I’ve long been a fan of literary priests, like Septimus Harding, the unlucky precentor of Barchester Cathedral; or William Collins, the sycophantic suitor of Elizabeth Bennet; or Father Brown, the ama teur detective with a deep insight into the psychology of sin. Then there’s The Diary of a Country Priest by Georges Bernanos, and the Gilead novels by Marilynne Robinson, and the whisky priest of Graham Greene’s The Power and the Glory. Whether pious and pompous, or saintly and sombre, I’m pleased each time a member of the clergy appears in the novel I’m reading.