This is one of my most loved books as it gives a great insite into another church and from so long ago.

**Warning: A few plot spoilers in here.**

Will Cather's novel describing the 1851 mission of French Catholic Father Jean Marie Latour is a reverential tribute to the enchanting, indeed holy, beauty of the American desert southwest. The book is episodic in structure, each chapter a discrete, self-contained passage, only loosely connected to the others.

In her narrative, Cather cleverly turns Latour's mission purpose upside down and inside out. He has come to bring God to this wild, distant corner of the world. But although Cather depicts Latour respectfully -- as a godly, sincere, patient and resourceful man -- one is left with the feeling that this desert land brought God to him, rather than the other way around.

For example, Cather lavishes her most exalting prose, not on the church and its benevolence, but on the wonders of nature - of rock, of water, and most vividly of light - especially at the hours of the day when the shadows grow long, and the setting sun drenches the land and sky in rich, vibrant color.

The introduction takes place on the terrace of a Cardinal's home in Italy, where Cather directs the reader's attention to the light of the dying day, "both intense and soft, with a ruddiness as of much-multiplied candlelight, an aura of red in its flames. It bored into the ilex trees, illuminating their mahogany trunks and blurring their dark foliage; it warmed the bright green of the orange trees and the rose of the oleander blooms to gold." Cather very deliberately echoes this image in the first full chapter of the book, when Father Latour is received with unexpected Christian charity far out in the primitive village of Hidden Water, New Mexico. "The Bishop sat a long time by the spring, while the declining sun poured its beautifying light over those low, rose-tinted houses and bright gardens."

I was struck by the frequency with which Cather seemed to sanctify the desert landscape, even to the point where vainglorious intrusions by the European church are depicted almost as a defilement. When Father Latour climbs to the village of Acoma, high up on a giant flat rock, he is offended by the intrusive presence of the mission church there. ". . . it was more like a fortress than a place of worship. That spacious interior depressed the Bishop as no mission church had done before. . . When he blessed them and sent them away, it was with a sense of inadequacy and spiritual defeat. . . What need had there ever been for this great church at Acoma? . . . The more that Father Latour examined this church, the more he was inclined to think that Fray Ramirez. . . was not altogether innocent of worldly ambition, and that they built for their own satisfaction, rather than according to the needs of the Indians."

Contrast that with Cather's later praise of the native dwellings, which she finds beautiful precisely because they minimally disrupt the landscape: "It was the Indian manner to vanish into the landscape, not to stand out against it. The Hopi villages that were set upon rock mesas were made to look like the rock on which they sat, were imperceptible at a distance. The Navajo hogans, among the sand and willows, were made of sand and willows. None of the pueblos would at that time admit glass windows into their dwellings. The reflection of the sun on the glazing was to them ugly and unnatural - even dangerous."

I found myself wondering throughout the book just who, more literally, was saving whom. Father Latour comes to New Mexico to save souls, but when he and Father Vaillant unwittingly stumble into the home of a murderer, their lives are saved by the silent warning of the man's Native wife, who makes a silent slashing motion across her throat and clandestinely points them to the exit. Later, too, when Latour is caught in a terrible snowstorm, his guide Jacinto saves him by leading him to a secret cave, sacred to the locals.

Early in the book, Father Latour and Father Vaillant are dining together over soup made by the Vaillant, a pleasant import of one of the creature comforts of their former lives in France. Over that dinner, Vaillant begs Latour not to take him any further out into the wild than they have already gone. But by the end of the book, Father Vaillant is fully comfortable making his home in this country, spreading the Word on horseback, and sleeping under the stars. And when it is time for father Latour himself to die, he wants to return, not to France, but to Santa Fe, where he first established his mission church and, apparently, found his heavenly purpose.

Those of you who relish the incomparable beauty of the canyons, mountains, mesas, and colors of America's desert southwest will respond intensely to Cather's vivid, painterly depictions of it. Instead of depicting, the world of nature as a harsh punishment to mankind after being cast out of the edenic garden (as traditional Christianity often did), she does quite the opposite, lending a sublime aspect to Latour's journey through the wild.

