led Newman to conversion, and that it can help us. At the same time it dismantles the Clichés of that tolerant England that they want to present to us, and that here it is seen that the Proctor, the Bulldogs are a police state. There is no violence, no martyrdoms as in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries (the Gordon's riots were the last martyrdoms of Catholics in England https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1...), but discrimination, or mild totalitarianism, and a paranoia against Catholicism. It seems that Protestantism survives only because of a national issue, and because of the negative behavior that Protestants see in some priests, and in some Popes. Also because it is very comfortable to be subject to the civil authorities, and to the State, than to be free. Hence this reciprocity between Protestantism and socialism. Although it takes us to the "Servile State", which Hilaire Belloc already denounced. In the end it is the City of God, against the Earth City. My grade will be (4/5). Finally, St. John Henry Newman would have been the forerunner of Oxonian university-themed novels. Without him "Zuleika Dobson" by Max Beerbohm https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7... https://www.goodreads.com/author/show..., "Sinister Street" by Compton McKenzie https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6... https://www.goodreads.com/author/show..., "Brideshead Revisited" by Evelyn Waugh https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3... https://www.goodreads.com/author/show..., or the novels of Barbara Pym https://www.goodreads.com/author/show..., or David Lodge https://www.goodreads.com/author/show... they could not have been written. Although I like more "Calixta fragments of the Third Century" https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4... (a brief history of St. Cyprian. It is interesting to compare it with "Felix of Lusitania" by Jesús Sánchez Adalid https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2... https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...), "Fabiola" by Nicholas Patrick Wiseman https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1..., let alone "Quo Vadis" by Henryk Sienkiewicz https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/5... https://www.goodreads.com/author/show... . "Loss and Gain", despite its difficulty improves over time, and I highly recommend it. PD. Some critics consider that the Smith named in this novel could be either Newman himself, or Cardinal Henry Manning https://www.goodreads.com/author/show... (Newman's own rival although they eventually reconciled).

[Václav Kubíček · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kardinál John Henry Neman po své konverzi ke katolicismu napsal o této své zkušenosti dvě důležité knihy: Apologia pro vita sua a Ztráta a zisk. Druhá z nich románově vypráví o mladíkovi Charlesi Redingovi, který skrze intelektuální poctivost a navzdory ohromnému tlaku členů anglikánské církve rozhodne ke konverzi.

Příběh je poutavý, plný mnoha diskuzí reprezentující soucasné názorové klima kolem Oxfordu. Newman ale ve čtenáři touží především probudit vůli k pravdě. Nejen k jejímu intelektuálnímu nalezení (notional assent), ale hlavně k odhodlání se podle nalezené pravdy řídit (real assent).

[Elisabeth · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a great, and moving book. the spiritual development is portrayed very well. The only negative is that some of the conversations are a bit boring and to me off the point; not very many but a few.

2nd read.

I love this book so much!! True it does drag quite a lot at times, engage a lot on theological debates of the time that aren't very relavent now, but I still love it. There are some moments of such transcendent beauty and joy, such love and glory that raise the whole book up. An interesting thing about this book is that it us almost like an autobiography in novel format. It contains fictional characters, bit shows the experience of John Henry Newman himself, which is why it shows so accurately the process of conversion, the heartbreak and the joy the loss and gain.
I really like Charles but Willis is my favourite. He is such a very silly boy at first, but later on... Ah. Perfect.
It reminds me quite a bit of Robert Hugh Benson's books, which is not surprising considering Benson and Newman were both converts from Anglicanism to Catholicism at around the same time. While Benson's books may be more interesting as a novel, they both share that same beauty and joy.
As a side note, my love of this book is amplified by the fact that I read it from a very old book (which is sadly falling apart) that was published in 1864!!!!
Also I feel profoundly sorry for Charles when all those visitors disturb him, it is also very funny XD
And the ending. Best. Part. Of. The. Whole. Book.

[L. M. · Rating 5 out of 5]

An unusual novel: serious, warm, funny, and true.

[Nenad Knezevic · Rating 4 out of 5]

John Henry Newman was one of the intellectual giants of the Victorian era. Born in London in 1801, he led a long life filled with intellectual curiosity and deep concern with matters of faith. Originally an Anglican priest and theologian based in Oxford, he famously converted to Roman Catholicism in 1845, continuing his ministry as a Catholic priest, prominent public theologian and educator. He died in Birmingham in 1890, and was made saint by Pope Francis in 2019.

Nowadays a person’s religious conversion probably wouldn’t cause so much public interest, but in the 1800s England it was a matter of great controversy: Newman’s conversion came at the height of the influential Oxford Movement which sought to reform the Church of England by making it, to put it simply, less Protestant and more traditionally Catholic—a reform agenda that many were extremely opposed to, for a variety of reasons. Newman was very much at the heart of that movement, but eventually he went a step further and actually left Anglicanism altogether.

