That however was my experience on reading The Little World of Don Camillo. I think I had encountered it years ago in my grandfather’s house, when I was around ten, along with Father Brown, and Georges Simenon. I read like a bulldozer then, rapidly, compulsively, but haven’t returned to them–and only rarely to that way of reading.
Until now. With sheer delight. The ingenuity of his imagination! The loveableness of his characters. His understanding of the nature of prayer. His understanding of Christ, severe, with standards, yet willing to indulge and play with his faithful servant. With a sense of humour. Don Camillo chats with Christ much as Peter might have, and Christ’s responses, as unconventional as His were in real life, are wholly believable, though often surprising. I love their conversations.