Finally, to those students here who were forced to read this book for school and found it boring, allow me this observation: it's perfectly fine for your mind to wander on occasion when reading this book. Indeed, it's not a book for white-knuckled, gripping plot development, but for meandering reflection, much like a walk through the canyon country depicted in the novel, liberated from the sensory overload of so-called civilization. Give yourself time and space to visualize the scenes, to see the light of a desert dusk, to smell the juniper bushes, and for your mind to roam around aimlessly for a bit. In this book, the earthly journey means just as much as the heavenly destination.

Others here have already done a better job than I could of describing why this book is an example of great literature. I will add that as a young Catholic who spent a semester as a missionary on the Navajo reservation, it was quite uplifting to read such a well-written account of heroic virtue in the Southwest I remember so vividly. Reading about Chimayo, Shiprock, Canyon de Chelly and Santa Fe was a reunion with old friends. Archbishop Latour is a devout man, with flaws of his own, yet striving to serve the very different cultures of the Native Americans and the Mexicans. Some of Cather's sentences were like echoes in my soul of memories from this time. Here is what I want to remember:
p. 50 "The Miracles of the Church seem to me to rest not so much upon faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from afar off, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is ther about us always."
p. p. 203 "Once again this had been his month; his Patroness had given it to him, the season that had always meant so much in his religious life."
p. 217 My one complaint about this book is here. Cather writes for the most part with incredible insight into the Catholic faith, but here she misrepresents an important theological point. Catholics (if they are adhering to Church teaching) do NOT worship or adore Mary and do NOT view her as a female image of the Divine. We honor her for the pivotal role she played in bringing Christ to this world and for her continued intercession for us, her spiritual children. Only Christ's Heart is Sacred, Mary's Heart is referred to as the Immaculate Heart.
p. 225 "Though the Bishop had worked with Father Joseph for twenty-five years now, he could not reconcile the contradictions of his nature. He simply accepted them, and, when Josph had been away for a long while, realized that he loved them all." Our world today often does not understand spiritual friendship. The deep, fraternal love between Bishop Latour and Father Valiant is beautiful and inspiring.
p. 232 "Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world; but here the earth was the floor of the sky."
p. 273 "Something soft and wild and free, something that whispered to the ear on the pillow, lightened the heart, softly, softly picked the lock, slid the bolts, and released the prisioned spirit of man into the wind, into the blue and gold, into the morning, into the morning!"
p. 279-The story of Bl. Junipero Serra's encounter with a family is awesome!

p. 263 "I am enjoying to the full that period of reflection which is the happiest conclusion to a life of action."
Let us too lead lives of action!

Death Comes for the Archbishop reminds me of a watercolor painting. At their best, watercolor is very fluid, and yet the result is often very beautiful and full of depth. This book was much the same. The story itself jumps around a lot and is more like a series of short stories, with the same main characters. It is very fluid.

However, the finished book is breathtaking in its scope and beauty. It is a book about friendship, about evangelism, about a strange and desolate country, about the way that all these elements blend to give us a picture that is humanity. Very few books are able to really carry this off successfully. Death Comes for the Archbishop is one that is successful.

A great collection of stories about two priests who leave France for the American Southwest. And in their attempt to teach the people there, they learn a lot themselves.

Relish this wonderful novel slowly, like a ride on a good mule through the beautiful desert at sundown.

Willa Cather (1873-1947) has recently attracted renewed attention, in part because the Library of America has devoted several volumes to her collected works. This is fortunate, because if this book is any indication, she was truly blessed with a rare talent. First published in 1927, the focus of this novel is New Mexico in the early to late 19th century. In fact, I chose to read it because my wife and I were making our initial trip to Santa Fe, and the New York Times has discussed the relationship between the novel and actual locations in the state. I am very happy that I finally got around to reading it.