Loss and Gain is going to feel like a strange kind of novel without this historical and cultural background. Newman first published it in 1848, and it was his first book after the conversion, so it’s hardly surprising that its tone is often polemical. It’s been described as a philosophical novel and a Bildungsroman, but it’s also a theological novel, filled with dialogues on various points of doctrine—Catholic, Protestant, and Reformed.

The book’s main character is Charles Reding, a young man intent on becoming an Anglican priest. However, at Oxford he gets exposed to various church factions and teachings that make him question things, driving him further and further away from the mainstream, latitudinarian, Anglicanism. Eventually, he decides to join the Roman Catholic Church, resulting in him being shunned by the academic establishment and his own family.

Even if you are not terribly interested in Christian theology and religious ideas, the book offers a fascinating glimpse into the lives of young men studying at Oxford in the early 1800s. We get to learn a lot about their intellectual preoccupations and interests, but also about the everyday life at this famous university centre. Newman knew the place well, which you can see by numerous little details he provides, including specific references and colloquialisms typical of the time and place.

As I was reading the book, I felt Newman managed to present some of the anguish that can come with religious conversion: there are fears of losing one’s status and access to career opportunities, not to mention the risk of broken family relations and friendships. This is the ‘loss’ part of the book—loss made tolerable only by what is to be gained by responding affirmatively and faithfully to that higher call.

The ‘gain’ part of the book, however, is a lot shorter and more vague. Even though so much of Loss and Gain is about a rational exposition of different and contentious theological points, Charles’ drive to conversion is ultimately inexplicable. At one point he realises he simply must convert, no matter what. One slightly less believable aspect of the narrative is that, prior to his conversion, Charles hadn’t even attended a Catholic mass, or had any meaningful interactions with Catholic clergy (or laity, for that matter). Towards the end, Charles’ actions become more urgent and Newman’s writing more hurried.

What are we to make of this conversion story? Was it the end result of a solely intellectual exercise in theological thinking? Was it an act of subconscious youthful rebellion against the academic establishment and his mainstream Anglican family (Charles’ late father served as an Anglican clergyman in a small village), or does it hint at something providential and supernatural, as it were, working alongside—and sometimes contrary to—human reasoning? Newman would probably have us believe the latter, but to his credit, he leaves the door ajar for other interpretations. Or maybe that’s just me extrapolating.

It’s been claimed that “Loss and Gain” is the very first novel set in a predominantly university milieu, which would make it relevant in the context of the history of literature as one of the first campus novels. If you’re a theology buff (not necessarily Catholic), you’ll love all the discussions and theological speculations it contains. And if you’re more interested in Newman’s non-fiction, and more articulate, account of the events that led to his own conversion, you might want to read his 1864 book Apologia Pro Vita Sua.

P.S. The integral version of the review, with additional resources, is available on my blog.

[Savannah Chorn · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a very compelling novel if you are interested in theological debates of Victorian England. Lightly veiled as Newman himself, the story follows Charles Reding, a student at Oxford and aspiring priest of the Church of England who becomes dissatisfied with Anglicanism and converts to Roman Catholicism. Not much plot beyond that, but 90% of the novel is dialogue, and I love reading dialogue and theological debate. Lots of information on evangelicalism, Unitarianism, dissenters broadly, and of course Anglicanism and Roman Catholicism. I also appreciated the main character’s stance on argumentation — he often sat back and listened to the theological debates and did not contribute until he felt like he had enough information on the topic.

[Jan Kubiznak · Rating 4 out of 5]

Román o konverzi mi připomínal manžele Hahnovi a jejich Řím, sladký domov (https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6...), ale o více než jedno století starší. V tomto případě je až neuvěřitelné, že ke konverzi dochází jen na základě myšlenkové upřímnosti při hledání pravdy ohledně nekonzistentnosti své vlastní (anglikánské) víry. Rozhodně bych ale tento román nedoporučoval číst bez znalostí nebo zájmu o tuto tématiku.

"..uchylují se k představě, že to všechno je důkazem, že jsou svobodomyslní, umírnění, nezaujatí, že se drží zlaté střední cesty, že nejsou žádní straníci, když jsou přitom nejbezmocnějšími otroky. Vždyť naší silou na tomto světě je podřizovat se rozumu a naší svobodou být zajatci pravdy."

[Helen the Bassist · Rating 3 out of 5]

This one's ticked a few boxes on the not-at-all-average reading challenge:
Theological Fiction
Victorian
A saint as an author!

Not being a fan of Bronte / Austen / Dickens and their ilk it took me a while to get used to the prose but this was an enjoyable and gentle way for the author to respond to criticism of him at the time.

