The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne

by Brian Moore

The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne is an unflinching and deeply sympathetic portrait of a woman destroyed by self and circumstance. First published in 1955, it marked Brian Moore as a major figure in English literature (he would go on to be short-listed three times for the Booker Prize) and established him as an astute chronicler of the human soul.

Judith Hearne is an unmarried woman of a certain age who has come down in society. She has few skills and is full of the prejudices and pieties of her genteel Belfast upbringing. But Judith has a secret life. And she is just one heartbreak away from revealing it to the world.

Genres: Fiction, Classics, Ireland, Irish Literature, Literature, Literary Fiction, Novels

223 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1955

About the author

Brian Moore (1921–1999) was born into a large, devoutly Catholic family in Belfast, Northern Ireland. His father was a surgeon and lecturer, and his mother had been a nurse. Moore left Ireland during World War II and in 1948 moved to Canada, where he worked for the Montreal Gazette, married his first wife, and began to write potboilers under various pen names, as he would continue to do throughout the 1950s.

The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne (1955, now available as an NYRB Classic), said to have been rejected by a dozen publishers, was the first book Moore published under his own name, and it was followed by nineteen subsequent novels written in a broad range of modes and styles, from the realistic to the historical to the quasi-fantastical, including The Luck of Ginger Coffey, An Answer from Limbo, The Emperor of Ice Cream, I Am Mary Dunne, Catholics, Black Robe, and The Statement. Three novels—Lies of Silence, The Colour of Blood, and The Magician’s Wife—were short-listed for the Booker Prize, and The Great Victorian Collection won the James Tait Black Memorial Prize.

After adapting The Luck of Ginger Coffey for film in 1964, Moore moved to California to work on the script for Alfred Hitchcock’s Torn Curtain. He remained in Malibu for the rest of his life, remarrying there and teaching at UCLA for some fifteen years. Shortly before his death, Moore wrote, “There are those stateless wanderers who, finding the larger world into which they have stumbled vast, varied and exciting, become confused in their loyalties and lose their sense of home. I am one of those wanderers.”

Reviews

[Paul Bryant · Rating 4 out of 5]

I realised there’s a whole sub-genre of novels about very isolated miserable women spiraling down, down, ever downwards and the ones I’ve read (see appendix A) are mostly good and even great and this is the latest.

So here we have a psychological horror story about the total disintegration of this lonely plain poor Irish woman who is in her 40s and entirely adrift, with no family and pretty much no friends (she thinks she has at least one family of friends but they cringe when she hoves into view). Mostly Judith Hearne is radiating fear and desperation in all directions. She peregrinates from dingy boarding house to dingier boarding house, she has a tiny income from the mad dead aunt to whom she had dedicated her marriageable years and she gives piano lessons to nasty anklebiting children when she can to generate more cash but really she has no marketable skills and zero prospects.

I can tell I’m really selling this as a four-star read.

I should add that there is plenty of excruciating social comedy along the way and some great humdinging arguments. Also religion gets a real pasting too.

Anyway I loved this.

What I didn't like was that Abebooks sent me a copy which was the MOVIE TIE-IN edition with Bob Hoskins' face on it. I really hate it when that happens. No offence to Bob Hoskins intended.

***

APPENDIX A : OTHER NOVELS ABOUT VERY ISOLATED MISERABLE WOMEN SPIRALING DOWN, DOWN, EVER DOWNWARDS

Skylark : Deszo Kosztolayni
The Piano Teacher : Elfriede Jelinek*
Jean Rhys’ four great novels
The Driver’s Seat : Muriel Spark*
The Life and Death of Harriet Frean : May Sinclair
Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont : Elizabeth Taylor
A Day Off : Storm Jameson
A Five Year Sentence : Bernice Rubens
The Bell Jar : Sylvia Plath
The Yellow Wallpaper : Charlotte Gilman

*These two I personally hated but I must confess that strangely, my opinion is not universally shared.

Note : It strikes me that there must be plenty of novels about very isolated miserable MEN spiraling down, down, ever downwards but I can only think of a couple

Hunger : Knut Hamsun

Notes from Underground : Dostoyevsky

Suggestions for additions to these two jolly lists will be gratefully accepted

[Hannah Garden · Rating 5 out of 5]

Oh sweet lord if there is a more excruciatingly, exquisitely, exactingly, deliriously wretched little book out there, I don't think I could even handle it.

What an absolute motherfucking masterpiece.

[Candi · Rating 4 out of 5]

One will grasp at a number of things when lonely. But what if those things fail us? What is left? There’s so much truth in this book; maybe too much truth. Judith Hearne is a devout Catholic living in Belfast, Ireland during the 1950s. I’ve always wanted to visit Ireland, but if someone offered me the chance to time travel there to that particular decade, I’d have to respond with a rather firm “No thanks!” This very plain woman, as she is described, lived a very sad life. Orphaned at an early age, she went to live with a demanding aunt who she nursed by the bedside at the end of life. She’s left with little income and no true friends. She’s desperate, judgmental and complicated. She’s a very interesting character study, actually. And if you know my reading preferences, then you’d guess this would work very well for me. Which it did. Except when the Catholic bits wore me out! In any case, the novel begins with Judith moving into her “new” shabby lodgings. She brings some clothes, a secret, and some essential items that go everywhere with her.

