Books by G. K. Chesterton

A WILD, MAD, HILARIOUS AND PROFOUNDLY MOVING TALE: It is very difficult to classify The Man Who was Thursday. It is possible to say that it is a gripping adventure story of murderous criminals and brilliant policemen; but it was to be expected that the author of the Father Brown stories should tell a detective story like no one else. On this level, therefore, The Man Who was Thursday succeeds superbly; if nothing else, it is a magnificent tour-de-force of suspense-writing. However, the reader will soon discover that it is much more than that. Carried along on the boisterous rush of the narrative by Chesterton's wonderful high-spirited style, he will soon see that he is being carried into much deeper waters than he had planned on; and the totally unforeseeable denouement will prove for the modern reader, as it has for thousands of others since 1908 when the book was first published, an inevitable and moving experience, as the investigators finally discover who Sunday is.

"G. K. Chesterton routinely ignites more ideas per page than any Christian author of the twentieth century, with the possible exception of C. S. Lewis. Chesterton sometimes overstates, often maddens, and invariably provokes a new and better way of seeing things. In this book, he offers us new ways of seeing the greatest things of all: divine things of the gospel." -John G. Stackhouse, Jr.

Is THE MAN WHO WAS THURSDAY a gripping adventure story of murderous criminals and brilliant policemen, or something deeper. . . ? We can't discuss the book's denoument here in the cover copy, but this title tempts us. Let us instead say that the book gave us an inevitable and moving experience as the investigators finally discovered who Sunday is.

Now with a new foreword by Charles Colson. Antiquated. Unimaginative. Repressive. We've all heard these common reactions to orthodox Christian beliefs. Even Christians themselves are guilty of the tendency to discard historic Christianity. As Charles Colson writes in the foreword, "Evangelicals, despite their professed belief in the Bible, have not been exempt from the influence of the postmodern spirit." This spirit is averse to Truth and the obedience that follows. And people today, as in Chesterton's day, continue to look anywhere but heavenward for something to believe in.

Chesterton's customary wit and engaging storytelling provide a brief but vivid profile. He focuses on the saint's life, rather than on theology, to illustrate Thomas's relevance to modern readers.

From detective stories and penny dreadfuls to skeletons, slang, and patriotism, Chesterton's essays "defend" seemingly harmless subjects only to reveal many of the hidden assumptions and dogmas of his time.

Journalist, novelist, poet, artist and art critic, essayist, theologian, propagandist, philosopher, and creator of the wily old Father Brown – G. K. Chesterton is one of the most beguiling authors of the early twentieth century. When asked to perform a lecture tour in 1921, Chesterton was in a slump of depression. He had recently lost his brother to the First World War and his wavering faith in the face of the horrors of the conflict only intensified his malaise. ‘What I Saw in America’ tells us as much about the author and his particular views as it does about his destination. Indeed, Chesterton’s personalised observations – his aversion to imperialism, capitalism, Anglo-Americanism and his commitment to democracy and fraternity – are distinguished by the piercing wit for which he is famed. Many of Chesterton’s reflections are timeless and startlingly prescient. He was highly critical of both the naïve immigration policies and the grinding dehumanisation brought about by the growth of the economy. Nonetheless, he was enthralled by the glorious ideals of the nation – founded on principles of equality, democracy and freedom – even if the essence of these ideals had been lost somewhere along the way. ‘What I Saw in America’ ranks among the finest of Chesterton’s works, containing all of the author’s virtues and vices: his wry humour, sympathy and intelligence playing devilishly against an irrepressible mischievousness.