The Book That Changed My Life: 'Ashenden' and 'Summa Theologica'

 Henry Wiggins

Ashenden (or the British Agent) by W. Somerset Maugham

Historical fiction is a marvellous way of getting a feel for a period of time and place before - or alongside - as you study the actual facts and detail of a topic. Many History teaching professional qualifications start with a reading list of historical fiction that you are expected to devour ahead of the course starting. The inter-war period is a classic of GCSE study and this collection of interconnected short-stories is a thoroughly entertaining and enlightening glimpse of the society, politics and diplomacy of this period. 

Published in 1928 it chillingly depicts the perceived menace of the Bolshevik threat from Russia in Western Europe at the time, whilst also slightly presciently foreshadowing the rise of other forms of militarism and extremism that were to come in the next decade. 

Maugham - like some of the other notable spy fiction writers of the 20th century including Ian Fleming and John Le Carre - was involved in some way in espionage himself before he made his name as an author. Maugham hoped that his secret work - mostly during the First World War - would be glamorous and thrilling but, like many characters in the later Le Carre (who was heavily influenced by Maugham), found it more sordid and discouraging than anything else.  

This dyspeptic view of the life of a spy filters through into his novel, Ashenden, and, whilst the eponymous main character exists in an exciting and luxurious world of fashionable travel and high-end hotels in 1920s Europe, much of what he gets up to is duplicitous, conniving and fairly ruthless stuff. It’s hard to see James Bond ever existing without Ashenden having been created first but Maugham’s writing is generally better than Fleming's (those more familiar with the films might be unpleasantly surprised by the sheer unpleasantness of Fleming’s literary Bond). Nobody would probably argue that this is Maugham’s greatest work of literature, but it did inspire in me a love of early and mid-20th century thrillers (see also John Buchan, Erskine Childers and legions of more obscure and, frankly, pulpy imitators) which remain my go-to reading for pleasure to this day.

Ruth Richmond

Summa Theologica by Thomas Aquinas

This book changed my life when I first read it at university whilst I was reading Theology and took a course in my third year on Philosophical Theology. This book has been described as one of the most influential works in Western literature (and Dante’s Divine Comedy has been described as the “summa in verse”); it is beautifully written. Aquinas was heavily influenced by the Greek philosopher, Aristotle; therefore, Aquinas used this precise logic to formulate his text. The Summa Theologica is primarily for Catholics trying to understand their faith but is mandatory for all Catholics who are interested in the religious life, that is wanting to become a priest, nun or priest. 

Whilst Aquinas was already a monk and priest, many assume that he makes a basic flaw, that of trying to use philosophy to ‘prove’ an already existing belief in God. Indeed, you would be right: the method he uses is to try and seek a philosophical understanding for Christian beliefs already held. Many continue to see this as a weakness, but Aquinas said that many misunderstand what Christian philosophy is trying to achieve. The Summa Theologica is not designed to prove the existence of God to atheists. This is where Richard Dawkins got it wrong in his book The God Delusion, along with other modern atheists and agnostics. Aquinas knew that only revelation (or what he called grace) could bring about a belief in God. Instead, the Summa Theologica is a manual to help Christians find some logical understanding for their beliefs. Let me give you an example: as a Christian, you would believe (I hope!) that God designed the world, as it states in the book of Genesis, and created it from nothing but also ‘perfect’. The Design argument for the existence of God which states that the design and complexity of the world points towards a divine designer supports the account in the book of Genesis. This is how you are to understand what Aquinas was really trying to do: faith seeking understanding.

As soon as I understood how to read Aquinas’ writings, the scales fell from my eyes. And I realised I was reading something truly wonderful, something logical, and something that could make Catholic Christianity, and indeed Christianity as a whole, presentable, and acceptable, to the modern world. For those interested in not dismissing religion as irrelevant for the world today, I would urge you to give this book a try. It might surprise you!