“The first thing Miss Judith Hearne unpacked in her new lodgings was the silver-framed photograph of her aunt. The place for her aunt, ever since the sad day of the funeral, was on the mantelpiece of whatever bed-sitting-room Miss Hearne happened to be living in … Miss Hearne unwrapped the white tissue paper which covered the coloured oleograph of the Sacred Heart. His place was at the head of the bed, His fingers raised in benediction, His eyes kindly yet accusing. He was old and the painted halo around His head was beginning to show little cracks. He had looked down on Miss Hearne for a long time, almost half her lifetime.”

If those little cracks becoming visible in the Sacred Heart weren’t a bit of foreshadowing, then I don’t know what is! (I love some effective foreshadowing.) We meet the other lodgers at this establishment, including the owner, Mrs. Rice, and her son Bernard, whom she worships (it’s actually all rather creepy, that relationship), and her brother, the loud and boastful Mr. Madden, newly returned to Ireland from living a greater part of his life in New York City. Miss Hearne strikes up a friendship with Mr. Madden due to her curiosity. She wants to hear all about NYC and he loves to boast. It’s a match made in heaven… or is it?! Besides being a relentlessly sad novel, there are moments of humor. Misunderstandings, as unfortunate as they may be, sometimes make for a bit of fun for the observer. But really, Mrs. Rice and Bernard take the cake in this one. Brian Moore successfully conveys the look and attitude of each of his characters rather cleverly. Maybe he took a few cues from Charles Dickens, who also brilliantly depicts the nature of his characters through the image of their outward persons. Here’s Bernard, for example:

“He was a horrid-looking fellow. Fat as a pig, he was, and his face was the colour of cottage cheese. His collar was unbuttoned and his silk tie was spotted with egg stain. His stomach stuck out like a sagging pillow and his little thin legs fell away under it to end in torn felt slippers. He was all bristly blond jowls, tiny puffy hands and long blond curly hair, like some monstrous baby swelled to man size.”

He’s a grown man, not a little boy, but he’s most certainly Mama’s little boy! Enough about him, though he is now one of my favorite characters to despise! This is a short little novel that packs quite a punch as we witness the downward spiral of Miss Hearne. Her secret vice and the questioning of the faith she’s held so dear all her life are potent and visceral. The author draws her in such a way that we don’t really like her, but pity her, and eventually come to feel something for her. Her pain is just so real.

The way this ended is not what I expected, but upon reflection, it was as it should be. As it would be with nearly any human being in Miss Hearne’s particular situation. I’m taking off one star for this novel because I’m rating it based on my own reading experience. As I mentioned to a friend recently, the extremes of Catholic religion have made me very tetchy lately, and this was loaded with symbols and signs and oaths and all that one would expect from these characters living in this time and place. Hypocrites roam everywhere throughout the story. But hey, that’s reality, I know! Still, it got on my last nerve by the end! I would recommend this as an excellent character study to those friends that appreciate that sort of thing.

“Religion was there: it was not something you thought about, and if, occasionally, you had a small doubt about something in the way church affairs were carried on, or something that seemed wrong or silly, well, that was the Devil at work and God’s ways were not our ways. You could pray for guidance.”

Oh, so cheeky, Mr. Brian Moore!

[Dem · Rating 5 out of 5]

Judith Hearne, a Catholic middle-aged spinster, moves into yet another bed-sit in Belfast. A socially isolated woman of modest means, she teaches piano to a handful of students to pass the day. Her only social activity is tea with the O'Neill family, who secretly dread her weekly visits.

After finishing the wonderful Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine which also deals with similar themes albeit on a much more humorous level I wanted to revisit Judith Herne as I had enjoyed it so much first time around.

I really enjoyed this extraordinary novel and found it a thought provoking insight into loneliness and what it means to be ALONE.

This Novel was one of the recommendations from Good Reads and I have to be honest I had never heard of Brian Moore until I purchased this book. First published in 1955 this novel is a real classic and I can see why Mr Moore was shortlisted for the Booker Prize three times.

The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne is an unflinching and deeply sympathetic portrait of a woman destroyed by self and circumstance. Judith Hearne is an unmarried woman of a certain age who has come down in society. She has few skills and is full of the prejudices and pieties of her genteel Belfast upbringing. But Judith has a secret life. And she is just one heartbreak away from revealing it to the world.

I was blown away by the writing in this novel as it is so rich in imagery and detail and the pacing is perfect. This is quite a small novel but Mr Moore makes every word count and not only do you get a feel for the characters you really are a fly on the wall of the Bed Sit with Judith Hearne.

I found myself immersed in the characters and could not put this book down.
I believe this book has been made into a film starring Maggie Smith(Downton Abbey)and Bob Hoskins and I really would love to see that.

I found this read a true 5 star experience.

[Melki · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think you're as lonely as a Sunday morning
That never had a Saturday night. *


That's Judy Hearne, all right, though she honestly likes Sundays. It's the one day each week when she has plenty to do. First, there's church, followed by her visit to the O'Neill household for tea. She has such fun thinking of the stories she will tell and the gossip she will share.

It began with the long tram ride to their house which gave you plenty of time to rehearse the things you would tell them, interesting things that would make them smile and be glad you had come.

Because when you were a single girl, you had to find interesting things to talk about. Other women always had their children and shopping and running a house to chat about.

Oh, but poor Judy . . . if she only knew how the O'Neills dread her arrival. They make fun of her, and argue over who will have to stay in the room and listen to her tell her same old stories, yet again. They fall asleep as she prattles about her life.

