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Lapsed
Losing your religion is harder than it looks ...
From devout ten-year-old performing the part of Jesus in a primary school play to blaspheming, undergraduate atheist, Monica Dux and her attitude to the Catholic Church changed profoundly over a decade. Ten years on she'd calmed right down and was just 'lapsed'. Then, on a family trip to Rome, her young daughter expressed a desire to be baptised. Monica found herself re-examining her own childhood and how Catholicism had shaped her. Was it really out of her system or was it in her blood fr life?
In Lapsed, Monica sets out to find the answer. Her investigations lead her to test a miracle cure in Lourdes and to steal from a church. She visits the grave of a headless Saint who claimed to be married to Christ (and wore a wedding ring made of his foreskin to prove it), and speaks to cannon lawyers, abuse survivors and even a nun who insists that the Virgin Mary starts her car every morning. She ponders the big questions, such as would Jesus really make a great dinner party guest? And, far more seriously, given what she now knows about clerical abuse and its extent, is it enough to turn her back on the Church, or did she have a deeper, more enduring obligation?
With the wry humour of David Sedaris and the razor-sharp observations of Nora Ephron, Lapsed is the story of one woman's attempt to exorcise her religious upbringing, and to answer the question, is Catholicism like a blood group and, if so, is it possible to get a total transfusion?
'It made me laugh, cry and swear.' Jane Caro
From devout ten-year-old performing the part of Jesus in a primary school play to blaspheming, undergraduate atheist, Monica Dux and her attitude to the Catholic Church changed profoundly over a decade. Ten years on she'd calmed right down and was just 'lapsed'. Then, on a family trip to Rome, her young daughter expressed a desire to be baptised. Monica found herself re-examining her own childhood and how Catholicism had shaped her. Was it really out of her system or was it in her blood fr life?
In Lapsed, Monica sets out to find the answer. Her investigations lead her to test a miracle cure in Lourdes and to steal from a church. She visits the grave of a headless Saint who claimed to be married to Christ (and wore a wedding ring made of his foreskin to prove it), and speaks to cannon lawyers, abuse survivors and even a nun who insists that the Virgin Mary starts her car every morning. She ponders the big questions, such as would Jesus really make a great dinner party guest? And, far more seriously, given what she now knows about clerical abuse and its extent, is it enough to turn her back on the Church, or did she have a deeper, more enduring obligation?
With the wry humour of David Sedaris and the razor-sharp observations of Nora Ephron, Lapsed is the story of one woman's attempt to exorcise her religious upbringing, and to answer the question, is Catholicism like a blood group and, if so, is it possible to get a total transfusion?
'It made me laugh, cry and swear.' Jane Caro
304 pages, Paperback
Published April 7, 2021
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June 17, 2021
I was brought up catholic – baptised as a baby in the long white gown, went to catholic school, even though my father was an atheist (there’s a hypocrite for you but he wanted me to have a “good” education which apparently, I couldn’t get at the local state primary or high school!), went to mass (not with Dad of course), recited the Hail Mary’s using rosary beads, etc.
I was intrigued by this memoir because Catholicism is a shared childhood experience I laugh about with my old school friends - like dressing up as a mini-bride for my first communion, saying prayers every day and services every week before school assembly and when a teacher entered the room greeting them with, “Good Morning Mr/Ms, God bless you”. I was curious to read this memoir especially as Monica Dux is an Australian author and we are of the same catholic generation.
I found this book “laugh-out-loud” funny – like when she describes “making up sins” for confession. I would feel guilty for making up sins, but knew I had to say something to the priest- after all we were all sinners! I remember when I was 9 I took 20c from my Dad’s change jar on top for the fridge for tuckshop without asking and I was thrilled to finally be able to tell the priest at confession I “stole” money from my parents! She also talks about all those saints we were taught about. I loved getting a book out of our school library that was all about the saints. A beautiful hard cover version with these stunning coloured paintings of Saints with their “miracles” even though many of them died the most gruesome deaths for their “faith”.
Whilst this is a very funny and satirical look at Catholicism, I wouldn’t say this book is for those who still believe in it as there are some very confronting and dare, I say truthful historical information about the church and faith in Jesus and Mary itself. I agreed with her views but some may see them as disrespectful and making fun of their faith and beliefs. There is also confronting facts about the institution with its patriarchy and of course child abuse. Whilst I myself, never had those experiences and the priests and nuns I was taught by or spent time with were kind, compassionate and selfless, there are times when you do question if some of them weren’t quite that way, because of systematic cover-ups in the church.
My experience wasn’t like many horrific stories I have heard, and I felt part of an institution that was supportive and kind – my brother committed suicide when I was 15 and I remember the priest and the school and the church being nothing but kind, compassionate and supportive – surrounding us with love and care. Not once did anyone say what my brother did was a “sin” yet when I was 18 I remember being distraught when a group of friends from a so called “progressive happy clapper uniting church” told me that he had committed a grave sin and unless he had asked for forgiveness before he died he would be in hell – my innocent, sweet brother? Yet they then proceeded to tell me that Ted Bundy, that American serial killer, had asked for forgiveness on death row and so would be in heaven. That was it for me! I said well if that’s where he is I don’t’ want to go to heaven and would rather be in hell with my brother. I’ve turned my back on organised religion and God ever since.
