Name: Matthew Wright's review of Gilead by Marilynne Robinson
Item: Gilead
Rating: 4
Author: Matthew Wright

Marilynne Robinson

Winner of the Pulitzer Prize and National Book Critics Circle Award, Gilead is the long-hoped-for second novel by Marilynne Robinson, one of our finest writers--a hymn of praise and lamentation to the God-haunted existence that Reverend Ames loves passionately, and from which he will soon part. In 1956, toward the end of Reverend John Ames's life, he begins a letter to his young son, an account of himself and his forebears. Ames is the son of an Iowan preacher and the grandson of a minister who, as a young man in Maine, saw a vision of Christ bound in chains and came west to Kansas to fight for abolition: He "preached men into the Civil War," then, at age fifty, became a chaplain in the Union Army, losing his right eye in battle. Reverend Ames writes to his son about the tension between his father--an ardent pacifist--and his grandfather, whose pistol and bloody shirts, concealed in an army blanket, may be relics from the fight between the abolitionists and those settlers who wanted to vote Kansas into the union as a slave state. And he tells a story of the sacred bonds between fathers and sons, which are tested in his tender and strained relationship with his namesake, John Ames Boughton, his best friend's wayward son. This is also the tale of another remarkable vision--not a corporeal vision of God but the vision of life as a wondrously strange creation. It tells how wisdom was forged in Ames's soul during his solitary life, and how history lives through generations, pervasively present even when betrayed and forgotten.

A Novel

Gilead

As the Reverend John Ames approaches the hour of his own death, he writes a letter to his son chronicling three previous generations of his family, a story that stretches back to the Civil War and reveals uncomfortable secrets about the family of preachers. Reader's Guide available. Reprint.

Claire Jorgensen

I might seem to be comparing something great and holy with a minor and ordinary thing, that is, the love of God with mortal love. But I just don't see them as separate things at all. If we can be divinely fed with a morsel and divinely blessed with a touch, then the terrible pleasure we find in a particular face can certainly instruct us in the nature of the very grandest love.

Alisha Bhagwat

Katie Boedecker

If there are Oscar-bait films, there are Pulitzer-bait novels. I’m such a big fan of 

 I don’t know if I can go as far as to accuse 

 of being written with the award in mind. It’s beautifully written. Perfect, probably. I highlighted dozens of phrases and sentences that were piercingly good, the kind of stuff people write on scraps of paper and put on their refrigerators and never take down. The narrator is as close to above reproach as a human can get, and his thoughts on life read as hard-fought and true. I wept at the end, but I felt manipulated more than moved, like a brilliantly marketed commercial for a product that wouldn't ordinarily bring you to tears. I don’t know that I’ve felt this way about a book before, that it moved me but also left me feeling played. It’s subtle, it’s flawless actually, and maybe that’s why I can’t go full five stars on this book I’ve heard for years is life-changing. It's too tidy and precise to feel vulnerable itself, just written to make the reader feel that way. I love to visit someone's clean home, but when things are so perfect they're sterile, when your host is cleaning up around you, you can't wait to leave and relax. It's just a little spilled coffee, a few crumbs on the table, leave them be until I leave.

It's not her, it's me. I'll probably read it again.

Matthew Wright

If there are Oscar-bait films, there are Pulitzer-bait novels. I’m such a big fan of Housekeeping I don’t know if I can go as far as to accuse Gilead of being written with the award in mind. It’s beautifully written. Perfect, probably. I highlighted dozens of phrases and sentences that were piercingly good, the kind of stuff people write on scraps of paper and put on their refrigerators and never take down. The narrator is as close to above reproach as a human can get, and his thoughts on life read as hard-fought and true. I wept at the end, but I felt manipulated more than moved, like a brilliantly marketed commercial for a product that wouldn't ordinarily bring you to tears. I don’t know that I’ve felt this way about a book before, that it moved me but also left me feeling played. It’s subtle, it’s flawless actually, and maybe that’s why I can’t go full five stars on this book I’ve heard for years is life-changing. It's too tidy and precise to feel vulnerable itself, just written to make the reader feel that way. I love to visit someone's clean home, but when things are so perfect they're sterile, when your host is cleaning up around you, you can't wait to leave and relax. It's just a little spilled coffee, a few crumbs on the table, leave them be until I leave.

It's not her, it's me. I'll probably read it again.

This book is like a book of the Bible itself. So much in here to be stunned by. Slow-going, too, consistently had to reread paragraphs (took me 3 weeks to finish the 245 pg). Strong voice, setting, images.. can’t stop thinking about the fried mush with melted blackberry jam and spoonful of cream over it

Margo Koss

Lovely book. I can’t think of another book that doesn’t have a plot but is such a pleasure to read. 

Tom Koss

elizabeth

This did for me at 27 what The Alchemist did for me at 15. It doesn't necessarily seem productive to pit these two books against each other, and I don't mean to; I just feel that Gilead brings me something sacral today that I perhaps wouldn't have been ready for more than a decade ago. It's ruminative, overflowing, and gently spiritual, grounded in a seemingly unremarkable existence in a small town (rather than in an allegorical, mystical, world-crossing quest).