In a nutshell, the novel's two main characters are based on actual persons, although they are given different names by Cather: Archbishop Lamy, the first bishop of New Mexico, and his vicar, Father Joseph Machebeuf--childhood friends in France, who took orders together, and devoted their lives to missionary activities in North America. For anyone interested in, or familiar with New Mexico, this is the book to read. Set primarily in Santa Fe, and other locations within the state, one learns a good deal about the history of this period from the novel. It also adds luster that so many of the physicial locations in which the novel is set are still in existence and can be visited: Lamy's cathedral in Santa Fe; his retirement lodge and small chapel (the "bishop's lodge") on the grounds of the resort of the same name; and various pueblos and churches are all easily accessible. Cather obviously had done her homework and visited the very sites she includes in the novel.

How the Archbishop undertook to administer a large territory (not just New Mexico, but portions of Arizona and Colorado as well) with minimal resources, which had substantial Mexican and Indian populations, recently taken over by Americans, and developed the Catholic church presence is truly an amazing story of unrelenting dedication and limitless energy. It all makes for a fine novel and makes one curious to know more about this amazing individual. This Vintage Classic edition is printed on high quality paper and is a pleasure to hold. Unfortunately, it does not contain any introduction explaining the role of the real Archbishop and the his achievements--but that is what we have Google for.

Cormac McCarthy and Willa Cather are two of my favorite authors. Both, to me, tell great stories and develop time and setting in a remarkable way. McCarthy writes about the arid Southwest, and I am familiar with Cather's autobiographical Nebraska novels. Clean, spare, descriptive writing. I like that. I have just read Death Comes to the Archbishop. Just two years ago I spent one month camping with my daughter on the Colorado Plateau. My daughter who grew up in Switzerland had never seen the Southwest. By sheer coincidence we visited much of the places mentioned in the novel. We visited the town Zuni which is just within New Mexico at the Arizona line, most of the Navajo reservation and some of the Hopi reservation, which is ensconced within the Navaho reservation in Northeast Arizona. We peered into the Canyon de Chelly also in Northeast Arizona. I applaud Cather for giving flesh and history to this part of the world. First off, how much do any of us know about the non-"American" history of the Western States? Her description of the impoverished yet devout Mexican's of the mid-1800s is remarkable. To me she captures the awesome beauty and likewise danger of the geographical, arid place: the danger being at times too much and more often too little water. This Cather novel might be too much for high school reading, as the time and place is perhaps somewhat obscure and the pace and nonlinear narrative is not what younger people are familiar with. It is not my favorite Cather novel, yet, but it is a part of the body of work of one of my favorite authors.

Willa Cather was fascinated with the role that the Catholic church played in the shaping of America, especially among the western settlers and Indians. She drew upon real-life missionary priests for "Death Comes for the Archbishop", a book that is more a series of vignettes than a novel. The religious lives of the two priests, Jean Marie Latour and Joseph Vaillant, are the centerpoint of a narrative that revolves around the land and the cultures of the native tribes.

Both priests from France, Latour and Vaillant are sent to New Mexico to build up the church and to rein in priests who have abused their privilege. Both men are paragons of virtue, while distinctly different in personality and the way they reach out to the native population. Among their many years in the American southwest they must endure the hardships of life that the climate demands, and find a way to respect the Indian traditions while bringing Christianity to the people. Along the way their lives are enriched by the throngs of colorful people they meet (including Kit Carson) and the miraculous stories of faith and survival in that primitive land.

"Death Comes for the Archbishop" is relatively fast-paced, although a little choppy. Cather moves from one account to another with little transition between them. The title is a bit misleading, setting a tone of impending doom that is not present in the book. Through these stories, however; one gains insight into the trying lives of two priests who were following their purpose to serve God. It is a remarkable portrait of faith and endurance, tested time and again only to always make it through the fire.

From the opening pages in Rome, to the closing chapter in New Mexico, this is a novel about how time and place mold us, and how we, in turn, with dedication and love, can mold a place ourselves. It is a rare novel that never draws attention to itself, but meanders with the finality of a river running to a deep water ocean. Omnia mutantar nihil interit as they say. By the time you reach the final pages you'll be able to look back on the life of the Bishop with a clearer understanding of what it means to dedicate one's life to a single moral purpose and how to love a people and a place without judgement, but with hope and discipline.

