Loose Canon: A Portrait of Brian Brindley

by Damian Thompson

It could not have been better stage managed. Brian Brindley died over dinner at The Atheneum Club in London having consumed stuffed crab and as boeuf en croute was being prepared in the kitchen. Surrounded by his acolytes, he would certainly agree with Sydney Smith that heaven was Foie Gras and Trumpets but his heaven started on earth. There was much sadness in Brian Brindley`s life. Emerging from Oxford (Pi in the High) he eventually took up an appointment as a Vicar in Reading having fought vigorously against the ordination of women and other manifestations of modernity. But one fine day a journalist from a nasty Tabloid tricked him into talking about his sexual life and fantasies, recorded the interview and printed extracts in his newspaper. The result was devastating and Brindley resigned. He retired to Brighton and was received into the Roman Catholic Church. But in the process he became a hero to countless thousands of people who love the Old Order. High Tories for whom ritual remains of the utmost importance. And having been stitched up by a tabloid newspaper only increased the admiration in which he was held. Alan Bennett, leader of the fan club, has written a brilliant opening chapter in which he describes Brindley's magic but also his deep charity and pastoral care.Others follow including A.N. Wilson and Telegraph correspondent Damian Thompson. This will become a cult book for assuredly Brindley was the last of his kind.

Hardcover

First published June 22, 2004

About the author

English journalist, editor and author.

He has written two books about apocalyptic belief and one about conspiracy theories or "counterknowledge", which he describes as "misinformation packaged to look like fact"

Reviews

[Patrick Cook · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don't usually care Damian Thompson, and I'm not entirely sure I would have cared for Brian Brindley. But this collection of essays is indisputably an amusing soupçon of a book. It is certainly much lighter than the eight-course birthday meal at the Athenaeum, during which Brindley famously expired in one of the most picturesque (and picaresque) deaths of the later 20th century. Perhaps more surprisingly, it also manages to be rather moving, in that it does not shy away from the fact that Brindley's life had all the essential elements of a classical tragedy. To be sure, the vicar of a parish church in Reading is not on par with a King of Thebes or Prince of Denmark, and Brindley's comfortable retirement in Brighton was hardly Oedipus at Colonus. But Brindley at his height enjoyed reasonable prominence and considerable glamour (tinged with more than a bit of the ridiculous). In the end, it was sexual desire (consummated or not) that brought him down, as with so many tragic heroes.

The essays by Brindley's friends are not of equal length or strength. Colin Anson's piece of Brindley at Stowe is solid but never transcends the genre of English school memoirs. Reminisces of Brindley at Oxford are provided by the poet P. J. Kavanagh and by Alan Bennett, the latter with all of his typical style. Nicholas Krasno was one of the young men whom Brindley took under his wing (with 'intent' or otherwise) as a parish priest and provides a very good essay. Two of the essays are by Roman Catholic priests. Fr Seàn Finnegan (then of the Brompton Oratory and now of the blogosphere) explores uses Brindley's passion for typography as a means to explore other aspects of his life. Fr Anthony Symondson, SJ provides what is by far the most substantial chapter, which in itself serves as mini-biography of Brindley, or at least his later life. The book ends with reprints of some of the articles Brindley wrote late in life for the Catholic Herald. Fittingly, this larger-than-life figure has the last word.

[David Allen White · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don't remember who suggested this book to me or why, but I found it quite interesting. Brian Brindley was an Anglican priest with very high church leanings, but I could not discern from the essays written about him any depth of Christian commitment except to the externals of ceremonial and ritual. I hope I am wrong about that. What struck me is his fall from grace due to some sort of sexual misconduct, which is never adequately explained in the book, and which I have not been able to discover elsewhere, after which he became a Roman Catholic, but was never ordained in that communion. I know some of the people and places mentioned in the essays, and the book brought back memories.

[Jane Griffiths]

I never met Brian Brindley, though he was still in Reading when I was starting to be politically active there. He was a legendary figure, about whom many in Reading politics were spiteful, although I wondered, at the time and still, why they felt the need to be. Apparently when Brian Brindley turned up at some Reading civic function in a particularly flamboyant outfit, a Reading politician shouted out "My auntie's got a frock like that!" I think we detect the voice of one M. Salter there. Protesting too much. These days a person like Brian Brindley would not be allowed to be ordained, and yet he touched the lives of many through his ministry. And I can't resist mentioning that he died at his own 70th birthday party. Stylish, that. He had to resign because he was done over by a Reading Chronicle reporter (who?) who induced him to talk about boys and young men and then told the News of the World. Readable, and interesting, and a reminder to us all (Brian Brindley died in 2001, and this book of portraits of him was published in 2004) that people who stay safe are not the most interesting ones.

[Craig · Rating 5 out of 5]

A great, easy read of a true 'character'.

[Michael Sankey · Rating 5 out of 5]

I first met Canon Brindley in 1975 when I resided in Argyle Road, just minutes walk from the dear canon's home and presbytery to Holy Trinity, Reading. What a delightful and insightful man he was and such a collection of chasubles and treasures that could have adorned the V&A. Mr Thompson's book is as much a treasure as any of the dear Canon's many and much talked about possessions and one the dear Canon would have dearly placed in his home for all to read had he been able to do so.