Loneliness makes us vulnerable, easy prey for telemarketers, bullies and con men. But, it also makes us hopeful. Today could be the day something special will happen. If not today, then maybe tomorrow. Judy lives in this realm of possibility. She is full of hope, full of maybe. Any day now, she could meet a man, and any man could be the man.

Judy Hearne, she said, you've got to stop right this minute. Imagine romancing about every man that comes along.

But, she doesn't stop.

Now, she has a crush on her new landlady's brother, an Irishman recently returned from decades spent in America. He sees Judy as an open purse while he entertains impure thoughts about the dewy young maid. Poor Judy . . . headed for disappointment once more.

But, she does have one secret love, a passion, if you will, who returns her affections and makes her feel good about herself; a love she can rely on in times of trouble.

The yellow liquid rolled slowly in the glass, opulent, oily, the key to contentment. She swallowed it, feeling it warm the pit of her stomach, slowly spreading through her body, steadying her hands, filling her with its power. Warmed, relaxed, her own and only mistress, she reached for and poured a tumbler full of drink.

Poor Judy, with her habit of calling out "It's only me" which only emphasizes her own insignificance. She is left with her hopes dashed, her maybes in tatters, and precious little to believe in anymore.

This was a reread for me and this time was even better than my first encounter in 1988.
A beautifully written, sad, yet lovely novel featuring unforgettable characters, not just Judy, but also Jim Madden, her heartthrob, and Bernie, the landlady's spoiled son.




*Don't Let It Go to Waste ~ Greg Trooper

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

I tried to think of a more depressing novel than Brian Moore's The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne, and I came up with exactly nada. Even Holocaust literature usually aspires to some mitigating, redemptive element to remind the reader that—even though the world is a sick, twisted, hateful, miserable, incomprehensibly fucked-up place—there are still nooks and crannies of goodness to be found here and there. (Or what passes for goodness on the sliding scale of values, at any rate.) Mitigation is so much harder to come by, however, in the merciless tale of Judith Hearne, a friendless, unattractive, alcoholic spinster who whiles away her empty days aided only by a few tenuous delusions and an increasingly wavering faith in God. One particularly brutal aspect of the novel is its shifting perspective; usually it is through Hearne's eyes that we take in this artfully bleak Belfast, but occasionally we sidle over to other characters' viewpoints—minor characters as well as major ones—through which we discover (much to our horror) that Hearne's already gloomy opinion of her world doesn't quite go far enough. These people pity and mock her beyond even her worst suspicions.

I read this book approximately twenty years ago in my college Irish Lit class, and it was the only thing I remember reading in that godawful class that I actually loved. (Fuck off, W.B. Yeats!) Later, when I was living with my partner-in-crime, I read the book out loud to her in installments nightly because we had no television. Recently, I saw that NYRB republished this—and I wanted to see if my youthful opinion was trustworthy. And well... let's just say that once in a while I stumbled into correct opinions when I was young and idiotic; that The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne is a great novel is certainly one of them. (There is also a serviceable film version of the book—as a result of which I am unable to picture Judith Hearne as looking like anyone but Maggie Smith.)

But it's a shame about the cover design on this. The garish wallpaper is completely appropriate for the likes of Judith Hearne; I just don't like the gimmicky woman with the wallpaper skin. Although the woman is not a baby, there's something gallingly Anne Geddes-ish about the technique. But I guess you can't have everything. In Judith's case, you can't even have anything.

[Fergus, Weaver of Autistic Webs · Rating 5 out of 5]

Judith Hearne is just so dejectedly, tragically Herself!

Life is an act, but with God's help, she could turn it into a Class Act. Perpetually renewed.

"C'mon, Judith, why so glum? Life is a box of assorted nuts - be dispassionately settled, but divinely inspired - and Vive la Difference!

Well, Judith already has enough worldly wisdom to see she has to avoid it. She and wise guys' boxes of bonbons don't mix!

You see, Judith and I are Toffs in a World of Tarts (Toffs are Graham Greene’s borrowed nom de guerre for us lowly Puritans). We avoid the chthonic.

But she's a topsy-turvy toff.

But is she right? Becuz the world's topsy turvy now. There's no rhyme or reason to it!

So Judith, whatever will you DO?

We can go our own way
We can call it
Another lonely day…

Fleetwood Mac told us that.

And Kermit simply rejoins that it ain’t Easy being Green.

But we older and wiser folks know it wasn’t easy being Greene, either.

There can be two very short ends to every stick, Judith.

And one day soon, the Fat will fall into the Fire for you, Judith! When that day dawns, may you use your knowledge to see that day needs the grace of a dancer to negotiate it.

You learn Grace by Faith, because what's apparent is misleading.

So Grace is Never Obvious. But that's the fun of the dance. You must learn to see that fun from the POV of God's impartial wisdom:

Not everyone who sins is damned: neither are all the Pious set for Eternity.

You must unlearn the world again!

Our salvation is never a statement, but forever a question.

Judith, Transcendent Faith is the school, for David, wherein we learn to Dance Before God!

Judith, knowing that, now You can Go, Girl!!!

Back into your dreams again, where you BELONG.

[Beata · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the saddest stories I've ever read regarding a woman's life ... so much the victim to her background and times. Judith's wanting to be loved in spite of everything and yet failing is terribly upsetting... there was a moment I stop reading as I felt so much pity for her ... No passion that can be shared for Judith ...

