The Knot of Vipers
Translated from the French by Gerard Hopkins
(Capuchin Classics, 2010) 
By reputation one of the great Catholic novels of the twentieth century, this is a richly rewarding study of a man whose soul has, on his own testimony, become a “knot of vipers”, and an account of the slow process by which that knot is loosened.
The novel begins with Louis, an aged Frenchman approaching death, writing a last epistle to his family. Many years before, it seems, his pride had been wounded by a passing comment made by his wife, and for his whole life he has nursed a grudge which has caused his soul to fester with barely concealed hatred. Now, in a final act of revenge, he hopes to ruin his wife and children by bestowing his family’s considerable fortune on one of his illegitimate children whom he hardly knows.
Louis writes to explain himself to them — the entire book is the text of his long letter — but in the process he finds that he is explaining himself to himself as well, and, perhaps simply from relief of speaking about his grievances, or perhaps because he gradually sees his own motives more clearly, or perhaps for some deeper reason, hidden from view, he finds in the course of his writing his vengeful delight dissipating, replaced, to his great surprise, by something approaching its opposite.
It is tempting to see the novel as akin to Brideshead Revisited insofar as it traces the delicate action of grace in a soul, but this might be pushing too hard. Although it is sometimes called a “Catholic novel”, there is in fact relatively little Catholicism in it — Louis has little interest in religion apart from its value as a topic on which to taunt his devout wife — and his transformation is a moral conversion rather than an overtly religious one. Even just as such, it is a tricky thing to manage, and on this first reading my main concern about the novel is that Louis’ change of heart, when it comes, comes a little too hastily and without adequate preparation. But this is a provisional judgment, for the psychology of the main character is so subtle and richly developed that the apparent fault may well rest with me, the insensitive reader.
It is hazardous to venture comments on style when reading in translation, but I was impressed by the quality of the writing. I relished Mauriac’s ability to set me down in a particular time and place, giving the story enough space to settle into a moment: looking out a window at night, or awaiting the onset of an approaching rain storm. At times I felt I could almost breath the same air as Louis.
This novel, in the same (and only) English translation, is also sold under the title Vipers’ Tangle. I prefer that title, as being punchier and having more poetry in it, but it seems that the edition I read has given the original title (Le Nœud de vipères) more straightforwardly. Oddly, my edition nowhere gives the name of the translator, Gerard Hopkins (not to be confused with the poet).