Willa Cather was born in 1873, and the majority of the adventures of this book would coincide with the pioneering peers of her parents. The protagonist of this book is French born and American bound priest/Bishop: Father Latour whose adventures occur from the middle 19th century to 1888.

The priesthood was relished and loved in those days. Latour is a calming and placable fellow. He is honest as the day is long. He is, unlike others around him, celibate and obedient to the church - whether its laws be appropriate or not.

The amount of traveling on mules, the hard adventures to other civilizations and cultures, and the torrid natural elements fighting the priests are seemingly insurmountable. But, the priest, who becomes a bishop who later becomes an archbishop, lasts like the Energizer Bunny. He keeps moving, well beyond his retirement years. Having traveled to and fro by the least rapid of transportation modes.

Latour may be outdone by comrade Joseph Valliant - who is called Father Joseph or Father Vaillant in the book. That man, small in size and thin as a rail, never stays put. On order by his comrade, he ventures about in nomadic style preaching to the Indians and Mexicans, delivering sacrament and church baptism and other rites to better their souls. And, in certain passages, the intellectual Latour - who sees Valliant as his closest and best friend - acknowledges his friend's superior constitution and abilities. Each has a strength and weakness. But, overall, the Bishop sees Vaillant as the superior man of the cloth.

I admit this book impressed me in that there is little discussion of women. Instead, it is a tale. A greatly told tale. Of men in a man's world. And, all written by a woman. The ability to cross gender lines always impresses me - like Arthur Golden's "Memoirs of a Geisha", Iris Murdoch's "Under the Net", or even Alexander McCall Smith's "Ladies' Detective Agency" series.

This was one of those books assigned to my parents as required reading. And, I am sure it was read, but with some disrespect to the teacher who made the assignment. Even though Kit Carson is referred to in the book, there is nothing exciting about what he does within the pages to lure the attention of young boys.

Although it is about priests in the virginal new land, this book is without obfuscation, without much symbolism, without most of literature's cute tools. This is a tale, this is allegory, this is fine story telling. Something which was more common in the time that this book was written and something which is unfortunately becoming less common today.

Willa Cather's self-described narrative, "Death Comes for the Archbishop" tells the story of the Southwestern U.S. at the middle of the 19th century, and the epic story of two Catholic priests who transformed it. Cather changes style from a traditional novel and tells her story in a detached, biographical manner, yet she manages to capture the aura and beauty of the Southwest and its people.

At the onset of the novel, a French priest is wandering through the desert, lost and dying of thirst. Yet, a "miracle" happens, as he finds a hidden village with an underground water supply and is saved. Although this may be the first miracle for Jean Latour, his life is full of small miracles which help to transform the native Indians and Mexicans into devout Catholics. Indeed, the miracles that Cather describes through a rich tapestry of legends and stories, are those which happen to the poorest and most destitute in the unforgiving desert. Cather seems to imply that one need not be rich and powerful to be a recipient of one of God's countless miracles.

When Latour first arrives in New Mexico in 1850, the Mexicans and Indian converts have corrupted the Catholic teachings, although they are devout. Indeed, hundreds of years have passed since they've had the rigid conformity of the Catholic church, as the priests currently in place are corrupt and sin-ridden. However, though they may not follow strict Catholic doctrine, the Mexicans are devout and ready to be molded by the right priest. It is Valliant and Latour who prove to be the "shepherds" to these "lost sheep" of God.

Throughout the novel, Jean Latour, who eventually becomes an archbishop, is compared with Joseph Valliant, Latour's colleague and (very) close friend. While Latour is stoic and introverted, Valliant is outgoing and confrontational. In fact, Latour believes that Valliant is the better priest, for despite his ailing health, Valliant braves the elements and brings the desert's inhabitants back to God. And even though he may change dioceses often, he is always up to the challenge, even in the outlaw west of Gold rush Colorado in the 1850s and 1860s. Although they may have different styles, both Latour and Valliant prove irreplaceable as their valiant efforts transform the Southwest into a hotbed of Catholic fervor.