[Mary · Rating 5 out of 5]

There is someone in my life who partly reminds me of Judith Hearne. Along with Judith, this person has the complete inability to see things from other’s point of view, or to see reality in the harsh light of day. As a result, her entire outlook and perceptions of people are severely skewed. Judith’s clinginess and desperation is awkward to read about if you know someone like that. She’s a grasping for attention sort of person (talk to me, like me, be my friend, please!)

What could he be thinking of? He seemed to be trying to remember something, perhaps an engagement, perhaps an excuse to leave her. For eventually, they all made some excuse.

Judith’s “friends” mock her behind her back and treat her visits as a chore, and at first we think Judith is clueless, and then we start to think what if she knows? What if some of these people know they’re disliked and tolerated and thought of as a bore and a burden? We don’t like Judith much. She’s a silly, irritating and fitful woman, but somewhere in the pitying we start to feel bad for her because for some people there’s never a sporting chance at happiness. What was she supposed to do? 1950s Belfast, a “plain” unmarried woman who’s over 40. Such was her lot.

She watched the glass, a plain woman, changing all to the delightful illusion of beauty. There was still time: for her ugliness was destined to bloom late, hidden first by the unformed gawkiness of youth, budding to plainness in young womanhood and now flowering to slow maturity in her early forties, it still awaited the subtle garishness which only decay could bring to fruition: a garishness which, when arrived at, would preclude all efforts at the mirror game.

When the landlady’s brother moves in and shows an interest in Judith she dares to think that her prayers have been answered. Again, Judith never stood a chance because he’s only interested in gold-digging and raping the maid.

Judith starts spiraling down.

I’ve never had religion in my life, so it speaks to Moore’s skill as a writer that I was able to feel the weight of Judith’s panic and disillusion when her faith is called into question. Usually prolonged scenes of religious contemplation can be trying on me, but here it was so miserable and frantic and so beautifully written that I was enthralled.

Is it just bread?

This was draining, wretched, bitter and wonderful to read.

[Hugh · Rating 4 out of 5]

This bleak, raw powerful story of the mental disintegration of a lonely Belfast spinster was a very accomplished debut novel that must have seemed quite modern in 1955.

At the start of the book we see Judith Hearne moving into new lodgings in the house of Mrs Henry Rice. The first half of the book is quite comic in tone, with darker undercurrents that increase as the story proceeds. Judith has sacrificed her best years to caring for a tyrannical aunt, and now has occasional work as a piano teacher while dreaming of better things and relying on her Catholic faith.

One of her fellow tenants is the landlady's brother James Madden, who has recently returned from 30 years in America. Both James and Judith see each other as possible means of escape from their routines and they embark on a tentative courtship. But when their illusions are shattered a calamitous chain of events ensues as Judith seeks solace in alcohol, loses her faith and self-respect and burns her bridges.

The second half is so relentlessly sad and bleak that I found it almost painful to read, but the book remains haunting and probably memorable.

[Teresa · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5

This is one of the few books I claimed from my mother’s belongings after she died (in 2015). Not for any particular reason, I only got around to reading it now. And I’d forgotten it was hers, until I saw a note in her neat handwriting on page 7 and I realized she must’ve read it for a class, probably one on Irish Literature. (She went back to college after all her children had gotten their university degrees. She earned hers at the age of sixty.) She marked the book in pencil only, same as I would.

I’d heard Moore’s novel would be bleak and depressing (that never bothers me) and it was (and it didn't). There’s not much to lighten the story either, unless you focus on the writing itself, which is superb. The story is of its time in that women now have more options. It’s universal in that those who are marginalized and live lonely lives are all around us. Longstanding structures are still in place to keep certain people down. I hesitate to use the now-cliché (but clichés can be truthful) of “Eleanor Rigby,” but Eleanor’s story can be a shortcut for Judith Hearne’s, down to her having her own Father McKenzie (Quigley). Judith’s backstory reminded me of a different Eleanor though -- the friendless woman in Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House.

My mom was proud of her good grades, but I have to wonder if she finished reading this book. Her last underlining is on page 115 (out of 223), and I know how she felt about depressing (Irish) stories such as Angela's Ashes, which she found no humor in, though everyone else seemed to.

[Charles · Rating 4 out of 5]

As I drove back from visiting my elderly father over the holidays, one of the songs that played at some point during the 1,000-km trip was “Lonesome Loser”, by Little River Band.

I couldn’t help thinking about this novel I was only halfway done reading: indeed, Judith Hearne is a lonesome loser. A lifelong outsider, a confirmed spinster, and while it came as a bit of a surprise at some point, a dipsomaniac. Circumstances have worked against Miss Hearne for a long time already when we meet her, even though she certainly means well and at that point is still trying to come out on top; they finally take their toll over the course of the novel. This is the story of the poor woman's downfall. It all sounds infinitely sad – and it is – yet there’s something of a comedy of errors to this tale, which keeps it lively and entertaining at the same time. Also, as English is my second language, I learned a new, specifically Irish word reading this book: stocious. I was in Ireland a few times but I don't think I had ever heard it before.

Feeling ignored by men and more generally let down by everyone, Judith Hearne also comes to feel at odds with religion, as even her god seems to neglect her and she finally takes offence. In Ireland at the time, this was a serious matter. I found it gave the novel some wonderful depth and provided extra value to Brian Moore’s observations on the human condition.

It was of interest to me to learn that Moore left Ireland in the late 1940s to come work for the Montreal Gazette, a local daily newspaper still in existence to this day. His journey didn’t stop here and he went on to settle down in Malibu eventually. (Smart man. No more Canadian winters for you!) The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne leaves me curious about the rest of Moore’s production and I can see myself picking up another one of his novels one of these days. This was a fun discovery and a memorable character study.