My catholic upbringing was an important part of my life as it was for Monica. It doesn't leave you – I can still recite The Lord’s prayer and Hail Mary on cue and if I have to enter a catholic church for say a funeral I will automatically bless myself with holy water and sit with my knees together (ladies don’t’ cross their legs in church!) but I never wanted my children to have that upbringing. They have never been baptised or attended church or attended catholic school, unlike many of my family and friends who whilst not “practising” Catholics get their kids baptised to get into “good” catholic schools – that smacks of hypocrisy to me but who am I to judge….lol
I have recommend this book to all my catholic school friends – it is funny, well-written and nostalgic but doesn't shy away from the problems with the church, its history and its out-dated views. Be prepared though to reflect on your own life and the impact Catholicism has on you and continues to whether you think it does or not.
I was intrigued by this memoir because Catholicism is a shared childhood experience I laugh about with my old school friends - like dressing up as a mini-bride for my first communion, saying prayers every day and services every week before school assembly and when a teacher entered the room greeting them with, “Good Morning Mr/Ms, God bless you”. I was curious to read this memoir especially as Monica Dux is an Australian author and we are of the same catholic generation.
I found this book “laugh-out-loud” funny – like when she describes “making up sins” for confession. I would feel guilty for making up sins, but knew I had to say something to the priest- after all we were all sinners! I remember when I was 9 I took 20c from my Dad’s change jar on top for the fridge for tuckshop without asking and I was thrilled to finally be able to tell the priest at confession I “stole” money from my parents! She also talks about all those saints we were taught about. I loved getting a book out of our school library that was all about the saints. A beautiful hard cover version with these stunning coloured paintings of Saints with their “miracles” even though many of them died the most gruesome deaths for their “faith”.
Whilst this is a very funny and satirical look at Catholicism, I wouldn’t say this book is for those who still believe in it as there are some very confronting and dare, I say truthful historical information about the church and faith in Jesus and Mary itself. I agreed with her views but some may see them as disrespectful and making fun of their faith and beliefs. There is also confronting facts about the institution with its patriarchy and of course child abuse. Whilst I myself, never had those experiences and the priests and nuns I was taught by or spent time with were kind, compassionate and selfless, there are times when you do question if some of them weren’t quite that way, because of systematic cover-ups in the church.
My experience wasn’t like many horrific stories I have heard, and I felt part of an institution that was supportive and kind – my brother committed suicide when I was 15 and I remember the priest and the school and the church being nothing but kind, compassionate and supportive – surrounding us with love and care. Not once did anyone say what my brother did was a “sin” yet when I was 18 I remember being distraught when a group of friends from a so called “progressive happy clapper uniting church” told me that he had committed a grave sin and unless he had asked for forgiveness before he died he would be in hell – my innocent, sweet brother? Yet they then proceeded to tell me that Ted Bundy, that American serial killer, had asked for forgiveness on death row and so would be in heaven. That was it for me! I said well if that’s where he is I don’t’ want to go to heaven and would rather be in hell with my brother. I’ve turned my back on organised religion and God ever since.
My catholic upbringing was an important part of my life as it was for Monica. It doesn't leave you – I can still recite The Lord’s prayer and Hail Mary on cue and if I have to enter a catholic church for say a funeral I will automatically bless myself with holy water and sit with my knees together (ladies don’t’ cross their legs in church!) but I never wanted my children to have that upbringing. They have never been baptised or attended church or attended catholic school, unlike many of my family and friends who whilst not “practising” Catholics get their kids baptised to get into “good” catholic schools – that smacks of hypocrisy to me but who am I to judge….lol
I have recommend this book to all my catholic school friends – it is funny, well-written and nostalgic but doesn't shy away from the problems with the church, its history and its out-dated views. Be prepared though to reflect on your own life and the impact Catholicism has on you and continues to whether you think it does or not.
June 30, 2021
“Semel Catholicus, semper Catholicus” (“Once a Catholic, always a Catholic”) -Principle in Canonical Law
According to dictionaries the word lapsed means ‘expired or no longer valid’. A lapsed Catholic however, is often defined as a mere spiritual backslider, a non-practitioner who, according to the church’s canonical law, forever remains a Catholic.There is still some validity, and it remains like a permanent stain. Those brought up in the church will understand how it seems to be a club you can never escape, somehow getting its hooks into your very being, so even when you abandon faith, there are stubborn parts of Catholicism holding on. In "Lapsed" Monica Dux explores this curious anchoring relationship with a lively and droll humour, balanced with extensively researched explication of the weird world of Catholicism, its history and rules.
This book is not for fervent believers, as it is likely to bluntly confront them at times. Described by the publishers as being “for anyone who grew up Catholic - and their support team”, ex-Catholics like me will see it as a wink and an elbow nudge about crazy shared experiences, whilst to others it may just explain much of the crazy Catholic stuff they witness. Mostly though, this book is an autobiography in the style of David Sedaris, a report from a life that seems impossibly weird and funny, even to the subject. Monica’s family features heavily, her siblings and children act as foils to her protagonist as she makes her way in a world between archaic rules and modern life.
This book resonated deeply for me. Although I am somewhat older than the author, Monica’s Catholic upbringing is similar to my own. My childhood can best be described as ‘chronically Catholic’; full of rituals, rules, penitence and holy art, and endless masses.This was totally immersive religiosity and forever ‘on’, day and night. This is Catholic serious, not Catholic lite. "Lapsed" brilliantly portrays Australian suburban Catholic life in the late 20th Century. The church set your role models, regulated your tastes, dictated who you’d socialise with, and had generally had endless expectations of you. But there was also the mystical side, full of miracles and visions, holy relics and transcendence of the ‘evil’ flesh. Stories of ‘uncorrupted’ saints’ bodies and wounded stigmatics, hyper-gory picture books and icons of tortured martyrs were laid upon our impressionable minds. We took it all in, at least for a while. No wonder it is hard to escape later on. Monica Dux explores much of this world cynically, though guiltily admitting to an emotional nostalgia for hymns and Biblical epics, and even taking her family to visit tombs of headless saints, and on a holiday trip ’pilgrimage’ to Lourdes.