Cather's vivid descriptions of the landscape help to bring this novel to life. Sweeping panoramas and mysterious canyons are brought forth in descriptive, imaginative language. The characters are given extra dimension through past antidotes and tales which give them a more personal, humanistic character. Although this may not quite be Cather's best novel, it is still a captivating tale and should not be missed.

Willa Cather's self-described narrative, "Death Comes for the Archbishop" tells the story of the Southwestern U.S. at the middle of the 19th century, and the epic story of two Catholic priests who transformed it. Cather changes style from a traditional novel and tells her story in a detached, biographical manner, yet she manages to capture the aura and beauty of the Southwest and its people.

At the onset of the novel, a French priest is wandering through the desert, lost and dying of thirst. Yet, a "miracle" happens, as he finds a hidden village with an underground water supply and is saved. Although this may be the first miracle for Jean Latour, his life is full of small miracles which help to transform the native Indians and Mexicans into devout Catholics. Indeed, the miracles that Cather describes through a rich tapestry of legends and stories, are those which happen to the poorest and most destitute in the unforgiving desert. Cather seems to imply that one need not be rich and powerful to be a recipient of one of God's countless miracles.

When Latour first arrives in New Mexico in 1850, the Mexicans and Indian converts have corrupted the Catholic teachings, although they are devout. Indeed, hundreds of years have passed since they've had the rigid conformity of the Catholic church, as the priests currently in place are corrupt and sin-ridden. However, though they may not follow strict Catholic doctrine, the Mexicans are devout and ready to be molded by the right priest. It is Valliant and Latour who prove to be the "shepherds" to these "lost sheep" of God.

Throughout the novel, Jean Latour, who eventually becomes an archbishop, is compared with Joseph Valliant, Latour's colleague and (very) close friend. While Latour is stoic and introverted, Valliant is outgoing and confrontational. In fact, Latour believes that Valliant is the better priest, for despite his ailing health, Valliant braves the elements and brings the desert's inhabitants back to God. And even though he may change dioceses often, he is always up to the challenge, even in the outlaw west of Gold rush Colorado in the 1850s and 1860s. Although they may have different styles, both Latour and Valliant prove irreplaceable as their valiant efforts transform the Southwest into a hotbed of Catholic fervor.

Cather's vivid descriptions of the landscape help to bring this novel to life. Sweeping panoramas and mysterious canyons are brought forth in descriptive, imaginative language. The characters are given extra dimension through past antidotes and tales which give them a more personal, humanistic character. Although this may not quite be Cather's best novel, it is still a captivating tale and should not be missed.

This is Willa Cather's superb novel about Bishop Jean Latour and his vicar Fr. Joseph Vaillant who come to New Mexico to re-establish the position and authority of the Church which has fallen sadly into neglect. (Both fictional characters are based on the historical Bishop Lamy and Fr. Machebeuf.) Latour, a Jesuit, is chosen by Church officials in Rome for his mission because of his moral fortitude and unbreakable will, and his success comes mainly from his unshakable confidence and quiet example. The evil he must overcome is represented by three old priests in New Mexico, one sodden with greed, another with lust, the third with creature comforts. Both Latour and Vaillant, who inspire each other, perform lasting and important services: building churches, converting the Hopi and Navajo, and providing the spiritual guidance and rock-solid fortitude to keep their communities on the straight and narrow. Cather utilizes a matter-of-fact and sparse style in relating her story; it's a most effective technique, but not very dramatic. Inspiring and noteworthy in every way.

