Living With Saints

by Gunther Simmermacher · August 4, 2003

LIVING WITH SAINTS, by Mary O’Connel. Published by Review, London. 2001. 231pp.

Reviewed by Gunther Simmermacher

Even the saints occasionally had bad breath to argue otherwise would be to negate their humanity. Sanctity is meaningless unless the saints are acknowledged to have had their imperfections and human foibles. The saints in Mary O’Connell’s collection of short stories, Living With Saints, are thoroughly human.

It must be stressed from the outset that this is a work of fiction, not a set of hagiographies. Thus, some of O’Connell’s saints may put a defiant spin on Catholic doctrine, the sort that might prompt a thorough examination by the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith.

This is patently not a book for overly pious people, yet other Catholics may be illuminated by it.

In O’Connell’s book, which received good reviews when published in the US in hardback format in October 2001, several female saints (and one male) accompany contemporary women who are experiencing assorted problems. Predicaments include abortion, illness, incest, the death of loved ones and single motherhood.

Non-conformist though these saints seem in O’Connell’s vision St Anne is a chain smoker, St Catherine Labour a tattoo artist they never fail to ease these women’s burdens. In that, these stories are affirmative of the Catholic faith in the potency of the saints.

O’Connell makes some acute observations about society and the Catholic faith. Sometimes they may startle the reader, but at other times they speak of true Christian tenderness.

Her take on Catholicism is occasionally irreverent and sometimes at odds with doctrine. Crucially, however, she never profanes the faith. Her understanding of the details of Catholicism and, ultimately, attachment to it is tangible.

The reader should not be misled by trendy cover blurbs claiming that the book “owes as much to Madonna the pop star as the Virgin Mary.” Much less should one buy into false promises of “a hilariously profane collection of short stories.” It may be hilarious in parts, but never consciously profane.

A more instructive clue is found in the acknowledgments, where the author thanks her husband “for his faith in the saints” and her sister, “a true believer.” It is safe to presume that in her writings, O’Connell was guided by their examples, not those of a copywriter in search for hype.

O’Connell is a clever writer. Her stories are compelling, witty and empathetic of her subjects, saints and sinners. More often than not, the reader is made to care for the protagonists. The use of symbolisms is not excessive or heavy-handed, a particular hazard with this sort of book.

The first of the ten short stories in this collection is the most dramatic. In it a teenager finds new life in God through St Dymphna after having had an abortion.

Likewise, the story of St Catherine Labour, a curious piece of hagiography, puts a new light on a saint whose presentation often seems uninspiring, especially for young people. The narrative of the saint’s illusory inner life persuades a rebel teenager to receive a tattoo of the miraculous medal instead of the new age yin-yang symbol she initially wanted.

The one story that departs from the contemporaneous setting is a disappointment. Written in the first person, St Martha recounts her infatuation with the man Jesus before eloping with Judas, conferred here the role of fall guy rather than traitor.

The putative centrepiece of the collection, a self-conscious narrative by St Agnes, is the least successful story. The Roman virgin martyr is shown here as a gum-chewing relativist spouting forth postmodern claptrap to the effect that “if it feels good, it’s OK.” But even this story has its redeeming features, especially Agnes exhortation for common kindness.

Living with Saints is emphatically not a book for traditionalists. But Catholics who prefer their saints with a bit of bad breath, and who can rise above the lack of dogma, are likely to feel rewarded by O’Connell’s book.