As you’d expect from a feminist social commentator, Dux has much to say about the damaging aspects of the patriarchal church, including the life of nuns, the appalling treatment of gay and transgender believers, the horrific institutional child abuse, and priests who literally see themselves as God-Almighty-made-flesh. And then there is the mess of hardlines on abortion, contraception and women’s rights. Dux supports many personal (and fair) observations with rigorous research and hundreds of cited sources, and many of these facts will startle and bemuse the reader. The dichotomy of dark and light, of evil centred within the holy, is one of the powerful aspects of "Lapsed", as, doubting her local clergy, Monica writes, “how are we to know anything anymore?” If the core is rotten, what is left? Such a world of archaic dogmatic certainty is struggling to survive in the harsh light of our secular times, and this can still deeply affect the lapsed as if their past has been altered. If your very identity is tied to a shonky institution, what then?
Much of Catholic orthodoxy is funny enough, the many holes in its logic plastered-over with metaphysical explanations that bear no scrutiny. Some of the more bizarre beliefs are plain crazy and it is easy to snigger, but "Lapsed" goes beyond cheap shots to look at an institution and shared experience that is built on shaky scaffolding of our own construction. The author lays bare the machinations behind core beliefs and asks why she still holds on to bits of Catholicism. If you have seen behind the magic trick, why do you still respect it? Is it because of family obligations and tradition? Is it the seductive paraphernalia, smells and sounds of childhood comfort and belonging? Is turning your back on your religion an act of affirmation, a stronger moral calling than mere acquiescence? The underlying seam of these questions (of course) is the ever-present Catholic guilt in asking. Dux writes, “I know I won’t be able to wash away the mark of my Catholicism, not really, but I can draw a line. Because when I lapsed, I didn’t just quit something. I chose a new way.” In "Lapsed", Dux not only looks ahead, but casts an eye on the legacy she cannot erase.
The heavier aspects of this book are softened by the many candid family tales, and the ever sarcastic wry take Monica delivers. Sharply observed and very funny, this is a book I didn’t expect but needed. Many Australian Catholic families are like the Dux’s, but I’d wager that not many are this frank. This is a deeply personal journey that Monica has invited us on, but it is similar to the path of many of the lapsed; from impertinent adolescent questioning to radical undergraduate atheist, finally through to settling philosophical maturity. The difference to her story is that Monica’s self-examination is both relentless and honest (perhaps itself a legacy of Catholic confession?). Ex-Catholics will recognise the scars (the guilt, the magical thinking, some problematic views of sex and the constant feeling of undeserving), and nod knowingly, but there is much more to this thoughtful book. Dux’s handling of her children’s religious curiosity is particularly touching and indeed the role of the loving family is core to the book’s narrative as the author sees Catholic family values as a distinctive marker of the breed.This is a rich mix.
"Lapsed" leaves you thinking about your own shaping and moral stance, and that of your family (and Catholic families are, well, different. They even define themselves as separate). If you were once a Catholic, or you love a lapsed one, you need to read this book. It is a great conversation starter.
According to dictionaries the word lapsed means ‘expired or no longer valid’. A lapsed Catholic however, is often defined as a mere spiritual backslider, a non-practitioner who, according to the church’s canonical law, forever remains a Catholic.There is still some validity, and it remains like a permanent stain. Those brought up in the church will understand how it seems to be a club you can never escape, somehow getting its hooks into your very being, so even when you abandon faith, there are stubborn parts of Catholicism holding on. In "Lapsed" Monica Dux explores this curious anchoring relationship with a lively and droll humour, balanced with extensively researched explication of the weird world of Catholicism, its history and rules.
This book is not for fervent believers, as it is likely to bluntly confront them at times. Described by the publishers as being “for anyone who grew up Catholic - and their support team”, ex-Catholics like me will see it as a wink and an elbow nudge about crazy shared experiences, whilst to others it may just explain much of the crazy Catholic stuff they witness. Mostly though, this book is an autobiography in the style of David Sedaris, a report from a life that seems impossibly weird and funny, even to the subject. Monica’s family features heavily, her siblings and children act as foils to her protagonist as she makes her way in a world between archaic rules and modern life.
This book resonated deeply for me. Although I am somewhat older than the author, Monica’s Catholic upbringing is similar to my own. My childhood can best be described as ‘chronically Catholic’; full of rituals, rules, penitence and holy art, and endless masses.This was totally immersive religiosity and forever ‘on’, day and night. This is Catholic serious, not Catholic lite. "Lapsed" brilliantly portrays Australian suburban Catholic life in the late 20th Century. The church set your role models, regulated your tastes, dictated who you’d socialise with, and had generally had endless expectations of you. But there was also the mystical side, full of miracles and visions, holy relics and transcendence of the ‘evil’ flesh. Stories of ‘uncorrupted’ saints’ bodies and wounded stigmatics, hyper-gory picture books and icons of tortured martyrs were laid upon our impressionable minds. We took it all in, at least for a while. No wonder it is hard to escape later on. Monica Dux explores much of this world cynically, though guiltily admitting to an emotional nostalgia for hymns and Biblical epics, and even taking her family to visit tombs of headless saints, and on a holiday trip ’pilgrimage’ to Lourdes.