[Tony]

I set aside a book about wind I was reading so I could read this one. But books don't like that and the wind never quits, not really, and so it wasn't long before I read this: they went out through the brightly lit lobby, past the waiting queues, out into the night wind which rushed like a thief along the streets.

Of the they, one of them could be a thief. But there's nothing to steal but loneliness. The other of they is the eponymous Judith Hearne. And lonely she is. Eleanor Rigby had more friends.

Something else about that sentence I quoted above. The wind is anthropomorphic. So are Judith's shoes, with eye buckles that wink or smile. Or the two pictures (the Sacred Heart and her departed aunt) she displays as she goes from room to room. They glower or smile at her, depending on her mood. And her mood is determined largely by the amount of liquor she has swallowed.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
The first person narrative shifts, from Judith to a dozen or more characters, but those always looking at Judith. Her loneliness, her pain, is largely justified, we learn that way.

One character, Bernard, is a youngish, obese, long blond-haired, coddled, wannabe poet. He's no more important, but kind of more interesting, than the others. But he said this: America sells refrigerators for culture. They come to Europe when they need ideas. Not saying he's right. But I like when authors put quotes like that in the mouth of an enigmatic character.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
Quotes like that. We read in part for the lightbulbs: those choice words that make us understand, or merely think. The process doesn't have to resolve. This can happen now, reading a 1955 novel. Or one that quotes the 16th century. This, from The Prince:

When an evil has sprung up within a state the more certain remedy by far is to temporise with it: for almost invariably he who attempts to crush it will rather increase its force and accelerate the harm apprehended from it. Show him honour, regardless of consequence.

I don't know. But I do abhor the fractious nature of current things.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
As I implied above, there is an awful lot about drinking in this book. That's not why I read it. And I didn't see myself in Judith Hearne. I have a different kind of loneliness.

And I've never been drunk with a Scot. More's the pity. But someday, maybe. And when I do, I hope to get stocious drunk.

[❀Julie · Rating 5 out of 5]

In Vito veritas: "in wine, truth", suggesting a person under the influence of alcohol is more likely to speak their hidden thoughts and desires.

The saying that comes to mind is, "if you don’t laugh you’ll cry”. This book was so densely bleak yet with enough comic undertones that I found it surprisingly humorous at times. Poor Judy is a pitiful character, who is so sorrowful for all the crosses she’s had to bear. She is a devout Catholic whose weakness will be tempted and faith will be tested. This author is brilliant in his ability to get into the head of this lonely female character. The writing alone made this a 5 star read for me, with all the shifting points of view and vivid descriptions. I personally think this would make an excellent book club read but the themes were very dark and the characters unlikable. A little gem!

[Tooter · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 Stars

[Lori · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the finest novels I've read. Moore is brilliant. I majored in English Lit and took grad seminars and I am angry -- why have I never heard of Brian Moore before reading Howard Norman's "Next Life Might Be Kinder", which mentions him? This book belongs on lists of the top 100 novels of all time -- well, arguably. The point of view and spare writing impress me so.

Judith Hearne is complex, infuriating, pathetic, deluded, grasping, drunk, annoying, sympathetic. Moore gives us every inch of Judith Hearne, every thought, frustration, aspiration; that is to say, there is flesh on her bones and when she topples over it knocks the reader for a loop. The supporting characters are brilliant. The shifting viewpoints work perfectly. I love it. (And saw the movie and it was, for me, a mere shadow of the book despite Maggie Smith's brilliant performance.)

[Nigeyb · Rating 4 out of 5]

In The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne (1955), Brian Moore creates a compelling and empathetic portrait of a a lonely, ageing spinster in drab 1950s Belfast who hides her weakness for alcohol from the world and herself.

In her new boarding house Judith Hearne meets the landlady's brother James Madden, who has recently returned from 30 years in America. James and Judith see each other as possible means of escape from their routines and embark on a tentative courtship. There ensues a calamitous chain of events during which Judith confronts a wasted life and increasing religious doubts.

It's extremely well written and I appreciated the black comedy and the wonderful characterisation. In particular Judith, James Madden, and Bernie, the landlady's spoiled son. Slightly less emphasis on the Catholicism and religious doubts during the closing section and it would have been five stars. In any event it's a short and very powerful novel.

4/5



More about The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne....


The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne is an unflinching and deeply sympathetic portrait of a woman destroyed by self and circumstance. First published in 1955, it marked Brian Moore as a major figure in English literature (he would go on to be short-listed three times for the Booker Prize) and established him as an astute chronicler of the human soul.

Judith Hearne is an unmarried woman of a certain age who has come down in society. She has few skills and is full of the prejudices and pieties of her genteel Belfast upbringing. But Judith has a secret life. And she is just one heartbreak away from revealing it to the world.

[Claire · Rating 2 out of 5]

All I can say is thank goodness that's over and wonder what I can read to mitigate the toxic absorption of reading it and being amidst a pack of inhumane characters and a main character set up for incarceration due to her having had her way in life taken from her after the prolonged and dutiful care of an unappreciative and domineering Aunt.

From the opening pages I couldn't shake off the fact that this 40 year old woman is being created by a man, that the mind looking out from behind her eyes isn't a woman, but a man living in exile with grievances to bare and an unconscious bias, by virtue of being part of and conditioned by the dominant sex/race, in an era where if women hadn't been subdued by marriage, tamed by employment, or upholstered in the habit, they were indeed on a slippery slope towards disillusionment, realising that society did not value them outside certain roles, and by this age had indirectly cast them aside, or put them on a shelf, as the saying went and was continuously perpetuated.

