Sun Slower Sun Faster is a delightful novel written in 1955 by Meriol Trevor about two children from the then-present-day who are mystically taken back in time to key moments of English Catholic history. I own the Bethlehem Books print version as well as their lovely audiobook. The Bethlehem Books edition has a note to the reader explaining that “. . . various events or names that will be recognized at once by many English children may be missed or mystifying to those of us not so well acquainted with English history. Bearing this in mind, we are confident that the liveliness of Miss Trevor’s tale will compensate for the unknown and be a good incentive to venture further into the history of England.” I think this note is both accurate and helpful.

I believe that this book will be a wonderful read for many readers and therefore, in this review, I will try to write to two different audiences: the general audience who are just looking for living books that can be used in homeschooling or for enrichment, and the Catholic audience who may have some theological-type questions. 

First, the general reader:

This novel is, as the note to the reader indicates, lively and exciting. I would whole-heartedly recommend Sun Slower Sun Faster to any reader who likes a good historical adventure. Exciting and well-written like the We Were There books, this one is written in a style more reminiscent of something like Edith Nesbit or The Secret Garden or the early parts of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe when the children are exploring the country house. That said, some mechanical things about this book don’t work perfectly and, as the note to the reader said, those of us who only have a broad-strokes understanding of English history might find ourselves a little disoriented in places. I probably straddle the line between the average English reader and the average American reader. I am Catholic, I lived in England, have been to Bath, and consume a fair amount of BBC t.v. So, I allowed myself to just enter into the story and let it take me on a beautiful adventure. 

“It was October, and the trees on the hills were turning yellow, but she was not at school, nor going to school. To-day, her father and mother were flying to West Africa and she had stayed with them till the last day of their leave. Now there were two cases of poliomyelitis at her school and it was closed. So, Cecil had been packed off to the country, to her father’s uncle, Ambrose Morne, whom she had never seen, and who lived at Welston Manor.”

Cecil (short for Cecilia) is a thirteen-year-old girl in the late 1940s who is living with a cranky old uncle on a countryside estate near Bath. Also living at Welston Manor is a fourteen-year-old boy named Richard, whose father (Uncle Ambrose’s brother) was killed in the war and whose mother was killed in a bombing raid. Richard is being tutored by an older cousin named Dominic. Dominic’s mother was Uncle Ambrose’s sister and she and Dominic’s father are also dead. If this sounds confusing, it is because it is. But, it is also interesting that three second cousins are living together with an uncle who is unmarried and at odds with everyone he is related to. And it points to the key fabric of this story: family – throughout space and time – in and out of relation with each other. It works for the story if you don’t worry too much about keeping track of the family tree.

The two children are fascinated by their family history. All of the living members of Welston Manor seem to be secular and more or less disconnected from their rich Catholic family history. When Cecil finds an Agnus Dei pin in a collection of artifacts, Uncle Ambrose permits her to wear it as a good luck charm. That pin is significant because, of course, symbols have power. 

Cecil clutched Rickie’s arm. “It’s the Victorian boy,” she whispered.

“I beg your pardon,” said the boy. “I forgot you had arrived last night after we went to bed. I’m Henry.”

The boy smiled and, turning his head, called out, “Charlotte! Charlo! Richard and Cecilia are in here.” 

“Coming!” cried a gay, ringing voice and a girl came running in, caught Cecil’s hands and swung her around.

“Huzza!” she cried. “The cousins are here!” her check skirt and many petticoats flew out as she danced round; her curls bobbed.

A little like Lucy hiding in the wardrobe and finding Narnia, the children explore the manor and find an “almost” secret room. Not the old priest-hide, but another strange room with two doors that almost disappear. The children enter the room from the late 1940s, but they emerge into Victorian England and immediately recognize a boy from a family portrait at Welston Manor. And, so, it begins.

In each time jump, the children are always expected by the family members of that time, and they are always considered cousins who are visiting. And, after a few hours, they return to their time unscathed. Like Narnia, they never return to the past in the same way in which they came another time. One time it was while visiting a Roman bath. Another time it was when they happened to be staring into a well. Each time, they move backward a little further than before and always onto a milestone of family history: the day of a First Holy Communion in 1687, the arrest of a priest hiding in a priest-hide in 1590, dinner with a prince who became King Henry VIII, and even the arrest of a tutor in Roman Briton who would be martyred for the faith before Augustine had even gotten to Kent. Every time, the children learn more about the faith of their fathers, and they witness the compelling truth of Christ being lived out throughout history.

As I said above, the mechanics are far from perfect, but the story is magical and lovely anyway. The language is elegant, the story is robust, and it moves in and out of history in a way that clearly points to the timelessness of Christ and His church. 

My Catholic readers may wish to know some things: 

My daughter and I noted that the author does a brilliant job of not writing about the saints themselves. The family in each time period may know of the saints of that day, but we do not meet them directly. I believe that two things are accomplished by this: the saints’ stories are not marred by fiction and we get an up-close view of common people loving the faith and living it during difficult times. 

“Why in Latin?” Cecil asked. It seemed to her an unnecessary complication.

Old Thomas Morne looked up from his book. 

“Because all the nations of the west learnt both civilization and Christian doctrine from the old Roman Empire,” he said. “For many centuries all books were written in Latin and even now the scholars of many countries use that tongue.”

“But people don’t talk in Latin anymore,” said Rickie. “It’s a dead language.”

“It is not dead, it is perfected,” said the old man. “Our local tongues change, meanings vary, but Latin remains immortal gold.”

Published in 1950, all references to the Mass and prayer are an appropriate blend of traditional English and Latin. The use of Latin is explained beautifully and the liturgical components are of the traditional calendar. Each trip into the past gives the children another witness to the goodness and beauty of the great truths. 

“The Mass is a mystery,” said Lady Mary slowly. “That means that the more you look into it the more you can find in it, and what you find in it is always love, the love of God. When Christ died for all mankind on the Cross of Calvary all men were not present: they were far away, some in space and some in time, some dead long since, some not yet born: and yet the sacrifice was made for all. When He rose again He drew all men up into the life of God, and yet all men were not there with Him at that time. So He gave us himself again, in a way that could reach all men everywhere. At the beginning of His Passion, on the night of His betrayal, He offered His own flesh and blood to God the Father under the form of bread and wine. And after His resurrection He gave power to His apostles to present Him in this way to God and to each other.”

These truths simmer in the children, and their own lives are deeply affected by them. As they visit “cousins” of the past, they are able to escape the problems of those days simply by returning to their time. When a mob is ready to break down a house to drag out the Catholics and torture them, the children have more fear for their ancestors than they do for themselves because they know that they can escape in their own time. In the present, however, their problems are their own, and there is no escaping them. The lessons they learned in the past help them to confront the problems of their own time.

“I don’t see why the last minute should matter so much,” said Cecil.

“Well, of course it’s your whole life which determines what you are when you die,” said Teresa. “But if you have been proud and hard for so long, it’s a great thing if you can humble yourself even a little at the end.” 

“Is humility so important?” said Cecil. 

“Without humility, no one can love,” said Teresa, “and since life in eternity is love, what will anyone do who dies without the seed of love in his heart?”

This story is a gift to Catholic readers looking for the stories of our faith in a country that we love that has not always loved us. But this story is also a marvelous adventure through space and time for any reader. And the audiobook version by Bethlehem Books is masterfully done.