As you’d expect from a feminist social commentator, Dux has much to say about the damaging aspects of the patriarchal church, including the life of nuns, the appalling treatment of gay and transgender believers, the horrific institutional child abuse, and priests who literally see themselves as God-Almighty-made-flesh. And then there is the mess of hardlines on abortion, contraception and women’s rights. Dux supports many personal (and fair) observations with rigorous research and hundreds of cited sources, and many of these facts will startle and bemuse the reader. The dichotomy of dark and light, of evil centred within the holy, is one of the powerful aspects of "Lapsed", as, doubting her local clergy, Monica writes, “how are we to know anything anymore?” If the core is rotten, what is left? Such a world of archaic dogmatic certainty is struggling to survive in the harsh light of our secular times, and this can still deeply affect the lapsed as if their past has been altered. If your very identity is tied to a shonky institution, what then?
Much of Catholic orthodoxy is funny enough, the many holes in its logic plastered-over with metaphysical explanations that bear no scrutiny. Some of the more bizarre beliefs are plain crazy and it is easy to snigger, but "Lapsed" goes beyond cheap shots to look at an institution and shared experience that is built on shaky scaffolding of our own construction. The author lays bare the machinations behind core beliefs and asks why she still holds on to bits of Catholicism. If you have seen behind the magic trick, why do you still respect it? Is it because of family obligations and tradition? Is it the seductive paraphernalia, smells and sounds of childhood comfort and belonging? Is turning your back on your religion an act of affirmation, a stronger moral calling than mere acquiescence? The underlying seam of these questions (of course) is the ever-present Catholic guilt in asking. Dux writes, “I know I won’t be able to wash away the mark of my Catholicism, not really, but I can draw a line. Because when I lapsed, I didn’t just quit something. I chose a new way.” In "Lapsed", Dux not only looks ahead, but casts an eye on the legacy she cannot erase.
The heavier aspects of this book are softened by the many candid family tales, and the ever sarcastic wry take Monica delivers. Sharply observed and very funny, this is a book I didn’t expect but needed. Many Australian Catholic families are like the Dux’s, but I’d wager that not many are this frank. This is a deeply personal journey that Monica has invited us on, but it is similar to the path of many of the lapsed; from impertinent adolescent questioning to radical undergraduate atheist, finally through to settling philosophical maturity. The difference to her story is that Monica’s self-examination is both relentless and honest (perhaps itself a legacy of Catholic confession?). Ex-Catholics will recognise the scars (the guilt, the magical thinking, some problematic views of sex and the constant feeling of undeserving), and nod knowingly, but there is much more to this thoughtful book. Dux’s handling of her children’s religious curiosity is particularly touching and indeed the role of the loving family is core to the book’s narrative as the author sees Catholic family values as a distinctive marker of the breed.This is a rich mix.
"Lapsed" leaves you thinking about your own shaping and moral stance, and that of your family (and Catholic families are, well, different. They even define themselves as separate). If you were once a Catholic, or you love a lapsed one, you need to read this book. It is a great conversation starter.
May 14, 2021
My husband and I both read this book. He, born and bread Catholic with Irish roots. Because of his post-school career he was in a position to explore and grow his faith beyond the piety of his childhood.
Me, unchurched Anglican till my teens, surrounded by Catholic friends when growing up - so all those icons, prayers, Sr Janet Mead records became familiar to me as I played with Sharon, Veronica, Roselyn, and Shelly in the 70s. When I connected to my designated Anglican faith, it called into question many of what seemed to be impious to the basic tenents of scripture.
Since being married we have swung between membership of both churches, although while P has been made more than welcome in the Anglican church, I have always felt like I was the 'other'. Reminds me of the old joke about the wall dividing heaven. A newly arrived Protestant resident asked St Peter what the wall was in heaven, to which he replied that that was where the Catholics were located, they think they are the only ones here.
I can certainly say this book generated a lot of discussion in this household.
Me, unchurched Anglican till my teens, surrounded by Catholic friends when growing up - so all those icons, prayers, Sr Janet Mead records became familiar to me as I played with Sharon, Veronica, Roselyn, and Shelly in the 70s. When I connected to my designated Anglican faith, it called into question many of what seemed to be impious to the basic tenents of scripture.
Since being married we have swung between membership of both churches, although while P has been made more than welcome in the Anglican church, I have always felt like I was the 'other'. Reminds me of the old joke about the wall dividing heaven. A newly arrived Protestant resident asked St Peter what the wall was in heaven, to which he replied that that was where the Catholics were located, they think they are the only ones here.
I can certainly say this book generated a lot of discussion in this household.
July 2, 2021
Lasped is a fun and witty exploration into what it means to grow up Catholic in Australia and Monica Dux’s story of her attempt to exorcise religion from her life – and whether that’s even possible. It’s extremely clever and informative, delving into the history and ethics of the Catholic church, but also very accessible and likely relatable for many Australians, religious or not.
- Read by Celeste and Eleesa.
- Read by Celeste and Eleesa.
May 24, 2021
I laughed and snorted so many times. So much was my experience also. Like Monica it stops with me.
September 17, 2021
A tale many of us can relate to, she even writes like my brain thinks. Feisty wit and on point descriptions left me in no doubt as to her meaning. My only complaint, a bit long and a tad repetitive. Sometimes less is more.