I could believe she might momentarily look upon the returning immigrant Jim Madden with interest, curious about his life elsewhere, but the gaze of them all upon her, as if that were an abominable thought, the weight of all that judgement - it is a world portrayed that lacks care or empathy, disapproves of adventure, lacks imagination and excitement and instead lures the lonely towards their oblivion thus destroying the few threads of potential that have kept this one woman going till now.

I found the extreme indulgence in her whiskey bottles totally unrealistic. She was so straight-laced and God fearing, that one bad experience surely would have been sufficient, but the heavy hand of the author deeply imprinted on her back pushed her onward. He had a beef with the church and by God he was going to make this poor victim confront it. And then have her locked up anyway, as they did with any woman who acted with impropriety and who lacked a sponsor.

I think Judith was unjustly portrayed, if she were to write a first person account of her story, we would see a more nuanced character, disillusioned yes, but a more perceptive perspective from within, than those who depict her from without, and a society ready to discard her.

Judith Hearne never found her passion, it was conditioned the hell out of her, ensuring she'd never yearn for, seek or ever become aware of empowerment.

[Kathleen · Rating 4 out of 5]

“The special thing about Sunday Mass was that for once everyone was doing the same thing. Age, income, station in life, it made no difference: you all went to Mass, said the same prayers and listened to the same sermons. Miss Hearne put loneliness aside on a Sunday morning.”

Brian Moore. He really understands loneliness. I wasn’t familiar with him before reading this, maybe because he has written many thrillers, not a genre I read very much. I can attest to his skill in propelling a narrative forward, keeping me on the edge of my seat, needing to know what will happen next, so his genre choice makes sense. But this is not a thriller. It’s a tragedy.

Like the passion of Christ, Judith Hearne’s passion is about pain and suffering. Judith is a middle-aged single woman just come to live in a new lodging house in Belfast. She spent years caring for a sick and abusive Aunt, who died and left her a small sum of money which she’s been living off of, supplemented at times by teaching piano and embroidery. She has come down a few notches in the social hierarchy, and is still getting used to it.

The lodging house is run by Mrs. Henry Rice, who allows her adult but babied son Bernard to mooch off her while claiming to be writing an epic poem, and her brother James Madden, back from many years living in New York, to get away with staying rent-free. Two other borders join them for breakfast conversation that will make you very glad you don’t live in a similar bed-sitting room situation.

The book starts out both funny and bleak, delving into these diverse characters, and feeling like a sort of comic take on a tragic life. But that’s not what it is at all.

For me, there were three very profound aspects explored in this book.

One: religion. Moore takes you inside the Catholic Church, and into the minds of the parishioners, encompassing multiple viewpoints. Is religion really a stabilizing force, existing to support believers and help them through trials and tribulations? Is it a mass of lies, that when discovered cause the believer irreparable harm? Is it a comfort, as long as you don’t push too hard to understand it? A crime? Comedic? I felt it was all of the above here.

Two: false friends. This is something we have probably all experienced--thinking someone is our friend, needing and relying on them, only to find they don’t really like us after all. If you have a lot of friends, this is not a big deal. But when you don’t, particularly when you have no one else, this is a devastating realization. I really liked how Moore explored this, from both sides.

The third is a spoiler. The way addiction is uncovered and dissected makes you feel like you’re living it yourself. The inability to control it, the pain it helps alleviate, the destruction it leads to, is all so real and true and devastating.

So this was a very uncomfortably profound book, not easy to take, but full of important insights. I’m very glad I read it, but am happy to be leaving Judith Hearne’s tragic world.

[Swati · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brian Moore’s The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne was rejected more than 10 times by publishers because it was just too depressing. I empathise. My heart felt heavy, and I could do with some whiskey myself by the time I finished this book.

Judith Hearne “was thirty-six and looked older. She had very few friends.” She was single and also a slave to alcohol. She moves into a guesthouse after the death of her aunt, the only relative she had. In due course, she gets acquainted with her fellow lodgers, gets a job as a piano teacher, and even begins something akin to a courtship with the landlady’s brother James Madden. Seems to be settling in well, doesn't she? That’s how Judith appears to everyone. Internally, unseen and unknown to anyone, she had started to come undone a long time ago.

I found the book to be a raw exploration of depression, loneliness, and society. Judith is so attuned to being rejected that every time she meets a new man, she braces herself for it.

“He would listen politely to whatever inanity she would manage to get out and then he would see the hysteria in her eyes, the hateful hot flush in her cheeks. And he would go as all men had gone before him.”

You see self-loathing, despair, and a singular, aching loneliness in this woman, which makes it tough to read. She tries to share the raging thoughts in her mind with her friend, with a pastor, and with anyone who would just listen. But it seems like all doors are shut to Judith.

The problem of mental health continues to persist even today making this novel all the more relevant. When someone behaves differently and does not ‘fit in’ we don’t take a moment to ask ‘why.’ We get angry or disappointed or contemptuous and finally we ignore the person.

Brian Moore shows the repercussions of our selfishness as a society, the damage it can cause to an already damaged individual. Judith’s dysphoria weighs heavily on your soul. It’s a poignant reminder and a pointed finger at our collective consciousness too as we fail many times to take care of the Judiths in our midst.

