I check my messages upon rising-it's a violation of the rules, but I've got an elderly mother. There is no profession more ignoble than that of the critic-except perhaps that of the physician presiding at an execution.Īs I told the police, the call came to my home at 3:10 in the morning-the answering machine registered the time-but every year I take a two-week retreat here, and so I wasn't home to receive it. One would never tell another person in private that his painting was a revolting piece of trash, but the critic thinks nothing of making the same pronouncement to the world as if he were performing a high moral duty. Criticism is a profession which allows one a certain license to be vicious outside the bounds of normal civilized behavior. He deliberately embarked on a life of sin and violence against God, which in reality was a life of violence against his own higher self. well, you certainly couldn't call him an atheist or an agnostic. Sergeant D'Agosta is a writer of mysteries, explained Pendergast. Perhaps we should begin with the telephone call. We'll take as little of your time as possible. God, he would never make a good monk.įather Cappi laughed. The room, despite the sunny day outside, felt cold and damp. He eased down in the chair, shifting, trying hard to get comfortable. The priest crushed his hand in greeting.This is no gentle lamb of God, thought D'Agosta. To say that Grove was devastated is not saying enough. And then, quite abruptly, she left him, ran off with another man. That's a complicated question requiring a long answer. Grove was able to prove it as the hand of the master himself, turned around and sold it for thirty million dollars to the Met. He bought a painting at an auction at Sotheby's that was billed as being by a late follower of Raphael. "Those who can't do, teach, and those who can't teach, critique."Īn interesting story, Sergeant. You're right there, said D'Agosta with feeling. I sincerely apologize for this intrusion, said Pendergast.
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