“Luckily I was already in character, so I turned the other cheek.”
“For all my disbelief, religion has trailed me like a shadow.”
3 stars
“Luckily I was already in character, so I turned the other cheek.”
“For all my disbelief, religion has trailed me like a shadow.”
3 stars
April 12, 2021
A fun, yet well-researched look at what it means to be an ex-Catholic, and the ongoing power that Catholicism has over your life.
April 5, 2025
I can imagine how the conversation would go with the author of this book. I point out to her that she is needlessly flippant about God and the Christian faith. With a roll of the eyes, she'd tell me "yes, it's supposed to be a comedic book". This is one of those classic trap books that is trying to make a sharp and serious point, but actually dilutes its primary focus by painting a caricature of its target.
Dux wants to paint herself as a super-sincere Catholic kid who lost her faith, but it's clear from the beginning that she was more interested in herself than she was the God she followed. As the book continues, it's easy for this minister to say "I don't believe in the God you're talking about either", as she constantly straw man's the faith.
Even when she talks about the most serious and damning stuff, namely church abuse, Dux says that it is abominable that the church could ever say "we just didn't understand at the time", but mere pages later, she goes on to talk about parents, families and others who didn't appear to understand, and didn't challenge abuse as they should.
We should never shy away from the horrors of Church abuse (particularly since Jesus certainly didn't in his condemnation), but we also want to acknowledge that the broader culture had some pretty big issues that it needs to own.
As for any real theological reflections.... there are basically none. I was really hoping for more.
Dux wants to paint herself as a super-sincere Catholic kid who lost her faith, but it's clear from the beginning that she was more interested in herself than she was the God she followed. As the book continues, it's easy for this minister to say "I don't believe in the God you're talking about either", as she constantly straw man's the faith.
Even when she talks about the most serious and damning stuff, namely church abuse, Dux says that it is abominable that the church could ever say "we just didn't understand at the time", but mere pages later, she goes on to talk about parents, families and others who didn't appear to understand, and didn't challenge abuse as they should.
We should never shy away from the horrors of Church abuse (particularly since Jesus certainly didn't in his condemnation), but we also want to acknowledge that the broader culture had some pretty big issues that it needs to own.
As for any real theological reflections.... there are basically none. I was really hoping for more.
October 28, 2025
A genuinely moving personal account of deconstruction! Only giving it 4 stars because this author came from a Catholic background and the story was less relatable to me personally than other similar accounts. That being said I LOVED this book
October 3, 2021
Funny, fascinating and devastating if you had a Catholic upbringing.
July 14, 2021
This beautifully written work is both a memoir and an examination of the author’s dilemma that many lapsed Catholics will immediately acknowledge and appreciate: the lingering emotional and psychological remnants of a thoroughly rejected belief system that often continue to have an annoying habit of flashing back into consciousness, often unexpectedly, and especialy from surprising directions.
Dux attempts to search for some type of explanation for this residual effect by recalling not only her own history and circumstances, but also by bravely confronting and re-examining in some detail the beliefs, customs, justifications and even locations linked to those left-overs of her faith.
While this might sound like it could be heavy going for some readers, such a view is without foundation. Dux’s approach is light, cheery, and imbued with a delightful Australian sense of humour that makes it a joy to read. That does not mean that she either belittles or is afraid of tackling sometimes complex issues, but the reader always knows exactly where she stands in regard to her beliefs, and why. The result is a calming but quite honest coming to terms with her situation.
How one might deal personally with one’s own “demons” in this regard is obviously up to the individual reader to deal with, in whatever ways they might wish. But if there is an overwhelming sense to the book it is that leaving one’s faith and deep-held, cherished beliefs and convictions will leave us with scruples and maybe even pangs of conscience and misgivings that might leave us dissatisfied and unhappy with ourselves. They are, however, natural consequences psychologically, and it is perhaps essential that we concede that they exist; so it is quite OK to have and acknowledge them.
But it is also important to understand that we have to deal with them for what they are: the remnants and dregs of a personally failed belief system that no longer applies or is relevant to us. It may very well be that we might not be able to thoroughly eradicate them, but we do need to objectify and distance ourselves from them so that they can no longer continue to irritate and unsettle, or worse, psychologically damage us.
This book is probably the gentlest way to lead us out into the path of acceptance and understanding of ourselves. From this perspective its message is applicable to any lapsed member of any group, society, or religion. This might seem a bitter-sweet tonic, but its effect is definitely salubrious, and will help in providing relief and healing in the nicest possible way.
Dux attempts to search for some type of explanation for this residual effect by recalling not only her own history and circumstances, but also by bravely confronting and re-examining in some detail the beliefs, customs, justifications and even locations linked to those left-overs of her faith.
While this might sound like it could be heavy going for some readers, such a view is without foundation. Dux’s approach is light, cheery, and imbued with a delightful Australian sense of humour that makes it a joy to read. That does not mean that she either belittles or is afraid of tackling sometimes complex issues, but the reader always knows exactly where she stands in regard to her beliefs, and why. The result is a calming but quite honest coming to terms with her situation.
How one might deal personally with one’s own “demons” in this regard is obviously up to the individual reader to deal with, in whatever ways they might wish. But if there is an overwhelming sense to the book it is that leaving one’s faith and deep-held, cherished beliefs and convictions will leave us with scruples and maybe even pangs of conscience and misgivings that might leave us dissatisfied and unhappy with ourselves. They are, however, natural consequences psychologically, and it is perhaps essential that we concede that they exist; so it is quite OK to have and acknowledge them.
