I’m honestly not sure what to write in this review. A Particular Friendship is a very thought-provoking book. When I first started reading it, I wasn’t sure if I would finish but I’m glad I did. There are a lot of words in this story that were unfamiliar to me but I stopped looking them up after a while because I could understand them in the context of the story.

I should say upfront that I am neither Catholic or religious but I’ve always had a fondness for “fallen priest” stories. However, that is not what this book is. It is a compelling narrative about the life of a gay priest and the injustices he encounters within the church he loves.

The story reads almost like a diary and it felt very real to me. It is serious fiction with an important message – that love is love. It was not easy to read many parts of this story and there probably should be trigger warnings about homophobia, rape, suicide, drug use, alcohol abuse, and homelessness. The long blurb shown above is much more detailed than the one on Goodreads or Amazon and it describes the book very well.

The shift in timelines was disconcerting at first, partly because I didn’t really absorb what the detailed blurb was telling me about the structure of the story. Odd numbered chapters are present day and even numbered ones occur in the past – many of the even numbered chapters are very short, especially in the beginning. The review copy that I was provided didn’t have each chapter starting on a new page as is normal for most books so that took a bit of getting used to.

To conclude, I’m glad that I read this thought-provoking book.

Reviews for Paul Van Der Spiegel

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Tom read the gospel according to John.

‘When it was almost time for the Jewish Passover, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple courts, he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. So, he made a whip out of cords and drove all from the temple courts, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. To those who sold doves he said, “Get these out of here! Stop turning my Father’s house into a market!”’

‘Jesus was a man of action,’ Tom told his congregation, ‘a person who would take risks. Jesus did not stop to do a risk assessment, fill the forms in, or consult a firm of speciality solicitors. Instead, he acted out of a deep conviction, the conviction that love is God, that love is central to our lives, that crowding our lives with the busyness of business leaves no room for goodness. Jesus felt fear, just like us, but he did what he knew God wanted him to do.’

After the blessing and dismissal, the Arundel children, Sophie and Danny, led the way from the altar to the church entrance, brother and sister dressed in matching black cassocks and white surplices. Standing on the tiled steps, Tom shook the hands of his parishioners, blessed proffered rosaries and crucifixes on chains, waved goodbye to the choir, thanked visitors for coming.

On his way back to the sacristy, Tom found Mike Arundel waiting by the Lady Altar as his children snuffed out the candles and tidied up.

‘Hello, Mike,’ Tom said, as he strode past.

‘Father Morton,’ Mike Arundel replied.

‘See you, Father Thomas,’ Sophie said, as she hung her cassock on a hanger in the wall cupboard and disappeared into the church.

‘How are you finding things at St. Pat’s, Danny?’ Tom asked. ‘I went there myself, a long time ago.’

‘Everyone seems really nice. Mister Cooper is strict though.’

‘I went to school with your headmaster. He was in the year above me.’

‘Yeah.’

‘It’s a big change, going to high school.’

‘Yeah,’

‘Do you see your sister around school much?’

‘Not much.’

‘What subjects do you like best?’

‘I like music and drama.’

‘What about sports, football and rugby?’

‘I don’t like football.’

‘I didn’t like it either at school. I was useless. I like watching it now though.’

‘My dad takes me to watch Bussell Athletic.’

‘That sounds fun.’

‘I’ve got to go… my dad will be waiting.’

‘Hi five, Danny.’

The boy slapped the priest’s hand and then he was gone.

‘Go and sit with your sister in the car,’ Tom heard Mike Arundel tell his son.

‘Father Morton,’ Mike Arundel said, as he stepped into the sacristy, ‘keep your hands off my boy.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Tom said.

‘You heard me.’

There was a loud knock at the front door of the rectory and Tom, still stunned, walked from the sacristy into his home. Opening the door, he found a dishevelled woman with a supermarket carrier bag in her hands.

‘Hello, Father Morton. I’m sorry to trouble you. I’ve had nothing to eat for two days. Can I come in?’

Tom fought the compulsion to tell the stranger to piss off, to tell her that now was not a good time. In fact, it was an incredibly bad time. He bit back his anger. Then, he did what he was supposed to do and invited the woman in.

‘Come in, please. Would you like some food?’

‘Thank you, Father. I thought you were going to tell me to fuck off there, for a minute.’

‘No, not at all. Sorry, I was having a senior moment. The kitchen is this way. Please follow me.’

As his guest took her seat at the table, Tom brought out a slice of Joan Bird’s ‘Friday fish-day’ pie from the fridge.

‘I’ll warm this up for you. Would you like a tea or a coffee with that? Let me plug that phone in for you.’

‘Can I use your bathroom, please? I promise I won’t rob nothing.’

‘There isn’t anything worth stealing, I’m afraid, not unless you like religious books. The bathroom is upstairs, first door on the left.’

Tom warmed the pie in the microwave and put some frozen green beans into boiling water on the stove.

‘You’re welcome to have a shower whilst you’re here, if you like. There is a lock on the door so needn’t worry about your privacy,’ he said, as his visitor returned.

‘Are you saying I smell?’

‘Gosh no. I would never say that. I was just…’

‘I’m messing with you. I’m Rosie.’

‘Hi, Rosie,’ Tom said, extending his hand, ‘I’m Tom.’

‘You’re a good priest, Father Morton. I can tell. Not like some of the others.’

‘That’s kind of you. Funnily enough, I’ve just had a rather unpleasant conversation with a parent who told me in no uncertain terms that I am not allowed to clap hands with his son.’

‘The bad apples spoil it…’ Rosie said, dissolving into a coughing fit, holding her sleeve to her mouth.

‘Are you okay?’ Tom said, concerned. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ Rosie said, fishing a fistful of paper napkins from her pocket and wiping her mouth.

‘I think your food is ready.’

Tom watched as Rosie devoured the food, finishing her plate in a matter of minutes.