Is there an interesting point to be made about this complete failure of a novel?

A few years back, I chronicled my moans and groans about the truly dreadful Florence; Or, the Aspirant (1829).  So how can I possibly be contemplating an article (or, at least, a good chunk of an article) about it? Obviously, there's its importance to the history of the controversial novel, a subject that interests me a great deal: it's the first Catholic novel in England (Charles Constantine Pise's Father Rowland comes out the same year in the USA) to attempt to deal with Grace Kennedy's Father Clement (1823).  "But it's bad, you said," my reader points out.  "Totally incompetent!"  Um.  Well.  Yes.  There is that.  But it's illustratively bad.  That is to say, while it certainly fails in part because the writer was...innocent, shall we say...of basic novel-writing technique (perhaps a creative writing workshop at her local uni might have helped, if such a thing existed, and if she could even have gone to a uni in 1829), it also fails because she's trying to mirror Father Clement's plot.  And Father Clement's plot assumes a) that the Bible is self-interpreting and b) that private judgment is paramount.  You can't do that in a Catholic novel.  As it turns out, the solutions for addressing and undermining Father Clement's assumptions just generate more problems--the endlessly monologuing priest, the eye-popping moments of outright plagiarism.    By contrast, later Catholic didactic novels do their best to avoid bogging down in debates over textual interpretation; conversion usually comes about through personal example, seeing a Mass, miraculous intervention, or some combination of the above.  Florence, however, wants to engage with Father Clement, and its precisely this engagement that entangles the narrative.