But it is also important to understand that we have to deal with them for what they are: the remnants and dregs of a personally failed belief system that no longer applies or is relevant to us. It may very well be that we might not be able to thoroughly eradicate them, but we do need to objectify and distance ourselves from them so that they can no longer continue to irritate and unsettle, or worse, psychologically damage us.
This book is probably the gentlest way to lead us out into the path of acceptance and understanding of ourselves. From this perspective its message is applicable to any lapsed member of any group, society, or religion. This might seem a bitter-sweet tonic, but its effect is definitely salubrious, and will help in providing relief and healing in the nicest possible way.
June 30, 2021
This book was not what I expected. The first few chapters were uncomfortably funny. With the similar Catholic upbringing I share with Dux, many of her memories resonated. The further I got into the book, “sh@t got real”. It is incredibly well researched and that was illuminating and made me reflect on a lot of the church’s darker side. I agree with a lot of her reflections and commentary, but not all of it. Her vitriol, which from the sounds of her experience, is warranted, was wearisome at times and went on just a bit long. I’m always put off by snide remarks that are supposed to be funny. It cheapened the read. This book is a catharsis for one writer, which she is perfectly entitled to. What she doesn’t acknowledge is that, among the many of us that are “lapsed” not all of us had a bad experience of the church or felt the need to leave it in a flurry of rebelliousness and trying to shock people. There was a hint of moral and intellectual superiority in the writing that assumed the rest of us that are not as devout as how we were raised, are not informed or contemplative enough. Really, many of us extricated ourselves to a degree we are comfortable with, and got on with our secular lives. It's Dux's judgement on those that have found a middle ground, that particularly annoyed me. Everyone's experience is not what hers was, some have some positive stories to tell, that does not mean they are deluded, uneducated, or not empathetic of the terrible experiences of many others. There are corrupt public institutions, with appalling histories, do we then say we completely dismiss any good they do? For a journalist, I think her inability to put her biases aside at some point, was disappointing.
September 19, 2021
Dragged on too long, Monica is not as funny as she thinks she is. Otherwise an interesting look into the darker aspects of the Catholic Church.
April 11, 2022
A hilarious account of life as a lapsed Catholic, and the ritualistic nature of the religion penetrates deeper than one would think.
June 14, 2024
This was very funny. My parents were Catholic before they converted to brethren/non-denominational Christianity, but despite attending the occasional Christmas Mass on visits to our relatives to India, I barely knew anything about Catholicism, except "how wrong" it was, with all the extra non-Biblical accoutrements Catholics had added to their faith. I had picked up snippets, about Mother Mary and rosary beads and purgatory and saint statues, but there were so many more specifics I learnt from this book.
I found the information about Vatican 2 particularly interesting, as these huge changes in practice didn't seem to have spread to Indian Catholicism as far as I had been able to glean - although perhaps these more "liberal" approaches were omitted deliberately or willfully in my parents' few reflections due to their later more fundamental stance. They always did seem particularly worried that we would be easily led astray by any hint of opposing thought against "true Christianity", only to be mentioned briefly following a heavy prefacing of mockery and/or confident dismissal. This always seemed problematic - either thinking we were too stupid to think critically and evaluate for ourselves or that these alternate messages were too convincing for some other reason...
It was interesting to consider throughout this which parts of their previous faith my parents brought with them to how they understood their new beliefs, and just how long some of those perspectives have been with them.
I did really like the author's exploration of her and her sibling's anger towards being raised in the church, and the ways they felt it had affected them, particularly in examining all their family dynamics, Catholic and otherwise. This is the stuff I find fascinating, particularly with a non-Catholic parent who nonetheless allowed them to be raised as such. I appreciated the discussions on purity, shame, lack of self-trust, and all the ways these mindsets weave through our lives in subtle ways, hard to dislodge from the crevices of our brains even years after otherwise leaving faith behind, although I would have loved more on this, as this impact of religion is what I continue to grapple with in my own life. As I continue to read stories from people who have left different varieties of Christianity or Christianty-adjacent belief systems, it is somewhat validating to see that it wasn't JUST our very niche church that was messing people up, and that fundamentalism alone wasn't responsible for this. Just like with Rachel Snyder's book, and the others, it's nice to see the variety of ways people respond to these upbringings, in various ways of rebelling, emulating, rejecting, etc. The various things that first make them struggle.
This book was lighter than many of the others, in part because it didn't always go into much detail, and seemed more well-intentioned by the author's family than some of the others, perhaps because of the newer type of Catholicism post-Vatican II that was more about love and less about punishment - overtly, at least. It was also part memoir, part musing, part investigation, which left a bit of distance from the emotional aspect of it. Which is totally fine, of course; just different to some of the more emotionally charged memoirs I have read of late. Easier to read, and enjoyable, and perhaps even a bit cathartic in the things she makes light of. Kind of like watching the Book of Mormon, despite the differences in Mormonism and your own upbringing. I also liked that despite her anger, she really tried to treat her believing family with respect around their beliefs, despite the challenges this sometimes posed, and in considering how much she could engage around it with her own children.
Fun, well written, and Australian; glad Libby suggested this to me!