The latter chapter where a succession of peculiar characters visit the protagonist to attempt to persuade him to reverse his hard thought decision demonstrates quite amusingly that even in the nineteenth century "you always get your lunatic fringe". (Plass, A).

[John · Rating 5 out of 5]

Our new saint Cardinal Newman.

Charles is a seeker of the truth. His heart is restless. He looks for authority that shows him that truth. A believable tale of conversion.

Very well written.

[Helen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Maybe I'm weird, but I really enjoyed this book. I like Newman a lot and it didn't bother me that the 'plot' was thin. It just made the debate more interesting that it was framed by a story.

[Jessica · Rating 3 out of 5]

So this is how those fabled 1 AM dorm talks would have gone in the nineteenth century (except it's late afternoon and you're in a tree-lined avenue)! Most of the appeal here for me came down to these simulations, which, I'm willing to bet on the strength of Newman's background, came minutely close to their originals. So, you'd get a passage like this -

"Well, sir, but think of this," said Charles, "scents are complete in themselves, yet do not consist of parts. Think how very distinct the smell of a rose is from a pink, a pink from a sweet-pea, a sweet-pea from a stock, a stock from lilac, lilac from lavender, lavender from jasmine, jasmine from honeysuckle, honeysuckle from hawthorn, hawthorn from hyacinth, hyacinth"——

"Spare us," interrupted Mr. Malcolm; "you are going through the index of Loudon!"

"And these are only the scents of flowers; how different flowers smell from fruits, fruits from spices, spices from roast-beef or pork-cutlets, and so on. Now, what I was coming to is this—these scents are perfectly distinct from each other, and sui generis; they never can be confused; yet each is communicated to the apprehension in an instant. Sights take up a great space, a tune is a succession of sounds; but scents are at once specific and complete, yet indivisible. Who can halve a scent? they need neither time nor space; thus they are immaterial or spiritual."

- which is so fun! Call me out to that dorm room, I'm there.

There was quite a lot of dialogue in this novel, predictably, and this was perhaps the focal point of the book anyway, its smoky antiquarian attraction aside, insofar as Loss and Gain tracks the progress of religious idea(l)s. I had already read Newman's Apologia, and not only: basically, anything of Newman's I'll read, so long as it doesn't go entirely over my head by dint of complex theology. There were passages in this book I didn't know enough (or care!) to fully appreciate, ones that carried too heavily their mantle of either historical relevance or ecclesiastical meaning. I think it's safe to assume you'll find this book boring without an interest in Newman, Tractarianism, or the representation of religion in Victorian literature. It's a fictionalization of the Apologia, in essence, that doesn't have much going for it in the way of character or plot development, from a literary-aesthetic perspective.

This is not to say that one doesn't feel for Charles Reding, Newman's proxy, acutely at the time of his conversion. It's understating things to say that was a big deal: it was unequivocal how much Reding, qua Newman, sacrificed in the name of faith - the livelihood he had been educated for, a claim to that education, and practically all of his native community, including friends and associates, mentors, and even family. To all intents and purposes, there was a cancel culture around going over to Rome. Take this passage, for instance, eminently poignant:

"... wherever I go, whomever I talk with, I feel him to be another sort of person from what I am. I can't convey it to you; you won't understand me; but the words of the Psalm, 'I am a stranger upon earth,' describe what I always feel. No one thinks or feels like me. I hear sermons, I talk on religious subjects with friends, and every one seems to bear witness against me. ..."

The supreme solitude of Reding’s experience of conversion, moreover, was one part of a greater ordeal of sticking out. In a passage following the one above, where Reding continues to try to explain himself to his sister, he indicts the lifestyle of senior divines in Oxford and abroad as confounding the essence of their preaching. He goes the length of distinguishing, and sparing, individuals from that ever-incorrigible entity, “the system,” but ultimately the critical defect isn’t even a susceptibility to hypocrisy or extravagance cultivated by the Church: it’s that “‘there is a worldly air about everything, as unlike as possible the spirit of the Gospel’.” If we are warranted in taking Reding for Newman, as I think pretty safe, then such a statement not only identifies a want he was able to fill, a failing he could rectify, in adopting the greater orthodoxy of Catholicism – it sets Newman apart from his contemporary peers not only in the Christian context, that is to say, but also in a cultural one, as seeking a depth of spirituality his age did not afford. I’m reading this counterculturalism, of sorts, into Reding’s observation to a degree, marshalling it on the strength of my knowledge of Newman, but that doesn’t compromise its significance in the scheme of this conversion narrative. It seems to me that Reding, like Newman, is a quite fundamentally alienated figure. The result of this, in the latter’s case, was a body of intellectual labor with a profound historical and enduring impact, beyond a “loss and gain” of religious affiliation.

