Picture a college town in the mid- 1970s. An English professor who has become an expert in extramarital dalliances is smitten by one of his graduate students. They meet for lunch around noon, and before three they make declarations of love. Is it possible that their subsequent affair could ultimately teach us something about true forgiveness and the radical meaning of grace? Only Robert Farrar Capon would have the audacity — and the authorial skill — to fashion such a tale.
It has taken well over a decade for Between Noon and Three to appear in this, its original form. First published under two separate titles with significant parts excised and an entire section recast, the real Between Noon and Three is actually a trilogy of intertwined tales, each of which exhibits Capon's persistent insistence on the outrageous nature of grace. The original manuscript is here printed in full, including a new introduction by Capon on the work's unusual history.
Reading sometimes like a provocative novel, sometimes like a theological wrangle between writer and reader, Between Noon and Three defies categorization. Capon sums up the book this way: "Those who read it as a novel are doomed to disappointment: at every turn, the story line entangles itself in theological ropework. On the other hand, those who prefer their theology straight up — no ice, no olives, no twists — will recoil at the plethora of oddments I serve with it, not to mention my penchant for mixing purple prose with low comedy. I always work two sides of the street at once, running from store to store, picking up what strikes my fancy. If you can stand the switching back and forth, it makes for a diverting experience."
Diverting, disconcerting, engaging, enlightening — it's pure Capon.
Industry Reviews
"Outrage" is exactly what conservative Christians will feel upon learning that Capen's three hours refer both to the time that Jesus traditionally hung upon the cross and to a series of adulterous assignations - which symbolize the unfathomable goodness of God. As a matter of fact, this intriguing fable - one part Updike and three parts St. Paul - turns out to be quite orthodox; but by the time Capon lets that secret out, even Unitarians may be too hooked to stop. The "parable" concerns a high-speed philanderer (and English professor) named Paul who is about to enter an affair with a married graduate student named Laura. Almost at bedside, he compulsively tells her about his past and present amours, whereupon for no good reason (how could there be, since she is grace incarnate?) she forgives him unconditionally. They make blissful love, and there is a quick fade-out - but Capon has already told us that nothing will mar their stolen pleasures. They will live happily ever after in exuberant sin. This is not fair, of course, but then neither is the idea of gratuitous salvation. (Capon concedes that the analogy limps a bit; still, he argues, look at the Prodigal Son, look at the Epistle to the Romans, etc, etc.) The Church has been afraid to preach the Pauline doctrine of freedom from the Law in all its mind-boggling boldness, so Capon figures he's entitled to stretch a point for a worthy cause. As usual, Fr. Capon is worldly, witty, subtle, ingratiating - yet, withal, heartily and unabashedly devout: the very model, one might say, of a modern Episcopalian. And for those who like their sermons that way, this one is a model too. (Kirkus Reviews)