It is not easy to write a successful novel about a parish that operates under the aegis of Summorum Pontificum—but all the time is expected, by the chancery, to fail. There is the temptation to write too much on the liturgy instead of focusing on the normal folks who love that liturgy yet don’t particularly want to fight about it. Pope Ratzinger did that for us, in Summorum, elegantly; but then he resigned, and Francis took aim at the Latin Mass again.

One could be tempted, also, to rehash all the arguments and to caricature the antagonists and protagonists.

But Elizabeth Altham has sidestepped those obvious fails and has written a delightful book with congenial, well-drawn characters—real Catholics, in short, in a real parish.

Elizabeth Altham has sidestepped those obvious fails and has written a delightful book with congenial, well-drawn characters—real Catholics, in short, in a real parish.Tweet This

The new Altham novel could pair with The Awakening of Miss Prim, by Natalia Fenollera. She enjoyed some celebrity among devotees of the Old Mass and among people who are drawn to traditional, supportive communities. But Miss Prim is written in the manner of a fairy tale. Like a good fairy tale, it offers many lessons for the female protagonist to learn before she is ready for her prince. She must come to an appreciation of the old ways of thinking.

It isn’t about a real-life venture, but you wouldn’t mind it if real life were a little more like the village Prudencia Prim stumbles into: where the feminist club’s objective is finding husbands for young ladies; where children are homeschooled and have marvelous roaming privileges outside and vast libraries to explore inside; where the ladies regularly offer freshly-baked goods to neighbors who are forever stopping by. 

The village children quote Virgil, in Latin, and a Benedictine monastery provides rich liturgical life and spiritual sustenance to all, believers and non. The novel and author are often linked with The Benedict Option and its author, Rod Dreher. Dreher and Fenollera both tapped into the desire for community life that faithful Christians long for. 

Catholic traditionalists especially long for that community with the ancient liturgy at its heart. Many Boomer traditionalists remember the full life provided by their local parish: Mass, Rogation processions, holy days, summer day camp, dances, sports, parochial school, parish fairs, cake sales. You prayed and socialized with your neighbors. It was healthy living.

Catholic traditionalists long for that community with an ancient liturgy at its heart. Many Boomer traditionalists remember the full life provided by their local parish: Mass, Rogation processions, holy days…Tweet This

Today’s younger traditionalist families seek playmates for their children and sports teams that don’t break the gender rules. They’ve given up on the local parish providing for their several children’s Catholic education. Ms. Fenollera’s village does not exist. Rod Dreher’s suggestion that people intentionally create community sounds good, but experience (my experience) shows that a community needs to grow organically. It takes time. 

And what might that community look like?

Enter Elizabeth Altham’s Wyandotte: a realistic, here-and-now community with all the solid virtues of the rural Midwest, host to a parish of hardworking country people and two very agreeable young priests exiled to the boonies on suspicion of “backwardist” (Francis’ acidic term) tendencies. The priests are allowed the privileges of Summorum Pontificum. They have a Novus Ordo parish with the Traditional Latin Mass. Their tastes are elevated. And without endless committee meetings and consultation, all liturgical boats are lifted.

Complaints between them rarely surface, but the two priests are very capable of clear observations about diocesan intrigues and plenty of wry commentary. They love their priesthood and their parishioners. A good clutch of their parishioners are also exiles from outlying parishes and go out of their way for the Traditional Mass. It is a parish like many parishes that were emerging under Benedict XVI—and in some cases still are, despite Francis’ assaults.

The author does not go into the Ecclesia Dei politics of the day. We only know that the parish, encumbered by debt, is intended by the bishop to implode so the traditionalists and priests can be absorbed once more into the “normative rite” and stop being a headache to the bishop. Yet they are not headaches.

The priests are Fathers Gerald Hopkins and Bryan Houghton. They do not miss the irony of their names, and neither should the reader. It is a bit of an inside joke. In fact, there is a lot of wordplay in the book. A favorite pastime is throwing out quotes from movies and books and poetry, proffered as a challenge to the other to identify. (The Yalie author, Mrs. Altham, is having some fun.)

They are not above being pompous. Nor are they above working with the kids of the community in their respective areas of interest: Sacred Music and baseball. The kids shine. It’s a good feeling. (You can be sure that composer Dr. Peter Kwasniewski, publisher of the book, found all her Sacred Music selections on the mark.)

The rectory kitchen is often filled with friends—and something delicious sizzling on the stove. The priests are capable of taking care of themselves and graciously accepting the generous help of their parishioners. Yes, death comes to Wyandotte, but it is really more about life, friendship among generations, and a hopeful spirit. 

Author Elizabeth Altham is well-versed in the seasons of the Midwest, its vernacular, its colors and rhythms, its life, its poetry, its resilience. This is a town I hope to see again. 

Death Comes to Wyandotte, by Elizabeth Altham, can be bought at OsJustiPress.com.