I have abiding esteem for the magnitude of Newman’s feat, for his vigorous fortitude, among other qualities exemplified in his writing. He represents for me a seminal Victorian, a monumental thinker, and by all accounts an incredible person. Perhaps this novel isn’t the first of his works I’d recommend, but it certainly isn’t the last I’ll consult for their intelligence, their wisdom, their penetration, their humanity, and their allowance of comfort, too.

[Jack Mullins]

In Loss and Gain, Newman prefigures his later autobiographical Apologia by recounting and defending the conversion experience of the fictional Oxford man, Charles Reding. Perhaps at this early stage, three years after his own submission to Rome, fiction seemed a more accommodating genre to express the spiritual subtleties of conversion, which, by my assessment, he does quite well. Charles' conversion is not a straight and narrow path but rather a slow amble along a twisting trail, the end of which remains hidden until the final straightaway. Though I’ve not swum the Tiber myself, that ambling certainly echoes my own journey in the spiritual life.

I simply enjoyed Loss and Gain as a novel. It's a very human story of the hero's quest for truth and the sacrifices he must make to attain it. It succeeds as an amalgam of philosophical and literary elements. For example, the author largely structures his story as succession of scholarly debates and discussions among peers. Later, after his hero's conversion is inwardly complete, he parodies those gentlemanly discussions with a comedic series of religious eccentrics each coming to persuade Charles to join their very niche cause. It also has its moments of luminous beauty, which should be no surprise to anyone familiar with Newman's devotional writing.

Finally, the novel provides a fascinating glimpse into the religious climate of 1840s Oxford. More than anything else I've read, it made real for me just how high the stakes were for those men who brought into question the anti-Catholic bias that had undergirded England's religious and intellectual life for three centuries. For that reason, I wonder if it shouldn't be more widely read among Anglicans of all stripes today.

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

An annotated ed. such as the old Oxford Classics or the new Ignatius Press one is recommended, rather than the plain-wrap public domain version listed here. I wish it was an audiobook. While often dismissed as a thinly veiled and obviously autobiographical attempt at fiction, I enjoyed it. Also recommended is Roderick Strange's brief take on John Henry Newman, A Mind Alive (which I reviewed; the audio is splendidly performed by Bob Sinfield.) Now, I want to learn more about this newly sainted mastermind, and perhaps Fr Strange's ed. of his letters may be where next to turn? Any suggestions as to books are welcome, as Newman after all these years remains rather too new to me.

[Beth Kadar · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rather laborious reading requiring a lot of context in the beginning, but definitely worth it. Includes great discussions about religion, art, society and social roles, but is not always written in an easy style. You can witness an immensely interesting inner development of the main character and towards the end the book gets even humorous - generally the novel becomes more readable towards the end, but I am unable to say whether this was due to me finally getting to know the autobiographical protagonist, or to a shift in writing style.

[Maxwell Ladhoff · Rating 2 out of 5]

I have a great amount of respect for Newman as an intellectual, but I found his novel extremely dry, and so slow (with a conclusion so foregone) that I struggled to be attentive. The characters, while occasionally humorous (and I swear I’ve met these people in real life on more than one occasion; they’re so archetypal that they can’t help but feel familiar) are largely bores (like most of us). All in all, I wish Newman had instead written a simple book of apologetics. This novel may have appealed to a certain audience in his day, but it’s hard to find one now.

[Ricky Balas · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've come to admire the thinking of Newman and I appreciate him working his thoughts into fiction here. The Oxford Movement is a fascinating attempt to draw back ancient tradition into a reformed (and increasingly secular) society during the mid-19th century. Newman personified this movement even though he became disillusioned by it and eventually left for the RC church. This is a portrait of himself explained in the life of a made up persona.

[Almachius · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fictionalised account of Newman's conversion.

Makes me wonder if Mr Reding would have converted in 2021.

The finest passages are the bits of 19th Century intellectual, familiar and social conversation if, that is, they are even slightly genuine. The little glimpses of Catholic worship are worth the read too. Enjoyable.

[Lisa Wheeler · Rating 5 out of 5]

A great work by St. JHN

For any who love John Henry Newman you’ll agree with my headline. This feels like an autobiography, especially if you know the authors own conversion history. As is usually the case with our saint-author, there are many quotable lines. Just read and enjoy.

[Margabasa · Rating 4 out of 5]

El libro narra de manera en gran medida autobiográfica la conversión de Charles, un joven que busca la verdad y la encuentra.

[Alex McDougall · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of my favorite books

[Christina Moss · Rating 2 out of 5]

2 stars as a novel, 4 stars if it would have just been an autobiographical essay

[Eduuuuu · Rating 5 out of 5]

Qué maestro de la ironía. Gracias, Doctor.