I found the information about Vatican 2 particularly interesting, as these huge changes in practice didn't seem to have spread to Indian Catholicism as far as I had been able to glean - although perhaps these more "liberal" approaches were omitted deliberately or willfully in my parents' few reflections due to their later more fundamental stance. They always did seem particularly worried that we would be easily led astray by any hint of opposing thought against "true Christianity", only to be mentioned briefly following a heavy prefacing of mockery and/or confident dismissal. This always seemed problematic - either thinking we were too stupid to think critically and evaluate for ourselves or that these alternate messages were too convincing for some other reason...
It was interesting to consider throughout this which parts of their previous faith my parents brought with them to how they understood their new beliefs, and just how long some of those perspectives have been with them.
I did really like the author's exploration of her and her sibling's anger towards being raised in the church, and the ways they felt it had affected them, particularly in examining all their family dynamics, Catholic and otherwise. This is the stuff I find fascinating, particularly with a non-Catholic parent who nonetheless allowed them to be raised as such. I appreciated the discussions on purity, shame, lack of self-trust, and all the ways these mindsets weave through our lives in subtle ways, hard to dislodge from the crevices of our brains even years after otherwise leaving faith behind, although I would have loved more on this, as this impact of religion is what I continue to grapple with in my own life. As I continue to read stories from people who have left different varieties of Christianity or Christianty-adjacent belief systems, it is somewhat validating to see that it wasn't JUST our very niche church that was messing people up, and that fundamentalism alone wasn't responsible for this. Just like with Rachel Snyder's book, and the others, it's nice to see the variety of ways people respond to these upbringings, in various ways of rebelling, emulating, rejecting, etc. The various things that first make them struggle.
This book was lighter than many of the others, in part because it didn't always go into much detail, and seemed more well-intentioned by the author's family than some of the others, perhaps because of the newer type of Catholicism post-Vatican II that was more about love and less about punishment - overtly, at least. It was also part memoir, part musing, part investigation, which left a bit of distance from the emotional aspect of it. Which is totally fine, of course; just different to some of the more emotionally charged memoirs I have read of late. Easier to read, and enjoyable, and perhaps even a bit cathartic in the things she makes light of. Kind of like watching the Book of Mormon, despite the differences in Mormonism and your own upbringing. I also liked that despite her anger, she really tried to treat her believing family with respect around their beliefs, despite the challenges this sometimes posed, and in considering how much she could engage around it with her own children.
Fun, well written, and Australian; glad Libby suggested this to me!
February 19, 2022
Okay - I am blown away about how I actually read this whole book and enjoyed it and was drawn-in more and more as the book continued.
Read in an easy chatty style with clever and sardonic asides in the footnotes. I actually thought I had a fairly broad understanding around Catholicism- note - I am NOT a RC and this is a fact I have carried with me through my whole life as I observe friends and associates who are universally crippled by their catholic upbringing. I did have a very church based upbringing and made my own choices as I matured as do the majority of folk raised within a church based family, but at least I have avoided a lot of the crippling triggers I observe in catholic friends. Even though I did feel I knew a fair amount I have learnt so much and understand a lot more and feel even more compassion for folk raised in this faith.
If you are a thinker and feel empathy for “the other” I would recommend this as a worthwhile read.
Read in an easy chatty style with clever and sardonic asides in the footnotes. I actually thought I had a fairly broad understanding around Catholicism- note - I am NOT a RC and this is a fact I have carried with me through my whole life as I observe friends and associates who are universally crippled by their catholic upbringing. I did have a very church based upbringing and made my own choices as I matured as do the majority of folk raised within a church based family, but at least I have avoided a lot of the crippling triggers I observe in catholic friends. Even though I did feel I knew a fair amount I have learnt so much and understand a lot more and feel even more compassion for folk raised in this faith.
If you are a thinker and feel empathy for “the other” I would recommend this as a worthwhile read.
August 25, 2021
Laughed cried and really connected with this book.
As a former catholic myself I got a lot from the perspectives of a woman in a similar generation. So many times I kept saying Yes! as she articulated my memories so well!! She also discusses the darker part of church history very well.
A good read for Catholics, former/lapsed Catholics and everyone else too!
As a former catholic myself I got a lot from the perspectives of a woman in a similar generation. So many times I kept saying Yes! as she articulated my memories so well!! She also discusses the darker part of church history very well.
A good read for Catholics, former/lapsed Catholics and everyone else too!
May 9, 2022
I grew up in a staunch Catholic household. I now consider most of my family to be lapsed as time has passed. I found this book incredibly draining to read. Perhaps the familiarity? Either way it was way too long and bogged down in history etc. I was touched by her own personal story and wanted more of that.
August 15, 2021
Detailed, deep, discovery of what it really takes to leave the church. I found it well researched as well, talking through many aspects of the church that I knew about but did not fully understand the meaning of. Recommend to anyone who enjoyed educated...
November 23, 2021
Heartily recommend to any lapsed 'cultural Catholics'. I laughed out loud, learnt a lot and ultimately came out the other side, acknowledging that beyond the comfort of ingrained rituals, it's been a huge drain on my life and attitudes. Parents of my generation were well intentioned but misguided. *sigh* Thanks Monica Dux.
August 2, 2021
Enjoyable and insightful, even for myself, a non-believer.
August 15, 2021
Audio book narrated by the author. Well researched and written. A lot I could identify with growing up in the church.
January 9, 2022
Audiobook: found it hard to relate to this book as I have no catholic heritage
March 2, 2025
don’t skip the footnotes
September 27, 2025
Audiobook. I learnt a few things.
November 8, 2021
Couldn't finish this. Maybe it was my headspace but I couldn't be bothered to follow it!
