Manalive

In part one of this fantastic novel we encountered Innocent Smith through his unusual actions in the lodging house Beacon Hill. In part two, the setting is a trial before 'the High Court of Beacon', consisting of the lodgers and some friends, in which Smith is accused of murder, burglary, desertion and bigamy. The accused never opens his mouth during the procedures; approximately all evidence consists of letters concerning his behavior in the past.
The letters the prosecution produces describe various instants of Smith firing at close range at persons, or eloping with maidens, or other discreditable actions. The interesting point is that there are other testimonies, produces by the defense, which do not disprove what the prosecution states, but merely shines a new light on them. The defense states that Smith 'has broken the conventions, but he has kept the commandments'.
I'll take one example, the case of murder. Smith actually did not commit murder, he merely shot and missed at close range. His reasons to carry this gun are similar to Chesterton's own reasons: if someone professes to be tired of life, one can offer to help him end it.

“I am going to hold a pistol to the head of the Modern Man. But I shall not use it to kill him–only to bring him to life.”

Because so much of the second part consists of letters, I sometimes lost the flow of the arguments. The letters themselves are interesting though, because they so clearly show the (sometimes limited) standpoint of the writer. Overall, I really liked this book and can definitely recommend it.

The allegorical practical joker

The novel 'Manalive' consists of two parts: in the first part we encounter Innocent Smith through his actions. He is almost arrested on multiple, and serious, charges. Instead of delivering him to the police, the lodgers of Beacon Hill decide themselves to judge him: is he mad or sane?
The second part promises to give some explanations; I am very curious.

Distributism

Over these last months, I regularly heard about Chesterton's 'distributism', though I have never yet encountered in an actual book by Chesterton (no doubt because I am reading chronologically and not getting on too fast). I just watched a relevant episode of 'The apostle of common sense', though, and I am starting to get a certain feel for the subject.
First, we need to realize that there is something wrong with both capitalism and socialism. The latter will give too much power, and property, to the government; in the former power and property will get concentrated in the hands of a few. In both systems, the normal man will not have too much power and property.
Distributism then favors the distribution of property: each man should have some property, preferably property that generates something useful. Small shop owners and small peasants are ideal distributists. Big business is wrong, because the big shops etc make small shops disappear.
What I read on the internet on distributism is mainly viewed from a strictly catholic viewpoint. The family unit should be as independent as possible. Consumerism is (rightly) condemned.
Still, I do not see how a distributist society could be developed, and once it exists, how it can function.

Innocent Smith

'Orthodoxy' is, according to a commentary I looked over, closely related to the three novels Chesterton wrote in the following years: 'The ball and the cross', 'Manalive' and 'The flying inn'. The first of these three I recently read; it exposes the madness of materialistic science quite interestingly. Today, I started 'Manalive'.
It is difficult to give a first impression. The main character, Innocent Smith, comes to a lodging house as on a great wind. He is a peculiar person, running after his hat, climbing a tree, comparing the simple organizing niece of the lodging house to Joan of Arc, picnicking on the roof, etc. The other lodgers, when they barely follow all his actions, admit to his energy and joy and sense of 'aliveness': something they realize they miss in their own lives.

Orthodoxy

For the last two weeks, I have been rereading 'Orthodoxy'. It certainly bears rereading very well; I actually followed the arguments much better this second time (especially since I had never encountered Chesterton before I read 'Orthodoxy').
In the last chapters we see why Chesterton actually became a Christian. After he concluded that

Orthodoxy is not only (as is often urged) the only safe guardian of morality or order, but is also the only logical guardian of liberty, innovation and advance. If we wish to pull down the prosperous oppressor we cannot do it with the new doctrine of human perfectibility; we can do it with the old doctrine of Original Sin. If we want to uproot inherent cruelties or lift up lost populations we cannot do it with the scientific theory that matter precedes mind; we can do it with the supernatural theory that mind precedes matter. If we wish specially to awaken people to social vigilance and tireless pursuit of practice, we cannot help it much by insisting on the Immanent God and the Inner Light: for these are at best reasons for contentment; we can help it much by insisting on the transcendent God and the flying and escaping gleam; for that means divine discontent. If we wish particularly to assert the idea of a generous balance against that of a dreadful autocracy we shall instinctively be Trinitarian rather than Unitarian. If we desire European civilization to be a raid and a rescue, we shall insist rather that souls are in real peril than that their peril is ultimately unreal. And if we wish to exalt the outcast and the crucified, we shall rather wish to think that a veritable God was crucified, rather than a mere sage or hero. Above all, if we wish to protect the poor we shall be in favor of fixed rules and clear dogmas. 

At this point in Chesterton's spiritual journey, he has not yet committed himself; he has not taken the 'leap of faith'. He merely points out that he has a lot of facts and arguments which point in the same direction. He realizes that as a democrat and as someone who rejects materialistic dogmatism, he has the freedom to accept miracles.
Chesterton's ultimate reasons to accept Christianity, however, circle around his realization that there is life and truth and joy in the church. If the unpromising dogmas of the church have such good consequences, if he has already learned so much, perhaps there is more than he knows at this moment. In this church of Christ, there is life, and within its boundaries there is the true possibility of joy.

Paradoxes and revolution

In Chapter 6 of 'Orthodoxy', Chesterton notes that Christianity 'was attacked on all sides and for contradictory reasons'. Some found it too meek, some too aggressive. Some found its focus on family wrong, some the cloisters. Then Chesterton realizes that there are two kinds of institutions that would fit the description: one with an 'odd shape' and one with 'the right shape'. He concludes that Christianity might be the 'normal thing, the center'. Perhaps, the states, 'Christianity is sane and all its critics are mad - in various ways'.
Christianity, instead of finding the perfect middle between different virtues, seeks to combine them all without blending: there is room for Joan of Arc and for Francis of Assisi. 'The real problem is - can the lion lie down with the lamb and still retain its royal ferocity? That is the problem the Church attempted; that is the miracle she achieved'.
After realizing that the so-called Christian 'paradoxes' exactly mirror the oddities in this world, the argument in chapter seven is about the possibility of improvement. Chesterton notes three sine qua non 's for genuine improvement, all of which ultimately coincide with Christianity.
First and foremost, we need a fixed ideal for any kind of progress. 'The modern young man will never change his environment; for he will always change his mind.' When we change our objective every week, we will never attain it and the old institutions will remain in place.
'Second, it must be composite. It must not (if it is to satisfy our souls) be the mere victory of some one thing swallowing up everything else, love or pride or peace or adventure; it must be a definite picture composed of these elements in their best proportion and relation'. Of course, this implies that there would be an artist.
The third point is that Utopia is fragile. Man will always have to continue to strive for perfection, things will never remain perfect. This, of course, is a result (and an indication) of the Fall.
As a concluding argument, Chesterton shows that Christianity is truly democratic: it is humble enough to try to listen to simple people.
All these arguments in these two chapters are not proofs of Christianity. They merely point out how Christianity coincides with a certain conception of the world (the conception that Chesterton finds reasonable). As explained in chapter one: Chesterton thought of how the world should be, and realized that he discovered Christianity.

The wisdom of Father Brown

I took some time reading this collection of stories. Reading these stories, I started wondering at the person of Father Brown: he is seldom in his parish (once, there is mention of his having been at Mass). He is just the right person in the right place. Sometimes his solutions to crimes, even when he hears the story third-hand, is fairytale-like, but usually his arguments are compelling.
I particularly liked 'The strange crime of John Boulnois'; 'The absence of mr. Glass' was one other story where I enjoyed two different explanations of the same facts.