Lord of the World presents a compelling premise: a dystopian novel written by a Catholic priest, envisioning a future where the rise of communism and human self-worship ushers in the Antichrist. Given that three modern popes—Leo XIII, Benedict XVI, and Francis—have praised the book, I anticipated profound insights into the dangers of secularism, along with moving reflections on faith and spirituality. Instead, I found it disappointing—and at times, frustrating.
Written in 1907, Benson’s novel is essentially a warning against the intellectual atheism and secular ideologies of the modern age. The issue isn’t just that his predictions have aged poorly; it’s that his portrayal of Catholicism is nearly as unappealing as his depiction of the novel’s secular, humanitarian antagonists. While Benson rightly identifies modernity’s role in enabling the totalitarian ideologies of the 20th century, he often criticizes even objectively good deeds and values—simply because they’re carried out by non-Catholics.
As a novel, Lord of the World also falters. Aside from Mabel and Mrs. Brand, the characters lack depth, growth, or personality. Most are flat archetypes: the politician, the priest, and so on. Even Julian Felsenburgh—the Antichrist himself—is underdeveloped. His rise to global power is wholly unconvincing. Unlike real-world charismatic leaders, Felsenburgh lacks any tangible charm or magnetism. He’s described as a skilled diplomat and linguist, but that’s hardly enough to make him “President of the World” material.
Ultimately, I’m glad I read it as a thought exercise. But it neither inspired me with its ideas nor engaged me with its storytelling. I had hoped a priest might offer a perspective that felt universal and timeless. Instead, Lord of the World reads as more dated and insular than many of its contemporaries.
The Once and Future Lit 