This is Willa Cather's superb novel about Bishop Jean Latour and his vicar Fr. Joseph Vaillant who come to New Mexico to re-establish the position and authority of the Church which has fallen sadly into neglect. (Both fictional characters are based on the historical Bishop Lamy and Fr. Machebeuf.) Latour, a Jesuit, is chosen by Church officials in Rome for his mission because of his moral fortitude and unbreakable will, and his success comes mainly from his unshakable confidence and quiet example. The evil he must overcome is represented by three old priests in New Mexico, one sodden with greed, another with lust, the third with creature comforts. Both Latour and Vaillant, who inspire each other, perform lasting and important services: building churches, converting the Hopi and Navajo, and providing the spiritual guidance and rock-solid fortitude to keep their communities on the straight and narrow. Cather utilizes a matter-of-fact and sparse style in relating her story; it's a most effective technique, but not very dramatic. Inspiring and noteworthy in every way.

Willa Cather's Death Comes for the Archbishop is habitually underrated by scholars of the American novel. While it lacks the compelling story of other of Cather's works, such as My Antonia, Death is a subtle episodic work that sneaks up on the reader both intellectually and emotionally under the radar.

A chronicle of the career of the first missionary Catholic bishop of New Mexico, the novel blends subtle description with a narrative style that might be characterized as third person travel diary. Symbolically, the travails of Bishop Latour and Father Vaillant are an abbreviated version of the history of the Roman Catholic church and, more broadly, the spread of Christianity itself. The opening description of the Bishop's wandering in the desert may be compared to Christ's forty days in the wilderness, and the cathedral Bishop Latour wants to raise is a projection of the spread of the Catholic faith in New Mexico territory.

The Bishop symbolizes the contemplative bent of the Church and the Thomistic tradition, while Father Vaillant represents the other aspect of Catholicism, its missionary zeal in the New World. The setting of the book is a microcosm of the world itself, desperately in need of salvation yet capable of bestowing, as Bishop Latour comes to realize, the gift of renewal and youth impossible in the more structured and jaded Old World, as in the prologue set in the Vatican.

The rather mysterious title of the novel underscores one of its major thematic preoccupations: that we live in a state of constant interaction with life as it comes to us while still trying to maintain in our minds a picture of life as we would like it to be. The Bishop's story is told as a series of vignettes: our lives are made up of the small, commonplace, daily events we encounter. As the Bishop himself observes, he dies of having lived his life, an emphasis on the limited span of our lives and the manner in which we approach the challenges we encounter.

This is a worthwhile read and a commendable exercise in subtlety. The scope of Cather's historical research is impressive.

Having read this book many years ago, I was anxious to read it again on my visit to Santa Fe and environs in October 06. It was a pleasure to read Cathers prose and steep myself in the history of the places we were visiting. One became aware of the difficulties experienced by this fine French priest as he travelled the land by mule and his persistance in bringing Christianity to the people. Wonderful descriptions of the landscape and colorful characters. A great re read and I would recommend it to anyone - travelling or not.

This is essentially a series of short stories dealing with the missionary efforts of French priests in the New Mexico territory in the mid to late 19th century. Willa Cather has pieced together a word portrait of life on the rugged frontier. It is a mature piece of literature intended for a mature and reflective audience.

This is one of my favorite novels. It's about Father Jean LaTour and his best friend Father Vaillant, two French priests who get assigned to build up the Catholic Church in New Mexico in the years following the Mexican War (1846-1848). They're based on real people. La Tour is based on Archbishop Jean Baptist Lamy, who served as Archbishop of Santa Fe from 1851 to 1888. Vaillant is based on Father Joseph Priest Machebeuf, who started in New Mexico but later became a Bishop in Colorado. Willa Cather was fascinated with Lamy; she said there was "something about him both fearless and fine." The story begins with his assignment to New Mexico, the hardships he encounters in establishing his diocese, and his eventual triumph. In the end, Cather writes, "the Archbishop died of having lived." This is a simply written yet compelling book that you can read in one or two sittings, and you'll be richer for the experience. If you like this book, I recommend Paul Horgan's 1975 Pulitzer Prize winning biography of the character this book is based on, "Lamy of Santa Fe."

I've never really read anything like Death Comes for the Archbishop before. The stories of Sara Orne Jewett and other novels by Cather are the only things I know of that are similar, but Death Comes for the Archbishop has something different. There is just something truly sublime in these simple tales collected here.

