Descended from the legendary Don Quixote (only unhappy skeptics think he was purely fictional), Father Quixote is a quiet parish priest who loves his books, his people, and his native wine and cheese.  One day, after a feeding a horse steak to a stranded colleague, Father Quixote suddenly becomes a monsignor, much to his chagrin–and to the disapproval of his officious bishop.

At the same time, the notorious Communist mayor of El Toboso loses his campaign for reelection.  The mayor (who shares a surname with the Sancho Panza of Cervantean fame) proposes a brief vacation across the Spanish countryside with the new monsignor.  Father Quixote reluctantly agrees, and so the unlikely companions load cases of local wine, sausage, and Manchegan cheese into the back seat of the father’s ancient, but reliable car–named Rocinante.

And so begins another quixotic adventure, this time through post-war Spain.  The conversation deals not with the conflict between romantic chivalry and modern realism, but between Christian faith and Communist theory (actually, that might be the same conversation).  Probing their antithetical visions of the world, the two friends exchange books and arguments, eventually discovering that they share a common human struggle:  doubt and fear in a world marked by pain, suffering, injustice, and (most of all) mystery.

As the adventures continue, an odd friendship grows out of commonalities–a mutual love for strong cheese and local wine, shared doubts and doubtful fears, a similar longing for a better world.  In spite of their contrary faiths, Mayor Sancho and Father Quixote become the heroes of a modern romance that weaves through war and betrayal, timid faith and fearful hope.  And like all good romances, this one ends with a tragedy that opens the way to the very center of Mystery–the terrifying center of hope, peace, and the end of suffering.

Read it:  Monsignor Quixote by Graham Greene

Read it: Why I like Graham Greene.