October 1, 2021
This started as a book that I very much anticipated reading. It's ended with a book that I was battling to finish. My four star rating is based on my early inclination to give it a "five" early on against my feeling to give it a "three" by the time I finished.
I listened to an interview Monica Dux gave on Phillip Adam's Late Night Live radio program. Monica spoke of her journey from childhood Catholic to late teen atheist. She was telling my own story!
Like Monica, I had been "born" a Catholic, schooled by the Sisters of Mercy (I think) and the Marist Brothers. Like Monica, I had contemplated the religious life. But unlike Monica, I'd completed my "nine first Fridays" so when my inevitable break with the Church and slide into atheism I had no regrets, I had "insurance", I could afford to be an atheist.
You probably need an explanation at this point. "Nine first Fridays" what's that all about. Well the Church (priests or brothers, I can't remember) promised us that if we completed the double of confession on the first Thursday of a month followed by mass and communion on the following day and then repeated the process for NINE consecutive "first Fridays" we were guaranteed that we would not die without a priest beside us to give us absolution and thus a free pass into Heaven - Go directly to Heaven, do not pass GO and there would be no need for the $200. As a young teenage boy with raging hormones remaining free of sin between Thursday's confession and Friday's mass and communion could not be guaranteed. It took me several years to complete the nine in a row. (Imagine the frustration of having seven "firsts" in the bag and then waking up after a wet dream on Thursday night (wet dreams being a mortal sin and thus making communion out of the question on Friday morning.
As I got older and thought about this "contract" I had with the Church and many of the other things the Church believes in I just lost my faith.
Monica's book brought back all those early passionate beliefs that were later dashed by reality and the developing scientific mind. Based on my experience, her story is true and would be near identical for millions of young Catholics.
So in relation to plot; she has done well. Where I felt the book let me down was in the amount of "capsicum" she has added to pad-out the content. I think the book could have/should have been edited a bit more aggressively and I would have been an even better read.
That said, I have to finish with a "thank you" to Ms Dux for bringing back all the memories.
Stay safe,
Peter
I listened to an interview Monica Dux gave on Phillip Adam's Late Night Live radio program. Monica spoke of her journey from childhood Catholic to late teen atheist. She was telling my own story!
Like Monica, I had been "born" a Catholic, schooled by the Sisters of Mercy (I think) and the Marist Brothers. Like Monica, I had contemplated the religious life. But unlike Monica, I'd completed my "nine first Fridays" so when my inevitable break with the Church and slide into atheism I had no regrets, I had "insurance", I could afford to be an atheist.
You probably need an explanation at this point. "Nine first Fridays" what's that all about. Well the Church (priests or brothers, I can't remember) promised us that if we completed the double of confession on the first Thursday of a month followed by mass and communion on the following day and then repeated the process for NINE consecutive "first Fridays" we were guaranteed that we would not die without a priest beside us to give us absolution and thus a free pass into Heaven - Go directly to Heaven, do not pass GO and there would be no need for the $200. As a young teenage boy with raging hormones remaining free of sin between Thursday's confession and Friday's mass and communion could not be guaranteed. It took me several years to complete the nine in a row. (Imagine the frustration of having seven "firsts" in the bag and then waking up after a wet dream on Thursday night (wet dreams being a mortal sin and thus making communion out of the question on Friday morning.
As I got older and thought about this "contract" I had with the Church and many of the other things the Church believes in I just lost my faith.
Monica's book brought back all those early passionate beliefs that were later dashed by reality and the developing scientific mind. Based on my experience, her story is true and would be near identical for millions of young Catholics.
So in relation to plot; she has done well. Where I felt the book let me down was in the amount of "capsicum" she has added to pad-out the content. I think the book could have/should have been edited a bit more aggressively and I would have been an even better read.
That said, I have to finish with a "thank you" to Ms Dux for bringing back all the memories.
Stay safe,
Peter
October 21, 2021
As a Catholic, I laughed when I recognised myself in this book. It’s funny and then… it’s not funny at all. Monica Dux has written a book about how we see ourselves and then all the conflicting things that Catholics deal with. She was written a thought provoking, sensitive book
September 15, 2024
I picked up this book not because I’m Catholic but because I like Monica Dux: I read her columns in the Age and met her once. She’s smart, funny, thoughtful, and has good hair. All of this is evident in Lapsed.
I particularly appreciated the clarity with which she explained how and why Catholic teachings are so wacky. I’ve always felt the obsession with sinning, the devil, and other people’s sex lives was kind of…creepy? Except we’re not allowed to say so?
But Dux pushes that door wide open, with honesty, empathy, humour, and (phew!) a happy ending.
I particularly appreciated the clarity with which she explained how and why Catholic teachings are so wacky. I’ve always felt the obsession with sinning, the devil, and other people’s sex lives was kind of…creepy? Except we’re not allowed to say so?
But Dux pushes that door wide open, with honesty, empathy, humour, and (phew!) a happy ending.
May 28, 2021
I would have given 4 stars if it wasn't for the intense spotlight Dux put on her childhood experience. White, child with married parents (although a female). I was about to give up when I skipped to a later chapter and got interested. A lapsed myself, my experience was one of the 'outcasts' (divorced parents - annulled marriage ie I was a bastard; only child; living with father etc etc). I like to learn things when I read, and I certainly did here - even as a lapsed - I found the drilling down into the history of the church really interesting (based on her studies). It really set things in context and gave me an 'adult' eye. She doesn't shy away from the criminal acts perpetrated by the clergy - she also looks back at her own experience. For those of us lapsed or not.
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