The novel is basically about these two priests trying to live out their faith in an alien land. It's truly a frontier novel, as so many sorts of frontiers are crossed in the novel. The priests cross the expanse between their own culture and those of their flock. The priests connect with Native Americans, Mexicans, and Americans, and they work toward achieving unity for all these peoples. Ultimately, the priests' goal is to guide these people (and themselves) toward unity with God. That's probably the real beauty of the novel. Each episode of the novel is simply told; these are simple stories of simple people trying to live in a harsh land. However simple and grounded these stories seem to be, though, a closer look reveals them to always be imbued with spiritual portent. Cather writes lovingly of these people and this land, and she finds the holiness located in life on this frontier.

Overall, Death Comes for the Archbishop is such a lovely little novel. There's an extraordinary beauty and wisdom in every image and every word. It's a novel well worth reading and one that I will read several times more.

This remarkable story of faith in the wilderness of the American Southwest is remarkable, though not told in the format of our modern novels. Ms. Cather's work rather resembles a VCR in that she lets us see portions of the unfolding story before "fast forwarding" through resolutions and on into the rest of the story. At times this is a bit of a "let down," especially when the reader had been building interest only to have the following events passed over superficially. On the whole, however, this book is masterfully written.

The missionary priests seem so similar to the circuit-riding Methodist saddlebag preachers I've read about. The main difference is, of course, the nature of their religion. The privations and sacrifices associated with spreading their faith and fortifying it in the vast North American wilderness of the 1800s are the same regardless of specific beliefs.

Anyone giving this book a fair reading will become very familiar with the two French priests and will finish the book having gained an appreciation for the history of the Southwest and for the faith of those first immigrants that settled it.

Willa Cather's Death Comes for the Archbishop is a deceptively simple but profound novel about two French missionaries in the Southwestern United States. These men are not terribly otherworldly and they are capable of enjoying good books, good wine, and good food. They are tough guys too, up to the task of traveling thousands of miles on horseback or facing down some bad guys. The religion they promote provides support and comfort to Mexicans, Indians, and some Anglo miners who need spiritual succor.

The book presents us with several vignettes in the lives of these urbane priests, as well as some fables and Southwestern folklore. By living in harmony with God's law and the world he created, the men prosper. Eventually, they must part, and they must grow old and die. But death holds no horror for men like these who have spent their lives in service to others.

Cather's writing is beautiful and direct. In the following passage, one of the priests and his friend spend several days traveling together:

As Father Latour and Eusabio approached Albuquerque, they occasionally fell in with company; Indians going to and fro on the long winding trails across the plain, or up into the Sandia mountains. They had all of them the same quiet way of moving, whether their pace was swift or slow, and the same unobtrusive demeanor: an Indian wrapped in his bright blanket, seated upon his mule or walking beside it, moving through the pale new-budding sage-brush, winding among the sand waves, as if it were his business to pass unseen and unheard through a country awakening with spring.

North of Laguna two Zuni runners sped by them, going somewhere east on "Indian business." They saluted Eusabio by gestures with the open palm, but did not stop. They coursed over the sand with the fleetness of young antelope, their bodies disappearing and reappearing among the sand dunes, like the shadows that eagles cast in their strong, unhurried flight.

Her book also contains some beautiful ideas. In this passage, the two priests discuss Our Lady of Guadalupe:

"Where there is great love there are always miracles," [Father Latour] said at length. "One might almost say that an apparition is human vision corrected by divine love. I do not see you as you really are, Joseph; I see you through my affection for you. The Miracles of the Church seem to me to rest not so much upon faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from afar off, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always."

This book has it all: fine writing, adventure, and some lessons for living. Most highly recommended.

Death Comes for the Archbishop is an anomaly among Cather's works, and, for that matter, all twentieth-century works. In this book, you will not find chronology, action, or drama. You will, however, find a story that will grip you and will not let you go until Death finally does come for the Archbishop. If you are interested in precise, simple prose, a heart-warming story, and have a few hours to spare (the novel is rather short; the font is large), pick up a copy and enjoy yourself.