From the beginning, I knew the book would confront the question: How do we face death? An elderly Reverend John Ames writes to his young son, imparting the observations and wisdom he wants his son to have later in his life (as John know the time to pass is soon). Throughout, Robinson captures some of the most important and unbearable tensions of existence: belief without knowing, love without reciprocity, joy coexisting with disappointment. And as we learn about (and from) John, it becomes clear that there's a secondary, but equally important, question: How do we face life?

As it turns out, answers to both of these questions seem to be the same. In short:
- With gratitude (and without expectation)
- With knowledge that love and creation can't really be understood
- With joy from noticing bits of love and creation anyway

Regarding that last one, I have to bring up Simone Weil. As she said:
  Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer. It presupposes faith and love. Absolutely unmixed attention is prayer.
 

And, in the words of Robinson (via John):
  This is an interesting planet. It deserves all the attention you can give it.

dear Lord I miss my childhood in Iowa. The prairie IS Christlike in its unassuming beauty and resilience. the book is dense, but it is immensely powerful when you actually take the time to understand it. Reverend Ames is a stunning example of how men of God should act and be: empathetic, patient, and outwardly loving.

There were many beautiful sentences in this book Id like to go back to sometime in my life. The book itself (consisting of beautifully written sentences pretty much one after another) is still so difficult to read. Its been an ordeal. I cant really suss out why, and as far as I can tell from the comments its been a conundrum to others as well. Even after page 100ish there isnt much of a plot or even coherent story to speak of, just a random assortment of what I guess Id call memories and musings? Neither is there much to relate to, in almost any way (perhaps for a religious person theres more). Literally felt like I had to just plow through pages a lot of the time just to get through reading it, because I didnt wanna quit. Whew.

Beautiful story of a man writing his life story to his young son. It’s appropriately slow paced allowing you to take in the richness of this seemingly ordinary Iowan preacher. Made me want to continue to read Home, Lila and Jack by same author.

Elizabeth Weiland

Jonathan Tysick

A wise, contemplative, theological story about fathers and sons, forgiveness and small town America. Enjoyable.

Karis Ryu

admittedly, when i started reading this book after it was lent to me by a friend (and recommended to me, constantly, by multiple friends), i thought, "alright, i guess." by the halfway mark, i thought, "it's nice and all, but not for me." i kept reading. the book crept on me slowly and patiently, a warmth blooming through one's chest. when i reached the last sentence, i was crying.

oh, what words are there to describe what even believers, if we dare to call ourselves so, can at best approximate as a prevenient God? how futile, impossible, and embarrassing it seems, to do this thing called hope when time only confronts you more and more with how little is the sliver of knowledge we will ever encounter? yet faith is faith because it is faith, not proof. and that is love. that is how you come to see the best in the destitute. and rest in the unfathomable grace given unto your inadequate self. how do i even say things anymore.

what i will do, every day: i'll pray, and then i'll sleep.

charisa

OH MAN. so beautiful and so rich. i’m a little surprised by how much i liked this, but the slowness of the novel only amplified the struggle and serenity and transcendental pathos underlying the narrator’s memories. 

i’m in awe of robinson’s ability to strike a balance between wrestling with faith and its mysteries, and returning to the tenets that make the Christian walk so meaningful, including grace and forgiveness. i think this emerged most prominently in the last third of the book: freedom as seen through an honest searching of the heart and holding onto the hope of eternity. finally, HER PROSE IS JUST UNPARALLELED (susurrus is my new favorite word).

this is for my own reference, really, but page 119 made me teary: 

“The moon looks wonderful in this warm evening light, just as a candle flame looks beautiful in the light of morning. Light within light. It seems like a metaphor for the human soul, the singular light within the great general light of existence. Or it seems like poetry within language. Perhaps wisdom within experience. Or marriage within friendship and love. I’ll try to remember to use this. I believe I see a place for it in my thoughts on Hagar and Ishmael. Their time in the wilderness seems like a specific moment of divine Providence within the whole providential regime of Creation.”

Janice Hopper

This book is written as a letter from an old man to the young son he won't live to see grow up. He goes over events in his life, and his family's lives, and his friends' lives. It's a quiet little story of reminiscence. Sometimes it's a bit rambling and you wonder why you keep going. Then you'll hit a sentence or sentiment that's so luminous with grace and goodness that it brings tears to your eyes. 

I listened to the audiobook, and the narrator was excellent. 

I picked up this book because some of the book podcasters I listen to really, REALLY love the author. I liked it well enough, but maybe I need to read more to see if I really fall in love with her.

Nelson Zagalo

Não percebia como é que um livro que tinha ganho o Pulitzer em 2005 nunca tinha sido editado em Portugal, mas depois de o ler talvez perceba um pouco melhor (descobri mais tarde que tinha sido editado pela Difel em 2006). O tema tratado ainda que desejando-se universal está intimamente ligado à defesa de uma visão do chamado cristianismo norte-americano. O modo para o fazer é o melhor do livro, já o conteúdo falta-lhe estrutura, ou uma abordagem que aproxime quem está por fora do contexto das problemáticas que vão surgindo, aparentemente centrais para compreensão em profundidade do texto.

