The Bridge of San Luis Rey

We have literature forced on us for inexplicable reasons, but what we take away from the text is lasting.  Revisiting a work at the right moment in our lives is the pivotal key to understanding.

Back in the late 1980s, I was teaching at the high school level.  New to the district, I explored the storage locker in my room for class sets of books to use with my classes.  I was always willing to take a chance with something I had not previously taught; hence, my first experience with The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder.  I do not remember how I convinced myself it would be worth teaching to 10^th graders or if I asked any of the other teachers about it.  Perhaps it was the length that enticed me.  For whatever reason, I gave it a try.  They hated it; I hated dragging them through it; I never taught the book again.

A few years ago while reading the works of Timothy Findley, he discussed his friendship with and admiration for Thornton Wilder.  My respect for Findley sent me back to revisit Our Town and read Wilder’s other plays.  Eventually I decided The Bridge of San Luis Rey deserved another reading.  Ever since then I have wanted to use it in a college course, and this semester has given me my chance.

Reading it for the third time, I savored the language and Wilder’s ability to create a text that has the tone of a moral fable with the occasional playfulness demonstrated in his plays.  The novel begins with this famous line: “On Friday noon, July the twentieth, 1714, the finest bridge in all Peru broke and precipitated five travelers into the gulf below” (5).  And thus begins Brother Juniper’s interest in the event.  “Why did this happen to those five? . . . .Either we live by accident and die by accident, or we live by plan and die by plan.  And on that instant Brother Juniper made the resolve to inquire into the secret lives of those five persons, that moment falling through the air, and to surprise the reason of their taking off” (7).  Wilder often writes of those moments; those “if not for this” moments in life.  This novel explores that issue and weaves around it the entanglements of love.

However, there are still those humorous moments, and this description cries to be shared in its entirety:

There is something in Lima that was wrapped up in yards of violet satin from which protruded a great dropsical head and two fat pearly hands; and that was its archbishop.  Between the rolls of flesh that surrounded them looked out two black eyes speaking discomfort, kindliness and wit.  A curious and eager soul was imprisoned in all this lard, by dint of never refusing himself a pheasant or a goose or his daily procession of Roman wines, he was his own bitter jailer.  He loved his cathedral; he loved his duties; he was very devout.  Some days he regarded his bulk ruefully; but the distress of remorse was less poignant than the distress of fasting and he was presently found deliberating over the secret messages that a certain roast sends to the certain salad that will follow it.  And to punish himself he led an exemplary life in every other respect (80-81).

And yet…none of my college students could tell me what they knew about the archbishop when I asked.  Sigh…well, I have again forced a piece of literature on my not so captive audience that they do not find as enthralling as I do.  Some students have shown interest during discussion in class and have even stopped by my office. They did accept the assigned topic of writing a two page paper on what they learned about love from reading this novel as doable.  I am looking forward to reading those papers.

Is this novel about a priest desiring to scientifically prove the power of God? Is the question of why these five answerable?  Is it possible that the reader needs to have lived through one of those powerful “if not for this” moments in life to appreciate this novel?  Is it meant to be another opportunity to explore the mysteries of love?  If you have not yet read this Pulitzer Prize winning novel, I encourage you to do so.

Wilder, Thornton. The Bridge of San Luis Rey. New York: Perennial Classics, 2003. Print.