The first version of this novel was called Benedict XVI. I first published it in 2000, five years before Cardinal Ratzinger chose that papal name. Soon after the Vatican signaled the election of a new pope by sending white smoke through a tiny chimney atop the roof of the Sistine Chapel, I got a phone call from my daughter Char with the news that the good cardinal and had adopted the name of my indelicate novel.
I’ve never attached a metaphysical meaning to this coincidence. Nor to the twin facts (1) that a Google search of “Benedict XVI” that morning showed my novel as among the very top entries, with thousands of hits, and (2) that the next day the same search yielded nothing. As far as I searched, there was Nada. All I can conclude is that someone, or some entity, didn’t want my book to share, even partially and tangentially, the spotlight with Cardinal Ratzinger and the Vatican and the Holy Roman Catholic Church. Even after the L. A. Times had a brief piece on the concurrence of my novel and the new pope, my life returned to its humdrum pace.
Recently I’ve repurposed the novel, giving it a new title and making a few cosmetic changes. It's now Pope Dun the Incredible. It’s still about a Benny Good, an Amish foundling who, with the help of an agent with her eyes on the Vatican’s holdings, achieves the papacy. It’s still about a con man of Falstaffian proportions and principles, a portly, uncouth talk show host who insists on being called "Most Holy Father."
The late Jack Cady called the original novel “brilliant, funny, and irresistible.” A former Tennessee State Librarian called it “An outrageously comic novel. Full-throttle, non-stop, gut-bustingly funny.” I call it one of my favorite satires.
A book for general readers—but only if they hold nothing sacred.
I’ve never attached a metaphysical meaning to this coincidence. Nor to the twin facts (1) that a Google search of “Benedict XVI” that morning showed my novel as among the very top entries, with thousands of hits, and (2) that the next day the same search yielded nothing. As far as I searched, there was Nada. All I can conclude is that someone, or some entity, didn’t want my book to share, even partially and tangentially, the spotlight with Cardinal Ratzinger and the Vatican and the Holy Roman Catholic Church. Even after the L. A. Times had a brief piece on the concurrence of my novel and the new pope, my life returned to its humdrum pace.
Recently I’ve repurposed the novel, giving it a new title and making a few cosmetic changes. It's now Pope Dun the Incredible. It’s still about a Benny Good, an Amish foundling who, with the help of an agent with her eyes on the Vatican’s holdings, achieves the papacy. It’s still about a con man of Falstaffian proportions and principles, a portly, uncouth talk show host who insists on being called "Most Holy Father."
The late Jack Cady called the original novel “brilliant, funny, and irresistible.” A former Tennessee State Librarian called it “An outrageously comic novel. Full-throttle, non-stop, gut-bustingly funny.” I call it one of my favorite satires.
A book for general readers—but only if they hold nothing sacred.
RSS Feed