“Gilead” é uma história contada em tom diarista e confessional, por parte de um padre protestante com 75 anos que escreve ao seu pequeno filho que tem no momento apenas 7 anos. Todo o tom do texto é servido numa expetável melancolia, já que quem escreve o faz na esperança de ser lido depois de ter partido. É uma carta escrita para uma futura pessoa, e só por si é suficiente para nos colocar num estado introspectivo e meditativo, algo que a autora aproveita bem para lançar as suas grandes questões sobre a identidade religiosa.

O mais interessante acaba por provir da dúvida que acompanha o reverendo ao longo de todo o seu discurso, do modo como enfrenta a dúvida sem esperar por respostas de qualquer orgão religioso externo, confrontando-se apenas com algumas obras, em particular com Feuerbach. O foco narrativo centra-se na história de vida do reverendo que essencialmente dá conta das vidas do seu avô e pai que também foram reverendos. A discussão atrai porque as igrejas metodistas e congregacionalista, baseadas no Calvinismo diferem da Católica, entre outras coisas, por se formarem e susterem de modo autónomo. Não existe um centro de onde são emanadas leis e concordatas, para onde olhar e procurar respostas, o que faz com que as igrejas sejam mais assentes na comunidade, na construção do comum e menos no da mera evangelização.

Apesar do potencial interesse que o livro poderia representar, e da excelente escrita de Robinson, falta-lhe não apenas contexto, mas essencialmente estrutura. O livro surge como um carta que alguém vai escrevendo ao sabor do tempo e disponibilidade, faltando trama, razões e motivações que nos prendam à leitura. Se as primeiras páginas se sorvem de um trago o resto do livro parece repetir-se, dando conta de pequenos casos, pequenas situações, com um ou outro evento mais relevante, mas sem uma verdadeira consequência no todo, ou pelo menos assim o li, talvez por falta de conhecimento do contexto.

Publicado no VI: https://virtual-illusion.blogspot.pt/...

Dana Kraft

My fuse is getting shorter. 20 pages in and I just didn't care.

Jk Jensen

I anticipated reading this book for a while, but the handful of flecks of wisdom did not make up for how uninteresting the rest of the story was.

rida

finishing this exactly a year later. I'm actually glad it took me so long.. this book was a companion :)

Fraser Simons

A wonderful meditation on the nature of faith and the subtle ways in which shifts as a person gets older and has life events occur that alter things seemingly set in stone. 

Through the lens of a pastor who knows he will be leaving the world, and the transgression of the reader consuming these letters to his child, there is a really strange relationship that is created. We know that it’s all fiction, but the idea that we aren’t supposed to be reading these personal letters and we have access to the insight of a person’s innermost thoughts—as well as simply the most important things they wish to divulge about themselves to their loved ones—not to mention someone of unshakable faith, really lends this an air of authenticity. It feels like narrative nonfiction most of the time.

Another thing to like is the situations discussed. You might think the things that are brought up might be really big questions and grandiose, necessarily, to convey the deepest parts of himself and be understood. But really it’s more about the mundanity of life and the beauty there, bookended with the absolute love he has and has had with his wife. The proposal story is so good and so moving, and quintessential to who he is as a person. All the stories have that same quality.

What’s more is it’s also not proselytizing to the audience. Faith as an everyday challenge met, and the questions in its contrivances and contradictions is the absolute point. It is not a simple faith at all that is unwavering. It is the person who challenges his beliefs constantly that ends up with a cornerstone. I thought that was a beautiful notion to pass along to the reader, and not at all heavy handed; deduced by consuming his thoughts, instead of a Midnight Library banging you over the head with its conclusions. 

A fantastic read, all round.

Jenni Pertuset

Ben Burns

A peaceful, pensive meditation, beautifully written. A quiet, thoughtful dive into the mind of a quiet, thoughtful character. First book in a while that I’ve wanted to read with a pencil on hand so I could underline favorite passages.

Jade Flynn

The first one hundred pages were surprisingly extraordinary but it sadly teetered off towards the end. It is biblical, resonant and as personal as a prayer but for me it needed to be longer to be able to have the effect on me it was trying to have.

Emily S

INCREDIBLE. The language - incredible. The characters - incredible. The feels - incredible. It starts a little slow, but stick with it. It’s worth it.

Amber Laha

An old man writing his thoughts out to his son in not only a sluggish, rambling manner, but he was also was preachy about it. The writing was beautiful and I did like Ames. She writes in a way that makes the characters and Ames real and wonderfully human, but I never was hooked. But because of the fact that she was able to make me care about the characters, specifically Boughton(his best friend) and his wife, I will be picking up the next two books in the hopes of getting more about them and the relationship between those and Ames.

Paul Camacho

Michael Hessling

Really hard to read; not fully sure I understood all of it.

Katie Boedecker &
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

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