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Exquisite short-form historical fiction. Waugh combines an authenticity, springing from his sincere feeling for a saint's life, with a historical distance of narrative, sometimes ironical, oftentimes, again, striking those genuine notes of sadness and of hope. I don't wonder he was fond of this book.

Waugh's wisdoms aren't always mine, or even often, but they are captured in story and movingly conveyed. His witticisms are lovely, and the creative anachronism of many of them doesn't detract from his conjuration of late antiquity. I like these levels in my historicals!

I almost docked a half-star for the 'horsey girls' passage with the usual amateur Freudianisms (seriously, men, stop projecting).