This is a bleak book but also something we can learn from. Do read.

[Jennifer (formerly Eccentric Muse) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Happy St. Patrick's Day. <--insert irony emoticon here-->

Holy moly, faith an' begorrah. This Brian Moore guy ... I think I love him (even) more than Graham Greene, which is the most obvious comparison. I devoured this, reading ravenously to 3 a.m. this morning. Judith! Poor Judith. Is there any one of us who doesn't feel for her? Feel *like* her? The loss of faith angle is icing on the top for this non-Catholic.

Seven things for now:

1) Feels like Slaves of Solitude, but with the added religious layer.
2) What an eviscerating portrait of social class and religious intolerance. The vacuum-packed, claustrophobic, eating-one's-own-young, soul-destroying religious and class prejudice and oppression of Belfast - Ireland - at that time - still - and elsewhere. Every small town in Upper n' Lower Canada, for example, where these roots to this day run so deep. It's not accidental that Moore was writing this as an ex-pat from Montreal.
3) The internal dialogue and shifting POVs are EX-QUI-SITE.
4) Bernie and his Ma - ewwww, ick, and whattup with THAT? Wow.
5) I WANT THIS TO BE A STAGE PRODUCTION! Has it ever been? I can see this on stage so easily (internal dialogue notwithstanding). C'mon goodreaders, if it hasn't been, let's write it!
6) The ending - does she or doesn't she regain her faith? - reminded me of the similar ambiguity for Fr. Emilio in The Sparrow.
7) Almost as - nay, more! - wrist-slashingly sad as The House of Mirth. Very surprised that Judith didn't take that path out. Still not sure that Moore didn't leave the picture of aunt and The Sacred Heart - which I assume are behind glass? - within easy reach for a reason.

[Jonathan Pool · Rating 4 out of 5]

My initial reaction to The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne was to be thankful that the attitudes prevalent in the 1950’s, and particularly the objectification of women, seem so anachronistic in 2018. This book was published in 1955. Judith herself expresses fears that are standard fare for novels written in the c.18th century, the Austen era. Women were at risk of becoming lonely, reclusive, impoverished; unfulfilled spinsters and childless aunts.... unless they could pursuade a man, preferable an eligible, handsome man, to take them on.

The book is set in Belfast, and I can’t claim any knowledge as to whether the religious, Catholic, anxieties expressed in the person of Judith, are still a part of the Irish community? The Church here is an institution portrayed in a bullying, hectoring fashion. The leading religious authority figure, Father Quigley, eventually provides some genuine ministry, but not before he is cast as a man threatening hell and brimstone, with not very much pastoral love and care.
Judith is a tragic figure, put upon by selfish, needy relatives, and (as the reader is reminded on numerous occasions) because of her plain looks she is “a temptation to no man”(99). The depiction of men is universally unflattering. Men are for the most part compulsive liars, looking no further than to take advantage of a free drink, and bestial in their (dis)regard for the female sex.

My second appraisal of The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne was to consider how much has changed in the sixty three years since it’s publication.
The #metoo movement has had some success in exposing those male sexual wrong doings which are prevalent as a consequence of the veil of secrecy, the cover ups, that James Madden relies on in The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne.
How different is the ‘dance’ between men and women in 2018. Do suitors today(men and women) behave any differently in their natural selection? (Female) beauty, money, inheritance, social background; similar criteria still apply today, I guess?

Overall The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne is a very worthwhile read. Brian Moore is a writer with a frequently cruel eye for what lurks beneath the surface in our relations with one another.

[Liina · Rating 5 out of 5]

I would dare to say “The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne” is a perfect novel. Perfect in length, character development, plot, the authenticity of setting, dialogue - everything.

It is about a spinster “Judith Hearne who is “plain” and “on the wrong side on the 40’s”. She has been brought up to marry well, to have a man take care of her. This doesn’t go according to plan. She is lonely. So lonely it hurts to read about it. With a strict Catholic upbringing, she still has faith though. That the Mr Right will come. That she will be taken care of. Her dreams are detached from reality and are heavily influenced by cheap romantic cliches. In the course of the book, this faith and her faith, in general, starts to crumble. Which leads to a whirlwind of events and an inevitable climax. There is an ensemble of supporting characters as well, each crafted with the same precision and none of them good in their hearts towards the poor spinster.

Judith Hearne is one of the most memorable female characters I have encountered in novels. The significance lies in her multifaceted nature. Being a Catholic but at the same time, a sinner and a snob on top of that - Moore has developed all her different sides perfectly. The loneliness she suffers form makes her vulnerable to the smallest acts or hints of rejections. She veers on either making excuses to others or thinking the worst of herself. There is barely a normal reaction to how others treat her. So fragile have her nerves become. The most painful thing to bear might be her hope - that everything will still turn out well in the end.

Despite its bleakness, the book also reads like a page-turner. You are never sure what will happen next and you are keeping your fingers crossed that there will be something, a tiny glimpse of happiness for poor Judith. But there are only her tiny shoe eyes smiling at her. There will be no redemption.

[Alan · Rating 5 out of 5]

The shoe eyes staring at Judith Hearne throughout the novel, accusing, laughing along, leering, laughing at. Finally indifferent, like all, nearly all she meets, particularly men. A masterful piece of writing, cleverly and so economically done. Some parts are from different povs which gets you through the plot in an efficient way, and gives sidelights and other views on the protagonist. The last few chapters when the character goes from address to address in her hired car is almost insanely economical, and deeply affecting. A lovely experience, actually, the writing never letting you down, and a moving one.

Thanks Ryan, and others for putting me on to this.

[Tania · Rating 4 out of 5]

Devastating. Judith is a character that will stay with me for some time, I suspect.

[qtasha · Rating 5 out of 5]

If we don't have our delusions how can we live? This is well written heartbreaking masterpiece of a book.

[Rae · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was grim, but also brilliant.

It's an excruciating portrait of a lonely, unattractive (we are told), middle aged woman who bores her only "friends" to death each Sunday. She's not got any money, but at least she has her faith, right?.... right?

Well-written, believable characters, vivid, tragic, poignant. This is a highly effective piece of storytelling; we feel Judith's pain emanating off the pages.

The story explores faith when it is threatened, loneliness, lack of resources, and - perhaps most prominently of all - the expectation on and of women to marry in the 1950s, and what a life devoid of romance might mean.

Even more tragic, perhaps, are the ways in which Judith misses out on human connection, bound either by her own snobbery or selfishness. I won't give anything away.

This is an excellent novel, but be prepared for 250 pages of joyless misery... Enjoy!

[Beth Bonini · Rating 4 out of 5]

In a 2017 Harvard Business Review article, Dr. Murthy writes, “During my years caring for patients, the most common pathology I saw was not heart disease or diabetes, it was loneliness. I found that loneliness was often in the background of clinical illness, contributing to disease and making it harder for patients to cope and heal. (quoted in Atlas of the Heart, by Brene Brown)



I don’t think I’ve ever read a more perfect and heart-rending description of loneliness - oh the corrosive shame of it! - than in this book, a classic in the 20th century Irish canon.

Miss Judith Hearne is a 40ish year old spinster who is living in reduced circumstances in a boarding house. The book is set in post-war Belfast, grey, dull, and down-at-heel. Miss Hearne has sacrificed her youth taking care of an autocratic elderly aunt; free at last from that drudgery, she is still trapped by her own poverty. She is an unsuccessful piano teacher and her small annuity is not enough to even eat properly. In the first few pages we learn that she wears a “little gold wristlet watch” because it was “good and very becoming” but the watch doesn’t keep time. Sadly, her life is full of little relics that are insubstantial, even shoddy, anchors. Miss Hearne has retained the little snobberies and niceties of her middle-class Catholic upbringing, but they only serve to further alienate her from the meagre human company which comes her way.

When the reader is first introduced to Miss Hearne, she is making a fresh start of sorts, and her obvious self-delusions have a touch of plucky bravery about them. She even imagines that her landlady’s brother - newly arrived from New York City - might be a possible romantic interest. She still has this tiny spark of hope that her life might still hold the possibility of something better.

Without spoiling the plot, I will just say that Brian Moore is a master at revealing this woman’s life and secret heart to us. In this book, the unlikeable Miss Hearne cannot inspire a stronger or better human emotion but pity - which she rightfully despises - and even her priest badly lets her down. However, the reader cannot help but see her, and see her fully; and I, at least, felt an almost unbearable empathy for her.

[Katie Long · Rating 5 out of 5]

Quietly devastating. It's a book that is hard to sum up in a review because I couldn't possibly convey the depth of both despair and empathy that Moore was able to draw into Judith's story. It is one no review can prepare you for, it simply has to be read.

[David · Rating 5 out of 5]

I had seen the 1987 film version by Jack Clayton (starring Maggie Smith and Bob Hoskins) some time back. Recently someone here in Goodreads referred to the film as being... ok. Since I recalled it as being more than just ok (esp. Smith's performance), that tipped me off that perhaps the book had something which the film couldn't 'translate' (which, as we all know, is often the case).

Above everything else, what the book has is the excellent writing - quite often capturing thought processes (not only for the main character but, to a lesser degree, for the subordinate characters as well) which are daunting for film. Primarily, Moore gets under the thin skin of Ms. Hearne as she moves forward in a progressively chaotic manner which exceeds the film's trajectory. Judith's passion isn't merely lonely; it's a prisoner of bottomless existential dread.

This is a story about an older woman and an older man who have each - for years, before their paths crossed - had to try to make the best of unfortunate fate. In a more benevolent 'world', they would find shelter in each other but what they find instead are misunderstanding and mixed signals. The lack of connection doesn't really bother the man (who shrugs things off in a typically male way) - but Ms. Hearne is at the end of a long and disappointing road called My Entire Life, and something in her finally... snaps.

Moore's novel capitalizes on the fact that all humans are in their own little worlds to varying but equally puzzled degrees. For many, the result is like being hamsters in cages - running in place without getting anywhere, never altering their beliefs / prejudices; content to be discontent. (~ which is what makes the character of Judith's married friend Moira such a relief and a necessity in the novel; she has learned to be a genuinely good person - without the 'benefit' of organized religion.)

The book is very critical of Catholics - followers and those who operate in the Church. It presents such people as lacking in 'things of the spirit'; the very things their faith requires. But the book also, quite accurately, depicts them as people oppressed by fallible / perplexing dogma... which, ultimately, is what proves to be Judith's undoing.

While there is certainly something quite sad (and even somewhat pathetic) about the place in life that Judith has found herself, there is also something strangely admirable in her misguided attempts at cutting through self-delusion in order to reach an emotional balance. Whether Judith 'makes it' or not is left up to us to decide - but she represents the oft-lifted voice in literature which asks life's most urgent question: Does God exist?